What Men Do

The morning sun rose over the small town of Stillwater, casting long shadows over its quiet streets. Jack Morgan, a 37-year-old mechanic, adjusted his cap and pushed open the door of his garage. The familiar scent of oil and grease greeted him like an old friend. The garage was his sanctuary—a place where problems could be fixed with the right tools and a bit of patience.

But not all problems could be fixed that way.

Jack had a reputation in Stillwater. He was the guy people called when something went wrong—whether it was a broken-down car, a fence in need of mending, or even a missing dog. His hands were calloused from years of hard work, and his face bore the quiet determination of someone who had seen life's challenges and met them head-on.

Today, though, was different.

As Jack tightened the bolts on an old pickup truck, the bell above the garage door chimed. He looked up to see Maggie Hayes, her face pale and eyes darting nervously. Maggie was one of the few people in town who didn't seem to belong. Her soft-spoken demeanor and bookish habits set her apart in a town where hard work and practical skills were valued above all else.

"Jack," she said, her voice trembling, "I need your help."

Jack wiped his hands on a rag and stepped closer. "What's wrong, Maggie?"

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as if someone might be listening. "It's Danny. He's gone."

Danny Hayes was Maggie's younger brother, a troubled 19-year-old who had a knack for finding trouble. He'd been in and out of scrapes since he was a kid, but Maggie had always been there to pick up the pieces.

"When did you last see him?" Jack asked.

"Two days ago," she replied. "He went out to the woods and never came back. I called the sheriff, but they're saying he probably ran off again. Jack, I know my brother. He wouldn't just leave me like this."

Jack sighed. He'd helped Danny out of tight spots before, but this felt different. There was a weight in Maggie's voice that he couldn't ignore.

"All right," Jack said. "I'll see what I can do."

---

The woods behind Stillwater were dense and sprawling, a labyrinth of towering pines and winding trails. Jack packed a flashlight, a map, and a sturdy hunting knife before setting out. Maggie wanted to come along, but Jack insisted she stay behind. This wasn't a job for her.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, the air grew colder, and the sunlight struggled to penetrate the thick canopy above. Jack's boots crunched against the underbrush as he scanned the area for any signs of Danny. A broken branch here, a footprint there—it wasn't much, but it was something.

Hours passed, and the forest grew darker. Jack's instincts told him he wasn't alone. He paused, listening to the eerie silence. Then he heard it—a faint rustling in the distance.

"Danny?" he called out.

No response.

Jack gripped his flashlight tighter and followed the sound. The rustling grew louder until he stumbled upon a clearing. In the center stood an old, abandoned cabin, its wooden frame warped with age. The door hung ajar, creaking softly in the breeze.

Jack approached cautiously, his flashlight cutting through the gloom. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp wood and decay. He called out again, but only silence greeted him.

Then he saw it—a makeshift bed in the corner, scattered with blankets and empty food cans. Someone had been here recently.

As Jack examined the scene, a sudden noise made him spin around. A figure emerged from the shadows, their face hidden beneath a hood.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded, his hand instinctively reaching for his knife.

The figure didn't answer. Instead, they stepped closer, and Jack caught a glimpse of their face. It was Danny, but he looked different—gaunt, hollow-eyed, and terrified.

"Danny! It's me, Jack. Your sister's worried sick about you."

Danny shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "You shouldn't have come."

"What are you talking about? We need to get you home."

Before Danny could respond, a low growl echoed through the cabin. Jack turned toward the sound and froze. Standing in the doorway was a massive wolf, its eyes glowing with an unnatural intensity.

Danny backed away, his voice trembling. "It's not just a wolf, Jack. It's… something else. It's been hunting me ever since I found this place."

The wolf lunged, and Jack barely had time to react. He shoved Danny aside and raised his knife, slashing at the creature's flank. It yelped and recoiled, its eyes burning with fury.

"Run!" Jack shouted, pulling Danny to his feet.

The two of them sprinted out of the cabin and into the forest, the wolf close behind. Jack's heart pounded as he navigated the treacherous terrain, his flashlight bobbing wildly.

"This way!" he yelled, leading Danny toward a narrow ravine.

They slid down the rocky slope, the wolf snarling above them. Jack grabbed a large branch and swung it at the creature, buying them a few precious seconds.

"Keep going!" he urged Danny.

Finally, they reached the edge of the forest, where Jack's truck was parked. He shoved Danny inside and jumped into the driver's seat, slamming the door just as the wolf burst from the trees.

Jack floored the gas pedal, the truck roaring to life. The wolf chased them for a few hundred yards before stopping, its glowing eyes watching them disappear down the road.

---

Back at the garage, Jack tended to Danny's wounds while Maggie hovered nearby, tears streaming down her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, clutching Jack's arm.

Jack nodded, his expression grim. "You were right. Something's out there, and it's not natural."

Danny looked up, his voice shaky. "I don't know what it wants, but it's not going to stop. Not until it gets me—or someone else."

Jack stared out the window at the darkened woods. He didn't have all the answers, but one thing was clear: this wasn't over.

"What men do," Jack muttered to himself, "is face the things no one else can."

And with that, he began preparing for the next fight.