Pete and Patrick rush back to Joe and Andy...are they too late?
"Patrick! Looking for Pete?" Mrs. Wentz asked.
Patrick nodded quickly.
"Well, he went out. He should be back any minute. But you can wait in his bedroom. Did you know I found him facedown and asleep on the basement floor this morning? He must have snuck out last night and then back in....I do hope he wasn't drinking again....I best have Mr. Wentz put a bolt on that window down there..." she said.
Patrick leaped up the steps and into Pete's bedroom. He sat on the bed twiddling his thumbs nervously. Then he heard the door open downstairs. Pete yelled at his mother, something Patrick didn't catch. Patrick raced down the stairs and stumbled into the kitchen. Pete stared wide-eyed at Patrick. Mrs.Wentz had left the room.
Patrick glanced at the grocery bag in Pete's hand.
"Hi...Pete." Patrick said remembering his 'vision'.
"Uhm....hey Pat. Can you help me with something?" Pete said quietly and looked at the floor.
"Yeah no problem, bud..." Patrick replied.
Pete unpacked each and every item. Everything in there seemed really uncommon. Some of it included garlic powder, onions, black eyed peas, honey mustard and a few other queer ingrediants that nobody would normally use unless they were Chef Emeril.
"Pete, what's with all of this....stuff?" Patrick said picking up and examining the garlic powder.
"Uh...I have to make something..." Pete said avoiding Patrick's gaze.
"Pete, I'm missing something here. You're leaving me out. You're not telling me something....and I will find out sooner or later....you know you can tell me anything!" Patrick exclaimed.
Pete sent a menacing snarl at Patrick. Patrick's eyes grew wide at the sight of Pete's large fangs, "You wouldn't understand." Pete growled. Patrick caught his breath and replied softly, "Okay....", now clearly afraid of his best friend.
What has become of him? Patrick wondered. Patrick did everything Pete told him to do, and afterwards Pete mixed it all together in a blender. Patrick made a face as Pete poured the weird shake into a large glass and downed it all. For a second Pete looked extremely grossed out but then he nodded and looked at Patrick.
"Well that was really disgusting!" Pete joked.
"Haha...yeah...why'd you drink that mess?" Patrick asked staring at the glass.
Pete's eyes drifted to the ground, then back up to Patrick's awaiting gaze.
"Patrick, I-" Pete looked at Patrick's bottom lip as he bit his own.
"Yes?" Patrick said.
"Nothing...." Pete said and sighed.
"Pete, come back to my house. I want you to explain this all to me, okay?" Patrick suggested.
"Okay..." Pete agreed. He would have to tell Patrick. That or Patrick would SURELY disown him. And Pete couldn't live with that.
As Pete and Patrick walked down the driveway to Pete's old car, Patrick suddenly put his face in his hands and his knees gave out.
Pete caught him before he hit the pavement, Patrick saw another scene in his head:
Pete was walking into a room, the room was filled with blood. As he saw more of the room, it all came to a conclusion---this was Patrick's blood stained house.
Patrick's eyelids fluttered open.
"Patrick? What happened buddy? Why'd you do that, are you okay?" Pete asked.
"Y-yeah...this happened before....we have to get to my house right this instant, Pete. You'll see why....C'mon!!!" Patrick shouted as he stood up and brushed his jeans off. Pete rant to the driver's seat and Patrick hopped in the passenger side.
Pete sped down the streets like a maniac. This was the first time Patrick did not mind Pete's reckless driving. They really needed to get to the house.
Finally they got to Patrick's house and they rushed up to the door. He threw the door open and stumbled inside.
Pete and Patrick stared on at the horrific sight in front of them. Tears welled up in Patrick's eyes. Pete shut the door and stepped forward.
The rooms were completely bloodstained and there there was ripped furniture everywhere. Blood spattered across the walls, and there were giant scratch marks all the way down the walls, which ripped the wallpaper. The couch had been upturned, the recliner was in pieces scattered about the room and the television was shattered and upside down.
