Night fell over Linden , California like a carelessly tossed blanket. The moon rose, full and unblinking, from behind the leafless branches of winter oaks on the black spine of the eastern ridge. Because the moon had also been full the night before, or at least full enough, Sheriff Jack Harmon was now a believer. He was holed up in the gun store with a few dozen of the town's survivors.


From his window at the store front, Jack could see what was left of his deputy, Carl, in the street. The moonlight revealed a black puddle and some limbs. Carl's face gaped at the starry night sky, no longer connected to his torso, which had probably been dragged off.


In a few moments the howlings began, as they had the night before. There was some barking, but mostly there was a kind of night crooning that intimidated the prey as it was meant to.


"Larry," said Jack, "Tom, get up here by the window with me."


"Right, Sheriff," said Larry. "C'mon, Tom."
Now the three best shots were facing the street. Their shot guns were loaded, and they had backup .45 revolvers on the floor within reach. They soon spied a blur of motion atop the ridge. Creatures running low to the earth poured down the hill in the spaces between the oaks.



Earl Haney came forward and joined the three at the window front. "Earl," said Jack, "you can't see to hit a barn side, go back with your kids."



"I'm between hell and my kin," said Earl, "don't you un-man me."



"Then fire when we start," said Jack.



The window was halfway broken out already. The men could hear the sound of running paws on the dry western dirt. Rounds were loudly chambered in every weapon.



When the wolf-things ran on to the street, the men unloaded as quickly as they could. The creatures whined and stood upright and fell down again. More charged over the bodies of their fallen comrades. More shots rang out in the night. The things were almost to the window when Earl ran out with two revolvers, shooting in two directions. He got most of those around him, but one dragged him down and tore away at his skin.



Jack called back to the people behind him. "Bring us more ammo!"



Two boys came forward with several boxes of shells. The men took turns reloading and shooting, and, finally, the horde of wolf-things fell back. There was a collective howling from across the street that convinced Jack hundreds more of the things were still out there.



"We can't hold that many off," he said.



"Come on, Jack," said Tom. "You're the sheriff, and you can't give up. We need you."



"Looks like they're coming back for more," said Jack.



Across the street, the furry pack had rallied, and they began to advance with slow deliberation.



"What the hell is that?" said Tom, looking at the sky over the street.



Jack looked up and saw small dark shapes blotting out some of the stars. "Huh?"

As the shapes descended, they took on human form. It appeared that people dressed in black clothing were dropping from the cloudless night sky like a gentle rain. And they all came to rest standing in the street between the gun store and the wolves.



"What the..." said Tom.



Then the battle began, and the black-clad people tore into the wolf pack and there were screams and shrieking yelps as the wolves were ripped to shreds. The strangers from the sky soon prevailed, and there wasn't a single bark or growl heard. The blood-soaked street fell silent, as quiet as a crypt.



Jack Harmon stepped out through the broken window, knocking loose a triangular piece of glass that fell to the sidewalk with a clink. One of the strangers, perhaps the tallest one, emerged from the crowd to meet Jack. It was clear, in the light of the full moon, that the stranger wasn't exactly human. He was mostly human, but his teeth were like fangs, and his fingernails, so long.



"You saved our town," said Jack.



"Saved?" said the stranger, "oh, no. We didn't save it. We won it."