“It’s not always like this,” Janie assured her.
“You keep saying that,” Evie muttered. “I wish it would show signs of coming true pretty soon.”
***
“There,” Givens said, standing back from a pile of wood taller than himself. “We’re prepared for another night, but I sure don’t feel like staying. I get the feeling the boss ain’t coming back.”
Hudson sat in a lawn chair and cracked a cold beer.
“What do you think?”
“I think I’m thirsty.”
“About the boss.”
“I don’t know.”
“Look, one way or the other, we’re gonna need to get out of here sooner or later. We’ve got no wheels. I’d rather try and move while it’s still daylight.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Givens stared at him hard.
“Have a beer,” he said. “The more you worry, the less clearly you’ll think.”
“I’m thinking clearly,” Givens said. “It’s obvious that we shouldn’t be here. Maybe a hundred men would work, but a few sure won’t. We need to get out.”
“They’re not dead,” Hudson said. “Maybe Trigs. Not the boss.”
***
It seemed many hours had passed when Lars saw the door swing open. Light flooded the room once again, but this time he felt no spike in his nerves. He knew now that he was going to die; there was no getting around it. How strange, he thought as the door opened and the man controlling his fate entered the room. All these years I’ve depended on myself alone. My survival has been due to my conduct, my nerve, and my instincts. Now there’s nothing. No control. No say in what becomes of me. Ah, yes. So this is defeat. How strange ... I wonder how it sets in on others. I’m not angry. I’m hardly sad. I’m just beaten, that’s all. God, it’s almost a relief. A strange relief. I sure wouldn’t have guessed it would feel this way. I expected I’d fight like a devil till every last drop of my blood was spilled.
“It’s been quite a day,” Joseph said, entering and taking a seat.
Lars watched for the two sons, but they never came. The old man was alone. “I suppose I’ve added to your troubles,” he said.
“Surely,” the old man said. “Now we’ve reached the time to deal with it.”
“Have you—”
Joseph held up his hand. “I have considered your plea carefully. But … I’ve decided not to give you to my brother.”
Lars dropped his head. So that’s it. I’ll die like a prisoner.
“I imagine it must be difficult to keep your line of work hidden,” the old man said.
“No,” Lars said without enthusiasm. “Not at all. Not for me.”
“No family? No friends?”
“Not anymore. What few I had I’ve lost touch with. The work is consuming.”
“Why didn’t you resist capture?”
Lars shrugged. “I don’t fight unless I’m sure I can win.”
“Wise.”
“No, just a combination of training and instincts. If I were wise, I would have declined this job.”
“Well.” The old man cleared his throat. “I believe you are a highly skilled man. The only problem is you’ve run into something more capable than even the best man.”
“I’m ready,” Lars said. “I’m not afraid.”
“I can see that,” the old man said. “Now, here’s where we’re at. It is my desire to let you walk free … on several rigid conditions, of course.”
Lars lifted his eyes to the old man. He didn’t appear so wild anymore. He was a strong man, but a man nonetheless. He demanded respect and he was no one to cross. Lars understood this clearly. But he was also fair.
“Does that surprise you?”
“Yes, sir,” Lars said.
“Well, I’m not popular right now with several of my sons for my decision. But, it is my decision to make. I’ve made it, and here are my conditions.”
Lars looked at the old man in disbelief.
“Obviously you must maintain and extend your practice of secrecy in regards to us. This should pose no problems for you.”
“No, sir,” Lars said. “But I am a hunter. I—”
“So you are. And hunting is what I’ll expect of you, with a simple adjustment of focus, of course. You’re an experienced man, a highly unique and skilled man. I want you to put that experience to use in hunting other hunters. The world is changing rapidly, too rapidly for my taste. Technology poses a greater threat to us with each passing day. Help us understand the tactics and tricks that may be used in our detection, and help us defend ourselves against them.”
Lars kept silent while his mind struggled to wrap around this new turn of fate. He was not to be executed as he’d prepared for. He was being spared, recruited, and offered a job. For so many years he’d lived with machine-like routine—hunt, execute, collect pay, repeat. To be treated civilly, respectfully, left him feeling as unbalanced as if he was walking backwards in the dark.
“You seem unsure,” the old man said.
“Just surprised,” Lars answered.
“We still need to deal with your comrades, mind you. That’s my offer. Circumstances as they are, I can’t offer with it any great amount of time for consideration.”
“No,” Lars said in a stronger tone. “I need no time. I accept your offer thankfully.”
“You must understand … this is not a position you can try out and walk away from in a year or two.”
“Yes, I accept that. I only wonder about the details of such a drastic change in life. How might—”
“The details and living arrangements can be dealt with simply in the coming days. For now my priority is expelling your friends from my eastern border.” The old man extended his hand. “Have we a deal?”
“Yes, thank you, sir,” Lars said, extending his own hand, feeling the strong grip of the old Snow, and trying not to wince.
“Call me Joe. What should we call you?”
“Lars Spencer is the name I’ve most recently used,” answered the mercenary.
“Your given name?”
“Olsen. My father was a Swede and my mother a German. Both families came to mid-western America for the open lands.”
