Pack

by Mike Bockoven

“Hello, Mr. Rhodes. I’m surprised to hear your voice.”

  “You have my father.”

  “I do.”

  “I would like to talk to you about a trade.”

  This had, of course, been a possibility the moment William Rhodes crashed his car into Stander’s custody. Contingencies had been prepared and Stander knew where to take the conversation.

  “What is your offer?” Stander asked.

  “I would like to take his place.”

  “I see. And how do you propose to do that?”

  “You will take my father to the corner of Rural Road 11 and the highway, near Beaver Creek. Do you know the place?”

  “I do,” Stander said.

  “Take him there at precisely 3 p.m. I will be watching. Let him go and I will be along.”

  “So your proposal, as I understand it, is for me to let William go at a time and place you designate and then ‘you’ll be along?’ You’ll see how those terms might not be acceptable, Mr. Rhodes.”

  “You’re not understanding me, Stander. That’s where we go to …”

  “Do you’re little trick,” Stander finished.

  “Yes, that’s our usual spot. If I’m not there at 3 pm you take Willie and leave. If I’m there, let him transform and head out into the woods. Either way, you’ll have one of us to bring back.”

  “That seems almost too simple.”

  “Why make it complicated?”

  “May I ask you a personal question, Mr. Rhodes?”

  Dave caught the condescension in Mr. Stander’s voice. He had him.

  “Sure.”

  “Your father is awful, by all accounts. He’s rude, churlish, he has hurt you quite a bit from what I hear?”

  “Yes.”

  “And from the research we’ve done, it seems he’s been difficult most of his life. I’m having trouble comprehending why you would change places with him. In fact, part of me thinks you’ve got something ulterior in mind.”

  “As to my father, yes, he’s an asshole. But if there’s someone from this family who has to bare this burden, it’s not him. I’m the head of the pack and while I don’t expect you to understand what that means within our group, I do expect you to take it as an answer. I’m the leader. End of story.”

  Dave deliberately waited a beat before moving on.

  “As for an ulterior motive, you know about us. Do you think there are any circumstances where, even as wolves, we could make a dent in your security? We turn in to animals, Stander, not soldiers. Worry all you want, bring all the guys you want. This is a simple exchange. You have my word.”

  If things were going to fall apart, now is where it would happen and Stander took his damn sweet time responding. During that time, Dave tried, consciously, to control his breathing and modulate his voice as to project a heightened sense of calm.

  “All right, Mr. Rhodes. You’re right, I don’t understand your …customs nor do I think what you’re doing is particularly admirable. If you were to ask me I’d say your father deserves what’s coming far more than you do, but at the end of the day I don’t care. I’ll leave you with this. If I get a sense that anything is amiss, if I feel threatened or if you fail to live up to your part of this exchange in any way, I will see you dead. Is that clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. My clock says 1:15 which gives you a little under two hours to get your ass to Beaver Creek. One minute late and your father goes to the lab minus his tongue.”

  Stander hung up. It felt good to be the one ending the call, he thought. He immediately got on the radio and called for all available personnel to come to the center of town to discuss the latest development. He didn’t think for a second this was a clean exchange and he would have guns on hand and men by his side who know how to pull the trigger.

  •••

  “We on?” Kenny asked. “We doin’ this?”

  “Yep, Dave said. We’re doin’ this. Let’s get everyone together. Right now.”

  •••

  The sky does something strange when it’s starting to get colder, Dilly noticed. The cloud cover hangs a bit different. In the winter, you can definitely see it because even though it might be sunny, the sky seems thicker, the blues less sharp. Now, when it was starting to get colder, the effect wasn’t as pronounced but it was starting. The blues weren’t the same color they were just a month ago and the trees around them were starting to get bare around the middle, a true sign of fall.

