1. The Wolf | Pt.1
by mkSTEVENS
You all know this story; the one where a supposed ‘bad guy’ stalks three hapless ‘victims,’ going house
to house until the victims finally capture him and torture him nonsensically. It usually starts off
something like this.
INTRODUCTION | SUNNYVALE TRAILER PARK
A black, decked out Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG idled in front of a trailer park, adding an immediate
contrast of wealth to the surrounding poverty. It’s the kind of trailer park that tornados dream of
destroying. Any and every cliché you can think of exists here. Dilapidated living quarters, drunk
degenerates fighting amongst each other, any type of vehicle jacked up on blocks, the sound of three-
stroke dirt bikes in the air and dirt paths used as roads to get in and around. Ladies and gentlemen, this
is Mobile, Alabama’s quiet shame, the SunnyVale Trailer Park.
In the driver’s seat of the Benz sat Terry Cates, lawyer extraordinaire. He wore crisp, freshly ironed
black slacks and a white dress shirt. His jacket sat on the passenger seat, under his briefcase. On his
hands were black leather gloves. With a noticeable five o’clock shadow and dark puffy eyes, anyone
could tell that this man hasn’t slept in days.
Terry slid off the gloves and placed them next to a leather briefcase. The briefcase, a gift from his wife,
Sara, on their eighth wedding anniversary was engraved with ‘A life lived in love will never be dull,’ a
quote by Leo Buscaglia aka ‘The Doctor of Love’. The briefcase had been with Terry over numerous
tough battles in the courtroom, including his latest case where he sent Mobile’s Chief of Police, Frank
Raymond, to the state penitentiary for back to back life sentences on for four counts of murder.
With the gloves off, Terry separated the security FOB from his car key and pocketed it, leaving the
engine running. Before he clicked open his briefcase, Terry reached into his glove box and grabbed a
switchblade. He flicked it open and inspected the blade. He checked his face in the mirror, seeing his
puffy eyes, feeling his five o’clock shadow. He unhooked his matching cufflinks, his third anniversary
gift and placed them carefully in his ashtray. He pushed up his sleeves, unfazed by the possibility that
they might get wrinkled.
He rested his left hand on his leg. With his right, he lightly pressed the knife against the skin of his left
arm. Dragging up, the ritual of committing suicide began. However, it was short lived. The blade was
dull and Terry knew this. He quickly shifted to the briefcase and sat it on his lap. With the blade of the
knife, he pried loose the engraved plate. He flicked the button of the driver’s side window. Automation
2. would soon take over. With the window halfway down, Terry tossed the engraved plate out the
window.
He sat the briefcase on the passenger seat, set the combination and clicked the locks open. The inside
of the case was practically empty. The briefcase held two nickel plated Glock nine millimeters with clips
loaded, three manila envelopes, a box, a Zippo lighter and a picture of his son, Shane and wife, Sara.
Sara was a classic beauty; long, brown hair, a perfect smile with dimples and a button nose. They met
while he was shopping for his first suit. He was still in Law School at the time. She had been a drama
major at a local college, but was unable to afford tuition, so she worked part time in her father’s suit
shop as a tailor. As she measured him for his pants, he measured her for his bride. She recorded his
waist and inseam, and when she was finished, he recorded her phone number.
The courtship was quick, the engagement happened even quicker. Before anyone knew it, Terry had
carried his bride over the threshold. However, not everything happened quickly for this couple. They
were to deal with the one thing money could not buy, the inability to conceive.
A miscarriage can do numbers on a woman’s self esteem. Terry could only wonder what the effects of
three miscarriages had done to his wife. Her doctors warned her that if she were to try again, there was
a chance that she would not survive the pregnancy.
Ever the optimist, Sara never gave up hope. She stayed strong to her belief that she was destined to be
the mother of Terry’s children. It wasn’t until four years into their marriage that Sara lasted through the
grueling nine months of pregnancy. It was in mid October, at four in the morning, that Shane was born.
As optimistic as one can be, her doctor’s diagnosis almost became reality. During the birth, Sara had
come down with a fever. Sara would later be diagnosed with a bacterial infection. Shane however,
would be perfectly fine.
Terry stayed by his wife’s side during her entire recovery. Together they had proven the world wrong;
they were soul mates, their love would stand the test of time.
Shane took after his father. Even at the early age of seven, people would comment that Shane was a
miniature version of Terry. He had Terry’s eyes and mouth, his thick chin and dirty blonde hair. He was
thin and tall, just as his father had been at that age.
