One more silver dollar
I've got to run to keep from hiding in a panic. I need distance so I can have a little time.
I know they'll catch up to me eventually, but with a little luck, they'll never expect me to be waitin' for 'em.
I guess I'm really bettin' that they won't look up. If I'm careful, if I'm still, the roof of this old singlewide don't make much noise. I left my old flannel shirt and shoes tucked up underneath the steps of the doublewide next door. Hell, I don't even own the rest of the clothes I'm wearin'.
Once they have a scent, they ain't lettin go. I hope them clothes I stuck under yonder is enough to distract 'em a few seconds.
When I heard what happened to Kate McKannon, I knew. Folks aint wanted to believe, but some of us knew.
I can't blame her husband for what he did.
I found the man he shot down by the creek. I think that's when they caught wise to me knowin' what I know; I seen the tracks of the man who wasn't a man leadin' right to where the dead body fell.
My little brother is a nerd, but I listen to him go on about those games he plays, books he reads. "Lycanthropy," they call it in his book with wizards and goblins and shit.
I still can't manage to say "werewolf" out loud, but the truth is black and white. Ain't somethin' that changes. It is what it is.
And now I am where I am.
We live, or we die. We're hunted, or we're the hunter, but that one is a little flexible, I reckon. This rooftop perch is proof of that, I guess.
I just hope there ain't more than two of 'em after me, 'cause all I managed to find was one more silver dollar in the bottom of my kid brother's piggy bank. I feel a little bad about breakin' it open, but he'll understand.
If I'm around to explain it to him.
My dad used to reload rifle ammunition 'cause it was cheaper than buyin' the new stuff at Walmart. I'm not sure how true that is anymore, but I'm glad he left all that junk in the shed when he split for a new old lady out in Nevada. That, and this cheap rifle. I guess the new wife don't want him huntin' no more.
Two shots. That's all I got.
It just hit midnight, and most of the trailer park is asleep, but even so, there are usually crickets makin noise and such.
Thing is, everything's gone quiet.
I'm pretty sure I see somethin' too big to be a dog and too small to be a bear creepin' in the dark.
Christ.
A car just went ridin' by out on the main road, and there might be three beasties sniffin' around my front door.
Time to stretch that last silver dollar as far as it'll go.