Running Red: Lost Moon

Chapter 5: What Are Friends For

Andrew watched as a car pulled into the parking lot of the park. A nervous blond man climbed out of the car, looking around hesitantly before spotting Andrew leaning against the side of his car. Andrew quickly rapped his knuckles against the car's side. "Showtime."

The man quickly crossed the empty lot. "Mr. Sharpe?"

"Andrew is just fine. I'm not old enough to be a mister anything yet."

The car he was leaning on shifted as a person climbed out. "I think you mean mature enough."

Andrew turned to give the man with ash brown hair a blank stare before turning away and sticking his nose in the air with a haughty sniff. "Jerk. This guy is Tate."

The nervous man wrung his pale fingers watching the two other men, and started to worry a little bit more. His brown eyes darted between the two men.

Blue eyes looked skyward as he silently asked for sanity help. Tate walked around the car and held his hand out to the nervous man. "You can call me Tate Richardson."

The nervous man reached out with a fair-skinned hand to shake Tate's sun-tanned hand. "Cale Hayes. Can you help my son?"

Andrew stepped up next to Tate and grinned, "Of course. Helping families is in our job description."

"Thank you." Cale motioned to his car. "If you want, you can follow-"

A scream cut through the air, and Cale paled at the sound. "No, we made sure. We asked, and this area was supposed to be safe!"

Tate was already heading for the treeline of the park, the thick snow crunching under his boots. Andrew pointed at his car, "Get in my car. It's safer. We'll bring them to you."

Cale looked at the car and shook his head. If he didn't die tonight, he would make sure to hug everyone every morning and tell them he loved them. Then he charged after the two men.

~00~

The sound of metal clanging had Brian sliding out of his bed in surprise. His body crashed to the ground with a loud thump. He tugged the blanket off his head and gave a sleepy look around his room with dark brown eyes. A loud groan slipped out of him as he let his head drop onto the floor. Mornings sucked.

He laid on the floor just as another crash of metal had him sighing loudly. "I'm up."

Brian scratched at his shoulder-length messy, dirty blond hair with a richly tanned hand as he slowly made his way down the stairs. He could pick up the voices in the kitchen as he hit the top step.

"Hannah is your brother up yet."

"Probably not. I should go get him before we all end up late to school."

Brian scratched at his chin, feeling his beard starting to grow. He made a face and turned around, and headed for the bathroom. The door swung open, and Brian came face to face with his dad. "Morning, Brian. You're usually downstairs now?"

"Shave and then food."

"Ah." His dad closed brown eyes as he yawned. Reaching out a hand, he gave Brian a pat on the shoulder with his right hand. Brian found his eyes glancing at the pale pink knotted scar on his dad's arm. "I'm going to go sleep now. I was out all night helping." Without thinking, Brian quickly hugged his dad. "Whoa, is everything okay? The last time I gave you a hug, you told me you were too old for them."

Brian pulled away and waved the concern away. "I'm just glad you're alive."

His dad caught his arm before he could duck into the bathroom. "Brian, are you okay."