Those That Were

Chapter 3

Bryson ran a hand through his short, dense beard before banging a hand on the dash. It wasn't that he was surprised that his car wasn't starting, it wasn't even that he was mad at the car, it was that he had no other way at all to work. After his dad had died, Bryson had become a bit of a recluse outside of his job. In the past several years, Bryson hadn't made any real friends or stuck with any girlfriend long enough to call it serious.

This usually didn't bother him... until moments like these when he could really use some help. He tried starting the Buick a couple more times before resigning. With a loud sigh, he yanked the flip phone from his pocket and dialed his work number.

"Thanks for calling Ruby Tuesday, how may I help you?" Bryson recognized the voice immediately. This was Lindsey. And thank fuck it was. She was a manager, yes, but she was a manager who seemed to like Bryson. A whole hell of a lot, actually. In the back of his mind, he wondered why he'd never made an effort to see her after work. She'd offered more than once.

"Hey Lindsey, this is Bryson," he replied, pacing around his car. "Yeah, my car... it decided to, I don't know, give out this morning. Don't know why yet. I'm gonna have to run to work, though. Gonna be a little late."

He heard a laugh from the other end of the line. "You not that fast? Didn't you say once that you chased deer for fun?"

"I'm fast. Not car  fast," he answered quickly, shuffling out of his pants and getting ready to wolf up. "See you as soon as I can get there." He hung up the phone before hearing her response, and began shoving his workplace attire into an empty grocery bag he'd found in the passenger seat of his car. After his things were gathered and his bag was successfully tied up, he gave a slight shake of his head and mouthed a single, apathetic curse.

He morphed. He decided against running down the highway as a hybrid, and chose the form of a normal wolf instead. He looked more like a dire-wolf in size and stature, which Bryson knew might draw some attention... but he also knew an eight-foot hybrid would sure-as-fuck set off something. He just knew it. Something he didn't have time for.

He snatched up the bag in his teeth and bolted. Dust picked up under the wolf's paws as he trod the back-roads near his home. Even with his current circumstance, the running relaxed him. It relaxed him so much, in fact, that Bryson's mind drifted. His first thought was one that realized that he must look pretty amusing with the grocery bag in his jaws, perhaps like he was playing a game of fetch. Except that, when he ran to his destination, he wouldn't get a good-boy  pat and a dog-biscuit. He would get a paycheck. Maybe. If he wasn't so lucky, he'd get a write-up too.

Ah, but it was Lindsey.

When he turned at the stop sign and began darting up the side of the paved black asphalt, he caught eye of the gas station he'd filled up at just yesterday. What a fucking waste that was. Maybe he'd get his car working again soon. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, standing just by the gas station's entrance. He'd been running for at least six or seven miles now.

The things he'd do for some water right now, and maybe a nap. And a car that actually cooperated too, if he was being generous in his wishing. That would be nice. It was at that moment in time, when he was between pants and wondering what his life would be like if things were easier, that he nearly got hit by a car leaving the parking lot. It was a small one --a black Honda with heavily tinted windows. He jumped out of the way before it could plow right into him.

Had Bryson been able to talk or shout at that very moment, it would have been a bad word --the worst one he could think of. But he only yelped. Loudly.

What in the absolute fuck? That was the first thought that crossed his mind. How could someone almost hit him? It wasn't like he was a bunny rabbit or some shit --he was a massive wolf. He wasn't that damned hard to see. He wanted to turn back into a human and give that driver a piece of his mind. He would have too, but he'd be naked. Really naked.