Century Traveler

"So, I've been cleared?" John asked.

"So far, yes. We'd like you to stay in the city until we've closed the investigation, but yeah," Molina said.

"That's great! Now all I have to do is get Doctor Smiley to sign off on releasing me," John said.

"That's Doctor Giamatto," grumped the doctor as he stepped in the curtain. "The handcuffs are gone, so I assume you won't be cluttering up my ward with your officers anymore?"

"Yes, doctor. We're done here for now," Molina said.

"Do you recall what the wound looked like when I pulled the bandage back the first time?" the doctor asked the detective.

"Yeah, it was a fucking mess," he replied, curious.

The doctor peeled back the gauze and looked back at Molina, who leaned forward in surprise.

Where the flesh had been shredded and raw, he now saw red, angry-looking skin. New skin where there had been rips and tears before. The punctures from the fangs were now white dots in different sizes.

"Holy shit!" Molina breathed.

"As I said, he heals faster than anyone I've ever seen. I'm glad I had someone else witness this. Mr. Doe, I would seriously like to study how your body recuperates from injuries," Giamatto said.

"So, I don't have rabies? I'm healing and healthy?" John asked.

"Rabies? No, I cleared you of that yesterday. You are remarkably healthy!" the doctor said.

"So... there's no reason to keep me here?" John pressed.

"Mr. Doe, I don't believe you understand how important this research could be," Giamatto frowned.

"Look, that's all well and good, but I have no interest in being a lab rat for medical experiments. Please sign my discharge papers." John turned to the detective. "I'm also glad you were here to witness this. I'd hate to disappear into the system, just another anonymous John Doe."

"I think you watch too many thrillers, Mr. Doe," the detective said with a tired smile.

"Maybe so, but my name does tend to make me think about those kinds of possibilities. Having no family also doesn't help," he replied with a grin of his own.

The doctor's frown deepened, and he ripped the curtain open as he left.

"Was that the equivalent of slamming a door?" John asked.

"Not a smart move to make your doctor unhappy," the detective suggested.

"Hmmm... probably wasn't. Let's see when he discharges me," he replied.

The detective and the officer left, and John sat back and waited.

-=-

The following morning John was standing on the sidewalk outside the hospital in worn scrubs again. Apparently, this time it was the police who had his clothes and his backpack. He didn't even have shoes to wear and was left with the stupid hospital slippers. He'd have to contact Detective Molina to get all his stuff back.

He'd had another nocturnal visit from Mr. Sass and had explained his current predicament. The old man assured him all would be well. And here he was. He didn't know what Mr. Sass had done, but John was sure he'd done something to expedite his release.

As he walked around the corner, he spotted a cab with a large sign in the side window with his name written on it. He tapped on the window, and it went down.

"Hi, I'm John Doe. Are you waiting to pick me up?"

The man looked at him cautiously, then shrugged. "Yes, I have a prepaid fare to take a John Doe to this address." He held up a small card with John's apartment address on it.

"Yeah, that's my place," John confirmed.

The cabbie gestured for him to get in the back.

Anna looked out the living room window when they pulled up to the house. She opened the front door as John climbed up the steps and entered. As he passed, she pulled her face away.

"Did they not wash you at the hospital?" she asked.

"What? Oh! I'm sorry. It must be my right arm. It's been in the sling for too long. The doctor and I had a little disagreement, and service kinda went downhill after that," John said.

"March yourself right into the kitchen, young man," she said with a firm, motherly tone.

He grinned and did as he was told. She sat him down at the kitchen table. Then she gathered a large bowl which she filled with warm water. Setting the bowl on the kitchen table next to him, she left the room for a minute and returned with a facecloth, towel, and a bar of soap. Anna undid the buckle on the sling's strap, and he rested his arm on the table while she peeled back the device. Next, she gently lifted his hospital scrub top upwards, pulled his left arm out, then his head, and slid the top down his right arm, doing her best to avoid bumping it.

John realized his arm wasn't as painful to move as it had been, and he definitely had way more sensation in his hand than he did even a day before.

Anna unwrapped a bit of gauze on his right hand and paused. "Oh John, that's a lovely ring! Where did you get that?"