  The young man had time to ponder as he and his mom were sitting on their car on a dirt road, nearly 15 miles away from Kenny’s shed where he kept his cars. She was doing that thing some moms do when they want to talk – she would start talking about something else hoping to get things rolling and then steer the conversation. He was in a “yup” and “nope” mood, so he stared at the sky.

  Finally, Josie came out with it.

  “I saw you out there. You’re different than your dad.”

  It was something he had felt, too. Every time Dave had talked to Dilly about being a wolf, it sounded to him what it must feel like to be the Incredible Hulk. He had pictured destructive power and little to no control, but in the two times he had transformed, that’s not what he felt. The first time it was all about getting his bearings but when he had challenged Conall and taken off into the woods, it had been a night and day difference. He felt in control, focused and with more of his human brain working than he would have thought.

  “I think I could have said something if I tried,” Dilly said.

  “Like Conall did?”

  “Yeah, like Conall. There’s more of me in the wolf than I thought there’d be.”

  Dilly was on the trunk of the car, his mom pacing the five to six steps on front, her arms folded like she was trying to solve a math problem.

  “So you think you’re more like me?”

  “I think so.”

  “You want to try it out?”

  “What?”

  “It’s not like you can only do it once, kid-o. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. Why don’t you try it? Transform and see what you can do.”

  At first, this seemed like a terrible idea for several reasons, one of the big ones being he’d have to get naked in front of his mom, but it didn’t take Dilly long to figure out why she was pushing.

  “You think I might be able to come with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “To Beaver Creek to …”

  “Yes.”

  “And with the …”

  “Yes, Dilly. I want to see if you can do it. We’ve got about half an hour to figure this out. Come on already.”

  Dilly immediately tried to calm his mind a little bit as it was racing. Dad always said never to go out without the pack, that this was a group activity not a solitary thing. Now mom was giving him the opposite advice. It was a lot to process.

  “Are you going to turn too?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “It’s harder for me. It hurts a lot.”

  “But when we get to Beaver Creek …”

  “Don’t worry about that now. Focus.”

  Instead of looking at his mother, Dilly turned around and looked back out at the fields and the sky when a thought occurred to him that had never taken root before, a nasty, evil little thought that seized his insides and thrilled him from his brain on down. He was the alpha. There wasn’t a person, place or thing in this place that could stop him. His will was law, his whim was edict. He was stronger than his father and his friends and soon he would be stronger than his mother. Dilly shut his eyes and before he even willed it to happen, the transformation started.

  “Dilly, your shirt,” his mom said, but it was too late. The hair was sprouting, the bones were creaking, the teeth were returning to their rightful place and for the third time, the Young Wolf stretched toward the sky, pulling to the full length of its height and howling in the mid-day sun. The shirt was toast.

  This was the second time Josie had seen her son like this and he wa
s all the more impressive in the harsh light of the sun – tall and skinnier and sleeker than the others. She caught her breath and remembered their mission.

  “Are you there, Dilly? Can you talk to me?”

  The Young Wolf whipped its head around and sniffed hard at the woman. The scent caught in his nostrils and he took a few steps toward her.

  “Yaaaaoooooooessssss,” the creature struggled. The words were growly but Dilly’s unsure, strong voice was there if you really listened.

  “You want to run, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Yeeessss,” he hissed, a little more strongly.

  “OK. You see that tree over there?”

  She pointed at a tree, the first that led to an outcropping about 400 yards away. It was a solid tree, but not a big one that was the first step into the forest.

  “Go take it down,” she said. “Destroy it and come back to me.”

  The Young Wolf gave a snarl, resenting the instruction, but was on his way seconds later, taking giant bounds, leaving deep grooves in the earth, leaping 10 feet, 15 feet at a time. As he closed on the tree, the Young Wolf started thinking strategy. He couldn’t just hit the tree with his shoulder as that would hurt him and likely not take the tree down. Instead, as impact became imminent, he pushed hard with his front paws, propelling himself through the air and sending his hind legs straight into one side of the tree’s trunk.

