The Bait

**Jack**

He may only have been seventeen, but I could tell that Jack knew what he was doing. His long black hair draped his shoulders as he carefully checked each piece of equipment. He’d shown me the scars that traversed his huge chest. He’d told me that they constantly reminded him that the tools of his trade had to work perfectly, every time.

When he started, the entire bed had been covered, each piece carefully laid out in an almost artistic fashion. Now all but the last three items had disappeared beneath his aging overcoat. Within seconds, they too would be concealed. I sat motionless allowing only my eyes to follow and willing my heart to remain steady as I watched Jack carry out his ritual. This was the third consecutive day that I had been ordered to sit, observe and listen. I used every ounce of my will to concentrate as the last of the fifty objects vanished. I gingerly traced a finger over the bruise above my right eye. The bruise I had gained for attempting to touch a silver pistol the day I met Jack.

“Tomorrow you show me,” growled Jack.

A bead of sweat ran down my face as I nodded. I shifted fractionally to shield it from Jack, knowing he would have already noticed. His ability to take in every little detail unnerved me.

“TOM, if you’re scared-”

“I’m not scared.” I turned sharply and stared into the darkness of Jack’s brown eyes.

“The last team got scared,” Jack replied coolly, “the last team was ripped apart.”

His voice echoed in my mind, the words delivered with a calmness that betrayed their true meaning.
I walked to the window and stared out over the empty meadows; a soft breeze rippled through the overgrown fields. It was a clear day, allowing me to see all the way down to the river. From this distance it appeared to emerge from the bounds of the forest as a sleek blue ribbon. In reality it was as fierce a creature as the one we were planning to trap. Even from the house, some five hundred metres away, its’ raw power was evident. Raging screams erupted as water and earth clashed in a ferocious battle. My eyes pursued its journey down the steep gradient to the bottom paddock. I watched as the water rushed over the rocks and took its suicidal plunge into the gorge that clearly marked the paddocks southern boundary.

“So the river and the cliff are impassible boundaries?” I asked already knowing the answer.

“Have you ever seen any animal cross that river Tom?” Jack had appeared next to me.

Startled, I jumped back trying to keep in step with my heart. Damn! I hate it when he does that.
I stepped back to the window, berating myself for again showing Jack the effect he had on me. I stared at the jagged fence that ran alongside the cliffs’ edge trying to regain some ounce of composure.

“What about the cliff?” I asked hoping to discuss the plan one more time.

Instantly I knew I had said the one thing that would make me sound more stupid than I already appeared. The cliff into the gorge below was as close to a sheer drop as nature could produce. Its’ walls were made of a shimmering rock called mica that has a face as smooth as silk and an edge as sharp as a blade.

“Maybe I should get some other kid for this job,” said Jack, he was back by the bed.

“This thing killed my parents,” I screamed as my outrage burst forth completely, “I won’t be happy until it’s dead too.”

My anger just seemed to amuse Jack. His smile revealing way too many visits from the tooth fairy. Instantly my rage was dissipated and replaced with trepidation. I still wasn’t sure that I could trust him, but who else was going to help me kill this thing, this so-called werewolf?

“You said team,” the word had almost slipped past unnoticed, “who else is in on this?” I demanded.

“The bait of course,” he laughed, the sound rumbling to the pit of my stomach.

“You saw the fields, there’s not a sheep left in this town.” I gestured to the emptiness beyond the windowpane.

“Were not talking about sheep Tom, it only kills sheep to lure its victims out of their houses, It’s human flesh that it craves.”

Jack’s happy face had disappeared and been replaced by his more familiar menacing look. I don’t know which scared me most, his smile or his frown. He used both to keep me on edge without actually pushing me too far. I felt like he could read my mind and emotions; even predict my response before I knew what it would be myself.

I again felt the need to stare through the window; anything was better than dealing with Jacks’ rigidly formed features.

“One of the team has to be the bait!” I finally asked, “Who did you have in mind?”

“This is your town, who is the most useless, scared, little worm you can think of?”

“Scared and useless?” I queried, “I want this plan to work.”

“A werewolf can smell fear, it’ll been drawn in like a magnet,” his tone suggesting this was an obvious factor, “we need a real gutless wonder.”

