The images raced through James' mind. Each of their barbaric ends flashing before his eyes like a slideshow. Their dying screams echoed in his ears and he felt their blood clinging to his skin. He was back at the campsite, reliving the horror all over again. The images didn't stop; they just kept coming, each clearer and more vivid than the last.

Suddenly, he was back in the road on his knees with grief and loss washing over him like a tidal wave. A loud crash made him turn and he screamed as a giant, shadowy thing lunged at him. Its blazing eyes glared into the depths of his soul as it pinned him to the ground, leaving him stunned and breathless. He watched in horror as the creature slowly opened its enormous jaws. Fresh blood and saliva dripped from long fangs onto James' petrified face as the maw opened impossibly wide so the last thing he saw was the back of the creature's throat-

James gasped awake from the nightmare.

He lurched forward, sitting up ramrod straight with fear etched in his tense muscles as he panted ragged breaths, drenched in cold sweat. Bloodshot eyes darted around an unfamiliar room wildly. Looking down, he saw that he was wearing a white hospital gown, and looking around, found he was in a hospital bed with an IV connected to his right arm. It all made his stomach turn and his head feel fuzzy.

"What...what happened?" He thought furiously and winced as a sharp pain coursed through his left shoulder and across his chest. Slowly, he used his right arm to shift the fabric off his shoulder and found a mess of bloody gauze underneath. Biting through the pain he felt as he moved, he began to peel back some of the gauze to reveal a series of red puncture wounds sealed tight with stitches below his collarbone and wrapping around his shoulder blade. More damaged flesh flowed below his collar and across his chest. Understanding crept over him and his eyes widened in sickening realization.

His nightmare-no-the memories of last night…had actually happened...

His friends were dead!

James fell back into the mattress, numb to the pain of jostling his injury, and stared up at the creamy white ceiling as his face contorted in pain, sorrow, and grief. Tears gushed from his eyes and onto the pillow beneath his head; last night's terror and loss welling up fresh in his chest and bursting through the seams in a violent sob that racked his body.

"Fuck!" He hissed, bringing the heels of his palms to his eyes, and tried to rub the memories away.

It didn't work.

"God damn it!" He spat, "God fucking damn it!"

James didn't stop crying until exhaustion took over and he drifted back into unconsciousness.

The interior of his uncle's old pick-up was a familiar comfort James desperately welcomed. The musty smell of old leather and tobacco coupled with the sound of gravel rolling under worn tires brought back fond memories that helped keep the daunting ones at bay.

James had just been released from the hospital with a clean bill of health after an extremely fast recovery within the course of a few weeks. His uncle Bert had picked him up, and now they were headed home.

"James?"

James turned to look at his uncle whose weathered face was creased in worry.

"You alright?" Bert asked him.

Bert Steele was James' uncle on his father's side and his legal guardian after his parents died in a car crash when he was three. There had been no other family that wanted or were able take him, and between Bert and foster care, Bert chose to raise James as his own.

Bert lived in a small cabin out in the woods that was separated from the rest of town and had served as James' home for over fifteen years. The property was all sprawling bushes and thick grass that was encircled by the forest. Small flower bushes grew under the front porch windows and a gravel road led straight into the garage where Bert parked his pickup.

The sun was halfway across the sky and setting fast. Bert backed the old truck into the garage with practiced ease and turned off the ignition. They sat there in silence before Bert turned and made eye contact with his nephew.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

Bert pursed his lips together into a thin line before saying, "I'm not going to play dumb here and pretend you're okay. You're not. Hell, I sure wouldn't be. I just want to let you know…" He reached across the seat to lay a weathered hand on James' shoulder before saying, "Whatever you need. If you want to talk, if you want to be left alone, even if you want to just get up and go somewhere for a while, you let me know, alright? I'll be there for you. I'm here to help you, James, in any way you need. Got me?"

James swallowed through the growing lump in his throat and squeezed his uncle's hand, "Yeah." He managed to get out despite the voice inside his head that screamed how he deserved nothing of the sort.

Bert nodded. "Good." He said and searched his nephew's face, "You need a minute?"

James licked his dry lips before nodding once. Bert nodded right back and said, "Alright. I'll be inside." Before sliding out of the truck and closed the door softly behind him.

James sat there in the quiet of the empty truck with his mind racing back to the hospital.

Nurses in blue scrubs mingled around him; checking the IV drip funneling into his arm and changed his bandages while a doctor spoke to him from his bedside.

