Wolverton by Julie Steimle (sites to read books for free .TXT) 📖

continued to point his shaking gun as if it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I’d be dead,” Rick explained, coolly keeping his distance, “And my dad would arrive here, see me, and have you arrested for murder.”

The manager went paler. The reality of his situation seemed to weaken him, if only a second. But then he lifted the gun and said, “No. You ran away… I could… I could have… have your body dumped out there with Mr. Zeballos. And when the sheriffs come tomorrow, I won’t be blamed.”

Huffing, Mac reached for the gun, grabbing it.

Rick immediately ducked.

The gun went off. But Mr. Whidbee had not let go of the weapon. His fingers clung to it in terror.

“Stop! He’s a monster! I saw him turn into a wolf with cult out there!” He was shouting, screaming desperately. “They killed Mr. Zeballos!”

Darting to get behind the desk so he could be out of range, Rick shouted up at Mac, “Get it from him!”

Mac punched Mr. Whidbee in the gut. As the man doubled over, Mac wrenched the gun from his manager’s fingers. He looked likely to shoot the boss next.

Seeing that, Rick jumped up, grabbing the weapon. “Don’t!”

“He was going to shoot you,” Mac protested. He nudged his boss with the heel of his shoe instead.

Nodding, Rick pulled Mac from the man. “Most people are. It’s ok.”

“It’s not ok!” Mac snapped, exasperated with him. “You’re just a kid. And he’s the one who brought the monster.”

Wrapping his fingers around the barrel of the gun, Rick hissed, getting in Mac’s sights, “He’s just an idiot. He didn’t know what he was getting into.”

“No way…” murmured Mr. Whidbee, staring up at Mac. “You’re one of them cultists?”

Mac turned with a glare at him. But Rick pushed Mac’s hand down to make sure he did not hurt the man. Turning, Rick said, “I don’t know what that hunter said to you, but you stepped into something you shouldn’t have. He knew the risks, but you didn’t.”

Staring up at him, Mr. Whidbee looked like he was loading his pants. Rick pitied him, but at the same time, the man had locked him in a room on the full moon and had just pointed a gun at him.

“Now…” Rick paced in front of his father’s Alabama branch manager, “You’ve got two choices. You can stay on the job and keep your mouth shut, or you can quit.”

The man stared more, realizing Rick was not going to kill him—despite being a monster whom he had just seen with a pack of cultists and man-eating wolves not so long ago. His eyes flitted up to Mac, realizing that Mac probably had been among those cultists.

“But,” Rick added, “If you make a big stink over this whole thing, your life is going get really messy really fast.”

Mac tucked the gun in his waistband, staring at Rick as if he had not really seen him for who he was until now. He was smiling with a different kind of admiration—not looking at a specimen of wolf their pack desperately needed, but the future CEO of the company.

“And it won’t me or Mac here, or my dad messing it up either,” Rick explained.

The manager’s face contorted, confused, uncomfortable and disbelieving.

“You see, that hunter is no good,” Rick said in a logical even tone, hoping it would calm Mr. Whidbee down. “And associating with his kind will destroy you.”

Mr. Whidbee rose up, shaking his head. “Stop calling him that. He was a private investigator.”

“Is that what he called himself?” Rick laughed, not able to help it. His emotions were raw. Normally he would have contained it better. “A P.I. with a hunting rifle and carrying wolfsbane?”

Mr. Whidbee paled.

Shaking his head, Rick said, “I’ve known that hunter for years. He’s tried to kill me with a crossbow, a knife, and shot at me plenty of times. He was just stupid to think he could take on an entire pack.”

The manager wet himself this time. Rick groaned, smelling it. It was humiliating seeing this happen to a grown man.

“Why are you telling him this?” Mac hissed in his ear.

Rick leaned back and said with a normal voice so Mr. Whidbee could overhear, “Because, if he runs around screaming ‘werewolf’—which I am sure he already has done before we got here—he is going to look insane. Trust me. I know this from experience.”

The manager’s hands began to shake. He looked faint.

Then nodding to Mac, Rick said, “Go back to the town. Get your family safely out of here.”

Mac stared at him, even more amazed.

“I told you,” Rick said, crooking up a painful smirk. “This is my territory.”

Nodding, Mac took the gun and walked out of the office. He paused at the door, sighed with regret that he wasn’t taking Rick with him, then left.

Rick was alone with Mr. Whidbee. He stared down at him, frowning.

“You could have avoided all of this if you had just stuck with my dad’s schedule.” Rick then sat in the chair opposite the manager’s desk, feeling very tired. He looked around at the office, sighing. Then he rose and searched around. “Now where are my shoes?”

Mr. Whidbee inched to the door.

Turning around, Rick asked. “Where are you going to go? To another SRA hunter?”

The man stiffened. Mr. Whidbee then raised his chin. “The police.”

Rick nodded. “Ok. Just be aware that most people don’t believe in so-called monsters. And those who do are monsters themselves.”

The manager went closer to the door. Rick also moved that way.

Mr. Whidbee backed up from him.