Terry took one last look at the photo and then tucked it neatly under the envelopes. He grabbed the
first envelope, un-tucked the flap and withdrew the contents of the envelope. They were surveillance
photos of this very trailer park. The contents centered on one family. At the head of the family was
3. Bobby Carlisle Sr., a ten year veteran of the Mobile Police department. Bobby had been discharged
from duty after being linked to the Police Chief’s case.
Bobby, like most stereotypical white trash, was an abusive husband. After tough days of work, he’d flip
a coin to see who he’d go to work on that night, his wife or his son. Peggy had been Bobby Sr.’s wife for
over fifteen year.. They were high school sweethearts. Although always knowing he had a temper,
Peggy accepted his marriage proposal. Even the several years of counseling, a wedding present from
Peggy’s disapproving parents, didn’t help the matter.
Things only got worse when Bobby Sr. joined the Mobile Police department. The stress of his job was
more than he could handle. Peggy wasn’t sure which man she’d be getting home each night, the one
that she had fallen in love with, or the monster that would kick the shit out of her, than get his medical
friends to patch her up. When Peggy fell pregnant, she had a gleam of hope that this would shift Bobby
Sr. around. He would finally have a boy, a legacy to continue on his life.
From hearing about her conception, Bobby Sr. promised to be a different man. He bought them a trailer
in beautiful SunnyVale and never laid a hand on her; that is until Bobby Jr. turned five. Something had
snapped in Bobby Sr. by then. He had been assigned by Police Chief Raymond to a new unit, and in
doing so, Bobby Sr. was forced to live two lives. Never being able to tell his wife about his day to day
routines had taken the toll on Bobby Sr., and one night when Bobby Jr. would eat his vegetables, Bobby
Sr. took off his belt and strapped his boy. Afraid she’d take the same punishment, Peggy stared on in
terror.
Terry shifted through all the photos until he fell on a four by six picture of young Bobby Jr., aged six.
Terry pocketed the picture. Before closing his briefcase, he grabbed the ring box. He clicked it open. He
slid off his ring and placed it in the box for safe keeping.
It was an expensive ring, and not his original wedding band. Their original bands were considered
placeholders for their real wedding bands. Sara had always felt guilty about eloping, so Terry had
promised on their fifth wedding anniversary that they would put on a huge wedding for their family and
closest friends. It was huge, over two thousand guests. It cost them hundreds of thousands to put on.
In Terry’s eyes, the second wedding was worth it. It made his wife happy.
Before he exited the car, he grabbed the lighter, the two Glocks and his jacket. Outside his vehicle,
Terry tucked the two guns into his pants and covered them with his jacket. With the FOB, he popped
the trunk to the SLS. Inside the trunk, in a special case, sat two wine bottles. They were corked with
cloth and didn’t house the type of liquid you could get drunk off of.
4. He grabbed the two bottles with his hands and shut the trunk. Ready for action, he sauntered through
the trailer park, glancing at all the misfits and their shitty mobile homes. As he walked, Terry made eyes
with everyone he passed in hopes his menacing look would keep them away. He stopped at a small
child, no more than seven or eight years old. Terry pulled out the picture and lined it up next to the kid,
a perfect match. ‘Are you Bobby Jr.?’
The kid nodded, not looking up from his toy cars. Terry smiled; the sly kind of smile that encompassed
just half his mouth.
‘Well Bobby Jr., I’m your Uncle Terry. You see these two bottles I have, well they belong to your dad.
Do you know if he’s home?’ Bobby nodded his head.
‘Bobby Jr. don’t you know better than to be talking to strangers,’ a nearby voice called out.
Terry instantly knew the voice. How could he forget it, it was trained in his head. It was in his
nightmare. It was part of the reason he stopped allowing himself to get to REM sleep. Terry turned to
see Bobby Carlisle Sr. no more than ten feet away.
That day, Bobby Carlisle wore sleeveless shirt, tight pants and slicked back hair. He couldn’t help but
continue the legacy of being white trash. ‘Shit on me,’ Bobby Sr. said, dropping his half empty beer to
the ground. He took off like a flash of light. Terry raised himself up and chased after Bobby Sr. Bobby
Sr., scrawny, ran cross country in High School and was able to maneuver the terrain with more grace
then Terry. By the time Terry had reached the Carlisle’s trailer, Bobby Sr. had locked himself inside.
‘Hey little Piggy! Come out, come out wherever you are!’
‘Fuck you man!’ Bobby yelled from the kitchen window.
