The Howling III by Gary Brandner

know who you mean,” Pastory said. “My reason for wanting to see you is to suggest a way to get us off the hook.”
    “Oh?” Qualen was interested but noncommittal.
    “As you know, I operate a modest clinic of my own north of here.”
    “Ah, yes, I believe you have spoken of it. I forget - where, exactly, is it located?”
    “My suggestion,” Pastory said, passing quickly over the question, “is that the boy be transferred there. I am quite well equipped to take care of him, and I think the boy will be useful in some important research I’m conducting.”
    “What sort of research?”
    “I’m not really prepared to discuss it at this stage. You understand, sir.”
    Dr Qualen drew a finger along the aristrocratic line of his nose. “What you suggest is not normal procedure.”
    “I realize that, sir,” said Pastory. “But I think in this case it might pay to bend the procedures a bit. For one thing, this will relieve the hospital of additional expense, and I understand the budget is under some scrutiny at Sacramento.”
    “I don’t see how all the necessary arrangements could be made without going through channels.”
    “These things can be expedited, as we both know. The thing is, time is short. I’d like the boy transferred to my place tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow? Nothing can possibly be accomplished that quickly.”
    Pastory produced a manila folder with the flourish of a magician making a rabbit appear. “To speed things along I went ahead and did the necessary paperwork.”
    “You are in something of a hurry to get on with this, aren’t you.”
    Pastory leaned confidentially forward across the desk. “I’ll be frank with you, sir. If my theories about this boy prove out, there will be considerable recognition, acclaim even, that will go beyond the medical community. More than enough recognition for one man.”
    Qualen stiffened. “That sounds unpleasantly like a bribe, Doctor.”
    “Nothing of the sort, sir. But it doesn’t hurt to remember that quite a few of our friends in high places got where they are by finding a way around the normal procedures.”
    Qualen glanced over the multicoloured forms. “I’m still not at all sure I can go along with this. It’s highly irregular.”
    “You’ll notice,” Pastory put in, “that I have entered my own name in every case where there is a question of responsibility. Not that I expect any trouble about a routine transfer, but if there should be, it’s on my head.”
    “I see.” Dr Qualen slipped on a pair of reading glasses. “Give me a few minutes to look these over. If, as you say, everything is in order, I see no reason why I should delay the transfer of this patient into your care.”
    Pastory smiled. “A good decision, sir. I’m sure it’s in the best interests of everyone concerned.” He leaned back in the chair and waited with a confident smile.

CHAPTER NINE
    The beast moved silently through the darkening forest. Small creatures of the night skittered from its path or froze into attitudes of self-protection. The beast padded forward in a balloon of silence as the smaller creatures ceased all sound and movement at its approach.
    But tonight the smaller animals had nothing to fear from the beast. It was intent on other matters. Every few yards the beast would pause and rise manlike on its hind legs, lifting its muzzle to the sky. It would sniff the air - testing, searching - and then, finding the one scent among many, it would drop again to all fours and move on.
    At the crest of the final hill the beast stopped. The coarse fur bristled at the base of its powerful neck. Below lay the sprinkling of lights that were the town of Pinyon. Directly at the bottom of the hill was a large rectangular building with many lights. From the building came a profusion of scents. Some sharp and medicinal, others heavy with death and decay. The scent of humans was powerful. Humans in their sickness. Yet among the confusion of the many odours the beast