The Werewolf (part 3)

"Next Tuesday I'm going to London. I'm going to kill it. Are any of yu's wit me?"

The question had the weight of a bomb and it stopped us like one. Not just the statement or the question but that he obviously meant it. There was no "let's pretend" in his voice or his manner. "Think about it" he said "we all know that werewolves are evil. It is a curse direct from the devil. Adults just don't see these things so I am going to kill it." Somehow it felt like a gauntlet slap challenge. This was the bravest thing any of us had heard and we started to scrabble away from it. "How are we going to get to London?" said Podge. Just then a train thundered along the track past the playing fields. Patrick smiled "We take one of those, I've got plenty of cash". A few other objections were voiced but when the bell went it had somehow been decided. We were going to kill a wolf.
It was Friday and it wasn't feasible to go on a school night so lunchtime was spent devising a complicated sleepover excuse that would allow us to go on Saturday. The next day. We arranged to meet at Patrick's in the morning to go over the plan (we all assumed he had one) and that was it. I walked home that afternoon excited, confused, elated and more terribly afraid than I had ever been.
In the morning I walked to Patrick's slowly, the October air feeling like treacle against my legs. I was the last to arrive and Patrick's mum sent me round the back saying they were all in the shed. It was a wonderful shed, a long thin structure made of black stained wood that smelled of creosote old apples and dust. Very little was said that I can remember but He had been busy the night before.  Eight lumps of misshapen metal gleamed on the workbench next to five sporting catapults. "Last night I melted a crucifix, these are silver, Holy silver". This was sacrilege and we were shocked silent. Patrick handed us each a 10 pound note, two lumps of silver and a catapult. £10 was a hell of a lot of money but if he was capable of destroying a holy cross he was capable of anything and we didn't want to know where it came from. Martin produced a drawing pin from his pocket stabbed himself in the thumb and handed it to me. "We should take a blood oath" he said and we all followed suit and smeared the pricks of blood together. Patrick checked his watch, a proper Timex with luminous numbers like a pilots, and said that it was time. 
Five terrified little boys walked resolute towards the train station. The werewolf hunt had begun.