Crying Wolf

Bonus Chapter 2

Bonus Chapter 2: Crying Wolf

August 1993

Trigger Warning: Body horror

“So in a few hours you’re going to turn into a big scary monster, yeah?” Wylan snickered. “My brother the werewolf.”

“I really am! You heard the DONHE agents,” Wendell shot up from where he was sprawled onto his bed writing in his journal.

Wylan was across the room from him, on his own twin bed, playing The Legend of Zelda on his Gameboy with a can of soda and a heaping pile of snacks and candy.

Wendell missed when his brother actually did stuff with his time, like make art and write stories. After getting back from the fairyland he was stuck in, all Wylan ever wanted to do was zone out for hours playing his video games.

“They’re delusional,” Wylan said, refusing to look up from his game screen, “And you, mom, and dad are crazy for believing their bullshit.”

“Hey!” Wendell hissed. His pen rolled off his bed and thumped onto the star-patterned carpet.

“What, are you gonna tell me I need to put a dollar in the ‘bad words’ jar?” Wylan said tauntingly. “I’m not really twelve anymore. You do know that, right? Those bullshit rules don’t apply to me anymore.”

The sounds from Wylan’s Gameboy filled the air.

“I don’t care who or what you were in that stupid fairyland you fell into, you’re twelve now, and you need to shut up and deal with it,” Wendell finally snapped.

Wylan put his Gameboy down and flipped Wendell off with both hands.

“I liked you better before you went missing,” Wendell said. “You were never a jerk like this.”

“So says you and everyone else. I don’t care,” Wylan said bluntly.

“I really am a werewolf, and I’m going to transform tonight,” Wendell said, feeling waves of dread crash over him with every word. Even though it was a balmy summer night, Wendell shivered and pulled a blanket around his shoulders.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Wylan said with a mocking grin.

“It wasn’t just the DONHE agents. The ghost of the lone wolf that bit me talked to me, Wylan,” Wendell snapped.

“So you say. Well, there is a word for that, Wen, and it’s not werewolf. It’s schizophrenic,” Wylan snickered.

Wendell snatched up one of his pillows and hurled it at Wylan. When he missed, Wylan burst into laughter.

Wendell grabbed one of his slippers next. His aim was better and the shoe smacked into Wylan’s Gameboy. Wylan swore and threw the slipper back, throwing it with all his might at his brother’s head.

“Hey!” Wendell barely dodged the slipper.

“You started it,” Wylan said snippily. “I just ended it.”

“Maybe nothing is going to happen,” Wendell said, hoping to make it true. “Or maybe I’ll just get really hairy, and they’re exaggerating about me needing to be locked up.”

“You’re an idiot for believing them,” Wylan said bluntly.

“Am not,” Wendell said as he opened one of the drawers in his bedside table and pulled out a 100 Grand candy bar. “I hope mom and dad come home soon.”

He took a bite of the thick, chewy, caramelly, chocolate, and looked out the window. They said they’d be home by 7:30 to drive Wendell to the closest DONHE facility. There was no sign of their car, and the clock was ticking closer.

“They weren’t going to cancel their anniversary dinner because you’re a werewolf,” Wylan deadpanned. “You can’t seriously expect them to drop everything for you.”

“You’re just jealous that I’m getting more attention for once,” Wendell said. His skin started to itch like little bugs were crawling over him. He scratched.

“As if,” Wylan snorted.

Wendell’s stomach cramped and gurgled. He took another huge bite of the candy bar and his jaw worked harder to chew it up.

The itch felt like it was crawling under his skin and it started prickling. Wendell scratched harder, trying to ignore the high, whining sounds from his stomach.

“You better not shit yourself,” Wylan warned. “The last time your stomach made those noises you were on the toilet for hours.”

“Don’t remind me,” Wendell groaned, wrapping one of his itchy, burny arms around his stomach and squeezing it, as if he could squash the cramping and weird noises away. “It was probably all the cheese in the mac and cheese tonight.”

“Oh so you’re a lactose-intolerant werewolf now,” Wylan snickered. “I thought you said being a werewolf fixed your asthma and eyes.”

“It did!” Wendell insisted as a surge of nausea flared up. Maybe I’m still hungry, Wendell tried to convince himself that he wasn’t going to puke.

He was nearly done with the candy bar now. It was harder to work his jaw, and his gums started to ache. As he took his final bite and chewed the candy bar, he suddenly tasted something metallic. Blood. He spit the bite of candy out. In it, an entire tooth stuck out. Wendell screamed.

“This is one of my real teeth!” Wendell screamed again. He lost all of his baby teeth. In horror, he held the bloody tooth up and looked at it from all angles.