"How are you feeling, James?"

The question ate at him, fighting through the all-encompassing numbness that had weighed down his mind and body since he woke up. Instead of answering, he asked, " Where am I?" Despite the fact he knew exactly where he was. It was all he could manage.

"You're in the hospital, James." The doctor replied "You were attacked by an animal of some kind. Can you remember what it was?"

The heart monitor let out a single, loud beep as his heartbeat spiked.

"It's honestly a miracle you survived." One of the nurses said to him later that day, "You had lost a lot of blood when you got here and we weren't sure you were gonna make it. You're recovering pretty fast, though." The nurse hummed to herself.

James didn't say anything except stare at the wall as she checked his stitches.

He didn't deserve to be alive right now.

He shouldn't have been the one to survive.

The police arrived the next day after James woke up; five hours after his uncle had been admitted to see him, to be exact. James had counted the time. They asked him a lot of questions about what happened, and James couldn't help but fight tears every time he opened his mouth.

Eventually they all left, and for a while, James was allowed to be alone with his grief.

But then his friend's parents came in, and he went right back to crying.

They told James it had been a bear attack and that a hunting party had been sent out to search for the beast, but he had a feeling they wouldn't find it.

Whatever attacked them…he knew that whatever was out there was no bear.

Hey, maybe they would find it! They'd shoot it dead, and then maybe James and the families of his friends could find a sense of peace!

He just wished he could believe that.

His stitches came out sooner than he expected.

"You're recovering very well." The doctor said absently as he removed the threads from his flesh.

"How much longer am I going to stay here?" James had asked.

That brought the doctor up short. He said, "Well, we'd like to keep you ahead of schedule to check for any diseases or bacteria that might be in your bloodstream." Seeing James frown, he gave a reassuring smile, "Not that you have anything to worry about so far. All our tests show a clean bill of health. You're healing very fast."

James' frown grew more pronounced, "Everyone keeps saying that like it isn't normal." He stated.

The doctor pursed his lips together and his eyes narrowed in thought. After a moment he answered, "When you were first brought in, you were in critical condition and we thought you weren't going to survive the night, but your blood began clotting and the bleeding stopped." He paused before looking at him and asking, "You aren't on any experimental drugs or pills? Any medication at all?" James shook his head to every question. The doctor frowned again, "Well…there was a lot of blood that wasn't yours and the wounds could have been shallower than we thought…" He shrugged, seemingly at a loss for words, "All in all, you are very lucky to be alive."

James opened the door and stepped out into the cool interior of the garage as anger flooded his system at the doctor's words.

Lucky to be alive?

Lucky to be alive?!

His friends had been slaughtered, and he was lucky to be alive?!

Pain exploded in his fist as he smacked it down onto his uncle's workbench with a loud bang. The words struck something deep inside of him, something that was still aching and raw and soaked with tears and rainwater from the night he'd lost his parents.

People he cared about had died, and he had been powerless to stop it.

James stood there hunched over the workbench as he fought to control his breathing and he gripped the edges as tight as he could as despair and grief climbed higher.

That was, until he felt solid wood give under his hands, and he jumped away in surprise. His eyes widened at what he saw. The corners of solid wood were cracked and compressed. James could see the outlines of his fingers if he looked closely. He looked down at his own hands, which were completely normal. No bruising or cuts or anything. They looked and felt completely fine.

What the hell?

"James?"

James jumped and looked up at his uncle's worried face in the doorway to the house.

"You alright?" Bert asked.

"I-" James looked back and forth from his uncle to the workbench, "I-I'm fine." He stuttered. At his uncle's frown deepening he added, "I am, really."

There was a pause where James and Bert just stared at each other for a moment before Bert just sighed.

"C'mon James." He said, motioning for him to come inside.

James nodded, "Y-yeah." He agreed.

Stealing one last look at the dented workbench, James followed his uncle back into the cabin with thoughts awhirl and naïve hopes of things returning to normal drifting through his heart.

Time went on.

Nightmares would have him thrashing awake and fighting his covers with the scars on his shoulder and chest aching. It was the only time they seemed to cause him discomfort. He'd been practically ripped open, but the marks where the monster…the animal had mauled him didn't so much as twinge.

People started calling the house. News and radio stations, asking him for interviews and his firsthand account of what had happened. James and Bert told them the same thing every time; no, he was not available for questioning and never call back here again. Word eventually came that they still had not found what attacked them. Hunters covered half of the forest with no sign of anything except from some weird paw prints, but that was about it.

