Chương 15: Master Memory

Drawing near the bus and whatever recollections it may carry within, Crimson halts to study the battered entryway. He freezes, inhaling deeply and shutting his eyes... Tucked in bed, he shifts slightly. A distant howl drifts in through the open window. His eyes fly open. And they gleam with a golden glow. Crimson climbs out of bed. When he spins around, he's neither fully human nor entirely wolf. A peculiar twilight state... He forces his eyes wide. It's taking effect.

He reaches the bus's front entrance, braces himself, and steps inside. Crimson advances down the aisle, his fingers tracing the vinyl seat backs of the empty rows. Dark crimson splotches stain the windows. He glances at the bus floor. He recalls the vision from his dream; Willow being dragged along the aisle. But now it's clear the real victim was the Bus Driver, yanked backward while screaming. Crimson clutches the seats as the true events come rushing back.

In his half-wolf form, he charges to the bus's rear as the Driver shrieks in panic. A claw swipes at him. He stumbles back, blood seeping from his chest. Back in the present, Crimson surveys the bloodstains surrounding him. His own blood. A honking horn jerks his head around just as a flashlight floods through the bus windows.

"You in the bus. Don't move!" The security guard shouted toward the bus. But he tears down the aisle, bursts out the door, and sprints off. Behind him, a guard rushes from the school, flashlight in hand. Crimson dashes for the fence as the beam catches him. The chain link looms ahead. Yet instead of scaling it, he propels himself off the pavement and somersaults clean over the top. From the jeep, a stunned Churro watches him land on the asphalt like an Olympic gymnast.

"Go! Go!" As Crimson slams the door shut, he hits the gas.

"Did it work? Do you remember?"

"I was there last night. And the blood, a lot of it was mine." He said, nodding, breathless.

"So, you did attack him?"

"No. I saw glowing eyes in the bus. But they weren't mine. It was Auztee. I think I was actually trying to shield the driver from him."

"Wait... what? Why would Autzee help you recall that he attacked the Driver? It's got to be a pack thing."

"What do you mean?" Crismon asked. He was even more puzzled on the road when Churro said that, since the pack thing was news to him.

"Like an initiation. You do the kill together."

"Because ripping someone's throat out is a real bonding experience."

"But you didn't do it. Which means you're not a killer. And it also means..."

"I can go out with Willow." He pauses before replying with a confused look.

"I was going to say it means you won't kill me."

"Oh. Yeah. That too."

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Within the Ash residence, in her personal space, Willow holds a sweater up to the mirror for inspection. She then spins toward Scara, who is sprawled lazily across the bed.

"Pass." She picks up a shirt that screams California vibes.

"Pasadena." She remarks while grabbing a shirt with a Spanish flair.

"Paso doble. Reject, reject, reject everything. Oh, Willow. Any respect for your fashion sense? It's slipping away by the moment." Scara rises and pulls a black item from the closet.

"This one." The bedroom door swings open without any warning. It's Ash, slipping into his jacket.

"Dad, hello?"

"Right. Sorry, I totally spaced on knocking." he said, a bit absent-minded.

"Hi, Mr. Ash." Scara lifts her leg onto the bed, posing like a model. To her irritation, Ash doesn't even glance her way.

"Dad? Need anything?" Willow asked, a hint of confusion crossing her face.

"Just wanted to let you know you're staying in tonight." Scara and Willow's eyes go wide, nearly forgetting the curfew set because of the animal attacks.

"What? I'm heading out with my friends tonight."

"Not while some animal is out there hurting people."

"Dad..."

"It's beyond my control. There's a curfew. Nobody's allowed outside after ten P. M.." Willow points at his jacket.

"You're going out."

"I'm over eighteen. No more arguments." He closes the door behind him.

"Aren't we Daddy's Little Girl?"

"Sometimes. But not this evening." She opens her bedroom window. Scara watches, fascinated, as Willow climbs out onto the roof. She races to the edge, and just as she's about to fall, she propels herself forward. Willow grabs a nearby tree branch, then let's go, executing a backflip that lands her right on the lawn below. She looks up at her.

"Eight years of gymnastics, focusing on uneven bars. Are you coming or what?" Scara snaps out of her stunned stare and gestures toward the door.

"I'll use the stairs."

Come nightfall, they found themselves in a bowling alley, an understated spot with a dozen lanes, buzzing with a modest crowd. Scara and Larch claimed a lane, slipping into their bowling shoes as Crimson and Willow hunted for the perfect ball. She lifted one after another, gauging their heft.

"You seem like you've got the hang of this. Willow."

"I used to bowl with my dad. When's the last time you bowled?"

"At a birthday party..." he trailed off, noticing her drifting away, before adding, "When I was eight." In the seats, Alison and Crimson took the left while Scara and Larch settled on the right.

"I'll go first. Larch?" she inquired. He moves behind her, guiding her stance with a vivid pink ball in hand. She manages to topple a few pins across both attempts.

"I'm absolutely terrible at this." Scara murmured. Willow steps up next. With effortless poise, she sends the ball gliding down the lane. The pins scatter. Every single one.

"Someone came ready to play." Crimson applauds her as she strolls back, beaming with pride. She takes a seat beside him, and he gives a tense nod. Trying to play it cool, he dabs the sweat from his forehead. Larch steps forward and nails a strike with ease. Scara erupts in cheers as he swaggers back, eyes locked on him.

"You're up, Croft." Crimson inhales deeply and grabs a ball.

"You've got this, Crimson." Looking pale as a ghost, he shuffles toward the line. Larch watches, nearly drooling at the thought of Crimson messing up. With a burst of speed, he hurls the ball in what might be the most awkward throw ever witnessed. The ball crawls a few feet before thudding into the gutter. He squeezes his eyes shut in pain as mocking laughter erupts behind him.

"Larch? Can you shut it?"

"Sorry, I'm just remembering you saying, 'I'm a great bowler.'""Maybe he needs a little warm-up." Willow suggested. Still cackling, he wiped tears from his eyes from laughing so hard.

"Maybe he needs the kiddie bumpers." Scara joins in the laughter now. When the ball returns, it snaps into Crimson's hands.

"Come on, Croft. Scara at least knocked down a few pins. Want me to come up and guide you too?"

"Don't be mean, Larch." He steps up again, gripping the ball like he's trying to crush it. He glares down the lane, zeroing in on the pins.

"Just aim for the middle." Willow offered, trying to help before hearing Larch's laughter grow.

"How about aiming for anything except the gutter."

"Let him focus." Crimson glances at her nervously, nodding and saying, "Thanks." As he turns back, the noise fades away. With a furrowed brow, he takes a breath and releases the ball. It sails down the lane. Willow leans forward, hope flickering, as Crimson holds his breath and the ball clunks straight into the gutter. No pins. Plenty of embarrassment. Behind him, Larch snickers again. Defeated, he slumps onto the bench. She gives his leg a gentle pat.

"Don't worry. We've only just begun." Crimson nearly laughs. Only just begun a night of torment.

At the gas station, Autzee exits his Dodge beneath the faintly glowing canopy. While he inserts the nozzle into his car's tank, a dark SUV glides in as though intending to park at the pump across from him. Yet instead, it halts directly in front of his vehicle. A second SUV rolls up and stops right behind him. Now two shadowy vehicles have him boxed in. Autzee glances at the SUV doors. A pair of hunters climbs out of one ride, and Ash emerges from the other.