My mind raced, desperately trying to keep pace with my heart rate. I envisaged the trap we intended to set for the werewolf. Jack would close in from the top of the hill bordering the trees and I would be closing in from the farm house, the river and cliff would prevent the beast from escaping. For the trap to work the bait would have to be on the small outcropping at the junction of the cliff and the river. How would they get clear once they attracted the werewolf? An ordinary human couldn’t possibly evade the creature, how would somebody scared out of his wits do it?

Jack read my mind again, “That’s right Tom, the bait will probably be dead before we get there.”

“I can’t choose somebody to die!” I exclaimed.

“One sacrifice could save this whole town,” He said calmly, “pick somebody you don’t care about.”

The door closed behind Jack before I could object again; an old overcoat hung idly from the handle; a reminder that his back was the only answer he would give me on this topic.

***

For some time after Jack left I lay on the bed too sick to move. My mind tormented by questions I couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. To what lengths would I go to avenge my parent’s deaths? What price was I willing to pay? How could I choose another human being as the person to die? I could feel the walls close in around me with each question. They hovered over the bed like circling vultures waiting for the last signs of resistance to leave their pathetic, powerless prey. I closed my eyes and felt my head collapse under the pressure of the thoughts and questions that now filled the room.

**The Overcoat**

With my head still throbbing, I opened my eyes to the shadows that had crept into the room. As the afternoon faded to dusk I picked up the dilapidated old overcoat Jack had left for me. It appeared to be identical to the one he wore. Imperfections such as stains, scratches, discolorations, rips, tears and faded areas all combining to provide the wearer with a garment that demands respect. The rugged appearance a brutal contrast to the silky smooth touch the leather delivered. Each hair on my right arm tingled with excitement as I slipped my right arm into a sleeve; a crackling sound confirmed the energy coursing through the material. The overcoat hung comfortably from my shoulders and tapped softly on my shins as it settled into place. For a full-length garment it was surprisingly light to wear; at least it was at the moment.

The mirror reflected a scrawny, redheaded fourteen-year-old boy wearing a torn and weathered old coat. It was hardly the transformation I had imagined moments earlier. Still, there was something about it that appealed to me; I felt a confidence, a sort of invincibility. Maybe the rips and tears demonstrated how this overcoat had given its previous owner, or owners, the same feelings of self-belief.
I examined all the pockets, compartments and clips, mentally picturing the purpose of each. Each pocket specially designed, reminding me of the tool that belonged there. Strips of pigskin providing protection against jagged edges, double stitching ensuring structural integrity and even sharpening stone inlays for the blades. A small piece of paper in one pocket revealed a message from Jack directing me to check under the bed.
I laid out the equipment Jack left for me; placing each item carefully on the bed, just as I had seen Jack do. Strangely, this activity made me feel more comfortable, more in control of my situation. I methodically picked up each item and placed it within the coat. Plastic replicas had been left as substitutes for a few of the more dangerous items. The task was relatively easy, given that I executed it more slowly and carefully than Jack. He was more like a magician, his slide of hand so swift that the weapons disappeared like cards up his sleeve. As I returned each item to the bed I realised the importance of this ritual. I could remove any item I wished, without looking. I decided to invest the rest of the night working on speed.

**Choices**

The next morning I left for school before most people had would’ve had time to wipe the sleep from their eyes. I was usually one of the first to school, and often one of the last to class. The playground resembled a shallow bowl, a circular field encompassed by a gently pitched perimeter. I sat quietly at the northern end of the playground and watched as the early birds trickled in, a perfect example of our schools social diversity. Small cliques of students collected in their usual haunts; the bookworms by the library eagerly awaiting another chance to learn; the footy players on the field belting each other silly and the loners scattered about trying to avoid attention.
Soon the buses arrived and poured their contents through the main gate. I scanned the yard with a specific aim, Billy Toff is useless, Wayne Bengal is a chicken, Axle Tully has to be the most annoying kid in school. What am I thinking? I can’t make this choice.

“Hi Tom,” Jack’s massive torso stole the sun from my world, taking with it some much-needed warmth.

I moved into the sun again, I needed my space when it came to Jack and I’ve always functioned like a reptile, a lot more animated when I’ve been in the sun for a while.

“Hi Jack,” I tried to act cool by not turning around.

“Who’s it going to be Tom?” Jack asked as though I was picking a pet fish.

“Isn’t there another way?”

“Pick one,” his voice was so encouraging that I almost relaxed.

“What if the plan doesn’t work?”

“Pick one.” It was both request and coercion.

“Will they be given a weapon?”

Jack moved slowly, as if to walk away, “So Tom Pickles doesn’t care about his parents death?”

