Now, she’s scared, really scared. She wills herself to run, but her legs won’t cooperate. Her knees buckle. She tries to scream, but her vocal cords are useless. This has to be another one of those disturbing nightmares that have been torturing her lately. They’re much scarier than the ones where she shows up to school naked.
There’s a whoosh of air. A large, slobbering four-legged creature blocks her path. When it rears up on its hind legs it’s tall enough to lock eyes with her. She is unable to look away. “Please, don’t hurt me,” she begs. “Why me, why me?”
The creature incorrectly interprets her plea to be an invitation to attack. Somehow it stretches its body further upwards before diving onto her. They both crash to the ground, causing Sophie’s head to smack into the sharp edge of a cement curb. The creature’s front paws pin down her shoulders. The rest of its body crushes her torso and legs. Everything below her neck is immobilized, so she’s helpless when the beast starts humping her, rocking up and down her body and side to side. Its penis is unsheathed and hard. Disgusting. She gags when it begins licking her ears and neck. Its long tongue is sticky and as scratchy as Velcro. Its breath is putrid.
She can’t summon sufficient breath to scream or cry out so her tears fall without sound. Her head aches and double vision makes her wonder if she has one attacker or two. Her thinking revolves around pain and what might come next. It’s a dog, a giant black dog. No, it’s a wolf and it’s biting at her coat buttons and trying to shred her cashmere scarf. When It moves a paw to get better purchase of her scarf, she frees an arm and punches up at the vulnerable base of its throat. She lands a good one and the beast whines and sits back, enabling her to roll onto her side and curl into a fetal position.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Silence. She’s still a mouse caught between a cat’s paws. It’s playing with her. Suddenly, it takes her scarf between its massive jaws and uses it to tug her back onto her back. It ups its battle with her scarf and ferociously chews through the knot, its fangs nicking her neck as it furiously shreds the soft wool, which the wind blows away. Blood drips blood down her neck from several locations. The air feels like cold steel against her now totally exposed throat.
God help me she thinks, just before the wolf uses its snout to push her hair away and plunge its fangs, which feel like double-edged knives, into the side of her neck. It alternates between greedily lapping up her blood and tearing at her flesh. Dazzling, colorful fireworks explode in her head. Suddenly the gnawing stops, and Sophie can feel and hear the suck of its fangs coming out. Is it preparing to finish her off? She dares to open her eyes and look at her hirsute attacker. Its attention seems elsewhere. Its snout twitches as it sniffs the air.
The wolf keeps one paw planted on her chest as it rises up. In a fog, she hears a man, shouting in Spanish, running towards them. Too bad she took French. The beast growls and slightly moves away from her, leaving her free to try and crawl away. Her savior reaches them, and while continuing to rant, begins kicking wildly and successfully at her attacker, which bares its teeth and snarls menacingly before running off.
Trembling, she shakes her head, trying to get her mind to focus. She senses her rescuer is kneeling beside her. “Help me, help me,” she says before fainting.
****
When Sophie comes to, she is flat on her back on the frozen ground. I’m numb she thinks, I must be in shock. Given what just happened, she should be writhing in agony. Her ears burn, indicating her hat is gone along with her scarf. She successfully moves her arms and swivels her feet back and forth to ensure they work.
She turns her head to see who is holding her hand. She blinks and Marko comes into focus. “Can you help me?”
“Mrs. Parker, Mrs. Parker, talk to me por favor,” he begs.
“I thought I just did,” she responds with difficulty. A scarf – Marko’s? – is wrapped tightly around her neck. “How did you find me? Marko, a huge dog, maybe a wolf got me. Am I bleeding to death? Do you think I’m going to die?”
“I already called the 911,” Marko tearfully tells her. “It will be here soon. I hear the siren.”
He’s right. The ambulance, with sirens shrieking and red lights whirling, arrives. The EMTs find Marko cradling her head and holding her backpack. The boy looks uncertain about what to do as the EMTs slide her stretcher into the truck. “Marko, thank you,” she wheezes just before the second ambulance door closes.