“Well,” Joseph said. “I’m a man who appreciates history. My own family has an intriguing past. As to that, you should be forewarned that there is a very select group with interests in our lineage beyond the wolf. It’s been many years since we’ve dealt with this other type—let’s call them hunters also—but it’s my guess that they will follow soon after your type of hunters.”
“I don’t follow,” Lars said.
“The long and short of it is that I am a very wealthy man. A select few men have taken great interest in that fact over the years. But that can wait,” the old man said, standing from his chair. “For now our focus must be on your comrades. Follow me.”
“The others,” Lars said as he stood. He was thinking primarily of Lester as the nearest threat, and then, beyond the walls, the brother Joseph had mentioned.
“Keep your eyes low and your tone respectful, and you should have no trouble from most.”
Most, Lars thought. It only takes one.
***
For nearly an hour Evie had sat in the garage bay that contained Erica. It was a closed off bay, separate from the others, usually used for storage of firewood. During that time Erica had settled some, but still she’d refrained from communicating. Her rage was so bitter, so blind, that Evie could feel the tension radiating from her cousin’s body.
“Don’t you think Papa knows what he’s doing?” she’d tried to reason at one point. “The pack has done so well here for all these years. It can’t be an accident. We need to trust him.”
To this Erica had only glared in response, a guttural rumble shaking from within her.
In time Evie gave up trying to communicate and simply sat still, hoping her calm energy might combat some of Erica’s unrest. It worked to an extent. At last Erica g
ave up her desperate attempts to escape and her brutalizing of the defenseless garage. But she refused to speak anything beyond curses and complaints. Even when she finally lowered herself to the ground and appeared calmer, Evie still heard the low complaint in each of her breaths. To be herded as one of the lower animals and then caged as a prisoner was more than she could accept.
***
Entering the kitchen from the basement, Lars heard a deafening silence as many voices ceased at once. Before he looked he could feel eyes on him. A sideways glance showed well over a dozen people gathered in the great room, if not two dozen. He held true to his course behind the old man, and they exited the house with a few of the men following behind.
***
Evie left the garage when she saw her grandfather through the window, carefully locking the door behind her. Her uncles Lester and Paul were with her Papa, along with another man—the hunter they’d caught.
“How is she?”
“Maybe a little calmer,” Evie answered as she approached the men. “But still very angry.”
Joseph nodded. “Well, listen up so you’ll know what’s happening. This is Lars. He’d going to be assisting us from now on.
Lars looked at the girl and nodded a mild hello. Then he looked beyond her to the garage she’d stepped from.
“We’ve got a wild one,” Joseph explained to the newcomer. “Until she calms, she’s a threat to anyone who approaches her.”
Lars nodded again. He didn’t fully understand, but he wasn’t about to press for information. Stay away was the message, and he left it at that.
“Now,” Joseph said. “The sun is sinking. It’s time to bring Mr. Olsen to his truck. We’ll let him deal with his men while we watch from a distance.”
“I’ll take him,” Paul said.
“Good.”
Paul stepped toward the new ally and extended his hand. Lars shook it, marveling at the strength in his grip while working to keep from showing any discomfort. All of them had the strength of two or three men in their grips alone.
“I’ll go in and see who would like to accompany us,” Joseph said. Then he turned to Evie. “I’d like you to stay here with Erica.”
“Okay,” she nodded. She wasn’t completely comfortable with the newcomer, but she wanted nothing to do with the other two remaining hunters. As always, she marveled at her grandfather’s ability to shrug off the fear of a nearby threat and conduct himself so coolly.
***
In the garage, Erica lay quietly listening to the conversation from the driveway. Their plan had worked; Evie’s presence had slightly calmed her. Passing gradually from the blindness of rage into the cunning calculation of determination, she began to think with increasing clarity. The wild rage simmered, the others let down their guard, and her human mind began to construct a plan. The side door was locked, she knew. She could probably break it if she persisted in punishing it, but that would only draw attention. The bay door itself, though, operated with the simple push of a button.
She rose silently to her feet. Her eyes were focused on the backlit button. Then they followed the electrical tubing up the wall to a single switch. Her eyes narrowed with a look of cold satisfaction. The override switch. Well out of reach to children, yes. But not to me.
~22~
The sun was sinking below the trees, setting the sky ablaze. The woods around camp were all shadows and murmuring night sounds. Givens had just finished lighting the fires when his satellite phone rang. Hudson looked over in surprise.
“Boss,” Givens answered. “It’s good to hear— Yes. All right. Good.” He laughed. “Good news to me. Okay. Later.” He ended the call.
“What?” Hudson said.
“The truck wouldn’t start,” Givens said through a smile. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “He’ll be here in a few. He said to start packing. We’re out of here, buddy.”
“You’re kidding,” Hudson said. “What about the job?”
“To hell with this job,” Givens said, walking toward his tent. “I want out of this place.”
***
As a truck started and moved slowly away, from the back of the bay, through the small windows of her prison, Erica watched her grandfather, uncle, and cousin as they stood talking quietly. Go on, she thought. I’m calm; forget about me. Go in the house. All I need is a little head start. Once I get to Abel, he’ll agree. The hunters should not be allowed to escape.