His voice remained calm, but the statement sent a chill through my entire body.

My mouth was the first to react, “Wayne, Wayne Bengal is a gutless wonder.”

I heard myself blurt it out, my brain tried to throw itself into reverse gear, but my tongue was doing 100 along a dirt road. I didn’t know how to feel; fear, doubt, guilt and anger were all present, but there was also relief.

“Good, bring him over here,” Jack gracefully let his huge trunk descend to the grass.

The relief was short lived and I could feel the anger taking over, how could this guy be so relaxed about what we were doing? Who the hell does he think he is? And why should I even do what he says?
I abruptly realised that I had already taken several strides in Wayne’s direction. I stopped, stared vacantly at the dirt between my shoes, spiritless, I continued without looking back. I didn’t want to keep walking, yet I did; what was it about Jack that made me believe it’s okay to choose somebody to…… to…… to choose somebody as bait?

**Wayne**

Wayne was only new to Moxam High; nobody really spoke to him, and nobody would if he continued to sit under that horrible tree. It was the only tree on the south side of the school, a grotesque monster standing alone on its’ bare patch of dirt. The grass refused to grow around its base and the nearest shrub was at least fifty foot away. The tree was just flat out creepy; the strong breeze that often blew across the playground seemed to bring it to life in an eerie way. It’s gnarled branches reached out in all directions ready to seize any unsuspecting passer by.
I’d seen Wayne down by the tree before; he had probably sat there every day for the last three months; only he would know. I was one of the few kids who came down this end of the school. It was the place where you went if you had no friends, or at least if that’s the way you were feeling. There were no seats, no bins, no toilets, and usually no teachers; it was a good place to go when you didn’t want to be noticed for a while. Unfortunately the birds around here made sure that you got noticed when you went back to the classroom. All the birds in that big old tree seemed to hold on until lunch, and they were good shots too.
Wayne saw me coming and slid around the back of the tree. He must be that type of kid who thinks that if he can’t see me, I can’t see him.
I walked around the tree to find nothing. Where did he go? He wasn’t up in the branches and there was nothing else but space around. He has to be here somewhere. I walked around the tree again; there was a small hole, just big enough for Wayne. No wonder he spent his lunchtime down by this old tree, he probably spent half the day hidden in that little hide-a-way.

“Hi Wayne,” I said to the hole in the tree.

“Don’t hurt me Tom,” was the weak reply from the hole.

“What?” I said startled.

“Don’t hurt me, I don’t know what you think I did, but don’t hurt me.”

I tried to speak as gently and friendly as I could, “Come out of there Wayne, I’m not going to hurt you,” this poor kid was more paranoid than I thought.

“I’m not coming out.”

“I’m not going to hurt you Wayne, I just want to talk.” I looked around to make sure nobody could see me talking to a tree.

“I can hear you without coming out.”

I noticed that Jack had left and took the opportunity to get out as well, “Forget it Wayne,” I walked away, my heart just wasn’t in it.

I had done my bit, I chose a kid like he asked, Jack could tell Wayne that he wanted him to be dogfood.

**My Plan**

That afternoon a brief encounter with Jack convinced me to try again. A week of chips, icecreams, even money didn’t get Wayne out of that tree. Each day the conversation went the same way; me speaking softly and pretending I wanted to be his best friend and Wayne pleading with me to stop being a bully. I couldn’t even get this kid to sit with me, how was I supposed to get him to stand in an empty paddock in the middle of the night.
I was telling myself Wayne had enough fear in his body to lure a werewolf from China when it hit me, we could set the trap here at school. Wayne could hide in his tree; we could get a lot more people involved; and nobody would have to get hurt. I decided to think it through, get it right; only take my idea to Jack when I had sorted out all the possibilities.
Moxam high school was built like a fortress; a 15-foot high wall of bricks surrounded the entire school. There were only two ways into the school, the main gates and a parachute. I’m not sure if the walls were built to keep people out or keep kids in, but for the first time, I saw them as a good idea. The main gates were made of thick metal bars that crisscrossed like snakes strangling each other and in an attempt to reach the sky. Each with a four-pronged serrated head jagging out in a seemingly random fashion. The gates were usually kept closed outside of school hours. Surely if this town thought it could get rid of this monster by opening the school gates at night, they would be opened.
The south end of the school was fairly open; the balcony of the upstairs science labs would be a great place for a group of shooters to sit. Except for the cover provided by the old tree, the whole yard was very open and could be easily seen. Once in the yard, the only way out would be through the walkway under the labs. We could easily block that off after the wolf was in the yard, this would be almost too easy.

