Broken Family Tree

1 - Car Accident

It was official. Malia was lost.

She had been on the highway that should have taken her all the way to California when, a couple of hours on the road later, she saw her tank was nearly empty and took what she thought was a pit stop entrance, only to find it was the entrance to a town. She quickly found a gas station and filled up the tank.

"Excuse me, but do you know where the highway is?" Malia asked the cashier when she went to pay for the gas. The older woman with long, brown hair looked so happy that she was being talked to that she didn't answer for a few minutes as she tried to compose herself. Finally, she gave Malia directions to getting back on the highway.

"You have to go the whole way 'round the town, avoiding Main Street. When you get out of the station, take a left but stay to the right side of the road and you'll find a narrow road--practically invisible if you're not paying attention. Stay on that road for an hour or so and you'll come up to the ramp that'll get ya to the highway. It's a bit long, but it's the most direct way. I would suggest taking a tour through town before you go, usually, but...to be honest, there's not much to see here. This place is basically a ghost town—has been since the earth­quake of '86. Terrible thing; a lot of people died and many buildings were reduced to dust. My own house took a bit of a beating itself. Just a week after it happened, more than half the town packed what they could in their cars and drove off to God knows where. But I stayed with my parents. They died recently, actually, and I took the house. My brother and sister didn't want to stay here and tried to convince me to go with them. But I just I couldn't. I was raised here all my life, and it felt wrong to abandon my home. Plus, the idea that we'd be living somewhere new, with new neighbors and new lives, pretending like nothing happened? Some of my friends died in that earthquake. And I sure as Hell wasn't about to forget them." The older woman finished in a bitter tone, her eyes seeming to be looking at something far away. In the same second, she shook herself out of her memories and focused her attention back onto Malia.

"I'm so sorry, honey! I shouldn't've said all that! Any time I think of the past, I can't seem to stop myself!" she apologized, grabbing the receipt and handing it to Malia, who said nothing as she grabbed it, doing her best not to look at the cashier with pity. The woman had clearly gone through a lot and had had no one to talk to in a long time.

"It's okay. I didn't know that had happened here. I'm so sorry—"Malia started but was waved off.

"No no, I'm the one who should be apologizing. You've got somewhere to be and I'm holdin' you up. Have a great day, honey, and be careful when going through the forest section. I've seen a large dog roaming through there when I drive at night, and it sure doesn't look like the size of any domestic dog I've ever seen. Thought I should warn you, at least."

With that, she signaled toward the door, a clear sign the conversation was over. For some strange reason, Malia didn't think it was a good idea to leave the lonely lady by herself, despite reminding herself that she chose to stay here in this tomb of a town. As Malia was going through the door, she turned around and stated, "I don't know your name."

The lady looked at her with a joy and fondness that nearly broke Malia's heart.

"Wheeler. Name's Holly Wheeler, honey." 

"Malia Tate."

Nodding to each other as an acknowledgement toward each other's names, Malia left Holly Wheeler in the gas station, got into her car and drove off into the after­noon sun.

~○~○~

Ms. Wheeler had been right: the road was very long. And very straight.

Three times already she had lost her focus, two of those times leading her to abandoned houses and one time nearly going off the road. She forced herself to focus again before she killed herself. After a while, she reached the section of woods Ms. Wheeler had talked about, and remembered the warning.

Could be a wolf. Malia thought, glancing through the trees as she kept driving. Wolves are larger than most people realize, so that could be what she's been seeing. But what would a wolf be doing all the way in Indiana? I remember looking up wolf and coyote populations once when I was bored, and only coyotes should be the leading wild canine population here. Maybe it's just a coyote... No, coyotes are the same as medium-sized dogs at best. A were-creature then? Perfect place to hide, come to think of it. Going by what Ms. Wheeler said, it's empty of people here; no one would be looking for anyone here for a long time—I mean, as long as they don't do anything to attract attention to themselves—

So caught up in her thoughts. she lost her focus again and didn't see the incredibly large canine hurrying to cross the road until she felt something go under her wheels, a yip and yowl of pain following immediately after. She slammed the brakes of her car, lurching forwards a bit and coming to a full stop. Her eyes were wide and her chest was heaving slightly as the adrenaline coursed through her body. She inhaled, then exhaled, and then she opened her car door and stepped out to see how much damage she had caused to the poor creature. 

That is, until she caught a whiff of the canine's scent and scoffed.

"Really, Peter? This is what you've resorted to to get in my good graces—following me across state lines?" Malia said, now taking her time walking toward the injured wolf. His scent was quite different from the last time she had seen him, smelling putrid almost as if it were rotting, but she was sure it was him. His fur, she noticed, was a mix of red, brown, and tan instead of the black, grey, and tan she thought he'd be. "The wolf's new. How long've you been able to do that? You know what—doesn't matter. What shady shit are you up to now, seriously? You know, I actually thought you were gonna take your promise seriously, that you were actually working to get better—be better. Guess that saying's right: you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Ha! Wait until Derek hears about this—he's the one you promised the most"—CRACK —"after... all..."

She trailed off and watched in wonder and fascination as the wolf's noticeably broken bones righted and healed themselves, allowing him to stand on his hind legs with no problem. She had never heard of a were-creature heal themselves while in their animal form—the idea in itself sounded impossible!—and yet here Peter was, doing the impossible. She saw him testing his legs as if to make sure everything was healed right before shaking himself. She was about to ask Peter how he did that when he Shifted to his human form, standing on his now-two legs and turning to look right at her. When he did, her question died in her throat and she froze in shock, doing nothing except stare back. She thought she had been talking to Peter because the scent was identical to his, but she'd been wrong. Standing in front of her was Peter, but it wasn't at the same time. 

It just looked like him.