“Maybe it was a dead tooth,” Wylan said, looking nervous for the first time. “When was the last time you went to the dentist?”

“When we went together in April, before you went missing,” Wendell said, probing at the bloody hole in his mouth with his tongue. As he pushed his tongue into it, he felt the teeth around it get wiggly.

No way, Wendell thought in horror. He stopped putting his tongue up against the teeth, but it was too late. He felt the two other teeth fall out. He spat them into his shaky palm.

Wylan stared at Wendell the whole time. Music continued to play from his Gameboy that was now forgotten on the bed next to him. His face paled, and his eyes widened. “Y-you need to get better about brushing, Wen,” Wylan stammered.

“I’ve never had a cavity. Never,” Wendell said in a voice barely above a whisper as he stared at the three bloody teeth.

The itch was its worst yet. His arms were covered with scratches, but still he couldn’t stop. He tipped the teeth onto his bedside table and, using both hands, dug his nails into his flesh. Then there was a snap and snap as both of the nails on his thumbs popped out.

Wendell screamed. Open-mouthed, he held up his trembling hands and stared at his ruined thumbs.

Another tooth loosened in his mouth, and right before his eyes, two more nails popped out.

“No, no, no, no!” Wendell moaned. His eyes filled with tears, and his vision blurred. He rubbed at his eyes, but the tears didn’t stop. His heart pounded harder and faster. His back and underarms were sweaty, and he shivered.

He felt like he had the flu. His stomach cramped its worse yet. His mouth filled with saliva, and he felt the bitterness in the back of his throat. He just had to make it to the bathroom. But his legs trembled, and his whole body felt heavy and shaky. Every step, he felt heavy resistance pushing against him.

He wasn’t going to make it.

Wendell’s knees buckled, and he crashed to the ground. He tried to fight back the urge to gag, but he couldn’t hold it in. A wave of vomit rushed out of him. It was chunky, and it tasted sour and metallic. He blinked his tear-blurred eyes and saw it was bloody, and not just because there were more teeth in it.

“Wy-wylan, I’m scared,” Wendell cried. Strings of bloody drool dribbled out of his mouth, and he wiped it on the back of his arm. “I’m s-s-so sc-scared.”

His heart jumped into his throat and ears, pulsing and pounding. He felt dizzy and dazed. He looked at his quivering hands, with even more nails popped out, as if they belonged to someone else.

“I’ll be right back!” Wylan fled the room.

The card that the DONHE officers gave their parents was hanging on the fridge with a magnet. Wendell knew that was where his twin was racing to. He could tell that Wylan believed him now.

Wendell’s stomach cramped and gurgled again. On his hands and knees, he lurched forward, vomiting up more blood and teeth.

His vision was hot and smeary. Wylan returned as a blurry, shapeless mass.

“I’m calling those DONHE people!” Wylan said in a shaky voice.

Wylan’s words echoed, and he stayed blurry and unformed. Wendell felt like he was in a foggy tunnel. He heard what Wylan said, but he couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t making sense. Nothing was.

He vomited again and again. It felt like it was never going to stop. He didn’t know how he wasn’t fully empty yet.

He cried harder and tried to call for help, but only a grunt and growl came out. His throat was burning now. He coughed and coughed, and it came out sounding like a bark.

“Help me!” Wendell tried to say, but it came out as a deep, throaty, “Grrrrrr”.

He couldn’t understand his … his … who was that talking around him? What was he … no… what was it saying? He groaned and growled. His thoughts weren’t making sense. His legs and arms couldn’t hold him up anymore. He burned like he was on fire and collapsed, face-first onto the ground. He … he …

Everything went black.

“Where are you taking him?” Wylan screamed as the DONHE agents shoved and chained his brother into a cage in the back of a van.

“Where he needs to go,” one of the stony-faced agents said.

“Oh, just shut up already,” another, much younger, agent said.

Wylan never felt more helpless watching his twin brother writhe and twist and shudder, like he was being tormented by invisible knives. He growled and grunted, and suddenly flung his head back and howled.

The deep, mournful sound gave Wylan full body chills.

“M-my parents! Wa-wait for my parents!” Wylan begged the agents.

“Hmm, lemme think, no,” the younger agent sneered.

“Don’t have time,” the stony-faced agent said gruffly.

The younger agent kicked Wendell harder into the cage.

“YOU’RE HURTING HIM!” Wylan screamed.

“As if he can feel anything,” the young agent smirked as he slammed the door of the cage and deadbolted it shut with a double lock.

Without a word, the duo got into the van and sped off.

Shivering and crying, Wylan perched on one of the chairs on the front porch. When his parents’ car finally came into view, he shot up and bolted for them, “MOM! DAD! THEY TOOK WEN!”