Hidden in Sheridan (Tainted Series: Book 1)
PART 1: Chapter 2 - Please, Don't Misunderstand

Moon: NEW

LEVI - “Look Sterling. She’s home.” I growl darkly, or at least that’s how it sounds to me. To others I probably sound drunk, though it doesn’t matter, luckily my friend is more focused on my urgent condition. Whereas I would rather he just leave me to die.

“Ity. Help?” Sterling says, urgently.

Hand still covering her nose, Ity waves us inside. Our dirty shoes squeak on the clean multi toned tile floor as we enter. Before closing the door Ity reaches outside and rings the doorbell several more times. Then she latches the door securely behind us.

The air is much warmer now, I feel it burn less in my lungs. A new pain rips across my vision as the indoor lights fully fill my vision. We follow. She leads us: Through the spacious entryway. Through a very warm room with a fire burning in the hearth along the back wall, above it the TV plays an old movie with a familiar logo in the corner. Through the swinging door we replace ourselves in the kitchen.

On the other side of the door Mr. Allen appeared running to meet us. When he’s spotted Sterling and myself his eyes grew to the size of the “gotta have it” bowls at that ice creamery. Though I believe even if we weren’t covered in blood and mud he would have been surprised to see us outside of school. We had been known to duck behind shelves if we came across him at the grocery store. Thus being in our principles home was surely a fraction of the shock … A small fraction.

“Trinity, First Aid Kit,” Mr. Allen instructs without missing a beat, and she disappears through another door.

Mr. Allen isn’t a large man. He’s mostly tall, gangly, and he’s out grown his hair long ago. Still he is in fantastic physical condition for a 50 year old man. Which might be why he manages to lift all of my six foot, 150 pound, high schooler body, off the ground giving Sterling some much needed relief.

Swiftly, Mr. Allen rushes me farther into the kitchen, laying me face down on the tile floor.

As part of my injury touches the cold surface, I wince and a new surge of adrenaline pulses through my body. It’s as if someone has hit the breaks on the world, and I become very aware of every detail around me. The floor is textured squares of genuine tile, none the same size. Trust me, I looked. The walls had been recently redone. Impressive slates of woods arranged strategically upward, the white textures enhanced by the glow of lights shining down from the vaulted ceiling. Below which, white cabinets holding up a large space of assorted gray granite countertops, around black appliances.

I also marveled at the space of the room. There I was bleeding in the middle of it and still there was plenty of room for the others to walk around without bumping into the dining set or kitchen island. Where I could only assume held an open range gas stove, but from this angle I couldn’t tell for sure. I make a note to check on it when I become less horizontal.

“I’m sorry, I’m getting blood on your floor.” I mutter deliriously.

“Don’t worry, it can be cleaned up.” Mr. Allen says, moments before a large bottle of bleach slams down beside my face. Startled, all three of us look up at Ity, who smirks strangely before handing the First Aid bag to Mr. Allen.

“What happened?” He asks while getting to work.

“Dog bit me.” I say. I try to make it sound like one of my jokes but I am lead to believe my current condition kept it from being funny.

“On the hip?” At Mr Allen’s question it occurs to me that dogs would go for an arm or even the throat, it was very strange this one had gone for my hip. “Let’s get this thing cleaned and patched for ya.”

At the expense of a lot of pain, my hand flew backward grabbing a fistful of my jeans. “Can you not pull my pants down in front of …” I try to discreetly motion to Trinity who had opened the bottle of bleach and begun to pour it into another container with a rag.

If she was listening she was really good at pretending not to.

Mr. Allen smiles at Sterling, his eyes twinkling with hope. “He’s going to be fine. Did either of you call for an ambulance?”

Sterling shook his head, neither of us had thought of it, and to be fair I am still wondering if part of this is a mere nightmare. “I don’t have a cell phone, and Levi … oh.” His eyes connected with mine. I did have a cell phone. It was the only nice thing I owned and, at this moment, it was somewhere safe.

“Wendy has mine.” I say, answering for him.

“You gave your phone to your girlfriend?” Mr. Allen asks, judgement lacing his words.

Trinity shook her head but I refuse to let her misunderstand.

“Wendy’s my car, the Bronco, that we crashed. I don’t have a girlfriend. No girlfriend. I’m single. Sterling’s Betrothed.”

Sterlings jaw dropped, “Leave me out of your mindless babbling?”

“Still … it’s true … you are!”

“You are?” Mr. Allen asks, his tone very interested.

Sterling stuttered, “Family friends. They were joking.”

“No, they weren’t.” I insist. I don’t know why I keep insisting, I can’t stop myself.

