Stowe Away by Mark Leslie

Author:Mark Leslie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Vermont train ride, wolverine, werewolf, supernatural thriller, father and daughter
Publisher: Stark Publishing
Published: 2020-08-18T00:00:00+00:00

Saturday August 1, 2015

6:12 AM

I woke up curled up in a ball, or maybe more like a fetal position. Normally, when I woke up, it was more of an awakening of my consciousness. Like I had just recently resumed human form from the wolf persona. But this was a waking from sleep; as if I had actually morphed into human form while asleep as a wolf. It wasn’t sunrise, but shortly after. I just know these things. Like when you just know that you can’t trust a particular fart.

I was naked, lying on a wooden floor inside some sort of structure. I could feel something draped over me. It was a t-shirt, laid overtop of me like a blanket. Someone was pressed up against my back, and I could feel and hear the rhythmic sleep-breathing of the person nestled tight up against me, as if we had been snuggling while we slept.

The person was female. But it wasn’t Gail.

I knew her, though. The scent seemed oddly familiar.

The cloth on top of me offered a familiar scent, and I immediately recognized the scent on it as Bruce, the guy I had nicknamed Cornflake when I’d first spotted him on the train.

Then it came to me all at once. Bruce. Bridget.

I wiggled my naked body away from her, feeling like some sort of perverted old man. I tried to remind myself that she had been snuggling with a wolf, not all that different than curling up to sleep with a dog. Thank goodness she was still asleep.

As I looked at her peaceful, sleeping form, I wanted nothing more than to protect her from the darkness of the world, help bring her the same sense of peace she experienced in sleep, when she woke.

I was reminded of my promise to get her to her mother.

Looking around, I deduced we were in some sort of small shed. The earthy scent of shovels and other yard tools clued me in to that as much as the visual overview. There was a single, small window beside the door to the shed. Scuttling further away from Bridget, I kept myself covered with Bruce’s t-shirt. No sense freaking her out if she woke up. I spotted a pile of clothes to my right. My jeans, Bruce’s jeans. My t-shirt. Bruce’s t-shirt. Socks. My running shoes. No underwear. I figured I must have had those on when I’d changed the night before.

Damn, I hate piecing together missing time.

I often had very little memory of the last five to ten minutes before turning into wolf form. I didn’t know exactly what Bridget and I had spoken about or what had happened. I knew what I had planned on telling her. But all I could remember was that I had started to tell her and that she seemed to believe me even before I could get to the details.

Then my memory went blank.

Probing the fleeting memories of the past ten hours, I was able to come up with a few images of walking alongside a young human female beside a set of train tracks.

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