My friend Tracy and I are FBI agents pursuing a man named Wolf, who killed fourteen children. (For some reason I remember it as being fourteen children, and not thirteen or fifteen, or any other number.) We follow him to a place that supposedly was Idaho, but looks exactly like my elementary school's parking lot.
All of a sudden, there's a flashback, and we're watching Wolf round up all these little children and put them in a canoe floating down a stream that just happened to be nearby. Tracy and I follow the canoe (which Wolf is paddling; the canoe has the fourteen children and Wolf paddling it) to a little clearing. Wolf jumps to the shore, grabs hold of one end of the canoe, and overturns it. The children all go splashing into the water, screaming, and Wolf laughs as they drown.
He then sees Tracy and me watching him, and starts chasing us. We run back to my house and barricade the door shut. For some reason, I'm really scared, but Tracy isn't.
I see the shadow of a tall man at the door step, and, thinking Wolf has found us, faint dead away. Tracy opens the door and it's my father.