“No,” Jack looked unimpressed.

“But it’s a great plan.”

“NO!” Jack left the room, which is what he always did when he had made a decision.

I couldn’t believe he could turn down my plan; he didn’t even listen to all of it. I could almost feel the steam rising from my skull, why wouldn’t Jack accept this plan? Just because he didn’t think of it, that was it, he always has to be right. Any time I questioned his ideas he either gave me a new bruise or just walked away.
This was a good plan though; even Jack had to be able to see that. He’s the one that kept telling me how hard it is to kill one of these things, why wouldn’t he want it to be easier? Especially after he got those marks on his chest. He couldn’t be worried about the extra people needed; it’s not like he cares if people get hurt. Anyway, we could probably use my plan without any extra people. No, there had to be another reason and I was going to find out what it was.

**Thud**

I had to work out a way to speak to Wayne. According to my science teacher, Mr. Harris, there were only five more days until the next full moon. I arrived at school early as usual. A cool mist covered the ground giving the grounds an eerie look; wisps of smoke swirling around like ghosts and vanishing back into the ground. The wind seemed to be focused on Waynes’ tree making it more ominous than I’d ever seen it before. It stood like a crazed conductor frantically ordering the ghosts in and out of their vaporous graves.
My plan was to hide behind the old tree so that Wayne would only see me when it was too late. As soon as he realised that I wasn’t going to hurt him, he would definitely talk to me.

“There he is, there’s Tom,” Wayne’s voice had the tone of dobber in every syllable, “that’s the guy trying to bash me.”

I started to turn around, “I’m not tr…,” the force of the blow sent me crashing to the turf.

My eyes blurred in and out of focus; Wayne stood over me smiling so hard his lip split open. Over his shoulder I could see Jack, then they both faded away into the mist.
I found myself surrounded by darkness, blackness so complete that it consumed me. I could feel myself swirling with the misty ghosts, not a care in the world.
Severe pain bought me hurriedly back to reality; my head ached, each beat of my heart creating a pounding throb from my right eye. The whole right side of my face felt like it had been sandblasted. I realised I was laying face down on the grass so I rolled stiffly onto my back. I must have been out for a while because the mist had lifted and I was staring almost directly at the sun; shaded only by the branches of Waynes’ tree. Jack must have dumped me here after he decked me. The left side of my head was not sore, but I could feel something trickle down past my ear. I thought they must have hit me again while I was unconscious, how else could I have blood running down my face? Unfortunately I discovered that the trickle was the only thing worse than blood. Those birds must have loved such an easy target.
I headed home as soon as my eyes cleared and my legs were no longer jelly. Jack had done it again, I was furious that he could ambush me like that, but I was more impressed at how he got on side with Wayne. At least now I didn’t have to try and get Wayne to stand out in that paddock, Jack would have to do that. Still, I was going to give him a mouthful of my best insults for hitting me so hard.

**Suspicions**

I went to my fridge, picked up a steak, put it on my eye, then put it back because I felt like an idiot. Where did I get that idea? I closed the fridge door, turned and nearly dumped a load in my pants. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table. How does he do that?

“It’s all set then,” Jack looked as pleased as I had ever seen him.

“It’s all set?”

“Friday night,” Jack’s face hardened again, “as originally planned.”

“What if the werewolf doesn’t show?” the pain in my head was forgotten; fear was back.

All my attempts at getting to Wayne had distracted me from the reality of what we were doing.

“Are you kidding,” Jack got up and headed for the door, “with that Wayne kid out there we’ll have to be careful that a few more don’t turn up.”

***

The next couple of days passed without me showing up; my mind was constantly occupied with the plan. The bait was to be left in the southern paddock where the river met the cliff. Jack would hide amongst the trees at the top of the slope and I was to approach from the farmhouse.
I must have lived it a thousand times, looking for flaws. I still had to find out why Jack had rejected my plan. I couldn’t come up with anything. Anything, except that Jack must be the werewolf. I didn’t want to accept that answer, but it made so much sense. He must have been infected when he got those scars on his chest.
I began to wonder if he even knew? Why would he give me all the tools to kill a werewolf if he knew he was the target? Did he want me to kill him, or did he just like a challenge? My brain raced through the possibilities. He would make a massive werewolf, the black hair, brown eyes, just his overall size and strength. It had to be for the challenge. If he wanted to end it, he would have used my plan at the school.
Fear enveloped me as I developed a new strategy. I could soak Jack’s path to the bait with water for the next two days. That would slow him down, give me more time. I could race in to protect Wayne, maybe even give him a weapon. I knew which direction to look for Jack; a full moon should provide enough light to see him early. It was always going to be dangerous, but now I had the advantage. I also decided that I would have to protect my thoughts. Jack always knew what I was thinking; maybe this was some werewolf thing.

