The Wellness Check

It was Mrs. Gable down the road who called the Sheriff. She hadn’t seen Elena’s car move in two weeks, and the lights in the Holloway House had been burning day and night.

Sheriff Miller was a good man. He was nearing retirement, slow-moving but thorough. He pulled his cruiser up the long, gravel driveway, frowning at the overgrown grass and the silence of the woods.

He knocked on the heavy oak door. *Bang. Bang. Bang.*

"Elena? It's Jim Miller. Open up."

Inside, the living room was a nest. The furniture had been pushed against the walls. The center of the room was a pile of shredded mattresses, old clothes, and bones.

Elena stood by the fireplace. She wore the same nightgown she had worn for a month. It was stained yellow and brown. Her hair was a matted bird's nest.

The Alpha stood behind her, its heavy paws resting on her shoulders. It towered over her. Its hot breath smelled of rot against her neck.

"Talk," it whispered in her ear, using her own voice.

"I can't," Elena wept softly.

"Talk... or Toby... hurts," the Alpha hissed.

The Runt growled from the corner.

"Elena?" The Sheriff shouted again. He tried the knob. Locked. "I'm coming in, Elena."

"No!" Elena shouted. "I'm fine, Jim! Just... just the flu!"

"You sound terrible, Elena. Open the door so I can see you."

The Alpha tightened its grip on her shoulders. Its claws pierced the thin fabric of her gown, drawing blood. It nodded at the door.

Elena walked to the door like a marionette. She unlocked the deadbolt. She opened it a crack.

Sheriff Miller peered in. "Jesus, Elena. You look like hell. What's that smell?"

"I'm sick, Jim. Please go away."

Miller pushed the door open wider. "I can't do that. I need to make sure you're—"

He stopped. He saw the eyes glowing in the shadows of the hallway. Five pairs of human eyes.

"What in God's name..." Miller reached for his holster.

"Run," Elena whispered.

But the Alpha was faster. It didn't lunge; it flowed. It hit Miller in the chest, driving him backward onto the porch. The sheer weight of the creature cracked the Sheriff's ribs instantly.

Miller screamed, but the sound was cut short as the Alpha’s jaws clamped over his face.

The rest of the pack swarmed.

Elena stood in the doorway, watching. She had a shotgun leaned against the wall behind the door. It was loaded. She could lift it. She could shoot the Alpha while it was distracted.

She reached for the cold steel barrel.

"Mama!" the Runt cried from the chaos, its muzzle red with Miller’s blood. "Mama help!"

It sounded so scared.

Elena’s hand froze. The gun remained against the wall. She watched as they dragged the Sheriff’s body inside, across the threshold, ruining the hardwood floors she used to polish every Sunday.

She closed the door. She locked it.