“I will slap you right on the side,” Sterling lifts his hand to show he’s not joking.

Even though he didn’t hit me, I winced. “Why does it hurt so much?”

Mr Allen gave a sigh of relief, “That’s okay, you don’t need one. An ambulance that is, you probably do need a girlfriend.” He winks. Something about him calms whatever panic or fear that might have remained in the room. The great thing is, that just having an adult nearby was helping.

“The bite isn’t that bad,” Sterling says, swallowing hard. “He was just in shock and I … I couldn’t leave him there while I looked for help …”

“You did the right thing.” Mr. Allen assures him. He digs around in the first aid kit for a pair of blue latex gloves, which he replaces and quickly slips over his hands.

He slowly pulls the previously white shirt away from my skin. My back involuntarily twists away, as more pain ripples through the nerves in that spot.

“It’s okay, It’s okay.” Mr. Allen says, “We have to roll you over just slightly to your side.”

That movement turned out to be easier than I thought. In fact, pulling my stomach off the rough floor brought a small sense of relief.

While I move Mr. Allen quickly cut the rest of the damaged shirt away which reveals several large puncture marks deep into my dark brown skin. Dark red blood pools out of them, which Mr. Allen carefully begins to wipe away with several small-ish alcohol wipes. I grimaced with each wipe but the cool after effect calms me again.

“That was some set of teeth,” Mr. Allen says. A click and a flash startles me. My body tenses and my head snaps upward in the direction the light had come from. Similar pain pulses through me at this sudden movement, and at what I saw.

Trinity, wearing a thick white bandana across her face, had paused her activity with the bleach, and was now holding her phone. She leans in close before she snaps a second picture of my back.

A close-up.

“Just documenting your injury in case the doctors ask what we did.” Mr. Allen explains.

I turn back around. Feeling violated and disappointed that my first appearance on Trinity’s phone had not been of my face. I drop my face down into my arms and wish I could somehow melt into the floor.

“For an animal attack it’s really not that bad.” Mr. Allen continues to explain. “But you’ll still want to get a rabies shot and something to keep from getting infected. Which is why when I’m done here, we are taking you to the emergency room.”

“I have rabies?“ I gasp, the sound muffled by my arms.

“You don’t have rabies.” Sterling says while rolling his eyes.

I pull my head up again, “How do you know? You’re not a vet.”

“I’ve seen my mom treat all kinds of animals with rabies and that wolf didn’t have it.”

“WOLF?!” Me and Mr. Allen both question, though I have to admit, my voice was an octave or so higher.

“Dog!” Sterling corrects, “Sorry, it was just a big brown Dog. My mistake.” Sterling loves to help out his mothers office. Though he didn’t like to admit it, he knows more about animals than any 17 year old high school boy should.

“You wouldn’t mistake a dog for a wolf.” I accuse him.

“I’m 17. I make mistakes.” Sterling defends.

“Then how do you know I don’t have rabies?”

“Levi,” Mr. Allen interrupts. “He is right about it not being a wolf. There are no wolves on this side of the mountain. Wyoming wildlife management keeps a close eye on that. But even so, you should go get checked out for rabies.” Mr. Allen starts taping a thick piece of gauze to my back as he continues to speak calmly. “Or if it was a wolf you’ll merely turn into a werewolf.” He laughed and both of us join in awkwardly. Old man jokes aren’t funny but this man is my High School Principle so I have to, what’s the phrase, save him face? “I’ll drive you both to the emergency room. Crashing your car could have hurt you just as much as the bite. Sterling should get checked out too.”

Sterlings hands wave him off, “I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”

“What about your head?” I point out the spot on his ear where the wad of blood was, it looked like a gash earlier but now as Sterling wipes it with his hand, there was nothing beneath. “Huh.”

“Help me lift him,” Mr. Allen requests. Together they lift me to my feet, dizzy from the change I took several deep breaths, which sent rods of pain shooting through my back and stomach.

“Ity, will you clean this up before my wife sees it?” Mr. Allen asks the young lady.

Trinity already had two white latex gloves on her hands that matched the bandana over her face as she waves goodbye.

“No, you can’t clean it up.” I protest, completely mortified that she was still witnessing me at my worst. “I’ll clean it up. I should, it’s my blood. I can go to the hospital later.”

“She’s got it covered.” Mr. Allen chuckles. “She’ll send you the bill.”

Shameful, I look at her hidden expression. Those green eyes shimmer mysteriously just over the fold of the white bandana. I watch as she carefully rubs her thumb over the tips of her other fingers. I recognize the signal and the sound ‘cha-ching’ enters my mind, as they pull me from the room.

CHAPTER END