**Memories**

Fortunately we spoke very little over the next couple of days. Jack spent most of his time with Wayne; I guess he was still working on getting him out in the field. Maybe Jack was just trying to make sure that I didn’t catch on or maybe he was just hungry, I couldn’t tell. I was certain of a few things, Jack had planned our separation and he had made sure I was Wayne’s enemy, while positioning himself as the protector. This would make giving Wayne a weapon difficult, I would have to take care of Jack myself. Jack knew he had played me right into his trap, but he didn’t know what I had planned for him.
I was not there when my parents died, but my dreams had created vivid memories. The screams rang in my ears and the terrified faces were branded inside my skull. Sometimes I could even smell and taste the blood that choked their last breath. Jack would not die quickly. He had to feel the agony my parents felt. He had to know the fear they had known, the fear of knowing he was going to die. He had to suffer.

**Execution**

From the top of the barn I trained my binoculars on Jack as he led Wayne out to the far paddock. I had to admire his skill; I would never have gotten Wayne out there. They wandered down the slope to the junction of cliff and river. After only a brief discussion I saw Jack follow the river upstream towards his agreed hiding spot. He shot a glance towards me as his boots sank in the mud I had created. He couldn’t possibly see me from this distance, but he seemed to be staring straight at me. A smile crossed his face as he continued on towards his post. He knew I was on to him, but it was too late to change my plan. The sun would be down in about twenty minutes. I would just have to be alert. I continued to watch Jack struggle his way up the ever-steepening slope until he reached the woods.
I was supposed to wait until it was completely dark before I left the safety of the house. My plan required that I get to Wayne before Jack, so I started to move as soon as I saw Jack disappear into the trees. I headed off towards where I hoped Wayne would be, probably frozen with fear. The darkness was starting to envelop the fields. The nights in Moxam were always cold, dark and windy. Tonight was no exception.
I felt a surge of adrenaline flush through my body as I ran. It was amazing; the cold air no longer seemed to touch my skin, to me the wind was nothing more than a breeze. I could see as clearly as on any sunny day; I charged towards the bait. Wayne was still there; even I could feel his fear. The ground was a blur beneath my feet. I would reach Wayne well before Jack could, even in the shape of the beast he would become.
I slowed as the air suddenly felt void of Wayne’s fear. Something was wrong; it was like Wayne had already been taken. Jack could not possibly have gotten to him. I looked up to see a huge figure rushing down the muddy slopes of the northern paddock. It was Jack, Jack the slayer, not, Jack the werewolf. My entire body ached as I dropped to the ground. I was paralyzed momentarily by my own fear. If Jack was not the werewolf, I had just slowed down my best chance of survival.
I dropped to the ground and began to crawl towards the place where Jack would have left Wayne. My heart sank as I saw his shredded shirt; he was nowhere to be seen. I crawled closer, every sense going into overdrive. I could feel individual blades of grass as I desperately tried to move without noise. I moved over to the shirt laying torn to pieces. There was no blood, this shirt was shredded, but there was no blood. Clouds suddenly covered the moon, cutting my vision in half. I sensed Wayne again, but this time there was no fear. He was confident, controlled and very dangerous. I also sensed Jack, I only hoped that he got to me first. When the clouds cleared as quickly as they had arrived, the moonlight revealed two figures approaching cautiously. One was obviously Jack; the other had to be Wayne. Both had seen me, neither was backing off. Clouds again moved in. My own fear intensified. I had the cliff drop on one side, rushing water on the other side. I was where the bait should have been. The clouds cleared one more time to reveal a brilliant full moon; it shone as brightly as the sun. In this light I looked at Jack, his immense frame towered over Wayne. Relief flooded my body, I knew that a werewolf would die tonight. The memories of my parents’ deaths would be gone. I let out a howl as Jack and Wayne lifted their weapons and aimed at my heart.