Puzzled, he looked at his right hand and saw the ring. The memory of Laroche grabbing his right hand surged back into his mind. Suddenly, he was reliving the moment, complete with the pain. John leaped to his feet, knocking the chair over. He stumbled back until his back hit the door jamb. He held his right arm straight out from his body, and his wide eyes stared at the ring like it was attacking him. His breaths came in big gulps as he hissed between his clenched teeth. Distantly, he heard his name being called.

"John! What's wrong?" Anna had never seen him act like this, and she was afraid he would hurt himself. He seemed to be terrified of the ring. On impulse, she reached out and pulled the ring off his outstretched finger. Instantly John's eyes rolled up, and he dropped to his hands and knees, his head hanging down. His sandy blond hair started to darken as Anna watched in shock. Even the fine blond hairs on his arms shifted to black. He was breathing like a bellows, and when his hair went entirely black, she heard a low rumbling. It was coming from John. He was growling, and it was getting louder.

"John?" she gasped.

His head whipped up, and his eyes were gold! Worse, a stranger was behind them. His eyes were having difficulty tracking, but she prickled with fear when they locked on her. The look was completely feral. For the first time since she met him, she was afraid of the young man. She glanced at the ring in her hand and saw he was looking at it too. Maybe he wanted it back. She attempted to hand it back, but John snarled and swatted at her arm wildly, causing her to drop the ring. He tried to jump at her, but his limbs locked up, and he flopped down onto his face on the floor, where he twitched.

The twitching became thrashing, and she heard John's weak voice begging, "Please, the ring... put it... back on... can't hold it...." She heard the terror in his voice.

She looked for the ring desperately and saw it under the kitchen table. She crawled under and grabbed the jewelry when she felt his hand land on and grip her ankle. She screamed and spun around. The feral look was back, but he still didn't have much control over his limbs. With terrible strength, he started to pull her closer. The grip of his left hand was becoming painful, so she kicked back with her other foot, and her heel connected with his forehead. That seemed to daze him, and she broke his grip. Anna scrambled over his body, pinning him down, and grabbed his right hand, which she pulled up behind his back. The growl turned into a roar as he thrashed under her body. Anna wasn't a light woman, but he came close to tossing her from his back. She clung to him with her thighs and legs, using everything she had. The moment she got the ring over the first knuckle, the steam seemed to go out of John's body, and he relaxed under her. She pushed the ring all the way on. She watched in amazement as his hair faded from pitch black to his usual sandy blond.

She heard a new sound from the young man whose face was pressed against the tile floor under her body. He was crying. Soon it turned into big anguished sobs. Anna slid off his body and sat up. She pulled the limp man's head onto her lap. She stroked his hair as he cried, his body shaking with grief. When he finally quieted down, he was still shivering.

"John, what happened to you?" she asked gently.

"Oh god! It's inside me!" he gasped, and the tears returned.

"What is, John? What's inside you?"

"Wolf," was all he was able to get out before his teeth started chattering.

"You're not making sense. What do you mean? What happened to you on Sunday?" she asked.

Her words seemed to bring him around, and he struggled to regain his composure. She saw him clench his jaw, and he pushed himself to a seated position. He glanced down at his right shoulder in surprise as he could move it freely with no pain. The bandage was partially torn off from their wrestling on the kitchen floor, and she saw the red marks under its edge. He reached over with his left hand and pulled the bandage completely away. Anna saw the extent of the damage to his shoulder. The skin still looked red and purple from bruising, but it didn't look too bad. Then she noticed the rows of puncture scars and realized the size of the bite on his shoulder.

"What did that?" she gasped.

"I'm told it was a wolf," he said weakly. He looked up at her, and she saw the anguish in his eyes. "I'm so sorry!" he said.

"Tell me what happened!" she said firmly.

He blinked at her tone, then looked away as he tried to calm himself. He finally had to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths before opening them again and beginning.