James went to their funerals and cried along with everyone else. Some seemed happy that he was alive and well. Others didn't. James agreed with those people; he deserved all their scorn and grief. Here he stood, alive and healthy without so much as a limp while their children were lying in coffins. The worst part, though, was not the closed caskets, or the pictures, or the tears and broken hearts that surrounded him on every side, but the smell. The smell of embalming fluid was so strong that he could taste it on his tongue and almost threw up when he got close to the coffins and could even smell it from the back of the church. Everyone was so damn loud, too, and it was like James could hear everyone talking all at once; talking to each other, to the bodies of his friends, to God…he had to leave and sat in the bathroom to get away from it all for most of the funeral. Since the attack, everything had become…more to him. Smells, sound…he couldn't explain it. The doctors had said everything may be healed but there still could be some lasting damage they didn't detect. For all he knew, his body was still recovering and ramping up his senses like a permanent adrenaline rush or something.

The nightmares got worse. It was their faces over and over in their last moments of death, and their screams…and the Animal. He was calling it that because it had to have been just an animal, right? What else could it have been? Always the last few seconds before it got him with claws and teeth and burning eyes would wake up gasping and soaked in sweat.

The doctors wanted to see him again. He'd told his uncle about the smell and hearing thing, his uncle called and told the doctor, and the doctors told him that such things were not normal under any circumstances. His uncle told them he'd see about getting him in for a follow-up as soon as possible.

He was getting stronger. James found this out when he was helping Bert rearrange the furniture after he'd said he wanted a change in scenery, but James knew it was because his uncle had caught someone with a camera peeking in through the living window two days ago; some local news photographer who had been trying to get a picture of James for an article on the bear attack. Bert threw the man off his property and screamed for him to leave his nephew alone. The violation of their privacy and disruption of their lives had left them both shaken, and thus his Uncle's desire to redecorate and keep the blinds shut around the house. As he had went to move the heavy bookshelf to block the window, he had nearly dropped it out of sheer surprise and confusion because it felt like it weighed absolutely nothing! When they were done, James found that he wasn't so much as winded from all the heavy lifting and went to see if what was happening was some spontaneous burst of strength or stamina. The notion sounded ridiculous, but as he hefted his uncle's recliner above his head without strain or sweat, he was forced to revaluate what he thought the human body was capable of.

That wasn't the end of it, either. His senses were getting stronger, too, sharpening. He could hear the cars passing the house from inside his bedroom like he was standing by the road! The other day, he'd asked his uncle to turn down the radio because it was so loud that it hurt his ears, but the dial hadn't been anywhere near a decibel point that was considered loud by normal standards. He could hear Bert talking downstairs on the phone with ease.

The smells, on the other hand, were harder to discern. Everything was just…more! Food, the way people smelled, garbage, even animals; it was like his nose quadrupled every single scent, and the sensory overload was so overwhelming at times he would become dizzy and nauseous.

Sometimes, he swore he was beginning to see in the dark after waking up from his nightmares in the middle of the night and was able see his bedroom in frightening detail and clarity despite the blackness outside and absence of any light source.

The doctors didn't know what to make of his 'symptoms'. They prescribed him medication instead; pills with names he could barely pronounce for anxiety and sleep. None of it seemed to help, however. The nightmares still came, and he would still wake up panting and sweating. One of them suggested that he should possibly see a therapist. James didn't want a therapist. He wanted his friends back! Wanted his life back! He just wanted his life to go back to normal!

Sometimes, he remembered his uncle's words about getting away, slip on a heavy hoodie to cover his face, and take off down the road. Sometimes, when he was feeling brave, he'd go onto the trails leading into the woods behind his house. The forest was brighter during the day and the sun was warm, and nothing about it reminded him of that cold, dark night. Still, sometimes as he ran past the trees, his skin would prickle, his eyes would water like there was something behind him, and he'd run faster and faster until his surroundings became a blur and it felt like his feet would leave the ground. When he would eventually stop, his heart would beat strong and his breathing would be steady, but there was no fatigue, and the speed he'd gain left him awed and scared.

Then, something happened that changed things forever.

