The Boy Who Cried Werewolf - Chapter 1 Extract Mike Ballet – The Boy Who Cried Werewolf Chapter 1 – ‘Try and Catch Me’ ‘There he is’ whispered Ballet, his index finger raised just enough for Luke to see where he was gesturing in the dim light of the cinema. ‘Damn...We need to get closer’. Luke nodded and looked across the busy rows of chairs dotted around then. ‘I can’t see any empty seats.’ He said nervously ‘maybe if we look over there-’ ‘Not enough time,’ Ballet quickly responded. His torso was now poised leaning forward like an animal ready to take its prey. Briefly he looked up at the cinema screen, his attention caught by the sight of lady exiting a swimming pool in a skimpy bikini. The smallest of smiles crept across his face before his mind returned to the task in hand. ‘We don’t have a choice,’ he continued, his body still motionless. ‘We’ll have to wait by the doors. If he sees us he has the choice of four exits from this room and we can’t cover all them. We’ll have to take our chances.’ With a nod Ballet gestured towards the doors ‘you take those,’ he said ‘I’m going this way’. Luke nodded in reply and in unison the pair turned away from each other. Carefully they stepped across the audience occupying the row of chairs. ‘Sorry,’ muttered Luke as he accidentally stood on a woman bare foot. Ballet heard and looked across, a bead of sweat glistening against the projector light. ‘Careful lieutenant’ he slurred through gritted teeth to no-one other than himself ‘careful’. Suddenly there was a loud bang and instantly Ballet and Luke spun forward, their right hands drawn to their hips with an almost magnetic pull. Both looked up at the screen and saw the familiar site of a smoking gun barrel, the white plume being blown from the tip by the marksman. Ballet sighed and looked across at his target. The man was still sat looking forward, the crown of his bald head reflecting the image from the projector. Turning again Ballet continued to step across the last few people situated between himself and the door to the cinema foyer. The pair stood at opposite ends of the auditorium staring intently at the target, after three months of investigation this was the best chance they had ever had at catching him. Ballet wasn’t prepared to let him get away. The film had reached its climactic end. The hero cop was stood over the body of the dying villain whilst the latter spat blood across the floor. Ballet looked across at Luke and tapped his finger against his watch face. Luke replied with a nod and stared intently forwarded. The cinema was suddenly engulfed with the sound of a soft rock ballad and they both knew it was time. Ballet watched as the first silhouette stood up in front of the credits rolling slowly down across the screen. Which way will he go? He anxiously thought to himself as he watched the bald-headed man intently, waiting for him to follow suit and step up from his seat. Slowly more and more people crept up from the endless rows and made their way to the back of the theatre. Ballet noticed that no-one had yet attempted to use the fire escapes to either side of the screen, it didn’t mean that they wouldn’t though. He looked back over at his target and realised his view was obscured by the people in the row behind shuffling through the stalls. He waited as they sidestepped across to the walkway that led to the door Luke was guarding until a wave of shock hit him. The target had gone. Ballet swung his head left and right trying to find some sign of the bald man but there were too many people. He glanced over at Luke who was now stood on tiptoes, his hands attempting to guide the moving people out of his way. ‘Damn!’ Ballet exclaimed as he looked across at the screen. The fire door to the left was open. ‘Luke!’ he shouted across the crowd. ‘Try to get round the back! I’ll meet you there.’ Luke looked across at the fire door and realised. He spun around and ran through the entrance to the foyer. ‘Not today,’ Ballet muttered under his breath as he pushed his way past the mass exodus. ‘Not today.’ The concrete corridor that the fire door led onto was empty save for a mop and bucket leaning against the wall. Ballet crept forward trying to listen for any noise up ahead. He may have been in a rush but if the other guy had a gun a white-walled corridor didn’t leave a great deal of space to hide. He stepped cautiously forward until he neared the turning at the end. With his back against the cold wall he inched round to poke his head out. There was a sudden crash as Ballet caught a glimpse of the man pushing a trolley down the corridor, the brute force of which knocked the majority of its contents across the floor. Ballet swiftly tucked himself back behind the wall as the sound of the trolley wheels drew closer, before smashing into the wall opposite. ‘Go!’ He shouted to himself before leaping forward and running up the next corridor, his hand still hovering above his right gun holster. It was now empty and all Ballet could see were the fire-escape doors at the far-end leading the way outdoors, the bright sun outside making its way into the previously darkened corridor. Ballet sprinted as fast as he good, his breath rasping with the adrenaline cursing through his veins. He leapt out into the street and looked around. He was in the car park behind the cinema surrounded by vehicles. He watched as some of the people, presumably from the previous film happily walked to their cars. He had to find him now, if he let him get to a car then three months work would be over. But where had he gone? In that instant he heard a thud and looked over at a parked Ford Escort located at the far-most corner of the area. At its wheel lay a young woman slowly climbing to her feet. ‘Are you okay?’ Ballet called as he ran over to the woman. ‘I’m fine,’ she replied ‘Just pushed that’s all.’ ‘Where did he go?’ continued Ballet, his eyes darting left and right across the car park like a meerkat. ‘He went down that street,’ she said pointing to a small alley about twenty metres away. ‘Thanks,’ called Ballet as he ran toward the alley entrance. As Ballet stepped into the street he suddenly realised that it was a dead end, in front of him was nothing but a 15 foot brick wall surrounded by large metal bins. ‘I have you now.’ He said to himself with a short laugh. ‘Now, whereabouts are you hiding?’ Cautiously he stepped forward closer and closer to the first bin, all the while holding his right hand towards his gun. Gingerly he placed his hand on the metal handle and pulled open the lid. There’s was nothing there save for a rotting pile of meat and a selection of old magazine piled to the brim. Ballet choked and slammed the lid back down. He stepped over to the next in the line of bins and once again pulled open the lid. He gasped again, nothing but rotting food in small bags. He continued to open each of the lids until finally he came to the last remaining container. ‘I know you’re in there Klishmov’ he said out loudly ‘Why not save us both the trouble and come out?’ There was no reply ‘This would really make #life easier for both of us.’ Again it was complete silence. Ballet sighed and stepped forward. ‘Very well’ he said ‘But looking through all of these bins hasn’t helped my mood at all.’ Once again he held the metal handle and opened the lid, slamming it against the wall behind. ‘What? But how?’ he exclaimed looking into the empty bin. He looked around at the others he’d already opened and stood silent. ‘No!’ In that instant there was a crack behind him and automatically he spun around. Stood there was Klismov holding a large metal bar poised to attack. Ballet leapt sideways, narrowly missing the giant swing and landing on the floor. ‘How did you-? asked Ballet before being interrupted. ‘In my country we have stronger stomachs than you English.’ replied Klismov, his body preparing for another swing at Ballet. Ballet noticed the man was covered in the meat remnants from the first bin and winced. He rolled backwards quickly as the metal pole swung down and hit the floor in front of him. ‘Stop running little English mouse,’ squealed Klismov swinging the pole around for another hit ‘It is only a matter of time’. Ballet moved back towards the bin as Klismov crept closer and closer to him. He put his hand to his pocket and realised in an instant that there was nothing there. Where was it? He thought as he looked around the floor. He could see nothing but the remnants of food packets dotted across the area. Klismov shot forward again, this time missing Ballet by mere inches. ‘It looks like you’re out of time detective.’ Said Klismov, a snarl forming across his top lip ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to tell your policemen friends you almost managed to find me.’ With that he let out an evil laugh before raising the pole back above his head. ‘Good night, Detective Ballet.’ Ballet stared in front desperately trying to think of some way dodge the oncoming blow but his position against the bin allowed him no room for movement. With nothing else left at his disposal he held out his hand in front of himself as a last resort, his eyes squinting as he predicted the final blow. There was a sudden screech of tyres and both Ballet and Klismov spun round to the sight of his 1987 Astra GTE skidding round the corner of the alleyway. Ballet took the chance and scrambled forward just enough to make some space between himself and Klismov. Without looking back he leapt forward as hard as he could and landed in a heap a few metres from Klismov. Klismov turned and gave Ballet the briefest of looks before the car spun into him. There was a loud crash as it went side on into the Bins and Ballet saw Klismov disappear behind the wreckage. For a few brief moment there was silence as the engine turned off. The side door of the vehicle clicked open and out stepped Luke. ‘Are you okay boss?’ He said, his hands on his knees as he breathed heavily. Ballet smiled ‘Barely,’ he replied. ‘what took you so long?’ he slowly stepped up from the floor and made his way towards the vehicle, picking up the metal pole Klismov had dropped as he did. ‘Good work Lieutenant’ Ballet continued patting Luke on the shoulder. ‘Looks like you have been listening to me after all. The pair both moved round the front end of the car carefully watching the space ahead with every footstep. Ballet stopped and lowered the pole. In front of him lay Klismov, the bottom part of his torso obscured by the GTE. ‘Looks like you’ll still be able to speak to my policemen pals back at the station Klismov.’ He said ‘If you make it that far.’ Klismov spat blood across the concrete in front of him. ‘To hell with you detective,’ he rasped. ‘It’s not over yet. The Baron will find you.’ Ballet looked at Luke with a surprised expression then back at Klismov. He crouched don’t next to him and lifted his head off the ground with his lapels. ‘Who is the Baron?’ he shouted at him ‘Where is he?’ Klismov coughed again and began to laugh ‘listen closely detective’ he said carefully ‘you will never find the Baron, nobody ever finds the Baron. Many people see the Baron, but only when it is too late.’ He laughed again ‘The Baron is for people like you detective, the last thing you will ever see.’ With that Ballet saw the man bite something and within an instant realised what had happened. Swiftly he pulled Klismov’s jaw apart and looked inside. It was too late. ‘The Baron will ride’ Klismov suddenly exclaimed before making a choking noise. His head went limp and fell backwards as Ballet lowered him back towards the ground. He turned to look at Luke. ‘Damn.’ He said ‘Looks like it isn’t over yet.’ Luke nodded and stepped backwards before taking a loud sigh. Ballet stood up also and moved towards the side of the car. He looked down to inspect the damage and his frown furrowed. ‘Lieutenant’ he said eventually, still staring at the front bumper ‘next time you want to run someone over, remember to commandeer a civilian vehicle first.’