Raising his hands, Rick merely smiled and said, “Let me out first. I don’t want to be unlawfully locked in again like last time.”

“You can’t get away with this,” Mr. Whidbee spat at him, though still pale with horrified indignation.   

Sighing, Rick replied as he stepped out of the office, “Get away with what? Survival? Even those SRA hunters go by rules. And they can’t legally hunt me after the full moon.”

As he walked away, allowing Mr. Whidbee to escape the office also, Rick halted and said, “You better not have done anything with my bags and stuff. And I want my shoes back.”

He then stalked off to find a place to sleep for the night.

Mr. Whidbee rushed quickly to the office restroom, where he was probably changing his pants. He was later seen escaping the factory as fast as his legs could carry his Tweedle-dum body.

 

Ghost Town

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

“There you are!”

“What did I do?” Rick nearly fell of the breakroom couch where he had been sleeping. He felt like he had been hit with a sack of potatoes repeatedly while doing extreme aerobics. His thighs and glutes ached especially.

He looked up.

“Henry!” Rick jumped up, grabbing him. “Oh! Thank goodness!”

Henry pulled back. “When did you get all huggy?”

Laughing, Rick shook his head, wiping his eyes.

“And when did you last have a bath?” Henry groaned, leaning farther.

“Do I smell that bad?” Rick let go, pulling back and sniffing his underarms.

“You smell weird. What have you been rolling in?” This time Henry made a long step away from him.

Thinking on it, Rick laughed. “Everything, I guess. I sorta went wild for three days.”

Groaning, Henry shook his head, so much weight was in his looks, a thousand worries on his mind. “Ugh… Your dad is gonna kill me.”

“What for?” Rick asked, running his finger through his hair, feeling the grit in them as they got stuck. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Gazing at him pitifully, Henry moaned. “I didn’t come directly back for you as I should have. I spoke to your dad and he is—”

“Irate. Disappointed. Upset.” In marched the tall dignified CEO of Deacon Enterprises, his cold amber eyes raking in Rick’s disheveled form in front of him. “Exasperated. And in need of an explanation.”

Rick blinked his eyes and stared at his father who, as ever, looked like the human embodiment of a gray wolf. “Dad. Why aren’t you in Japan? You flew on a full moon?”

Through clenched teeth, Mr. Deacon said, “You called me and left a disturbing message on my voice mail saying Mr. Whidbee had changed your work schedule and you had to climb out a window because he had locked you in his office. Do you think I could possibly just sit back and hunt in a distant country while such insanity is unfolding at my factory with my son on a full moon?”

Paling, Rick shook his head wordlessly. His eyes then looked to the door. He wondered if the town had evacuated yet.

“And then I got a call from Henry saying you fell in with a pack of wolves.” His father’s voice took on more bite. “Son, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

Blinking at him, Rick huffed as he wished he were with them. “They were fine.”

“No,” his father growled. Then he sniffed, grumbling deep in his throat. “You have no idea what you had stumbled into.”

“They weren’t man eaters,” Rick snapped, baring his teeth. “They were kind to me.”

“Like honey, I’m sure,” his father said.

But that struck Rick. His thoughts went to Mrs. Blithe. A shudder went through Rick’s body. And more, because he wanted to be with them. He wanted to be with Daisy.

Walking up to Rick, his father sniffed, then covered his nose. “You are going to go back to the bed and breakfast, and you are going shower.”

Exasperated, Rick stared at him. “Dad—”

“You are going to scrub thoroughly with the emergency lye soap,” his father said. “Understand?”

Moaning, Rick hung his shoulders. “Because I stink?” Those other wolves weren’t so bossy.

“Because I can’t talk to you while you are in this state of mind. And you don’t understand what you had gotten wrapped up in.” Mr. Deacon then stalked out of the room, gesturing for Henry to lead Rick along.

Henry reached out to take Rick’s arm.

Shaking his hand off, Rick protested. “I’m not an invalid for pity’s sake. I can walk on my own.” He then stalked out of the break room. His eyes tracked to the windows and doors, thinking maybe running back to Wolverton was the best option.

Henry followed strangely close.

As they went out through the factory, a number of the shift managers were up in arms over the extreme lack of workers showing up. Rick overheard them say, “It looks like everyone from Wolverton is gone.”

He tried to hide his smirk.

As they went further out, Rick followed his father to where the department supervisors had stopped him with complaints and questions. That giant who had been with Mac the first day was there, shooting daggers at Rick with his eyes.

“…well the manager thought it was better he start on night shift. It is only logical. And you said no special treatment.”

Mr. Deacon’s eyes bore down on them with such weight that they all flinched. “Are you saying you think you know my son better than I do? This isn’t about the job. It was about my son and knowing his weaknesses. And I explicitly gave orders—day shift first. I didn’t care what other shift followed. Ignoring my explicit instructions is grounds for termination.”

“Dad…” Rick felt he was getting a little too hot on them.

Rounding on him, his father growled. “I am not talking to you until after you’ve had that shower. Henry, take