Lone Girl (The Wolfling Saga) (9 page)

“Dead,” I told Tom.

“As it was meant to be … three days ago.”

Guilt panged me. Tom was furious, I could tell.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t know-”

“You
did
know, Rose. I
told
you.”

Tears stung my eyes but I bit them back. “I know. I mean, I don’t know why I kept it. I just did … just in case.”

“Just in case,” he repeated, avoiding eye contact. “Just in case you needed a way out.”

“What? No, it wasn’t like that,” I said quickly.

“You kept it so you’d have an alternative option,” he said, his voice shaking.

“No!” I said, panicked. “I just-”

“Save it, Rose,” he said, looking away.

I pressed my lips together and tried to breathe calmly. I’d betrayed Tom
and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

The truck
drove for another five minutes before the road became bumpy. We had certainly left the tarmac. The bed jolted and jumped, sending Tom and I falling into one another. We only hoped that the driver didn’t hear us rolling about in the back.

Finally, the
truck came to a halt. The door to the cab opened and we heard his boots on the gravel. 

I saw Tom’s eyes, wide with fear
and I knew he was thinking the same thing as me.

Don’t let him check the
bed.

It must have been our lucky day. The driver’s footsteps became distant
and we heard the faint sound of a screen door creaking open and slamming shut.

Tom and I exhaled shaky breaths in unison. Peeking out from under the tarp, Tom observed our surroundings before relaying the information to me.

“We’re in the driveway of a farm,” he whispered. “The driver’s gone inside. I can’t see any other houses – just open land and crops.”

Inside
we could hear the farmer yelling at his wife.

“Is there anywhere to hide?” I asked.

Tom peered over the tarp again. “There’s an old shed about a hundred yards away. We could make a dash for it.

“And then what? Walk? We don’t even know where we are. It could be miles before we find a main road. We’ve been in this
truck for the last half an hour.”

“All right, all right,” Tom waved a hand to hush me. “Let’s just get out of this thing before we’re discovered.”

Tom checked to make sure the coast was clear as I jumped out of the bed and knelt beside the truck, hiding from view of the house. The farmer’s kitchen window looked over the lawn and if they happened to peer out of it, they’d see Tom and I.

Following suit, Tom knelt by my side in the dirt.

“We gonna make a dash for it?” I asked, crouching low. 

“Yeah, on the count of three,” said Tom, peering through the driver’s window. “One, two – wait a second.”

“What is it?”

“He’s left his keys in the
truck.”

I stared at Tom. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

We stared at each other for several moments and I knew we were thinking the exact same thing.

Tom reached for the door handle of the old truck and pulled it open. The hinges creaked loudly.

“Shh!” I hissed, peering through the windows to see if the farmer had heard. There was no sign of him
through the kitchen window.

Tom pulled the door open slowly
to minimize the creaking and ushered me inside. I slid over to the passenger seat as he clambered in after me, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling in fear. Any moment we could be discovered. I froze when I saw a double barrel shot gun on the floor of the cab.

“Tom. There’s a gun,” I breathed.

“Don’t worry about that. Just keep a look out,” he said as he pushed in the clutch and let his hand hover over the set of keys.

I watched with bated breath, but could see no movement inside the house.

“Go, go, go,” I hissed at Tom, who turned the key at my command. The truck turned over a few times before roaring to life. I cringed.

“Back her up!” I squealed as Tom crunched the gearbox into reverse. I looked up to find a startled couple staring at us through their kitchen window.

“Floor it!” I yelled at Tom, who complied without question.

“Hey
!” The farmer burst through his screen door a moment later, waving his arms. He ran after the truck, but it was no use. Tom turned, the back-end flying out and the contents of the bed scattering across the lawn.

Shifting into first, Tom sped along a narrow, dusty road, the farm growing smaller each second in the
rear-view mirror.

“Holy shit!” I found myself l
aughing. “We stole a truck! We stole a god damn truck! Tom! Tom?”

I turned to look at him, wondering why he wasn’t as, thrilled
as I was.

We’d just had the most exciting and terrifying experience
and he was silent.

In the driver’s seat, Tom’s brow was drenched with sweat. His face was pale
and he looked clammy.

“Tom?” I said, staring at him. “What’s wrong?”

He was clutching his leg tightly with his right hand.

My heart thundered. “Move your hand,” I ordered him.

Reluctantly, Tom slid his right hand to the steering wheel.

A dark red patch had formed around a hole in his jeans – just over his right thigh.

“What – when?” I gasped, staring at the wound. I couldn’t recall him sustaining an injury.

Tom grimaced in pain. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? Jesus Tom, you’re bleeding everywhere!”

He continued to drive in silence, as though nothing was wrong.

“When did it happen?” I demanded.

“Just before I jumped into
the car at the motel,” he said. “I think a bullet ricochet and hit my leg.”

I stared at him. He’d been shot
over half an hour ago and he hadn’t even told me.

“Why didn’t you say something?” I gaped.

He shrugged. “You didn’t tell me about the phone, so-”

“
Oh for goodness sake. You were shot ages ago, Tom! We have to get you to a hospital!”

He shook his head. “I’ll be arrested. Besides, it’s not that bad. I’m pretty sure it w
ent straight through the fat.”