She’s in a blissed-out morphine haze in an emergency department cubicle when a wild-eyed Will tosses back the curtain, calls her name, and throws himself upon her. She cries out as he’s jostles her throbbing neck and shoulder. He jumps back and tearfully apologizes.
She holds out her hand to him and indicates he should park himself on the side of her bed. “Well hi, Willie boy,” she rasps dreamily. “I’m sure I’m going to be just fine.”
“They say a dog attacked you in the park,” he says, sounding uncharacteristically emotional. “Honey, what were you doing in the park after dark?”
She ignores his question. “I don’t think it was a normal dog,” she confides. “It was huge, with rough fur, and a funny smell, almost like the Axe deodorant the boys at school wear. You know I hate that smell.”
Will smooths her hair away from her scratched forehead. “They’re waiting for a plastic surgeon to sew up that gash on your neck. They promise it’ll be one of their best guys. Does it hurt very much?”
“Oh no. I’m just perfecto. No problems here. I’m just a little sleepy. How are you doing?”
“Thank God, nothing worse happened to you. When they called, I panicked.”
“You know Will,” she says, lazily touching his cheek. “I just couldn’t believe it when it was happening. I was so scared. Thought I was a goner.”
“Don’t even joke,” he croons, squeezing her hand.
A young red-haired woman in a white coat pushing portable computer station enters the cubicle. She begins typing before first acknowledging them. “You’re Sophie Parker, dog bite. Right?” She finally says, looking at Sophie for confirmation. “I’m Dr. Webber, the plastic surgeon assigned to your case. Can I get a look at that bite?”
She gently peels back the mound of gauze covering the wound and gently touches the skin around the bite. “It’s not particularly jagged, but it is wide and deep. Are the pain meds doing their job?” After Sophie nods enthusiastically, she continues. “Fortunately, it’s on the side of your neck, so it shouldn’t leave too visible a scar. My anesthesiologist, Dr. Yee, will check in any second now to ask you a few questions, and then we’ll have you transported to the OR. Is there anything you want to ask me?”
As Sophie is in LaLa Land, Will feels responsible for coming up with questions, but can’t think of any.
“Nope, no questions, everything is A OK,” Sophie airily tells the doctor, who finishes her typing and leaves without saying anything else.
****
Sophie is in a private room when she wakes up after surgery. Will sits dozing beside her. The skin under the new bandage feels tight. Great, she woozily thinks. Just what all twenty-somethings dream of, a one-sided neck lift. Will looks pale, tired and wrinkled, but still very handsome. She is assessing her pain level when her parents tip-toe in.
Margaret, her mother, looks uncharacteristically horrible, like a mad woman. Her eyes are red, her hair’s a mess, and her ketchup-red lipstick extends far beyond her lips. Her father, Sam, looks gray and somber, but he lights up when he sees she’s alert.
“Daddy,” she opens. “How could you let Mother leave the house looking like that? She’ll never forgive you.”
Will snaps awake, stands and moves to embrace her parents. They all hug and start mewling in unison. Feeling loved, Sophie smiles.
Dr. Merrill, their long-time GP, joins the fray. “What, young lady, may I ask, were you doing alone in the park after dark? What were you thinking?”
“You know Doc, I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I wasn’t thinking,” she res
ponds.
The doctor informs them that Sophie is being kept overnight for observation and so she can begin receiving her rabies prevention treatment.
There’s a polite knock at the door. Two men in rumpled raincoats ask to come in and speak to Sophie. Cops? Detectives? Dr. Merrill leaves and her family makes room for the men, who take out notebooks and pens.
Sophie knows she needs to pull herself together so she can provide details. She becomes defensive sensing they too want to know what she was doing alone in the park at dark. Talk about blaming the victim. “I thought I could make it through the park in time. I was really close to Fifth Avenue when it happened. Besides who would have dreamed that a wolf would be roaming around? A mugger yes, but not a wolf. I’m not Red Riding Hood.”
