Go to the clinic

Getting the rabies vaccine was vital to your life. You made up your mind.

"I'm sorry, but I have other appointments this afternoon. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow morning?" You asked kindly.

"Oh... So, how about we meet at 10 tomorrow?" Sherry sounded a bit disappointed.

"Sure. I'll be there."

"Okay. Thank you, Mr. Wilson. See you." Sherry quickly hung up the phone.

"Who is it?" Fran asked curiously as she leaned closer and looked at you with a gentle smile.

"It's Sherry Smith, Leonard's younger daughter. It seems she wants to talk about the werewolf myth."

"That sounds serious. Aren't you going to meet her right now to find out what she knows?"

"Well... it can wait. I need to go to the clinic first." You surely wanted to know what Sherry had to say, but you needed to know whether there was something wrong with your body. You couldn't do the detective work well if you were sick.

"You don't mind me coming with you?" Fran looked concerned.

"I was going to ask, actually." You gently kissed Fran's cheek and left the restaurant arm in arm.

The small clinic in the west of the town finally opened at around 3:30. Another hour passed before you and Fran finally met the doctor you had made an appointment with, Dr. Nathan Jones.

"Mr. Wilson, as far as I can tell..." After spending tens of minutes on necessary examinations, Dr. Jones, a young man with short brown hair, wearing a pair of black-framed glasses, finally put down the device and picked up a pen, frowning, "You're totally healthy."

"Are you sure?" You, sitting on the other side of the desk, asked anxiously.

"The results are all normal. You said you were attacked by wolves, but I haven't found any wounds on your body. I can only assume that you were imagining things under great pressure." Dr. Jones took a deep breath and began to write the prescription, "I'll get you some sedative medicine to help you calm yourself down, in case it happens again. You should also take more rest."

"Uh, Dr. Jones, he has some changes in diet habits. Is that a problem?" Fran asked nervously.

"Huh? What do you mean by that?" You looked confused.

Dr. Jones stopped prescribing and stared at the two of you seriously. "Could you be more specific?" He asked.

"He likes the steak rare instead of well-done after the incident. He drinks more water during our lunch, too." Fran looked at you in concerned while taking.

You didn't even realize that you had ordered another rare steak for lunch. If Fran hadn't pointed it out, you would have believed that it was perfectly normal for human beings to eat raw meat. And you felt parched from time to time, so what was wrong with you drinking a lot of water?

Dr. Jones looked shocked for a split second, as if he couldn't believe what he heard from you. He quickly regained his composure to look professional, but you noticed that his hand holding the pen was shaking. Something must have stirred his mind so much that he could barely think straight.

"Is there anything wrong?" You asked, noticing his abnormal reaction.

Dr. Jones quickly put down his pen, adjusted his glasses, and **** a smile on his face.

"Nothing. It's just... Well, some changes in diet after a stressful incident are pretty common. Don't worry too much. Just take the sedative and rest well for a couple of days, and everything will get back to normal." He quickly finished writing the prescription, tore it off the pad and handed it to you, "Take this to the front desk. The nurse will give you the medicine."

You took the prescription, still feeling uneasy. You were about to say something, but you saw that Dr. Jones was drawing something on another prescription.

"Although... if the symptoms don't subside... There is a friend of mine living in the nearby forest. Her name is Valerie and she's an expert in this kind of thing." Dr. Jones handed you another prescription, "Although I'm afraid that she hasn't come back yet. You might want to go visit her tomorrow. Good luck, Mr. Wilson."

You took the second prescription and realized that it was a map. It showed a narrow passageway near the motel to the north of the town that led to a cabin in the forest.

"Dr. Jones, what exactly is ‘this kind of thing' you're talking about?" You asked.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing more I can tell you." Dr. Jones leaned his back against the chair and took a breath of relief. He avoided your gaze, his hands folded on the desk as if trying to hide the tremor that still lingered in his fingers.

You tucked the map into your pocket, sensing that Dr. Jones had no intention of saying anything more. You thanked him quietly with a nod and walked out of the examination room with Fran, who was frowning just as deeply as you were.

"That was weird, right?" She whispered as you waited for the nurse to prepare your medicine in front of the front desk. "The doctor clearly knew something, but why wouldn't he just tell us?"

"He looked scared." You replied with uncertainty. Whatever it was, it was something that the doctor couldn't handle by himself. You wondered what this "expert" was capable of.

"So, what now?" Fran asked after you grabbed the medicine and walked out of the front door of the clinic, "It's getting late now. Shall we go back to the hotel and get something to eat? Or do you have other plans?"

"Oh, speaking of which... The owner of the book shop that I went to this morning, George, has invited us to dinner at his place." You suddenly remembered the offer, "Would you like to go?"

"Mm... I don't know... I usually don't have dinner with someone I merely know, let alone someone I've never met before." Fran smiled reluctantly, "But if you want to go, I'll go with you. Your call."

"Well..."