The Pack - On the Run

Twenty minutes and five hot dogs later, doubt cracked mum’s resolve.

“You sure we’re on the right path?” She asked, leaning on the wheel while trying to see something through the thick fog that had crept on us.

“That’s what the map says...” I stated, following the line Ben drew for mum with a black marker. “We should see the sign right about... now,” I added, lightening up, as I finally noticed the goddamn thing in the distance. “We need to take the next turn.”

“Left or right?”

“Left and onto the dirt road.”

“Good thing at least one of us has young eyes. I would have missed the sign if...”

“Watch out!” I cried out.

Mum abruptly hit the breaks, and I was tossed forward, then forced back by the belt that painfully dug in my chest as we stopped two feet away from a giant wolf that suddenly leapt before us.

It was bigger than nature should allow and so dark grey it was almost black with a speck of white around its nuzzle. I felt rather than saw mum clutching my hand and her nails pierced my skin, the coppery smell of blood filling the car almost immediately, however, I ignored it, focused solely on the danger in front. The beast regarded us cooly with its intelligent, gleaming, amber eyes. I sucked in a breath when those orbs landed on me, the force of the gaze suffocating me for an agonizingly long second before the animal looked away and just as suddenly vanished in the bushes.

“Jo? Is everything okay?” Mikey's sleepy voice cut the silence in the car.

“All’s good. Go back to sleep,” I said, my voice still shaky.

Mum switched the gear and started the car, whispering softly, “One night. We’re staying in just for one night, and then we’re out of this goddamn hole.”

I couldn’t agree more.

* * *

We still had to drive for some time before an enormous lodging house rose in front of us, its warm yellow lights guiding us like beacons.

“If that’s nothing much, I don’t know, what is...” I muttered in awe, taking in the building in front - its massive porch, fieldstone wrapping the ground floor, honey-brown logs making up the first floor, and exquisite nature-themed carvings decorating wooden pointed arched windows.

Mum put the car in park.

“I bet they have hot water here,” she said, peeking at the building from behind the windscreen, no less impressed than I was.

“And no roaches... or mice,” I joked but regretted it a second later when I saw the look on mum’s face.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry...” She choked out, hiding her face in her hands. “I know it’s been shit on you lately with what has happened to your dad and now... now... this... and I’m sorry, but...”

“Mum, please, don’t...” I begged. “What happened to dad is not your fault...”

“But it is,” she whispered, cutting me off with a distant expression on her face. I knew the sentence wasn't meant for my ears, so I didn't prompt her, not really sure if I was ready to discover another skeleton in the closet. Mum cleared her throat and unfastened her seat belt. “Anyway, enough of that. Let’s just check this place up. I desperately need that hot shower Ben has promised us.”

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed slowly, watching mum rush out of the car.

Was she finally losing it?

Weren’t we all?

I followed her with my eyes as she went down the gravel path towards the front porch on which a woman appeared - Rosie, if what Ben said was correct. She was wearing a pair of grey, comfortable sweatpants, a matching hoodie and seemed rather eager to greet mum. Both women exchanged pleasantries in no time and moved on to small talk, so I turned around to check on Mikey again.

He was still sleeping so I only gently brushed away a stray lock of his reddish-brown hair and got out of the truck.

The cool night air assaulted me almost immediately, biting my cheeks. I shivered, placed my hands under my armpits in a desperate attempt to keep warm, then headed towards the boot to grab our belongings. Not that we had much. Mum had packed us all in haste, only taking the necessities. Our luggage consisted of one large suitcase and my leather backpack.

I threw the bag over my shoulder then, huffing, put the heavy suitcase on the gravel driveway, suddenly feeling the moonlight on the side of my face. Instinctively, I looked up at the moon's crescent, silently counting the days that separated me from the full moon and my inevitable doom.

If legends were true, I had only two more weeks of humanity ahead - unless the cure worked.

Well, shit.

