Wolf Hunt (Book 2) by Jeff Strand Read Free Book Online Page B

risk if the media..." Fuck it. George didn't have time to try to bargain with these people. He ignored the witnesses and his own agony and hurried off into the woods.
    Ally had only made it about twenty feet in before collapsing. She was still in her wolf form, thank God. That would make her a lot more difficult to drag back to the van, but onlookers would be less likely to try to prevent him from taking away a wolf-creature than a teenaged girl, although they'd probably wonder why the wolf was wearing a dress.
    This would be a hell of a lot easier with Lou helping him, but he couldn't really blame his partner for being unconscious, given the circumstances.
    He grabbed Ally underneath the arms and dragged her through the snow. He wondered how efficient the Tropper police department was in responding to emergency calls. Hopefully they sucked.
    This wasn't so bad. He'd dragged unconscious bodies before. Getting her back into the van would be more of a challenge, but he had this, no problem.
    He dragged her out of the woods and into the yard.
    Several people were watching George as he dragged Ally toward the van. He didn't mind gawkers as long as they didn't try to interfere. Hopefully nobody was thinking to take down the license plate number, though George planned to ditch the van as soon as he could. He kept his head down, trying to be as non-photogenic as possible.
    "What's going on?" the woman demanded. "What is that?"
    "I already told you, it's a Rabid. It's still alive, as far as I can tell, so any smart person would get back in their car."
    "Where are you taking it?"
    George started to say "The Center for Disease Control," then decided that starting a citywide panic was not in his best interest. "Just a lab," he said.
    "What kind of lab?"
    "If you're going to just stand there talking, do you think maybe you could help me with this thing? Take the feet."
    The woman did not take the feet.
    George dragged Ally to the van. He hoped it was still drivable after three collisions. He'd drawn enough unwelcome attention already—forcing somebody to give him their car would be a last resort.
    He left Ally on the ground next to the side of the van and opened the driver's side door. Lou was still flopped over, snoring. Moving his big ass out of the way was going to be much more challenging than dragging a werewolf through the snow.
    "You're bleeding," the woman said.
    George nodded. "Yep. She got me good."
    "Do you need a first aid kit?"
    "That would be lovely."
    The woman walked back toward her car. George gestured to his bloody chest. "How come she was the first one to offer? You've all just been standing there watching me bleed. I thought Minnesotans were supposed to be polite?"
    Okay, no time to scold. George took a deep breath, then began the unpleasant task of moving his very large partner out of the front seat. George's muscles and bruised-up skin did not respond well to this, and it felt like his arms were being twisted around like a leg coming off a roasted chicken, but he worked as fast as he could and got Lou out of the way without too much wasted time or humiliation.
    He turned the key in the ignition. The engine started. Mr. Reith knew how to pick a good van.
    Still no sound of sirens, but there was a zero percent chance that nobody had called the cops, so he really needed to get moving.
    The woman returned with the first aid kit. "Thanks," said George. "Can I keep this? I think I'll need the whole thing."
    "Uh, sure."
    "Thank you. If you've got a business card I'll mail you a replacement."
    "No, no, that's fine."
    "Okay. Back away now."
    The woman backed away. George had kept in shape during his months of hiding out (more so than Lou, who'd gone more than a bit soft) so, with some effort and lots of whispered cursing, he was able to get Ally into the back of the van. He slid the door shut.
    Inside the house, he could see the woman and boy peeking at him through the window. The woman looked conflicted, as if trying to