"I went for a hike in the forest. I took a side trail, and when I was at the top of the ridgeline, I saw a wolf. Or I think I saw a wolf." He shook his head to clear it. "I jumped to avoid it and fell down the steep side of the ridge until I fell into a pit filled with leaves. There was a dying man in the pit. He may or may not have bitten me too. Or it might have just been him and not the wolf. I can't trust my memory about that. In either case, he did apologize for biting me, and before he died, he grabbed my right hand, and I think he forced the ring on my finger. I don't know why I didn't notice it before." He stared at the ring. "I can't even tell I'm wearing it. I can't feel it!" He shook his head in disbelief. "The man's hands were so much larger than mine--how does the ring even fit?" He touched his finger with his thumb, and he could feel that but not the ring. Weird!

"What did you mean by it's inside you? What happened when I took the ring off? How did you make your hair and eyes change color?" Anna asked.

John leaned back against the door jamb and looked inwards. He didn't know how he missed it before. There was a... presence in his mind, deep inside but distinct from... him. He saw now that he'd been unconsciously keeping it in a... kind of mental blind spot to avoid acknowledging it. Now that it had forced its way to the surface, he could no longer do that. A shiver went through his frame.

"I can feel it now. It's resting, but it's there. I think that's what the ring does. It keeps it calm. Shit... I have no idea how it works." He looked bleakly over at Anna. "Did I hurt you? When you pulled the ring off, I felt it rise up over me, and I couldn't see or feel anything for a bit. Then I heard your voice, and I knew you were in danger. I clawed my way back up out of the darkness and held it for as long as possible. It's terrifyingly strong!" Another shiver shook him. "The wolf I saw on the ridge was huge with black fur and gold eyes. What color did I turn?"

"John, what you're saying makes no sense!" she argued. He looked at her and realized that Anna was taking the scientific, analytic side, and he was taking the metaphysical side for the first time. He felt his mooring slip.

He hung his head and fought back the tears. "I know," he said faintly. "I'd think I was insane if you hadn't confirmed there was a physical change as well." He pushed himself to his feet and turned to the door leading to his apartment. "I'm going to take a shower since my wounds seem to have healed enough. I think we need to talk afterward. I don't think you're safe around me anymore."

She gasped as he turned and walked away. Was he leaving home?

Chapter 6

All John could think of on his way to work the next morning was he needed to speak with Mr. Sass. So much had happened to him, and none of it made sense. He was also worried about the old man's reaction when he told him about the ring and the close call he'd had with Anna. John was confused by how strongly he needed the man's approval and support. He'd only known him for a few years, and they didn't talk that much. He was more of a familiar stranger, truth be told. But they... clicked.

His mind went back to the conversation he'd had with Anna the night before. It hadn't gone as he'd intended. After he'd washed the funk from his body and put on some real clothes, he'd gone back upstairs to tell her he would find another place to live. Somewhere he wouldn't be putting her or anyone else at risk from whatever was happening to him. While he really enjoyed living in her home, he'd been on his own for most of his life, and he could go back to that.

When he walked into the kitchen, Anna held up her hand. "Before you say anything, please know I will not accept any plan involving you running away when you obviously need help. I don't know exactly what kind of help you need yet, but I know you won't be better off alone or with strangers who won't be watching out for your well-being."

John blinked in surprise. "I-I'm not safe to be around. It's too dangerous--"

"I'm not a frail little old lady. I can take care of myself, as I've just proven! You need me, and I'm going to be here for you. End of conversation!"

John was stunned. He didn't know how to react to the fierce tenacity of her friendship.

She saw his confusion and smiled gently at him. She knew his origins and understood how this affected how he related to others. She gave him a hug. "Don't worry. We'll get through this together." He found himself crying in her arms.

The bus's brakes squealed, pulling John back from his thoughts, and he saw it was his stop. He leaped to his feet and pushed his way through the bus doors as they closed. As he stood on the sidewalk watching the bus pull away, he realized he was too early for the bookstore to be open. He'd been restless all night and finally just gave up and went to work. He walked over to the coffee shop, ordered a large coffee, and dumped the contents of seven sugar packets into it. He stirred it, then carefully sipped the hot and now very sweet beverage. Usually he drank it black, but for some reason this morning, he was craving the sweetness. There was an open table by the window with two vintage overstuffed, high-back chairs. He settled himself into one, luxuriated in the plush comfort, and watched the early morning pedestrian traffic.