Terry smiled and fished in his pocket for his lighter. With the lighter in hand, he sparked it and lit the
cloth of one bottle.
‘What’re you doing with that?’ Bobby Sr. asked, his southern accent squeaking out.
‘What do you think?’
‘Go fuck yourself tough guy!’ A bullet whizzed by Terry. Terry shook his head at Bobby Sr. Luckily for
Terry, marksmanship was never Bobby Sr.’s strong suit.
‘Big mistake, Bobby,’ Terry responded and whipped the Molotov cocktail at the window. Although his
first attempt would miss, it would cause a great enough distraction, lighting the outside of the trailer on
fire, that he could light the second one and whiz it in the window.
5. ‘Shit, oh fuck,’ Bobby Sr. yelled out.
‘Daddy!’ Bobby Jr., now behind Terry, cried out and rushed near the trailer. Terry grabbed Bobby Jr. by
the neck of his shirt and pulled him back. A trailer on fire is no place for a young boy.
A woman with a crazed look in her eyes rushed out of a nearby trailer. She saw Bobby’s trailer on fire,
then noticed Terry holding onto Bobby. She rushed to Bobby’s aide and jumped on Terry’s back. This
set Bobby Jr. loose.
‘Run Bobby run,’ the woman on Terry’s back yelled. Using momentum, Terry swung around and flung
the woman off his back. He quickly drew his gun and trained it on her. It was safe to turn his back on
the trailer due to the fact that while the woman attacked him, the inferno inside exploded.
‘Are you Mrs. Carlisle? Terry asked.
‘Ms. Carlisle,’ she says with a ‘screw you’ kind of smirk.
‘So you’re not Mrs. Peggy Carlisle?’
‘Certain. I’m Betty Carlisle, Bobby’s sister’
‘I’m Peggy Carlisle,’ a female voice sounded from the nearby trailer. Peggy Carlisle walked out towards
the group. The collective of trailer park degenerates began to take notice and gathered around their
houses, either near their entrances, or hanging out windows to watch Bobby Carlisle’s trailer go up in
flames.
‘Momma…’ Bobby Jr. said and rushed towards her. She leaned down and hugged her boy.
Terry grabbed the other gun from his pants. Keeping one trained on Betty, he aimed the other one at
Peggy. Terry stared at her for a second. Something felt off. A second later, Bobby Sr.’s tanned brown El
Camino peeled out from behind his trailer. Bobby Sr. stopped and flung open the door.
‘Get in the fucking car Peggy,’ Bobby Sr. yelled out to her.
Terry turned and aimed both guns at Bobby Sr.’s car. He fired a few rounds into Bobby’s car and one
into Bobby Sr.’s leg.
‘Ah go fuck yourself bitches,’ Bobby yelled as he sped off in pain. Bobby Jr. separated from his mother
and ran off after his father, only to see him speed off out of the trailer park.
6. Pissed that he missed his chance to kill Bobby Sr., Terry turned his attention back to the two ladies.
Terry fired a shot into Betty’s leg. She had it coming though, as she’d been crawling towards Peggy the
entire time.
‘Holy shit, asshole, you shot me,’ Betty yelled out in pain. Terry ignored her and turned his full attention
to Peggy.
‘Now where was I? Right, Mrs. Carlisle, I’m…’
‘I know who you are Mr. Cates,’
‘Then you know why I’m here?’ He asked, smiling. She nodded. ‘Then it should be no surprise to what I
do next?’
She nodded her head. ‘May I have a moment with my son?’ she asked, trying to stall.
‘No.’ Terry aimed the gun and quick as day, shot Peggy between the eyes. Terry turned his focus onto
Bobby Jr.
‘You stay away from that boy now!’ Betty screamed out, still in pain. ‘You don’t touch him.’
Her strategy wasn’t working. She had to figure out another tactic to keep Terry away from Bobby Jr..
‘Pedophile!!! That man is a pedophile. He touches little boys!’ Betty yelled out, pointing her finger
towards Terry. Acting quickly, Terry walked back to Betty. He aimed the gun at her and fired. Turning
from Betty’s corpse, his eyes searched the trailer park for Bobby Jr. He found Bobby Jr. back where he
discovered the young boy previously, with his toy cars.
However, something was wrong. In Bobby Sr.’ haste, he must have accidently run over his child’s toy
cars, leaving them in a crumpled mess. Terry made his way over to Bobby Jr., who lifted each and every
toy car for inspection.
