Driving into the town of Fever Swamp was like stepping back in time. While there were some modern houses, most of the buildings looked like something my grandparents would have lived in. There was a train station, a general store, an inn, a toy store, a fire station, a police department, a small museum, and a school. We headed for the post office, another one of the older buildings.
"What I wouldn't give to have a mall in this town," complained Emily. "But that's in the next town over." We entered the post office and the place had an old yet refurbished look. "Did you remember to put a stamp on your letter," she asked.
"Yep," I said, holding up my envelope. "Did you?"
"Yep!"
"What did you write to Martin?"
"Just what we've been up to lately. The deer, us setting in our new Florida home, meeting Wolf, the animal attacks and Wolf getting framed, and you getting bit by the real culprit, but are doing fine. What'd you write to your friends?"
"Same. Though not as detailed." I also didn't write the fact that I'm a werewolf, but they don't need to know that.
We approached the mail clerk, a woman with a sunburned nose and her hair in a bun and Emily said, "We're here to have these delivered."
"Right away," she said as she took the envelopes.
"That was easy," I said.
"Well, we have to head over to the general store. Thank goodness this list Mom gave us is short."
The general store wasn't too large thank goodness, and it was slightly modernized despite the vintage look. The shelves were lined with food, pharmaceutical needs, and beauty products. I think I saw a barbecue grill. I'm sure Dad would love it. We managed to find the things Mom wanted us to buy, and we bought some things for ourselves, such as Fruit Rollups and Trix.
We had just left the store when I heard Emily shout, "Grady! Look out!" A truck sped toward me and I couldn't get out of the way in time. I suddenly felt Emily grab my arm and yank me out of the way just as the truck drove past me and screeched to a halt. "Watch where you're going," she shouted, kicking the truck's bumper. "Stupid head!" She turned her attention to me and asked, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I replied, my breath shaking.
The truck's driver door opened and a woman stepped out. She was big. Bigger than Dad. She had olive skin and dark hair and wore a brown jacket, black pants, and grey boots. Around her neck was a long fang. Maybe it belonged to a T-Rex. Her face twisted with rage as she said, "What did you do to my car, and what did you just call me, you brat?!" She stomped her way toward us.