Life With A Werewolf

New Enemies Need No Favors

          It wasn't my first time riding in the back of a cop car. It certainly was my first time doing so sober. It was also the first time I had ridden in one without being handcuffed. "It's just easier like this," the officer told me up front. He had a grizzled face that made him look about a billion years old. But in truth, he was probably only in his late twenties. Hard jobs have a way of aging you and causing you to turn to substances that age. Alcohol, cigarettes, Other items that's even worse for your body. Officer Smith up front was no different.
          We rode out to a small out of the way clearing. The sun was just getting ready to set. "I hope you brought the picnic basket and blanket, cause I didn't pack a thing for this date," I said.
          "Nope, just handcuffs."
          "Kinky," I replied. He just shook his head.
          He let me out, and guided me some distance away from his patrol car. "Sorry to pick you up like this." There was a hangdog look to his face, as if his entire world was crumbling around him and he was just barely holding it together. "I need Crash's help. I need a werewolf."
          "You literally have his phone number."
          He put his hands on his head, and turned towards the trees in the distance. Slowly, he began to rub the back of his head. "She came home crying. She never cried before. Not for years. 'Little girls cry' is what she told me."
          "So, her boyfriend?"
          "I think it was her math teacher," he said. "Bastard was always so understanding. A huge feminist, always big on female empowerment. But, in the couple of times I met him he just had this look in his eyes. This creepy look that I've learned means 'I'm going to do something horrible. And laugh about it.'"
          "What was she doing when she came home crying? Was it a date?"
          "No. She used to be so active in school. She was in the debate club, the glee club. She was on the student council. Now, she's withdrawn from everything. Won't talk to me, and of course I have no evidence, no cause to talk to anyone."
          "Officer. Why come to me with all of this?"
          He shook his head for a moment, and walked towards the woods. I could tell he was fighting back tears. His shoulders slumped, his arms wrapped around himself like he was hugging himself. His head bowed for a moment. Then he stepped back, his eyes red. "Cause, I'm hoping you can talk him into something."
          "You want him dead."
          He gritted his teeth. "I want him eviscerated. I want his guts strewn across that fuckin campus. I want Crash to eat his black heart and drink his blood."
          We stared at each other for a moment. "That would mean Crash would lose his life."
          He blinked. "What?"
          "Crash can't just go out and..."
          "That's bullshit. Of course he can! He's a county werewolf, he can literally kill anyone he wants to! He'd just have to write the paperwork after. He can kill your entire household if he got tired of all of you one day, and then come into work gnawing on your thigh bone. No one would say a thing to him. It's part of his job. Culling they call it. Ask Crash about it."
          "I don't understand every part of Crash's job officer, but I do understand there's severe repercussions for..."
          He growled low in his throat. It grew louder until it over rode my statement. "Look, just ask him, okay? Please?"
          It was a long awkward ride home. I didn't say another word, and he didn't either. When I'd gotten home, Crash was already out and about at his office doing the office work portion of his job. This kind of information wasn't the type that I was going to bother the other guys with. But it did eat at me. That what if.
          I know Crash has said in the past that he'd have severe repercussions for harming humans. But, is there a reason and way he could get away with it? Was there something to what that cop told me? At the time I didn't want to admit it, but he managed to give me some doubts.
          When Crash eventually came home that day, the sun was already setting. He was always more than a little irritable on those days and that day was no exception. Crash came in, his head hung low, his hands balled in fists.
          "You look like you need a shooting game," I said.
          He just nodded. And proceeded to tell me...well, I can't talk about it here. But, work related office crap. The political machinations of a small office filled with friends who have to work together on occasion. The conversation carried us from the front door, over to the video game. Zack was still at work, so we had free reign of the television. As we powered up the system, I bit the bullet.
          "Crash, what's 'Culling'?"
          He dropped the controller for a moment. Then picked it back up.
          "Where did you hear that term?"
          I turned towards him. "What does it mean, Crash?"
          "It's one of my more hated responsibilities," he said as he chose a game for us both to play.
          "Crash, come on. What does it mean?"
          He turned the game on for a moment. I didn't think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, "in the seventies it is rumored that a werewolf and two politicians had drinks. Well, sometimes they're generals not politicians, and sometimes it's not drinks but coke, but you get the idea. They were talking about worst case scenarios and things that could be done about it. The worst case scenario thankfully has never happened and I've never had to use that hidden law."
          "What's the worst case scenario."
          Crash didn't answer.
          "After all the crap you know I've seen and done, you can't trust me with this?"
          "Jason." He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. "There's a lot that you still don't know. Hell, there's quite a bit that I don't know. Trust me when I say this. I can't explain it to you, okay? Please?"
          I didn't like the fact that he kept something from me like that. But I finally agreed and we played a few rounds of the zombie level on Call of Duty. I won of course. We didn't talk about Culling or Officer Smith's daughter and her math teacher problem.
          To be honest, I wish we did. It feels like there's a weight hanging between us now. I just hope that when it comes crashing down it won't cause a rift.