His uncle had took him into town to pick up a new prescription of sleeping pills. James' nightmares were getting worse, and he had not been sleeping at all. His mood was worsening as well. He was getting irritable and snappy; dare he say aggressive. There were some people walking their dogs by the store, and the second James got out of the car, the animals went crazy; barking and snapping with their eyes rolling, pulling against their leashes to either get away or get to him. It certainly caused a scene, and their owners fought to get them under control. All the barking battered his sensitive ears, and James had nearly snapped and attacked the dog closest to him as they hurried into the pharmacy.

That wasn't the end of it.

When they were at the counter, the dogs started barking up a storm again outside, and James turned around to watch a man walk in. There was nothing special about him; he was tall and completely bald with a heavy brown jacket, dirty jeans, and dark eyes that locked on James.

James had never seen him in his life, but the second they made eye contact…

Rage.

Complete and utter rage.

His pulse thundered in his ears and every muscle in his body went tight. This was beyond anger, this was bloodlust! James wanted to kill him. Really kill him. He wanted to tackle him into the floor, beat his face in with his bare hands, shred his skin with his nails, and tear his throat out with his teeth!

James' lips began to peel back in a snarl while the man stared back at him with wide eyes and a blindsided expression, like he was shocked that James was there. The man's large nose twitched as he sniffed the air, and James did the same out of a strange sort of reflex.

The smell…James had gotten a handle at blocking out surrounding scents, but this man…it wasn't like he reeked of human body odor or some other stink. He actually had some cheap cologne on or something, but underneath that was the smell of blood. The only reason James truly knew what it smelled like was his association with his own blood in the hospital. That heavy, coppery tang that stuck in the back of his throat was unmistakable. This man smelled like blood and dirt…and something else. A deep musk that made James' breath catch because he knew that smell! It had filled his world as it pinned him against the cold, hard ground with fur, claws, fangs, and pain!

Bert's heavy hand on his shoulder had him spinning around with breath running ragged and hoarse. He hadn't heard Bert calling him, and everyone in the store was staring. His uncle's eyes were concerned and scared, and when he asked what was wrong, James turned to point at the man in the doorway, but there was no one there.

They drove home in silence with James staring out of the window with his nails digging into his palms and his jaw clenched tight because he had wanted to murder a complete stranger, and that terrified him more than what he had just experienced. That night, as he climbed the staircase, Bert told him that he should consider seeing that therapist. James had just given him a smile that felt as weak as his knees did, and told his uncle that he loved him before heading up and into his bedroom where he shut his door, collapsed onto his bed, and curled up into the covers while gripping his hair and asking himself the question that had been plaguing him all month.

"What's happening to me?"

He was running through the woods again.

The moon was out, and he was being chased. It was behind him, closer than it had ever gotten before. He felt its hot breath on his neck, felt the impact of its heavy paws against the dirt, felt its eyes burning him. James could do nothing but run forward.

It was going to catch him, and when it did, something bad was going to happen, he could feel it!

He felt it in his bones as certain as he felt his scars stretch and tear!

He felt it as the monsters tackled him to the ground, felt the teeth and claws again, felt it as his skin was seared by moonlight-

James was awake, and he was screaming.

The pain was real; sharp and agonizing in his chest that had him gasping awake and thrashing straight out of his bed and onto the floor. He cried out as it intensified, bringing with it a wave of heat that swept through his whole body.

Shaking fingers grabbed his nightshirt and tore it open to try to relieve the feeling that his insides were cooking. A strangled cry escaped his throat as a different pain hit him, along with a series of popping and cracking that came from his hands. James managed to get them up in front of his face and watched in absolute terror as his palms and fingers began to stretch and lengthen, becoming wider and bigger before his very eyes. Not only that, but thick, black hairs were sprouting up the length of his fingers, along his palms, and down his arms. His fingernails abruptly erupted into long, dark claws with a sharp 'snick' noise. Through all of this, James whimpered and cried out in agony. He clawed at his body as more pain wracked him. His legs and ankles felt like they'd been broken, his shoulders and chest felt like they were being crushed into powder, and his entire body itched like a million ants were crawling over him. He cried out and lurched forward onto the floor again as what felt like a hand grabbed his insides and twisted them a full 90-degrees. His skin writhed as the muscles underneath grew and swelled to enormous proportions. He bit the inside of his mouth and yelped out in both surprise and pain, for his teeth had become much, much sharper. The sound of shredding clothing filled the air as James' frame exploded outward in an orgy of growth. Suddenly, everything became numb, and James saw more than felt the lower half of his face stretch outwards in front of his very eyes, morphing into a snout. All the while he was screaming, grunting, and moaning, but his sounds turned into deep, huffing growls.

