The Missing Wolf

Red and blue flashed in the darkness. Sirens wailed somberly in the distance. Two police cars pulled over the side of the road where a cop stood near the line of trees that ran by the road; a silent figure lay at his feet. He stared down at it, one of his hands covering his mouth. A second cop staggered out of the trees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He tried not to look at the figure on the floor, both his eyes stayed on his fellow partner.

From the arrival cars, the town’s sheriff got down and walked to the standing cop. Others followed him. “Dear God,” he murmured. The new cops backed away, flinching at the sight of the stranded corpse. The body was completely ruined; there was no way of telling its sex or age. It had been ripped open by the middle, stretching all the way from scalp to pelvis. Most of the organs were gone, blood covered the arms and legs, and the chest was torn; leaving all the ribs broken.

“Is this the only one?” asked the sheriff heavily, trying not to vomit.

For the first since he had found the body, the first cop spoke. “It is the only one we’ve seen so far,” he answered, taking his eyes away from it.

The sheriff sighed. He immediately regretted it; he had been breathing as less as possible but then a wave of horrid stench engulfed him. He coughed until the stench could become bearable. “Check the perimeter,” he retorted. “Cover every damn piece of land in the woods.”

All the other cops hurriedly entered their cars and took out flashlights. None were too happy of the idea of finding another body like that one. In pairs they scattered into the thick trees. It would be a long night for them. The sheriff turned away and headed to his car. He took out his cell phone and dialed. Before anyone answered, a high, long howl echoed through the darkness.