Patrick sniffled. Pete looked at him and went over to him. He wrapped his trembling arms around his best friend and pulled Patrick's head onto his chest. Patrick cried and cried, and Pete placed a delicate kiss on Patrick's forehead. Patrick was too shocked to realize how full of love it was.
Pete was too shocked to realize Patrick didn't realize it.
They both walked further into the totalled house and Pete upturned some wood and scraps.
"Patrick, where can J-Joe and Andy b-b-be?" Pete asked with his eyes also swollen with tears. More tears dripped down Patrick's cheeks.
Patrick helped Pete search for them. They were definatly no where to be seen. Just then, something made an eery groan which came from the basement. Patrick exchanged a worried/WTF glance with Pete and Pete scrambled for the doorknob that led to the basement. They couldn't get down the stairs fast enough, as if a hundred miles per hour was a crawl.
There, standing on eight legs altogether in the middle of the cellar floor were two huge, one black one gray, wolves. They were bigger than any wolf they had ever seen, almost abnormally large. They growled ferociously and leapt at Pete and Patrick. The two boys raced up the stairs, eager not to be torn to pieces. They got to the top of the stair case and slammed the door shut. Pete had to hold the door shut against the weight of the massive dogs as Patrick pushed the remains of a sofa against the door.
"Holy shit!" Patrick half gasped half shouted and took his hat off in shock.
"That should hold them for a good while. They broke the lock so we have to get something heavier than that poor excuse for a sofa..." Pete said sounding calmer than he should have been and actually was.
"Pete....do you think that...?" Patrick asked nervously.
"What? Oh...Andy and Joe they.....they must have gotten away.....right?" Pete asked sadly and nervously.
"Pete....I don't think they did..." Patrick mumbled quietly looking at the floor. Tears streams down Pete's face angrily. Pete stormed into Patrick's bedroom. Patrick had to keep at a good stride to follow Pete. Pete threw open the large wardrobe at the back of the bedroom and yanked out a tall rifle.
"What the hell are you doing Pete?" Patrick asked wide-eyed.
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing? Those god damn hounds in the basement killed Joe and Andy and I'm gonna rip their motherfucking throats out!!!" Pete screamed as he strode back across the room, rifle in hand. He loaded the gun as he walked through the living room.
"Pete, no you can't! They didn't mean it, they have instincts! They don't think the way we do!"
Just then Patrick dropped to his knees in agony as he held his head in his hands:
He saw the wolves, they changed, slowly their fur began disappearing, muzzles shrinking along wiht their bodies, until they were none other than Andy and Joe themselves.
Patrick's eyes snapped open and he found Pete kneeling next to him.
"What have you seen?" Pete whispered.
"Andy and Joe are....." Patrick said but was unable to finish.
"Are they alive?" Pete asked anxiously.
"Well.....sorta...yes. They are the wolves, Pete. They're.....w-werewolves..." Patrick replied.
Pete gaped. This couldn't be true. Werewolves don't exist....but....neither do vampires....
"Why can you see...the...future?" Pete asked distantly.
"I don't know Pete. I just don't know." Patrick said sadly, with tears welling up by now. All of this was too much for Patrick. He broke down into sobs.
"Why us?" Pete said in self pity to Patrick. Patrick shook his head sorrowfully and hugged Pete's arm. Pete hugged Patrick too and rubbed his back.
They were stilled crouched on the floor. Pete stood up. He walked over to the door to the basement and moved the sofa then opened the door. He leaned his head inside of the door and the wolves were not waiting at the top of the stairs. Pete entered the basement and stood at the top of the steps.
"Joe? Andy?" Pete called.
Pete went out and shut the door. He put the sofa back, just in case. He sighed and helped Patrick up off of the floor.
"I have to clean this stuff up, Pete." Patrick said. Pete nodded and went out to the car and got his laptop. He brought it inside and sat indian-style in the middle of the floor as Patrick began to clean.
He Googled werewolves and got 2.5 million hits. He'd have to pull an all nighter on this one.