“So,” the taller man, Detective Reagan, begins. “You were attacked by what you think was a wolf and then somebody came and scared it away.”
“Yes,” she says. “That’s exactly what happened. But it wasn’t just anybody who saved me. It was one of my students on his way home.”
“And the wolf just disappeared into the mist?” asks the other man, Detective Esposito.
Will, his face flushed, stands up. “If my wife says that’s what happened, that’s what happened. Don’t you need to start searching the park for that beast? This shouldn’t happen to anybody else.”
The detectives detect they’re not going to learn anything else, and after asking for the student’s name, head for the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
“There’s scrum of reporters and paparazzi at the hospital’s front door,” Margaret tells Sophie the next morning when she comes to pick her up.
“Someone famous must have overdosed, or had a baby or a facelift,” Sophie responds,
“When I picked up my visitor’s badge, I asked the attendant who she thought they were all waiting for. Guess what she said.”
“Mother, do you really think I’m in the mood for guessing games?”
“And, when I walked past the newsstand, guess whose picture was on the front page of the New York Post.”
“Why are you torturing me like this? Come on. I want to get out of here,” Sophie says sounding more irritable that she feels.
“You dear, you are the woman of the hour. I can’t believe a photographer got in and took your picture while you were sleeping. Doesn’t say much for the security here,” her mother says.
“How the Hell, did my little dog fight become big news?” Sophie asks, feeling like she’d been violated a second time.
“Come closer, so I can get a good look at you,” Margaret says. “You look remarkably well for a girl who was viciously attacked by a possible wolf just hours ago.”
Like her mother, Sophie too is surprised by how well she looks and feels. All night, though she slept heavily, her dreams were a rehash of the attack. Again, and again she recalled being unable to move, unable to scream, unable to defend herself. She relived the creature pawing and ripping away her scarf and the dampness at her throat as the fangs pierced her neck and her blood mingled with its pungent saliva.
“I’m not as traumatized as I was last night,” she fibs, to save her mother worry. “And, they gave me some great sleep aids. What clothes did you bring me? I can’t go out in only this air-conditioned nightie. Can you believe the police want to hold on to all my clothes?”
“Based on my Law & Order SVU watching, it’s exactly what I’d expect them to do,” Margaret tells Sophie as she pulls underthings, jeans, a sweater, and a light down coat out of a carryall. “Remember these are just on loan.”
“Shoes, mother? I can’t go home without shoes.”
“You have bigger things to worry about than wearing hospital slippers. Remember, there’s a media mob waiting for you at the front entrance. I think we should find a rear exit, unless you want a second shot at being the Post’s cover girl.”
While Sophie changes into the clothes her mother brought, Margaret arranges for an Uber to meet them at the emergency department entrance.
Sophie has no trouble walking the three flights up to her apartment. When they enter, she sees Will left the place a mess. Sighing, she pushes up the sleeves of her mother’s sweater so she can get to work. “Want me to make you some tea?” she calls from the kitchen.
Margaret crowds into the kitchen with her. “I came here to fuss over you, not have you wait on me. I’m pleased but shocked you’re so hale and hearty. And, take off that sweater before you get something on it.”
Sophie immediately strips off the sweater and hands it to her mother before going into her bedroom half-naked to find a t-shirt. “I’m pretty surprised too. I feel guilty not being at school. There’s nothing wrong with me except I have a big patch on my neck and a few scratches.”
“I see the patch, dearest,” her mother comments. “But the scratches you had last night seem long gone.”
After sweetly pushing her mother out the door, Sophie goes into the bathroom to check out Dr. Webber’s handiwork. She carefully peels the tape off one side of the gauze pad, pulls it back far enough to see the wound and then gasps. The tiny, neat stitches are visible, but her neck is otherwise perfectly smooth. The stitches, which will disappear on their own, look like they’re just there for show.
