Wolf Running

by Toni Boughton

  Wolf Running

  Toni L.H. Boughton

  Copyright © 2014 Toni L.H. Boughton

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  This is dedicated to...

  My cats, for making sure I never spend too much time writing.

  My parents, for showing me how to survive the worst things life will throw at you.

  But most of all, this is for my mother.

  You’ve never given up on me, you’ve always supported me, and you are my best friend.

  One more thing-

  Wyoming is a beautiful state, and to the best of my knowledge has no zombies.

  Werewolves, on the other hand...

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Book One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Book Two

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Prologue

  A thin Wyoming winter moon ghosted through the gathering storm clouds. The wind, tasting of snow and cold, led the storm over the mountains and down into the prairie valley below. The ranges funneled the wind, giving it speed, and by the time the air currents hit the valley floor they were moving like wild horses, stampeding through stands of Douglas firs and maples, hurling leaves and snow up into the lowering sky. Birds and tumbleweeds both fled before the tempest.

  Winding down from the Vedauwoo Mountains to the east, Interstate Highway 80 cut though the valley to gradually climb back up into the Snowy Range to the west. On its way from the eastern mountains, with its collection of smaller, softer hills, to the higher, sharp-peaked western ranges, the highway ran through the city of Laramie. The black road split into ever-branching streets and side-streets before gathering the wayward parts of itself back together and leaving the city behind. Beneath the fading moon the houses and buildings lay dark and quiet. Snow from a heavy fall the previous week still covered the streets and sidewalks, undisturbed except by the wind and the wildlife.

  A wolf, a large female, trotted down the dark highway towards the outskirts of the city. She had spent the last three days in the eastern foothills, hunting what game was available, steadily working back towards Laramie. She moved at an easy, relaxed trot, but her ears were pricked for sounds and her nose filtered the air constantly, letting it speak of what moved and lived in the world around her. Her large eyes ticked sharply back and forth through the surrounding countryside. Snow skimmed across the highway before her and merged with high drifts that stretched from the road’s edge to the wire fences that kept the prairie back.

  The wolf could sense the strength of the approaching storm and she increased her pace to a smooth lope, eager to reach the safety of her den. The wind was behind her now, pushing her onward and giving speed to her feet, but the race was never in doubt and she still had several miles to go when the snow begin to fall in earnest, a ghostly veil that hid the rough prairie.

  As the wolf got closer to the city white-shrouded boxy shapes begin to materialize on the highway, scattered across the road like discarded toys. The wolf weaved between these shapes until she came to a massed pile of them. She leaped up, landing on a surface that shone red through a thin cover of snow. Her claws ticked on the metal roofs of the cars as she maneuvered through and over the pile-up. At the highest point, an eighteen-wheeler that had tipped on its side, she paused and looked around.

  The snow and the wind had combined to form swirling white sheets that moved across the countryside, alternately obscuring and revealing. Between the screaming wind and the snow the wolf’s senses were almost completely cut off. She was on edge now, inclined to be more cautious as she approached town but feeling also the incipient danger from the blizzard that was overtaking her. Uncertainly she shifted her weight from one front paw to the other. She had a vague sense that something was wrong.

  With a low whine the wolf jumped from her perch, landing in a drift that came up to her chest. Another jump and she was back on the road, shaking snow from her heavy black fur. She slipped between the abandoned cars, a black-and-white ghost.

  Once free of the pileup the wolf headed for a small building, just barely visible through the blowing snow, that sat alone on the prairie. She had been here before - the brick structure, not much bigger than a simple shed, kept bales of hay, buckets, and other tools ready for some rancher to come back and claim them - and knew that the stable door at the front was kept closed by only a length of old rope. The blizzard was ramping up in force, the gale-like winds blowing skeins of snow sideways, and the wolf decided to settle for the immediate shelter of the old building rather than push on into the town. She belly-crawled under the fencing and trotted through wind-sculptured drifts to the shed.

  The front of the building faced away from the wolf, and as she came around from the back side she stopped in her tracks. There was a vehicle in front of the shed, a large truck slanted sideways, battered and beaten from a rough trip across the open grassland. Snow was just starting to pile up along the base of the over-sized wheels.

  The truck had not been here the last time the wolf made this trip. She lifted her nose to the sky and inhaled the cold air, searching for anything suspicious. All that came back to her was the smell of snow and dead grass. Cautiously, her ears twitching like antennae, the wolf moved forward.

  The land up here was rough, dotted with rock formations both large and small. Near the back end of the truck was a snow-covered low-lying mass, slight in comparison to the other outcroppings. The wolf headed toward this rise. From there she could leap to the back of the truck and survey her surroundings for any movement. Whoever had driven here might be somewhere nearby. She threw a glance at the closed shed door as she passed. She jumped lightly onto the mound and turned for the truck bed. Without warning the surface beneath her shifted violently and she was thrown to the ground. She landed hard, rolling over in a cloud of snow and grass.

