Chapter 14

Randall and I sit on the bench seat of a baby-blue pickup truck. He’s driving. I’m staring out the window, gnawing on the inside of my cheek, being rattled to bits by the washboard road. Pine trees crowd the way, their needles brushing the windows. Rain hisses from the sky, speckling the windshield, and Randall turns on the wipers.

On the radio, buzzing with static, we listen to the local news station.

“…breaking news. Earlier this afternoon, Snohomish County police reported the alleged kidnapping of a Klikamuks resident by the pack of werewolves currently residing in the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. A teenaged male, also a resident of Klikamuks, allegedly aided the werewolves in the kidnapping.”

“What the—” I sputter.

“Quiet.” Randall turns up the radio.

“These werewolves are convicted fugitives, and police consider them armed and dangerous. Do not approach or attempt to confront them. The alleged kidnapping victim is described as a girl in her late teens, about 5’1”, petite, brunette, with a streak of pink dyed in her hair. If you have any information about this case, or know of the pack’s whereabouts, please call the Snohomish County Sheriff’s Office at…”

“Bullshit!” I say. “I haven’t allegedly aided anyone.”

Randall glances at me. “Guilty until proven innocent. Get used to it.”

“Believe me,” I mutter, “I’m going to let the cops know who’s really guilty.”

He just rolls his eyes.

I haven’t seen Cyn since the rest of the pack left us behind. All of them must be far ahead by now, fleeing the police. How the hell did I end up in this situation? I mean, first I’m hunting the werewolves, ready to kill them, and then they’re kicking my ass, and then they’re being all calculating and shit. It’s fucking disorienting.

“What’s her name?” Randall says.

“Who?”

“Your girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend. Cyn.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Why am I even talking to him?

He arches an eyebrow. “As in, sinful?”

“No,” I mutter. “Short for Cynthia.”

Silence for another few swishes of the windshield wipers.

“Your brother,” Randall says.

“What?” My throat constricts. “What about him?”

“How did he die?”

“What do you mean, how? The change killed him. Why do you care?”

He glances at me, his eyes smoldering. “Because I bit him.”

“You bit me too, gick, and I don’t care if you get your head blown off. Actually, I’d love to see you get your head blown off.”

Randall makes a noise between a growl and a sigh. “Raging at me won’t help.”

“How about you unlock these handcuffs. That’ll help.”

He snorts. “You can’t go back, you know.”

“I have to. My dad doesn’t know I’m gone, and when he finds out, he’s going to flip. And I left something important behind.”

“What?”

“Lycanthrox. The only thing that’s keeping me from changing.”

Randall glances at me. “You know that stuff doesn’t always work, right?”

“It’s been working for two full moons.”

“A lot of bloodborn don’t transform for the first few moons. The lycanthropy virus incubates for at least a month. That’s why I wanted to know what happened to your brother, since you got bitten at the same time.”

Heat drains from my face, leaving my skin icy. “You saying because Chris died, I’m going to die soon, too?”

“No. He was in the hospital, wasn’t he? You recovered.”

The silver wolf flings himself on Chris, clamping his jaws around his arm. He shakes Chris like he’s killing a rabbit. Chris screams and fights back, but the wolf’s jaws crunch his wrist, then close around his neck, pressing his windpipe.

“You didn’t bite me like you bit him.” My voice sounds small.

Randall nods, his face masklike. “Either way, you’re my fault.”

“That make you feel any better?”

He looks at me, his eyes the color of tarnished gold. Weariness creases his face. “No.”

“You killed my brother. You deserve to die.”

Randall hits the brakes and the truck skids off the road, gravel spraying behind the tires. He yanks the parking brake savagely, then leans into my face, so close his breath dries my eyes. “Listen,” he says in a velvety growl. “You know damn well that you and your brother were asking for what you got.”

“So Chris deserved to d—”

“Shut up. I didn’t want to kill him. I just wanted to scare the shit out of you two, but no, you kept coming back. I didn’t want to bite you. I had to.”

I’m shaking in my seat, the chain on my handcuffs jingling. “Liar.”

Randall’s eyes flame. “You’re a fucking moron, aren’t you?”

“Get away from me, gick.”

“Sorry. But we’re stuck with each other now. And guess what, you’re a gick, too.”

“I’m not a gick!”

“You were bitten.” Randall speaks in a deliberate rhythm, his words dropping like spent shells. “You are bloodborn.”

I clench my fists, my nails digging crescents into my palms. “I am who I want to be.”

He laughs. “That’s a nice thought.” He lets the parking brake go and accelerates back onto the road. “I wised up a long time ago.”

How was he bitten? I want to ask, but I don’t want to hear his goddamn voice.

Rain rattles harder on the roof of the truck. We’re driving along a ridge now, and all around us, a dark pelt of forest ripples over the hills. I have no idea where we’re running. I hope the police find us soon and shoot every last one of the werewolves.

I’m not sure whether that would include a bullet in my head.

We drive for hours in silence. Every milepost on the shoulder ticks off just how far away from home I am now. Randall navigates one-way dirt roads and hairpin switchbacks though Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. There’s around 50,000 acres of trees out here. I’ve explored the edges of the forest before, while out hunting deer with Dad and Chris, but we were all too chicken to go much deeper.

A memory of Chris cracking a joke drifts into my mind, but his face is blurry, pale, and sickly. I can’t seem to see him anymore. I fall into a daze listening to the endless rumble of the engine and the hiss of passing trees. A rhythm of Chris is dead, Chris is dead drums inside my head. I glance at Randall, still very much alive and breathing even though he deserves a horrible fate. He’s the one who did this…

Where are the police? Why aren’t they right on our tail?

Then again, I know how useless they can be. That Benjamin Arrington guy killed at least five gicks in Klikamuks before his next target tipped off the police. But of course, those were all gicks getting murdered. Surely the kidnapping of a human girl like Cyn would make the police get off their fat asses. Come on, Sheriff.

I sink lower and lower in my seat, rattling through my cluttered thoughts as if I’ll find answers there, some magic Houdini escape for all the trouble I’ve gotten myself into. But I just feel too exhausted to think of anything…

My gaze drifts to Randall’s hands on the wheel, and the fuel gauge. Nearly empty. He’s going to have to stop for gas sooner or later. But around us, I see nothing more than trees, mountains, and more trees. We’re deep in the wilderness.

“Where are we going, anyway?” I say.

“Guess,” he says.

“You’re high-tailing it so far into the trees that the police will never find you. But eventually you’re going to have to go back into town for food and supplies. No, probably not food, because you’re hunters. But you’ll go back one day, and the police will be waiting. If they don’t send bloodhounds up here first.”

Randall snorts. “You’ve put a lot of thought into the life of a fugitive.”

“I just want to know how you’ve stayed alive for so long.”

He grunts and turns onto another gravel road. We’re jostled and bounced all the way to a mercifully paved highway. We pick up speed and pass a few cars. I crane my neck as we overtake them, wondering if they’re from the pack. Through the trees, I glimpse milky green flashes of the North Fork of the Stillaguamish River. This must be the Mountain Loop Highway. It curves southeast around the Boulder River Wilderness Area, then backtracks west, which means it’s going to spit us back out into civilization eventually. Unless the werewolves plan on taking some forest service road to God-knows-where.

I keep my eyes on the fuel gauge as the needle droops lower and lower.

My salvation appears in the form of a Texaco gas station so old that it can’t possibly be pay-at-the-pump. That means Randall will have to get out of the truck and go inside. That means I will be alone for long enough to fight back.