A few minutes later, his peaceful quiet was broken. "Are you going to bless us with your presence again?" came a voice from behind him. The lovely accent gave her away, and normally John would have spun around to see the princess looking down on him, but he was in a rare mood this morning. Suddenly, chasing the elusive Melanie Singh seemed like a boy's game.

"Maybe," he grunted and took another sip while his eyes tracked a female form across the street with casual interest. She stepped around his chair and caught the motion of his eyes.

"Do you have some exciting story for why you were away this time?" she persisted, her tone hinting at being annoyed by his lack of attention to her.

"Excitement is subjective. What excites you?" he replied casually, still watching the scenery, his tone hinting that he'd just asked to be polite.

Mel was not used to being ignored. Especially by John. Normally he showed a puppy-like adoration around her. Today there was something different about him. She wasn't sure she liked it, but she couldn't leave it alone.

"Lots of things excite me. None of them I'd discuss with you," she said with perhaps a little too much venom. His attitude was really starting to bug her.

"Then I guess we have nothing to discuss," he said with a sigh and took another sip. The dismissal was clear. Mel had planned on spending the next thirty minutes before the shop opened basking in John's attention, but now she didn't know what to do.

He finally looked up and saw the upset on her face. He nudged the chair across from him out a little with his foot and said, "Sit. Please."

She hesitated, then sank into the cushions and watched him over her own tall cup of steaming hot coffee.

He took another sip and enjoyed the warmth moving down through his chest. He saw she was beginning to fidget. "Mel, I've had a couple of bad weeks, and this past one was especially rotten. They've had a significant impact. I'm not who I was."

He suddenly began to chuckle, but he quickly clamped down on it before it could become hysterical. He frowned deeply, then eased his expression back to a neutral state. He took another sip of his coffee with a hand that was just a little shaky. She caught the tremble and frowned with concern.

He saw her puzzled look, so he set his drink down on the small table between them and sat back. He unzipped his jacket and pulled it off his shoulders. Then he unbuttoned the top five buttons of his shirt, and Mel's eyes widened with each button he opened. Instead of what she expected, he pulled the shirt to the side, exposing his right shoulder. The skin was red and raw, and the puncture scars showed clearly. He waited as Mel's expression passed through confusion, recognition, and finally, horror.

"My god! What did that? When did it happen?" she gasped.

"A wolf. On Sunday, when I was hiking. It looked like hamburger three days ago. My doctor tells me I heal faster than normal. Oh, and after I was bitten, I met a guy dying from a knife sticking out of him. The rescue workers apparently found us an hour after he died. Me with my chewed shoulder and him dead by his knife wound. The police had me handcuffed to my hospital bed for a couple of days as they thought I'd had something to do with his death and wanted me to stay put. I've been cleared of that, of course.

"So, all of that after being hit by a car, spending a week in a coma, and enduring a week of being treated like a pariah by people I thought were my friends. The experience has left me a little out of sorts. I don't think I can go back to what I was."

The chuckles suddenly started again, and he throttled them down savagely. He buttoned his shirt closed and pulled his jacket back over his shoulders. He picked up his coffee once more and settled back to take a soothing sip while his hands trembled. He closed his eyes and tried to center himself, feeling a stirring deep within.

The touch on his knee surprised him, and his eyes snapped open. He saw it was just Mel trying to give him a little compassionate comfort. She squeaked and pulled back.

"John! Your eyes!" she gasped.

"What?" he said, blinking.

"They were gold!" she leaned forward, but his eyes were once again hazel.

"Are they?" he said, not wanting to explain.

"What? No, I mean they were gold, bright gold, but they aren't now," she struggled to explain.

"Probably just a reflection on my glasses," he replied.

"You aren't wearing your glasses. Are you wearing contacts?" she asked.

He suddenly realized he wasn't wearing his glasses, but he could see perfectly. He took his glasses for granted, and since he could see clearly, he assumed he had them on. He didn't own contacts, but that sounded like a good excuse. "Yes, sorry, I meant my contacts."

"Listen, I'm sorry Satomi and I treated you the way we did last week, but you needed to be punished for hurting her feelings," Mel said.

"And you're qualified to be my judge?" he asked brusquely, pinning her to her chair with a fierce look.