"If the cold doesn't kill you, the wolves will."
NOT A WEREWOLF STORY
Book 1 of 2.
In which an 18-year-old girl flees to Alaska to escape being accused of murder & to uncover what happened to her uncle. Involves two gentle giants.
Completed. :)
Fea...
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Chapter 4 | A WANNA-BE JOAQUIN PHOENIX
Pretty soon, Google Maps says that there are only 9 hours and 40 minutes left to Beaver Creek.
For the past 13 or so hours, I've alternated between listening to music, reading Wattpad, and writing in my notes app.
Once and awhile, Grace and I would make a bit of conversation, but each time only lasted about two minutes. Usually, the chit chat would occur when we ate.
We've stopped only two times, but now Grace has finally pulled into a truck stop near Watson Lake for the night.
She puts the semi in park, and I grab my bag before we both hop out and begin to walk towards the rest stop together. She makes sure to lock the truck before we get inside.
The restroom isn't the cleanest, but it has lots of stalls. The floor and walls are made entirely of cement, giving the room a cold feeling. I notice that in the far back, there's a corner which is lightly stained red.
I really hope that's paint.
But I don't see anywhere that's painted red.
A few minutes later, and I'm waiting for Grace near the sinks as I brush my teeth and wash my face. Once I'm done, I stare at my reflection and realize just how gross I still look.
I feel gross, too, as I haven't showered in days.
Before, I used to shower every night because my hair would get super oily, and my skin would get really bad if I didn't. So, in conclusion, guess what's happening now?
I look like a thirteen-year-old video game addict who only comes out of their dark, moldy room for pizza and mountain dew. I can't wait to have a marvelous, warm shower again.
But then, a terrible thought hits me. My mind conjures up a horrid possibility.
What if I don't have a scorching hot shower one more time? What if John's friend in Alaska doesn't have showers?
In his letters, he says to go out to the woods until his friend finds me. Does that mean he lives out in the middle of nowhere? That he has to heat up water over a fire to bathe?
Well, I mean, it could be worse. I should just be happy that I'm not being unjustly sentenced to capital punishment for her murder.
But...what if John's friend doesn't bathe? What if he's just like one of those Duck-Dynasty-Mountain-Monsters-looking type of guy? What if he looks like the Turtle Man?
Oh, my God. Please no.
I mean, I know I shouldn't judge anyone off looks, but they at least have to be capable of essential hygiene.
"What's your problem?" I hear Grace ask as she comes up beside me and washes her hands.
