The Last Werewolf (Vidar #1) | ONC2021 Grand Winner

You're Such a Boomer, Vidar

A faint smile crossed her lips as her eyes moved from his damp hair to his mud-caked shoes. Given he looked like a bum and undoubtedly smelled like one too, her not running away screaming was an absolute win.

"Rough night," he said. Any attempt to explain himself would lead to more questions. "The shop isn't open yet."

Her eyes darted towards her purple-and-green sneakers. She spoke in a low voice. "I know, but I was wondering if, maybe, the job is still open?" 

"It is."

She glanced up briefly, biting her lip. "Do you also hire off the books?"

He folded his arms. Not that he was opposed to the idea. The more he could operate outside the law, the fewer traces he left. In a digital world, it wasn't so easy to start anew with another identity. But what was her motive? Was she too young to work officially, or in need of quick cash, or both?

Actually, he was too tired to care. "I pay seven euros per hour."

"Seven-and-a-half?" Her voice rose as she added. "I also would like to get paid daily, if that isn't too much trouble."

He chuckled, not expecting her to be the type to bargain. "Deal. I would shake hands, but..." He gestured at himself. "Let's do that after I've taken a shower."

"Much appreciated. You smell like you have crawled out of a sewer."

She had no idea.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and opened the store. As she lifted the shutters, he brought the stack of newspapers in. 

"The work's straightforward," he told her. "Take out yesterday's news and put these ones in the rack. Same with the magazines. Out with the old, in with the new. When you're done, there are boxes with candy bars in the stockroom." He pointed at the door in the back. "Replenish the shelves by the counter. I recently took out any expired bars, so no need to worry about that. Check the drinks too. If you want coffee, you can make some in the kitchen." He gestured at the door behind the counter. "Ignore the mess."

Asking no questions, she began to take out the old copies. Impressed by the work ethic of his new apprentice, or assistant, or whatever the word was humans used these days, Vidar retreated to the privacy of his kitchen. Crusty dishes from three days ago sat in the sink. An open bag of bread still on the table, crumbs everywhere. He wrapped his phone in a threadbare towel. Perhaps, once it was dry, it would magically switch on again.

Then, he took off his shoes and strolled up the stairs, heading for the bathroom. His knees ached in protest. His head was woozy. Normally, he hardly felt his age, but in the past twenty-four hours, all he felt was how old he really was. He didn't understand why. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened during his wolf night. 

He stood still and blinked. In fact, other than feasting on a juicy rabbit he had caught, he hardly remembered what he had done as a wolf.

Blaming his tired mind, he stripped naked and stepped into the shower. As soothing hot water rinsed him clean, he slumped against the tiles, watching the dirt disappear down the drain.

Showers were such a brilliant invention. And to think he had opposed and mocked them as they became commonplace in the second half of the last century. An unnecessary luxury for those who wished to smell like a walking soap bar. But now that he was used to the waterfall of warmth and comfort, he couldn't imagine living without one. 

Humanity smelled better, and he smelled like a human. Win-win. 

He yawned loudly as he slowly soaped himself. His eyelids tugged. So drowsy. Closing them for a moment wouldn't harm anyone. Just a couple of seconds...