Liar
, I thought. There wasn’t much fat on him to begin with.

“At least let me drive,” I said.

Tom agreed and we switched places. Once I was driving along at a decent speed, I asked Tom to remove his jeans.

Blood had soaked into his boxer-briefs, making the white fabric a deep red. 

Tom hissed as he observed the wound, which appeared to have clipped his outer thigh. A small chunk of flesh was missing and it clearly needed stitches.

“We’ve got to go to a hospi
tal,” I said, glancing at him every few minutes.

“No, Rose … just … just drive somewhere quiet so we can lay low, okay?”

I considered our options. We didn’t have many. We could risk taking Tom to hospital to get stitched up – but it was likely he would be arrested upon arrival.

Of course, I could always attempt to stitch the wound myself – but that idea was laughable. The thought of sticking a needle into his flesh made me feel dizzy. So that idea was out.

We’d have to find somewhere to lay low and bandage him up as best we could.

As we drove Tom was unusually quiet. It might have been the pain, but I could see his mind
ticking over.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked as I wound my way through a collection of small
suburban streets. We were looking for somewhere safe to park the car and spend the night.

“Nothing,” he said, a small crease in his brow.

I felt my stomach squirm uneasily. Perhaps he was mad at me for the stunt I’d pulled at the Motel.

“Are you angry?” I asked quietly.

He paused for a moment. “Yes.”

Well at least he was honest.

We drove in a north-westerly direction for twenty minutes, until suburbia vanished and we crossed a small bridge, under which was narrow river. We were yet to see a sign post telling us where we were.

“
Monroe,” I said, pointing ahead. “We’re in Monroe … where ever that is.”

“It’s about half an hour outside of Seattle.”

“How do you know that?” I asked. “You taught English, not geography.”

He didn’t smile like he usually would. “I used to live in Seattle. I taught at a high school there.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “Don’t have any friends in the area we could stay with?” It was a joke, obviously, but Tom didn’t reply, so I took that as a ‘no’.

We fell into an uneasy silence until
we came across a factory that seemed as though it had been abandoned long ago.

I slowed the pickup truck to a crawl outside of the chain link fence which had rusted over from years of neglect.

“Looks like home for the night,” I muttered, rather unenthusiastically. Tom nodded in agreement, but did not speak.

The factory was an empty shell
, though it would provide safe lodgings for the night. After I had scoured it from top to bottom I sat Tom down on a plastic chair and asked him to lower his trousers. He did so and I inspected the wound. However, it didn’t seem as bad as it had in the car.

“What – it doesn’t look as deep.”

“Perks of being a werewolf,” said Tom. Color had returned to his face.

“I know we can run faster
and have heightened senses, but this – this is healing
fast
.”

Tom cocked an eyebrow at me. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve never sustained an injury in the nine years you’ve been a werewolf? I was turned five years ago
and even I know that we heal faster than humans. Though I suppose I’ve been living the wild life compared to you.”

“You’re joking.” I narrowed my eyes. “
You can heal faster?”

Tom scoffed a little. “When was the last time you were sick? Or hurt? Or even bruised?” 

“Here, my hands are all bloody from my fall from the motel window.” I showed Tom and he frowned.

“Maybe it just depends on the injury,” he said slowly.

“Or maybe it’s just you,” I challenged.

“Regardless …
what you did was incredibly stupid.”

I felt my stomach squirm unpleasantly. “I know.” I couldn’t look him in the eye so I looked at my feet instead.

“Not only did you put us in danger by keeping that phone, you almost got us killed. You could have been shot – fatally. We could have crashed the car. So many things could have gone wrong. What would I have done if something terrible had happened to you? What if you’d been hurt?”

“
But I didn’t get hurt,” I said, slightly annoyed. True, it was my fault our location had been discovered, but I’d also got us out of this mess. Tom would be in the back of a police car right now if it weren’t for me. “And it wouldn’t have been your fault anyway.”

“You think I could ever forgive myself if something happened to you?” said Tom, his stare intense.

“Nothing did happen,” I said. “I’m fine. You’re fine.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been shot,” said Tom.

“But you’re healing,” I said. “So … no harm done. Right?” I looked up, hoping to see that soft expression on his face. I almost expected him to crack a smile and pull me into an embrace. But he didn’t. Tom sighed and looked away from me, his expression one of disappointment.

“You lied to me, Rose,” he said quietly. “We’re on the run … we need to be able to trust each other.”

“You can trust me,” I said with wide eyes. “I’m sorry about the phone. Really, I am.”

“It’s a bit late for that now. Why didn’t you get rid of it when I asked you to?”

I didn’t have an answer for that.

“Well?” Tom pressed.

“I … I-” I tried to think of a plausible reason, but nothing came to mind. “I was just … I was just-”

“Just what? Afraid? Having second thoughts?”

“No! No, I – I didn’t want to lose my only connection to the outside world.”

“I thought you knew what running away together meant,” he said. 

“I do.”

“Clearly not.” Tom pulled away from me and refastened his pants, covering up the wound.

“Tom,” I reached towards him, but he shrugged away from my hand.
“I was going to tell you in the motel, before the cops arrived.”

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?”

“Kind of.” I chewed the inside of my lip. “Last night … last night I went on Facebook and-”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”