Issue 1.6: The Third

The morning light is too bright as your parents wake you up. Their faces are pale, their eyes heavy with a grief that makes your stomach twist before they even speak.

“We’ve got bad news, son,” your dad says, his voice rough and his gaze fixed on the floor. “Your friend Jake died last night.”

“No, it can’t be,” you say, shaking your head, your throat tightening. Jake has always been the class clown, the guy who could turn any moment into a joke, who could make even the most boring day feel like an adventure. He was full of life, full of energy, always getting into trouble just to see what would happen. And now he’s dead.

“They found his body in the woods,” your dad sighs, rubbing his temples as if trying to erase the image from his mind. “Apparently, he snuck out, broke curfew to go on a date with Lisa, and on his way back home, something tore him apart. Jake was mauled to ****, just like Bill and David before him.”

Your mom presses a hand to her mouth, her eyes glistening. “I can’t even imagine how his parents, and Lisa, are feeling right now.”

Lisa. The sharp-witted skeptic who never believed in anything she couldn’t dissect in a lab. The girl who always rolled her eyes at the rumors of wolves in the woods, calling them nothing more than small-town superstition. The same Lisa who only started dating Jake officially a few weeks ago, after years of being just friends. This will shatter her. This will be a trauma she carries for the rest of her life.

You want to tell your parents what you saw that night, your suspicions about John Trent. But you know they won’t believe you. No one will. They’ll think you’re ****, grasping at monsters to make sense of something senseless. Or worse, they’ll think you’re losing your mind.

No, you need to deal with John Trent yourself.

Over the next few days, you arm yourself with silver: knives, bullets, a makeshift silver-tipped spear, whatever you can scavenge or craft. You remember the pattern: the wolf took about a week to digest Bill Stanler, another week to digest David Rubenstein. If the cycle holds, John Trent, or whatever he becomes at night, should be dormant for the next week while he digests Jake.

“Damn it,” you curse under your breath, your fists clenching. It still doesn’t feel real. Jake is dead. Your friend, your classmate, the guy who made you laugh until your sides ached, is gone.

And if you don’t stop the werewolf, there will be more deaths. It could be your parents next. Or Maria.

How much does she know? you wonder. If her uncle truly is a werewolf, the silver choker can’t protect her forever.

You decide to confront John Trent on the next full moon. You’ll stop the murders. You’ll protect Maria. Even if it means killing her uncle.

There’s still a chance you’re wrong, that something else killed Bill, David, and Jake. But you need to be ready either way.

The night arrives, exactly a week after Jake’s ****. The full moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting long, jagged shadows across the Trent house. You watch from the cover of the trees, your heart pounding in your chest, your grip tight on the silver knife in your hand.

You wait and watch for the truth.