Only minutes passed as they stood talking, but for Erica it felt like an eternity. Her muscles were twitching with anticipation, her dark hackles bristling like a stiff brush. Finally the others began moving to the house. Still talking, they filed through the front door with Lester in the lead. Evie was last in line behind her grandfather.
Erica felt her heart begin to race. Carefully she rose up on her hind legs, her forefeet resting against the wall, and flipped the override switch with a push of her nose. Then, dropping to four feet again, all she had to do was wait. Once Evie crossed that threshold, the race would begin. Let’s see how fast she is when it really counts.
***
“It’s getting cool out,” Evie said. “I need something warm if I’m gonna stay out with her.”
Her grandfather stopped just inside the doorway. “Actually, go ahead and change if you’d like; it’s almost dark. Perhaps she’ll appreciate your company more that way.”
“Fine by me,” Evie said, and she stepped into the house and got a clean robe from the closet. As she turned back toward the open doorway, her unconcerned gaze fell upon on a surreal sight that temporarily froze her where she stood, confused, even as her heart gave a great leap of concern. The garage door was rising. As it did, a black mass slithered out the moment the opening was great enough for her to slip through, and shot away into growing dusk.
“Get her,” Joseph shouted on his way to the door.
Evie’s feet were already moving before he’d finished his brief command—they were moving even before her mind had fully realized the situation. She was out the door in a few long strides. Before she hit driveway she was a long-stretched streak of white.
***
Erica drove for the eastern woods, running with all her might, following her nose to the old Snow. Within seconds she sensed Evie in pursuit. Run your heart out, she thought as she plunged into the darkness between the trees. You won’t get me before I get there.
***
A dozen yards behind, Evie raged in her mind, even as her chest trembled with worry. You idiot! All of Papa’s effort to smooth things over, and you want to ruin it. I won’t let you! Even Abel can’t defy the whole pack. Neither can you.
***
Abel raised his head from the forest floor. His ears were pointed in the direction of the approaching wolves. Many were coming. Their collective mood was unmistakable. Confrontation—and fear of confrontation—ruled the pack.
Stretching as he stood, the old Snow arose to meet them.
***
Thirty yards shy of where Abel stood waiting, Evie drove her shoulder into Erica’s hind leg. The dark wolf rolled, turning as she tumbled, and sprang up facing her cousin, fangs bared, ready for battle. Still carrying her momentum, Evie leaned out and away from Erica’s first strike. At a safe distance she swung around and squared off with the dark wolf now bristling with rage, and she realized then that Erica had never truly calmed from her earlier tantrums; she had only controlled herself enough to give the family the appearance of submission.
Now Abel was between them, Erica snarling and swinging her head to get a drive at Evie. Then the white wolf was present, and close behind him followed nearly twenty wolves—almost half the pack. And it was then that Erica pulled her sneakiest trick yet. While Abel played peacemaker—a truly strange role—Erica took advantage of his great bulk blocking her from all others. Without a sound she turned and darted east, rushing toward the scent of threatening men, her wild heart raging, bent on their immediate elimination.
Again Evie leapt after h
er cousin. But this time she was blocked by the great dark wolf.
“Go!” roared the white wolf to the pack gathering at his back. Then, with his eyes turned to his brother, he said, “Let her go.”
Abel was already turning aside as his brother spoke. He did not know every detail, but he understood clearly the young wolf’s intent. And he understood, perhaps better than the young silver-white speeding off in pursuit, the danger Erica was running into. Few understood the drive and power of primal rage as well as he, but he, just as well as his milder mannered brother, understood the danger it posed. Blind rage was just that—a blinding furor that left even more experienced wolves exposed to unforeseen threats. And here went this young one, overflowing with the pride of youth, blind to all reason, following her defensive instincts into a fight she could not win.
***
Lars turned into the campsite just minutes after leaving The Kitchen’s parking lot. Through the underbrush between himself and the camp site he could see the glow of a large fire, as well as several smaller fires. He cut the engine and stepped from the truck, and saw in the flickering light the two men approaching, their rifles still slung over their shoulders.
“Good to see you,” Givens said with a smile as they met halfway between the truck and the clearing with the fires.
Lars was smiling largely in the low light. “Missed me, did you?”
“What in hell’s gotten into you?” Hudson asked. “You look almost … happy.”
“Finish packing, boys,” he replied. “I’ll explain what I can as we go.”
“What you can?” Givens questioned.
“Just move,” he said with a clap of his hands. “Last I checked I’m still in charge of this outfit.”
Approaching his pack, which was resting a few yards from the fire, Givens stooped over and began placing items within, and then froze where he knelt. A cold shiver crawled up his back as a distinct sound met his ears over the hum of the crickets. His insides dropped. Facing west, he swung his rifle round into his hands as he stood. The distant sound was distinct yelps and growls sounding just above the dull hum of crickets. Brush was breaking, and heavy feet were falling in long strides into dry leaves, thundering and crackling. “You hear that?” he breathed.
The Call (The Great North Woods Pack Book 2) Page 18