Through the blurriness, James saw a bright light glaring in through his bedroom window, blinding in its intensity. It took him a moment to realize that it was actually the full moon. Something inside him, the same something that had compelled him to nearly attack a barking dog and made him want to kill the man in the pharmacy, forced him to stare straight into the cratered face of the orb hanging in the night sky, and James realized with fresh horror, that the something seemed to be drawing strength from the moonlight, like it was being pulled out of him-

Darkness began to encroach the edges of his vision, and the something in the back of his mind grew stronger; it was another presence, another mind! Something primal, bestial, and not human that was slowly crushing him and forcing him out of his own psyche into somewhere dark! The last thing James felt before his consciousness went under the blanket of whatever was taking over his body was the beginning of a howl ripping from his own throat.

Everything ached.

That was the first he felt as he regained consciousness. His head throbbed something fierce, his ears were ringing, his mouth was dry, and his whole body felt like it had stretched like a rubber band until it snapped. When he opened his eyes, he winced from the brightness of the morning sun and grimaced at a sour taste in his mouth.

Then, the fact that he was lying face down on a hardwood floor registered, and he groaned in confusion.

"What the hell?"He rasped as he tried to rise.

Keyword tried.

Blinking against the harsh glare of sunlight, James shifted to see what his palm had slipped in. All he saw was red; a deep crimson covering half his arm…

He knew that color red…

James yelled as he recoiled away from the sticky mess that covered the floor and most of his body. The iron tang hit his sensitive nostrils a second later and he gagged, reaching to cover the lower half of his face with a shirt that was not there.

"What the-" James floundered and discovered he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing and was lying in what was left of the living room.

Everything had been destroyed. Turning about in every direction, James saw that the rest of the house looked like a blood-soaked tornado had come tearing through. Almost all the furniture was crushed or destroyed, the walls and floor were missing huge chunks with deep slashes across the drywall, and so much blood painting the house in patches, streaks, stains, and puddles with the largest puddle coming from where the kitchen used to be.

James's eyes followed the river of lifeblood up to where a leg poked out from behind what had been the kitchen table.

…No.

James half-crawled-half-ran while trying to avoid smashed bits of furniture and slipping in all the blood.

No!

His hand shot out to steady himself and his knees hit the floor. His uncle Bert was covered in blood. His shirt was torn open from great slashes across his chest, red blood slowly oozed out of his throat which looked to have been torn open by sharp teeth, his neck was twisted at an odd angle with his expression frozen in absolute terror, his blank eyes staring up at the ceiling, unseeing and…and-

No, no, no, no, no-

-dead.

"NO!" The scream ripped itself from James' sore throat, and a wordless wail of anguish and loss came straight afterwards. After that, he just began screaming. Screaming in horror, shock, and loss. His shaking hands hovered above the body of his uncle, the only family he knew, the only parent he had, the person he'd loved that had been alive-

James screamed and lashed out blindly. His fist caught the remnant of the table and sent it flying across the house where it crashed into the fireplace mantle. He rose to his feet, shaking as a red haze began to take him over. He turned and brought both fists down onto the island countertop that was covered in blood but miraculously intact. The solid marble split in half under his fists and the pieces hit the floor with loud thuds. He turned again, searching for the next thing to unleash upon, howling like a wounded beast, and drove his fists into the wall over and over again; punching straight through plaster and hitting the wood underneath until he broke through that, too.

The sharp pain of splinters slicing into his skin brought him out of it and he yanked his hand free to stare at his shredded knuckles and wrist. White powder mixed with blood dripping off his shaking hand, which was shredded in multiple places. Suddenly, the bleeding stopped, and James stared in shock as fresh skin began to close over the split flesh and closed the wounds, leaving him completely healed in a matter of seconds.

Slowly, he looked up to survey the damage once more as a horrible thought wriggled into his brain with the memory of falling out of bed as agony wracked his body, which had then begun to change before his very eyes. James looked up at four distinct slashes curving down the length of the wall.

He reached up and traced them downwards, remembering how his nails sprung into pointed sharp claws.

I did this.

The thought struck him like a sledgehammer. He took another step back and surveyed the horror around him with new eyes.

"I did this." The thought spilled free from his lips this time. He looked around at the destruction as an iron fist of fear gripped his heart and squeezed.

I'm a monster!

Panic stabbed him with a wave of horror, and he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself, just staring straight into the closed eyes of the corpse in front of him.