  A hand wrapped around the wolf’s right front leg and clenched, hard. She yelped and leapt backward but the grip was tight, and all she accomplished was dragging the body along the ground after her. It was a man, grey-haired and wearing a red jacket and blue jeans. His scuffed cowboy boots dug into the ground as he pulled back on the wolf’s leg. He lifted his head and fixed frost-glazed eyes on his captive. His face was a mottled blue-grey-green color, and dark blood oozed from his mouth as the man lunged forward, yellowed teeth snapping.

  The wolf snarled. Her head darted forward and she sunk her teeth into the dead man’s wrist. She worked her jaws roughly, sawing through fabric and flesh. Foul-tasting blood squirted into her mouth, coating the inside. From the corner of her eye she could see the dead man pulling himself closer, his own mouth working the air in anticipation. Desperate now, the wolf shook her head back and forth, feeling the thin bones of the wrist crunch between her teeth. Suddenly the hand released its grasp a
nd the wolf sprung backward.

  Panting from her efforts, the wolf watched the dead man for a moment. His right hand dangled from his wrist, connected by a few strands of flesh. Dark blood dripped into the snow from the wound. He was struggling to his feet, his efforts hampered by the wind. The wolf backed away a few steps. The man was unsteady and it would be easy to knock him down. But the snow-covered mound she had first mistaken for rocks was shifting behind him, and two more people were slowly climbing out.

  The wolf whirled and ran, bounding through the snow. Then she was on the road and heading downhill, fighting through the raging tempest. She ran full out, lungs working like a bellows, muscles bunching beneath the black fur, dodging cars when she could and leaping up, on, and over when she couldn’t. The highway now rose up one last time before her and then fell away steeply.

  The wolf was on the very outskirts of the city, where rural and suburban began to merge, when she turned off the highway and onto a gravel road, heading toward a small wood-sided house that sat a ways from its neighbors. The wolf circled around to the back of the building where the snow lay smooth and undisturbed. Here she plunged her head into a drift right against the wall and came up with a rope in her mouth. She walked backwards, pulling on the rope, and a wooden door rose out of the snow, offering access to a small cellar. Still clutching the rope in her mouth the wolf soared through the opening and down a short flight of stairs. The door slammed shut behind her, muffling the wild wind.

  The wolf was on the ragged edge of exhaustion. She stood for a moment, head down and sides heaving. Nothing smelled or sounded different here than from her last visit, so this shelter was still secure. Snow flew from her heavy black fur in clouds as she shook herself.

  The wolf shivered. Ripples ran through her like ocean waves and she groaned, once, the sound escaping through her tightly clamped jaws. She began to change. The thick black fur was drawn back into the skin. The long, sharp claws shrank back into paws that were now half-human feet and hands. She groaned again as the shape of her body shifted faster now, the wolf subsumed in a flurry of cracking bones and stretching skin, and when it was all over a woman stood naked in the cold and the dark.

  She called herself Nowen, and she had been born into this life as the world was dying. The only things she knew for sure about herself was that she had black hair, amber eyes, and a wolf lived inside her. The only things she knew for sure about the world around her was that everything had changed irrevocably months ago, all that had been passing away in blood and chaos and death. Her memories of before the day she awoke in this strange reality were gone. Her memories after that day were all too fresh and raw.

  Book One

  Chapter One

  Then

  All was confusion.

  Noises she didn’t understand, voices she didn’t recognize. Opening her eyes made her head shriek with pain, so she kept them closed. Consciousness came and went randomly, reality changing with every return to the world. She was lying on her back in some large vehicle traveling very fast, swaying slightly to the motion of the wheels. A siren wailed close by. Then she was somewhere different, still on her back, moving fast, though not as fast as before. There were hurried voices and the sense of bodies moving around her. Then she was still, lying on a soft surface while machines beeped and whirred nearby, hands touching her arms and chest and legs, and the urgent voices flowed around her, fading away into nothingness.

  Awareness returned slowly, as if unsure of its welcome. She opened her eyes a slit, bracing against the expected pain. She glimpsed white walls and a white ceiling, machines ranged around her, harsh lights shining down on her. She closed her eyes again.

  Hospital, she thought. That connection, that this was a hospital room, sounded right. I’m in a hospital. I’m...sick? But she didn’t feel sick. She felt sore all over, and her head pounded like a mad drummer lived in her skull. But not sick. Hurt? From what?, her mind fumbling for the word, finding it. Accident? She concentrated, trying to remember, but nothing came to her. She grew aware of voices nearby, speaking.

  “-the woman the cops are asking about?” someone said. The words were husky and rough.

  “Yep, that’s her.” This was a softer, younger voice. Female.

  “So, what’s the deal? What’d she do?”

