The Wolf

"How much for today's Jnytt?"

"Thirty-one kroner."

'God, prices keep rising. This economy is going to destroy the world if it isn't fixed.'

"Does it have more about The Wolf?"

"Cover story."

'I'm going to hate myself for this.'

"Heres thirty-one kroner."

"Enjoy."

'I'd better enjoy it, for that price.'

Börje handed over a twenty kroner bill, two five kroner coins, and a krona, took the newspaper, and walked on down the street. It was a seasonably cool day in Jönköping, at four degrees Celsius. He had just left Centrum Bar, and walked a little ways east on Vasta Storgatan until he came across a bench that was not only clear of snow, but also under a street lamp. As always with news of The Wolf, it was an ugly story.

For several years, Jönköping had been plagued with a serial killer. Every winter, he killed three people. But "killed" is too light of a word. "Butchered" is more accurate. Victims of The Wolf were kidnapped from their homes in the night, and taken to an unknown location. The exact details of what transpired there were not known, but the bodies were always returned to their homes completely stripped of flesh and muscle, leaving only a skeleton and… most internal organs. Always, a bloody timber wolf paw print was left next to the corpse, hence the killer's media-given alias.

In the paper he had purchased, Börje read that The Wolf had claimed his second victim of the year, a thirty-five year old man named Kay Hümmler. Though the article was a cover story, it had no new information about the killer. It simply restated facts that anyone who read or watched the news in the past ten years already knew, apart from details of the latest victim's life. This one had his window broken in.

'Should have known. Never anything new about him. Damn, Wolf, just get caught already. I'm tired of re-reading how skillful you are at leaving no trace. Waste of thirty kroner.'

Börje folded the newspaper and stuffed it into his coat pocket, and continued walking back to his home. In a passing thought, he decided to get bars on his windows. The next day he did just that, and slept better that afterwards. Better safe than sorry was a good rule to live by.

After a few weeks, Börje almost forgot about The Wolf. Forgot, that is, until he heard a knock at his door in the night. If he weren't a light sleeper, he never would have known it happened. He stumbled out of bed, down the stairs, and was nearly to the door when he stopped to think.

'Wait, who would be knocking on my door at four in the morning? What if it's The Wolf?'

The knocking continued as he stood, thinking.

'But why would he knock? He's never done that before… or has he? Maybe that man earlier this year hadn't left his door unlocked. Maybe this is how he get's his victims. And the last one must not have answered, so he broke in the window. But, that means I'm safe!'

Börje decided to see if he could tell who was at the door without being noticed, and silently moved closer. A few feet from the door, he heard the man outside speaking in a low, snarling voice.

"Släpp in mig, släpp in mig, lilla grisen. Let me in, let me in, little pig."

'What the hell? He must be some drunk. He'll go away eventually.'

"Låt Varg i! Let The Wolf in!"

'SHIT! IT IS HIM!'

Barely contain a scream, Börje began to back away from the door, and tried to calmly go back to his room to call the police. But fear got the best of him, and he began a full out run to the stairs, and tripped over the first step. The knocking suddenly stopped, and he heard heavy foot steps scurrying about outside in the snow, circling to the windows. As he got to his feet, he heard the growl of anger when The Wolf found the bars. He smiled briefly, then continued up the stairs to his room, where he had a phone. He picked it up and dialed the number of the local police.

"Hello, this is Officer Bjørg. How may I help you?"

"The Wolf is at my house. He's trying to get in!"

In his panic, the words flowed out of his mouth in a jumble, somewhere between crying and screaming.

"Sir, can you repeat yourself clearly? I cannot understand you."

"THE WOLF! HE'S AT MY FUCKING HOUSE!"

"What's your address, we'll have an officer there as soon as possible."

As Börje recited his address, he heard a loud noise on his roof. It continued, and he realized that there was someone on it, trying to break in. He heard loosed shingles sliding off the roof and falling to the ground. Then the most frightful sound of all: wood being crushed. A loud thump, and he knew that The Wolf was in his attic. His voice fell to a whisper.

"He got in."

"Don't worry, we have men on the way. They'll only be a minute more. Try to--"

The rest of the man's words were lost as The Wolf burst through the bedroom door. Börje barely had time to scream before a strong blow to the head rendered him unconscious…

When he awoke, at first only the pain in his head was noticeable. But then Börje realized that his feet were above his head, and he was hanging, naked, so that his head was a little under a meter from the floor. The second thing he noticed was that the room he was in was barely lit, and smelt of decay. He tried to grab his head and control the pain, but found that his arms were bound behind his back, and held by rope around his waist.

He heard a voice in the distance, coming from behind him, and it grew closer and closer. Eventually he could make out the words being spoken.

"Blöder den lilla grisen, blöda honom torr. Eller låta honom skrika som jag äta honom levande. Bleed the little pig, bleed him dry. Or let him scream as I eat him alive."

Börje began to scream, and The Wolf laughed.

"Ingen hör dig, lilla grisen. Det är bara du och jag. No one hears you, little pig. It is only you and me."

The Wolf walked around to Börje's front, and he now saw that The Wolf was wearing an outfit made of several wok pelts sewn together, with his head inside of a wolves', and he had a large, sharp knife in his hand. He approached Börje, and smiled. His eyes were alight with an insane desire for the deeds about to be performed.

The Wolf stabbed the knife into Börje's stomach, just below the navel, and slowly began to pull it down towards his head. He had cut about 13 centimeters when There was a loud bang in the distance, and shouting was heard in the place The Wolf had come from.

He pulled the knife out, and ran back where he had come. By this time, Börje was almost unconscious, and didn't even hear the gunshots. When he was cut down by the police, he had no idea what was going on.

Later, in the hospital, after receiving stitches and treatment for a concision, he was told what happened. The police arrived at his home, just as The Wolf was dragging his body outside. In a panic, The Wolf stole Börje's car and left his at the scene, as it was parked several houses away. The police lost him in a chase, but used the original escape vehicle's license plate number to find his home. The Wolf's actual name was Frederik Yrian, though he had changed his name to Varulv Gudleif a year before the first killings. In the home, remains of his previous victims were found in his refrigerator, and there was evidence that he ate them.

None of this really mattered to Börje, though. All he cared about was that he was alive, and that The Wolf was never going to claim the life of another "little pig."