This is going to happen again.

That strange something deep inside of him seemed to confirm that little thought. The same something that had healed him, gave him incredible strength and speed, and had possessed him last night under moonlight. He felt it even now, sitting in the back of his mind, in the strength of his arms, sharing the breath in his lungs, and heightening his senses. It was inside him, the Something; the Monster…the Animal.

And it had killed his uncle.

James' hands curled into fists and he rose to his feet as another realization hit him hard. He had to run! Had to leave! He just killed someone, and he would kill again if he didn't do something!

A dichotomy of calm and panic settled over him and his brain went into survival-mode. Everything else seemed to shut off to make room for the brain-space to mull over possibilities and scenarios. He couldn't stay, that much he knew. He needed to get far away from the scene of the crime. If he was arrested when people came looking, or brought to a hospital again, or whatever would happen when this bloodbath was discovered, he'd be brought back in civilization, and if he was in a populated area when he turned into that thing again…

He needed to run. When people found this, and him missing, they'd put the word out. That meant Missing Person's reports and police. He would need to avoid getting caught, had to go somewhere where authorities wouldn't find him or keep running and hiding until they gave up the search.

He needed to move; now!

The next thing James knew, he was running upstairs and jumping into the shower to wash off the blood. It took longer than expected, but he eventually managed to scrub the red from his skin and hair. After that, he threw on fresh clothes and emptied his wardrobe; shoving all the clothes he needed into trash bags. Then, he was raiding the pantry for canned goods, bottled water, and other non-perishables that went into a bag. He grabbed all the cash and coins he could find and shoved them into a jar. He'd drive to an ATM and empty his bank account. After that, he'd ditch his credit and debit card. No point taking his phone, either. He knew that might be traceable along with the cards. Finally, he went into his uncle's room in search of his truck keys and found them sitting on his nightstand next to his glasses and a picture of him and James.

Just before he left, James spotted something else on the nightstand. It was his uncle's necklace. The whole thing was pure silver from the chain to the silver rectangle hanging from the center that had his and his father's names engraved on both sides; 'James' and 'Jones'. James reached down to pick it up, but the second his fingers touched the metal he recoiled in shock and pain when it stung him. A feeling of weakness briefly overtook him, and the presence in the back of his mind dimmed. Stunned, James tentatively reached back down and touched the necklace again. Again, it burned like it had been left out in the sun for too long, but James held on because the feeling of the Animal was being pushed back! After a couple of seconds, the metal stopped burning him and he picked it up. He felt like that well of strength had been subdued, but he was still standing. James slipped it around his neck and under his shirt where it rested against his heart, tingling his skin, and dulling the Monster inside him.

He didn't seem to have the brainpower to process the implications at the moment; all he knew was that this thing helped him, so it was coming with him.

He ran into the garage with his supplies where the truck sat waiting. James threw open the garage door and clambered inside with his bags of clothes and food, stuck the key into the ignition, and brought the vehicle to life. He had under half a tank, enough to get him out of town. He would refuel at the first gas station he saw, hit the ATM, and drive somewhere far away…

…and then what? Where the hell was somewhere? He needed a destination, a goal or place in mind to run to!

The hissing static from the radio sounded through the speakers, and for some reason, James felt compelled to listen.

"…The search still continues for the sisters Hannah and Beth Washington, daughters of movie director and Hollywood mogul Bob Washington, who have been reported as missing since their disappearance on Blackwood Mountain in Alberta. We send our well-wishes and hopes to their family and friends along with the search and rescue teams that are combing the mountain in search of the twin girls…"

James tuned the rest out, focusing on only two words.

Alberta, Canada…

It was a long shot. The longest shot of his damn life, but there was a certain appeal to it. Hadn't he read stories of American fugitives running to Canada to escape the law? Miles of untamed wilderness where anyone could hide sounded appealing. He had always wanted to go to Canada, anyway…

He didn't even know if American jurisdiction would follow him across the border, or hell, if he could even get across the border to begin with, but what else could he do? Stay here and wait until the next time this happened and wake up covered in more innocent blood?

No, he had to keep moving! He was sure he could find places to hunker down away from people as he went. Maybe he could find a permanent spot where he could get himself-no, the Animal, under control or get rid of it entirely. Hopefully the latter.

All he knew was that he had to move and had to move now!

James shot out of the driveway, trying to remember the quickest route out of town with a vague destination of north in mind and fear heavy in his heart.