  The side of the tree exploded on impact with the sharp and hard paw of the wolf, and sent him barreling on his back, hard. He immediately flopped and squirmed to his feet and took another run at the tree, from a shorter distance, with his claws out. The hack and slash of the claws sent saw dust flying and sticking into his coarse, black fur. After a minute or so, he decided it was time to end it.

  The Young Wolf took a running start and leapt as high as he could onto the tree, landing 10 feet up near the top of the tree and hearing the satisfying crack and waver that signified structural failure. The tree waved but the wolf pushed his weight against the trunk over and over until it cracked more and started to fall. As the tree gave way, the wolf rode it down, leaping away a second or so before it hit the cold but soft dirt below. He stopped to admire his work for a moment, then took off, panting hard, back to the car and the woman.

  Seconds later he was back and he stood, proud, slightly bruised and pulsing with energy and anger. He had destroyed the tree in less far less time than Josie thought he would, if he was able to do it at all.

  “THERE!” he yelled. “DONE!”

  Even with this creeky nature of the speech and the struggle the Young Wolf had to put out, the annoyance in his voice was clear and for the first time, Josie felt a twinge of fear. She would not be able to transform in time if he decided to lay into her. He needed to be calmed.

  “You did great,” Josie said. “You’re using your brain but you’re angry, aren’t you?”

  “YES!” the creature yelled, the sound louder than before and echoing off the vast space.

  “Good!” Josie said, speaking quickly but trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I need you angry and you’ll have your chance.”

  He started to twitch and move his head in agitation, unable to keep still. In a strange, melancholy moment, Josie recognized the movement in both her son as a child and her husband as a wolf. The Young Wolf reared up to his full height, spread his arms as wide as they would go and let loose with a howl that sent vibrations through the ground and filled the sky with frightened birds. The fear Josie had felt before spread through her body and as she bent her knees and her arms went up to shield herself, her brain went through every time she had scolded him or fought with him. If the current of emotion grabbed him too hard, he could tear the animal in front of him to shreds, mother or not.

  The howl ended and echoed. Josie kept her eyes on the wolf’s face and was able to see his reaction when he tilted his head downward and saw his cowering mother. The wolf immediately shrank, going down on all fours and changing his expression to one of deference and concern.

  “Mom,” the wolf said, the voice more like Dilly than ever before. “Mom. It’s OK.”

  To her surprise, the howl had sent Josie into a shaking fit, part from the cold and fatigue but mostly in fear. The situation had turned so quickly her body had reacted and she was shaking almost uncontrollably.

  The Young Wolf nuzzled her with his large, shaggy head. The harsh fur, not soft but more like nettles, irritated Josie’s skin and helped her grab on to something in her fight through her fear and back in to her thinking self. Reflexively her hand went out to stroke the head of the wolf, and he whimpered, softly at her tough.

  “You’re so strong,” Josie said, feeling the sting of tears on her face but not remembering the act of crying. “How’d you get so strong.”

  “Strong …mom,” the wolf said.

  The wolf stayed still and the woman stroked its head for a few minutes until they heard the rumble of cars in the distance.

  •••

  At some point, Stu got it in his head that he needed to get back to his house and get his phone. He could pretend to be Robocop all he wanted, but it was time to call in the cavalry. Carol Cryer’s guest house was about four blocks away, but those blocks were covered with dozens of men with guns. It was unlikely they’d get there, but the alternative was to sit.

  “I don’t think I can do anything but sit,” Dana said. “That fucker busted up my already bad leg. A big girl limping around is probably going to draw some attention.”

  “I’d prefer you hide,” Stu said. “I’m going to take a shot. My odds are better if I’m by myself.”

  Stu was staring out the hole in the wall that used to be a window, trying to discern any sort of pattern to who was walking by and when. There was no pattern to be found and very little activity to draw from. The radio was another story. Every two minutes or so it crackled to life and provided a lot of information. Being a private enterprise, the lingo they used was not indecipherable, and in their 20 minutes or so sitting in the abandoned tire shop, Stu had learned some things.