Engulfed by Terry’s shadow, Bobby Jr. looked up at him. He studied Terry for a second before asking
‘Are you going to kill me.’
Terry looked at his guns, still drawn in his hands. As he had walked to Bobby he had noticed a crowd
forming near the entrance of the trailer park. Terry placed the guns in his pants and kneeled next to
Bobby Jr.
‘I don’t know kid,’ Terry answered. Bobby Jr. nodded his head and went back to inspecting his car.
‘Are you going to kill my daddy?’ Bobby Jr. asked.
7. Terry looked at Bobby, unsure of how to break his father’s future to him. As he reflected on his answer,
the mob of degenerates moved towards him. Terry noticed this, yet stayed with Bobby.
‘Your father has done some terrible things to my family,’ Terry answered.
‘He’s done some terrible things to our family too,’ Bobby answered. ‘Uncle Terry? If you kill my dad,
what will happen to me?’
‘How old are you Bobby?’ Terry asked, deflecting the question.
‘Six,’ Bobby Jr. replied.
‘Six huh,’ Terry repeated and wiped his brow. ‘You look much older than six, Bobby. I’d peg you for an
eight year old if you were a day. I see you like cars.
Bobby Jr. nodded. Terry reached into his pocket. He pulled out a tiny Matchbox car, a cherry red Ferrari
to be exact. ‘This one was my son’s favorite. Do you like it?’ Bobby nodded as he stared at the nicest
toy car he’d ever seen.
‘I’ll make you a deal Bobby’ Terry said, noticing the crowd nearing closer. ‘As long as you’re holding
onto that car, I won’t kill you.’ Terry smiled and handed Bobby Jr. the car. ‘Deal?’
Bobby Jr. hesitated for a second. ‘Okay Uncle Terry,’ Bobby Jr. said, and grabbed the car. With the
exchange made, Terry raised and drew his guns. He faced the mob.
‘I’d love to say this has nothing to do with you. But you’re white trash, and thus that negates any logical
reasoning whatsoever. So that leaves with me with two options; running, or fighting, which I’m sure
your fifth grade educated minds strongly desire. So I’ll make this clear to all of you who want me to
stay. These guns hold fifteen rounds each. I’ve fired five or six, leaving me with roughly twenty-four
bullets… my math says there’s roughly fifteen, maybe twenty of you. That means even if I miss, I can
still kill all of you. Gotta like those odds.’
Terry put a gun away and held out his hand for Bobby to grab. Holding firmly to the toy car, Bobby Jr.
figured this would be the safest choice for him and grabbed a hold of Terry’s left hand.
‘I need the boy and nothing more.’
Terry pointed the gun at the crowd. Luckily when most people are face to face with death, they
subside. A gap in the mob quickly grew and Terry made his way through, edging ever closer to his car.
The mob watched as Terry opened the passenger door for Bobby Jr. He grabbed the briefcase off the
front seat so Bobby Jr. could sit down.
8. With Bobby Jr. in the car, Terry popped the trunk. He placed the briefcase in and popped it open. He
grabbed the ring box and opened it. He slid his wedding band on his ring finger and smiled.
‘I love you baby,’ he said and put the ring box back in the briefcase. Before he shut the case, he grabbed
another envelope. He opened it and scrolled through the photos; a middle class house in a suburban
neighborhood, a family BBQ that included Bobby Carlisle Sr., Peggy and little Bobby Jr. and his next
target, Bobby Sr.’s brother in law, Tom Friedman, and one of two retired police dogs. He finished on a
piece of paper with an address. He grabbed the address and put everything else back in the envelope.
Terry put the envelope back in the briefcase and shut it.
With the trunk shut, Terry took one last look at the trailer park, the smoke from Bobby Sr.’s trailer raised
into the sky. Terry opened the driver side door and sat down. He started the car and waited for the GPS
to engage. Terry looked over at Bobby Jr., who admired his newfound toy. Terry buckled Bobby in and
disengaged the passenger airbag; safety first right?
‘Take good care of that now, it’s very special to me,’ Terry said, regarding the car.
Bobby nodded.
Terry punched in the new address into his GPS.
‘You hungry Bobby?’
Bobby Jr. nodded.
‘Great, me too,’ Terry finished and peeled away from the trailer park. This excited Bobby Jr. and for the
first time since Terry saw him, Bobby Jr. smiled. Terry looked away, back at the street. He was
supposed to kill the kid there. Everyone dies, that was his pact. What the hell was he supposed to do
now with the six year old kid?