I grimaced then headed towards the chatting women. The sound of gravel shifting under the soles of my trainers alerted them both to my presence. They turned to face me.

“Josie, meet Mrs. Davies,” mum said, smiling.

I readjusted the bag’s stripe and held out my hand in the woman’s direction. From up close, she looked even more beautiful than I assumed. She was on a petite side, had whiskey-brown hair tied up in a long, messy french braid, big yellow-brown eyes, a small, gently upturned nose, and heart-shaped lips. She also smelled like us, but my reaction to her was pretty much different than it was to Ben. There was something about the woman that calmed the storm raging inside me.

I didn’t know what to think about it.

Mrs. Davis shook my hand and smiled as she said, “Lovely to meet you, Josie. I’m Rosalynd, but you can call me Rose.”

“The pleasure’s mine Mrs. Da... erm... Rose...” I replied awkwardly, once more feeling this weird instinct to look away from her friendly but intensive gaze. I had to fight with myself to keep my eyes straight. I even managed - somehow - for pitful four seconds before mum saved my pride and gave me an excuse to focus on something else.

“Josie, maybe Rose could show you around while I’ll fetch Mikey from the car...?” She asked.

“Um, yeah, okay...” I said, lifting our stuff.

“C’mon then,” Rosalynd encouraged with a smile, gesturing for me to follow. I did just that, climbing the stairs as she started to explain, “It’s rather quiet today, but usually we have lots of people in. I hope you don’t mind.”

We went inside the building and into the long, bright, narrow hall.

“No, not at all. We won’t be staying long anyway.”

“That’s a shame. Where are you heading to?” Rosalynd went straight for another flight of stairs and started to climb them. As I tugged behind her, I caught a glimpse of a tastefully decorated rustic style common room with a cozy-looking marble fireplace. Somehow I knew where I would be spending the evening - if I didn’t collapse on the bed face-first.

“Dover Hill... We’re going to Dover Hill,” I answered, a bit distracted, as I put the suitcase on the varnished floor.

“I see,” The woman remarked in an odd voice. I surveyed her, but I couldn’t see whatever raised my suspicion. I was honestly going bonkers. “Do you have family there?” Rose inquired, keeping a friendly tone as she led me towards the last room on the left.

I eyed her once more, feeling there was more behind the question than simple curiosity.

“Something like that,” I muttered after a pause. I had a weird feeling she wouldn't be pleased if she heard we were trying to reach the hospital there. Though I didn't know why it even mattered to me.

Thankfully, Rose didn’t continue her interrogation. She pushed the light wooden doors and announced instead: “Here’s your room.”

I felt like crying. It was the best damn thing I saw in a week, and I wasn’t even kidding. With how little money we had and how much mum pushed to cover as much distance between us and dad in the least amount of time possible, we had spent our nights wherever - mostly, however, in cheap, run-down motels by the road. This here felt like an early Christmas gift.

“I hope you don’t mind how small the room is, but it’s the biggest available one we had for tonight,” Mrs. Davis informed me as we walked in. I mumbled something noncommittal, focused on admiring a king-size bed covered by the bottle green duvet and a lovely, wooden wardrobe with carved animal motifs on it. They looked handmade, and I couldn’t help myself but come closer and run a finger on one of the howling wolves. It was so detailed it almost seemed real.

“Pretty, isn’t it? My nephew’s made the wardrobe all by himself. He’s good with wood, as we like to joke here,” Rosalynd beamed, her voice full of pride.

“It’s magnificent,” I whispered, wondering what kind of person could a boy with skills like that be.

“In fact, most of our furniture was made by him,” Mrs. Davis confessed. “Anyway, I’m bragging again, and I’m pretty sure you must be tired. I’ll be heading downstairs. Feel free to use all the equipment in our house and call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, we will,” I replied, smiling.

Rose closed the doors behind her, and I was left alone with craved wolves in front and a strange, unexplainable feeling of connection to the boy I knew nothing about.