  There was something important happening at 3 p.m., and it was all hands on deck. With the exception of a few men who were “holding down the fort,” everyone would be down by Beaver Creek to provide “operational support.” Again, not hard to decipher. There had also been talk of “clearing the town” at the end of the day, which had sent worried looks between the Dietz siblings, especially since Dana had no idea where Robin was. Stu would have liked to think that with a clock ticking toward the death of most everyone in his town, he would have come up with a better plan than “get to a phone.” But here they were.

  “You’ve only got about an hour before three,” Dana said. “And even if you make it, how do you know your phone will be where you left it?”

  “It’s not a perfect plan,” Stu said. “But maybe there’s a phone in Carol’s house or something. If I don’t try …”

  “Yeah, I know,” Dana finished. “I know this is the best idea we’ve got but I don’t want you to go out there.”

  Dana did not cry easily, if at all, but the pain cocktail she was on had cracked the code. Tears flowed liberally down her cheeks and dripped onto her T-shirt, leaving dark, temporary stains. Stu went over, careful not to expose his position out the window, and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m not going to lie and say ‘I’ll be fine,’ but I will be careful. And strong. And brave, if I can be. You’re the only one who believed I was any of those things.”

  They hugged and Stu couldn’t help notice Dana trying to pull the tears back, even now.

  “I know you’re a tough son of a bitch,” she said. “I beat on you for years. Go get ’em.”

  Making a quick calculation and turning the radio off (he had been holding it to his ear and keeping the volume low), Stu gave his sister one last glance back and headed out.

  No one had yet to notice the body in the Sheriff’s Department, so the idea was to keep low, use alleys when
possible and go slow. With his pulse high and his head pounding from the day’s earlier beating, Stu was having a hard time with that last part. He wanted to sprint, wanted to shoot, but both of those things meant torture and death so he concentrated on his breathing and took it as slow as he possibly could.

  His first challenge was crossing the main street in town, which was oddly wide given the complete lack of traffic. There was parking on both sides and even a stoplight in the center of town that had blinked yellow as long as Stu had been there. His strategy was to head south to “Bar” which seemed to have little to no activity around it, make the crossover there and head to his guest house apartment. The plan was a solid one and hopping from alley to house proved an effective method. No one was looking out for him and everyone seemed otherwise occupied.

  When he got to “Bar” it was empty, but unlocked and, on a whim, he went inside. In a flash of inspiration, he grabbed a bottle of vodka off the shelf and poured it on his hand, something he had seen in a movie once, hoping there would be some disinfectant value. Based on the stinging and throbbing that accompanied the vodka, it was working. He thought briefly of starting a fire to draw attention away, but just as he was pondering it, he heard yelling from the north.

  Clicking on his radio, he was instantly met with yelling.

  “ …gun and radio are gone. Repeat, man down, the Sheriff and his sister are on the loose and they are armed. They are armed. Everyone proceed with caution.”

  “Do we need parties to start sweeping buildings?”

  Stu held his breath but heard Stander on the radio next.

  “No parties. Everyone keep an eye out but stick to the plan. Shoot first and shoot often. We don’t need them anymore. I expect everyone to be near Beaver Creek in 20 minutes.”

  The radio was filled with chatter of reports from various locations. Stu exhaled deeply, happy that Dana would be somewhat safe if she stayed put. His apartment, on the other hand, might as well have been on the mythical land of Asgaard. Breathing slowly, shutting his eyes for a moment, it came to Stu in a flash—if he could get to his cruiser, he could use the radio to call other law enforcement. This, of course, was what he should have been doing all along but it hadn’t occurred to him between the beatings and the werewolves and the town under siege and the werewolves and the tortured sibling and the bleeding hand and the werewolves.