The Runaway: A Werewolf Story

Chapter 2

The bar stayed open until midnight, and by then her backside was sore from sitting on the stool for hours, and she was more than a little drunk.

At some point, the old man at the end of the bar staggered out without a word. Strange that she never actually got a good look at his face in all that time.

"Let me just finish settling the till and wiping things down then we can go," Buck said. She dragged herself to the back washroom to freshen up while waiting.

The small bathroom looked worse once the buzzing lights were on. Water-stained ceiling, moldy grout, and a cracked old basin. Her hair had finally dried, and now it was a curly mess of tangles. Olive pulled it all up into a bun and splashed water on her face. She wiped down her armpits and between her legs with a wet paper towel, just in case. Olive wasn't naive enough not to think he may expect something for his hospitality. She rooted in her bag, finding her makeup bag, thankful it had most of the things she needed already in it when she fled. She slid on some deodorant and added some lipstick. Then staring at her pale face and dark circles, she wiped the lipstick off. She didn't want to look too eager for anything. She couldn't do much about the bruises on her body, or her injured rib, which was a horrible dappling of yellows and purples. At least her face looked okay. Her face usually looked okay though, Jake was careful like that.

She emerged feeling a little more alive and got herself settled back on a bar seat, her duffel bag by her feet. Buck was sweeping.

"All set?" She nodded and he leaned the broom against the wall, and turned off the beer sign, putting them into near-complete darkness. The rain continued relentlessly, the only sound to be heard.

A quick sprint and they were in his old pickup, the interior smelling of gas, the seats lumpy and springy, but it was dry at least.

"I live not too far out, about ten minutes from town."

"Not much town is there? I walked for miles, all the way from the bus stop in Neves, and didn't see a single car."

"Yeah, we're pretty isolated, when the sawmill closed, most everything went with it. But that's okay with us. Folks up here are private. Don't like trouble or attention much."

He ground his jaw, she could see the tension reflected in the console lights. She must be the trouble and attention he was referring to. She pivoted, "What is the name of this place anyways?"

"Hati."

"Weird name. Never heard of it."

"You wouldn't, it's barely on a map. Just a blip before the mountains... or the border." He shot her a suspicious glance.

"Do people still use maps?" She teased, ignoring his tone.

He sighed, "Will you tell me if you are wanted by the law?"

She gnawed her lip, unsure what to say, but knowing the longer she paused, the more the silence was an answer, "I was in trouble, it was a bad relationship. I got away but had to leave in a hurry. I don't want to say more."

"So, someone is after you then?"

"Buck... It's not as dramatic as it all seems, I promise. Can you trust me?"

"I'm trying, Joan."

She turned from him, resting her head against the cool glass of the window, it was just rain and black trees as far as the eyes could see. No houses, no lights, nothing. "God, it's lonely out here. If I hadn't found your bar I would have been in trouble."

"It's why I offered to take you home with me. It's really remote out here, going to be freezing tonight, and the woods aren't too safe at night."

"Are there bears out here?"