  “Hell if I know. The cops just wanted to be notified when she woke up. Although,” and here the young woman paused, “Jane Doe there was covered in blood when they brought her in.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Rough voice was interested.

  “Yep, and here’s the kicker - none of it was hers!” The young woman laughed.

  “Oh, screw you, you little liar!”

  “No, I swear, would I lie to you?”

  The first person snorted. “Constantly. I wouldn’t trust you if you said water was wet.” Suddenly an urgent voice was coming from the ceiling, saying something about a code blue, and then she was gone, slipping back into unconsciousness.

  She is running through a forest. It is twilight. The trees are black strokes of ink that moved around her, talking. She realized she was awake, and that someone was in the room with her. She kept her eyes shut and listened.

  A cool hand pressed on her forehead, and then on her arm. She recognized the voice as the younger one she had heard before.

  “No ID on her, no distinguishing marks, no missing person reports so far. Nowen knows who she is. Nowen knows where she came from. It’s frustrating.” the woman was saying. Then ask Nowen who I am. But who is Nowen? “She came in practically catatonic, covered in blood. We’re thinking violent crime or assault victim, and since she was found out by the railroad tracks, maybe just someone who was train-jumping and got hurt getting off. The weird thing is, none of the blood was hers. The only wound we found was this,” and the cool hand was on her right leg, turning it so the back of her calf was exposed, “what looks like an animal bite, probably a dog, but it doesn’t look very recent.” Her leg was released and the young woman - Nurse? - moved back towards her head.

  Someone else spoke, older and male. Authoritative. “That would be a very big dog. Homeless, maybe?”

  “If she is, she’s very new to that state. She’s clean, and her clothes were in good shape.”

  There was a rustle of paper. The man - Doctor? - coughed lightly, and then spoke. “I see here she was running a fever earlier. Are we sure this woman isn’t a rev?” The doctor emphasized his last word; she revised it in her head to Rev.

  “So far, the only symptom she’s shown even close to a Rev’s is the fever, and that broke early this morning.”

  “Well, if there’s nothing else wrong with her, we might have to turf her out to somewhere else. This hospital is not equipped for this many people - we’re running out of beds here.” Someone screamed shrilly, close by. The doctor paused a moment. “Hell, we’re going to have to start putting them in the hallways at this rate.”

  The nurse sounded worried. “We got eight more cases in the last hour, and I heard that Dr. Stallings was bitten by one down in the ER. Bitten! It’s...getting a little scary.”

  The voices were moving away now. The doctor was saying “Let’s see if we can get Jane Doe here some new lodgings...” and then they were gone.

  She lay there, trying to think. Jane Doe. Am I Jane Doe? The name didn’t feel right to her. No. No, my name is- and here she came up short. What was her name? I’m...I’m...she groped through her mind and found nothing. Panic ran a light finger down her spine as she searched for something familiar. Who was that other person the nurse mentioned? Nowen? Is that someone I know? She said the name over and over in head. Then it clicked. Not ‘Nowen’. The nurse was saying ‘No one’. ‘No one’ knows who I am. Who am I?

  She remembered the other things the nurse had said, about railroad tracks and a dog bite. And that she was found covered in blood. She gathered these pieces in her mind and tried to make sense of them, smashing these few facts together like a child with a jigsaw puzzle. Weariness rose up
and dragged her under.

  She woke to screams, cries of pain and terror. She forced her eyes open and, finding that she could do so without any trouble, looked around. She was still in the hospital room, in a bed near a curtained window. There was an IV in one arm, and a machine near her head beeped along to her heartbeat. The screams were coming from outside her room. And they were getting louder.

  Slowly she pulled herself upright. Every muscle in her body ached, and when she drew in a deep breath her ribs protested. She looked around the room; there was another hospital bed, empty. An IV rack lay across the crumpled sheets. The exit door was closed.

  She stood up on wobbly legs, yanking the IV needle from her arm as she did. Clear liquid mixed with blood spattered her feet. Using the bed for support she worked her way around to the side nearest the door. Here she gathered her strength and wrenched herself upright, releasing the bed and using the wall as a brace as she made her way to the door. The noise level had increased, screams merging with raised voices and loud thuds, as if something was being thrown around.

  By the time she reached the exit her legs were shaking and sweat lightly slicked her face. She leaned her head gratefully against the firm support of the door and took a precious few moments to corral her strength. Raising her head she peered through the small window centered in the door.

  A cream-colored wall was directly opposite, one sign pointing right to the nurses’ station and another sign pointing left to the elevators. There was the sound of running feet and then three people, all in scrubs, ran through her viewpoint, right to left. Trailing them came a fourth person, an older man, also in scrubs. He was cradling his right arm across his chest and pressing his left hand against a bloody gash in the upper arm. A large group of people thundered by and the man was knocked aside. He slammed against the far wall and slid below the small window’s perspective. A smear of bright blood followed him down.