Red Creek

Chapter One: The Beginning

Spoiler alert: this ends terribly. 

If I knew that when I woke up early Monday morning to put my clothes together, I would've crawled back into bed, given life the middle finger, and turned over to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, I'm not a psychic. 

Being the ignorant idiot I was, I threw the blankets aside and got to my feet. The floorboards were cold as ice beneath my bare toes ( I'll fight anyone who wears socks to bed ) and a shiver raced up my calves to my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself and took a deep breath, but the air didn't pierce my lungs like I expected it to. 

In exactly five hours, I'd be at uni, writing my final economics exam\. At least, that's what was supposed to happen. After that, I'd have two more years left, get my BA, find a crappy but stable office job, maybe find a guy, then die at the ripe old age of forty-two of a caffeine overdose. My life was supposed to be a whole lot of nothing, and you know what? I was fine with that. Nothing was safe. Being ambitious was overrated, anyway. Besides, if you kept your standards low, there was less of a chance of disappointing yourself later in life. That's the way I saw it, anyhow. 

I'm not sure if I'm a good or bad role model. 

As I swatted my light switch and the pale orange glow illuminated my room, I came to the conclusion that I was a great role model. Name one other nineteen year old who keeps their room spic and span? That's right, you can't. They're a rarity. Just like me being up at six am when I could be sleeping well into ten. 

Outside the window, past the thin white curtains, the world was still dark. I could hear crickets chirping from the open glass. A cool gust of wind tickled the hemmed curtains and left them fluttering. The wind plucked at the discarded papers littering my desk with its invisible fingers. Granted, most of my text books were still on my bed, where they had been all through the night. So what? I took my studying to bed? At least I had a desk. That makes me look smart, right? 

I'll be the first to say I don't usually wake up at this time to pick out what I'm going to wear for the day. Today, however, was different. Today Tali Mason would be handing out invitations to a pool party after the exams. The old fashion way, with folded notes rather than a mass text. She was retro like that, or so she like to believe. If I didn't do anything over the summer break, experience told me my mother wouldn't shut up about it. A pool party where I could do drugs and have sexy times with hot singles in my area? She'd be all for that. Me spending my summer lounging about and binge-watching Dr Natural? Not so much. 

Don't get me wrong, Carissa was great, but the woman really needed to work on her priorities. If getting a stupid invitation would make her feel better, I'd do it. I owed her that much. She hadn't kicked me out of my childhood home yet. 

So I had to dress to impress some girl into giving me an invitation to her wild pool party to keep my mother happy. Simple enough. 

I showered. Raked my fingers through my uneven blonde hair. When I was sixteen, this kid, Mark Andrews, thought it'd be funny to put gum in my hair. Mom had to chop the unfixable strands out, and I hadn't gotten around to getting it fixed yet. You'd think three years would give me plenty of time to fix it. While I hadn't done that, at least I punched the jackass in the face, and, even better, beat him at a wrestling match behind the bleachers. That's not a euphemism for anything. Mother made sure I knew how to wrestle a man twice my size to the ground. You can never be too careful. That's Carissa's motto. 

No matter how hard I tried, the choppy strands wouldn't listen to my fingers. It was going to be that kind of morning. 

I spent an hour on my make up. Smokey eyes, dark lipstick, and I even went as far as painting my nails. At least I looked nice for the hospital. Spoiler alert. 

Soon enough, my outfit was laid out on the grey plaid comforter hastily thrown over white sheets stained with ancient memories of eating ramen in bed. My favourite leather jacket, a pair of jeans I'd gotten for Christmas but never wore, and a black crop top that belonged to my mother, not me. I'd never be caught dead wearing this ensemble. Not until today, at least. Or so I thought. But before getting dressed, I had to do my quest. 

Every Monday, for as long as I can remember, it was my duty to bring the garbage and the blue box to the curb before heading off to school. Every Monday I succeeded. It was this routine that kept the wildlife from tearing the bags apart. Bears were a particular problem, but I never expected a wolf to ruin my day. 

I turned on the lights as I jogged downstairs. My quest items were waiting for me by the back door, one full blue box and a half empty black garbage bag. I grabbed the bag first. A week at Jerry's Diner told me I couldn't balance more than one thing in my arms at a time. 

With a deep breath, I unlocked the door and took a step out into the cool morning. Just like my floorboards, the path leading through the choppy grass was cold beneath my bare feet, but, in my opinion, more tolerable. The birds sang their familiar songs in the pines lining the yard and stretching out into the woods behind the old wire fence boxing off the backyard. A cricket jumped from the path to the grass as I followed it around to the front of the house. Though blue was beginning to chase away the dark, the full moon still stood ever present, as if it didn't want to leave. 

I reached the curb before things went bad. The birds suddenly stopped their songs. The crickets ceased their chirps. The whole world went quiet. 

"Ah shit," I whispered. Common sense told me I was about to be stabbed or something. 

Then I saw it. Prowling down the middle of the road was a massive dark brown wolf. Its eyes, a shade of pale green, were locked on me. How I didn't notice it before was completely lost on me. 

Ever since I was a little kid, Carissa prepared me for these encounters. The town we lived in, Red Creek, was constantly fighting against the forest for control. Bears lingered in the streets. Raccoons broke into your kitchens. Trees knocked out power lines just when you're about to watch the season finale of your favourite show. Mother taught me to be prepared for it all. 

Wolves, however, she always assured me they were very wary of people. I'd never seen one in the wild until today. And this one didn't look very wary of me. 

I raised my arms and waved them. "Hey, get out of here you little shit!" 

The canine's lips pulled back over its massive fangs. 

Can you blame my heart for trying to escape through my throat? 

"SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME-" I belted out, my voice echoing around me. My careful steps back were interrupted as a snarl rose from behind. The noise sent the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I slowly turned my head to find another wolf behind me. Thick black and brown fur sprouted from its muscular body. Brown eyes bore into mine. 

"Not a fan of Smash Mouth?" 

Obviously not. The wolf pounced. 

I really don't remember much of the attack. All I really remember was screaming. People ask me why I didn't fight back, why I didn't throw a rock at the creature. It had been too close, moved too suddenly for me to do anything more than raise my arm, putting something between it and my throat. 

There had been the crack of a shotgun. My mother screaming my name. Blood spewing from the bite in my wrist. The animal's claws had raked my abdomen open. When did I hit the ground, again? 

But the pain. That was something I remembered clearly. It was like someone had set my arm on fire. The flame was quickly consuming the rest of me. 

Then there were flashing ambulance lights, making the pool of red glow blue around me. 

As they were loading me onto the stretcher, I thought this was going to be the end of Randy Stinson. 

Instead, it was the beginning of a very, very bad time. 

Fuck my life.