She sits down heavily on the toilet. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. Her childhood scrapes and bruises had all healed quickly, but this is science fiction. Something isn’t right. She stands back up and looks again at her reflection in the mirror. The miracle remains.
Sophie smooths the bandage back into place. She decides to tell no one this secret.
CHAPTER FIVE
St. Edwards’ head of school, Niles VanAken, calls Sophie that afternoon to inquire after her welfare. “Great,” she tells him, adding that she’ll be back at school tomorrow to wish the boys a happy holiday. “Hello,” she says when he doesn’t respond.
Her boss, an alumnus of St. Edward’s, finally clears his throat and then firmly insists she not return until after the holiday. He is not, he explains, acting solely out of concern for her. Reporters have been hanging around outside of school all day trying to find Marko and asking the boys questions about her. “Please,” he tells her, “do us a favor, stay home and have a nice long holiday. When Marko came in this morning, I told him the same thing. After I praised his bravery, I sent him home. He got out before the news hounds figured out who he was.”
After asking after Marko, she agrees to stay home, wishes the headmaster a merry Christmas and hangs up. It’s kind of flattering to be the object of so much interest, but she’s glad her home address didn’t get out. Then, she remembers her neck’s bizarrely speedy recovery and is doubly grateful for anonymity. She doesn’t want to be outed as a freak of nature.
She feels a little shy entering school a few weeks later when classes resume. She’d picked up coffee on her way in, so she didn’t have to answer her colleagues’ questions while getting her java in the lounge. While they may be sincerely concerned about her welfare, she knows they are also likely dying of curiosity. She’d given Nora the okay to catch them up on what had happened and how she’s doing.
The boys, seemingly the entire student body, crowd into her room once allowed in the building. They all want to squeeze in and get a good look.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Good as new,” she repeats over and over. She relates what she remembers about the ordeal and praises Marko for coming to her rescue. She looks around for him, but he isn’t part of the throng that surrounds her. She’ll have to thank him later when he’s in class.
When the bell sounds, she puts her hands over her ears. When did it get so loud? Come to think of it, the boys’ voices are louder than she remembers as they good-naturedly push and shove each other into the hall and then scatter. She’s not really surprised by her new sensitivity to sound as it’s been growing ever since the “incident.” She’s had to tell Will several times to turn down the television.
All day long she allow
s her classes five minutes to satisfy their curiosity about what happened. Yes, she did hear something coming, but too late to get away. Of course, she was terrified. No, the police don’t have any clues yet. Yes, she’s had to undergo anti-rabies treatments, which haven’t been that bad. Yes, she’s more afraid of big dogs than she used to be. And on and on and on.
Marko is in her last class of the day and she asks him to remain when the others file out. He looks a bit uneasy as she takes the seat next to his. “I just wanted to tell you again how grateful I am for your help. I can’t believe how fortunate I was that you were as foolish as I was about going through the park that late.”
As she speaks, she looks at him more closely and remembers he had his eyes down through most of class. He shifts in his seat and tries to avoid eye contact. “I’m just sorry I didn’t get to you sooner,” he says. “And, how are you feeling now, is there still pain? Your neck does it bother you?”
He looks at her neck so intently it seems as if he’s trying to see through her turtleneck. She pulls at it nervously. Everyone’s interested in her neck. For the first week of vacation, she got away with keeping her neck bandaged. On Christmas, she broke out an antique choker. Since then, she’s resorted to scarves and turtlenecks. When alone with Will, she makes sure her hair is always covering her neck
“My neck stopped hurting right away,” she irritably tells him. “It’s remarkably fine. I’m just damn tired of everybody asking about it.”
He looks like she’d just knocked him upside his head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean you. I just want to feel normal again. You can understand that, can’t you?”
Sophie's First Shift: There’s No Turning Back (Shifters Take Manhattan Book 1) Page 2
