I saw her crouched in bushes as she stalked a prairie dog. I stood motionless a dozen yards away from her when she sprang to life and snapped the rodent’s neck in one swift motion. She turned to watch me, even as her breakfast hung still warm from her dark mouth. She was beautiful. We stared for a moment, sizing each other up. Convinced that I wasn’t a threat, she trotted back to what was her den. She stopped at the entrance and looked back at me as if to say, “Come along, then.”
I followed her to the opening of her cozy hole in the ground and saw her beautiful pups. Three of them. They nuzzled to nurse as soon as their graceful mother curled herself up to them. Mom ate, the pups drank and I learned a whole new level of awe.
I remembered that day so long ago as I stroked Maze’s head. He was such a handsome creature. He was silver coated, like his mother. And like his mother, we had an immediate connection. Maze was one of the pups I saw that day. Who knew he would turn into my best friend. Who knew his doting mother would disappear (probably killed) and leave him and his two sisters alone to die.
See, I went to check on the coyote family the very next day. The pups were there, curled into a loud whining ball of fluff, but their mother never showed up. Thinking she was out hunting and that I just missed her, I left the pups undisturbed. I returned that night; sure I’d find all four of them snuggled together. But they weren’t. Even before I confirmed with my eyes, I could hear the babies crying painfully from their den. I stayed with them looking for any signs that their beautiful mother had returned in my absence. Nothing. The dirt wasn’t disturbed around the entrance to their home. The pups’ cries were unbearable and unrelenting.
It broke my heart to leave them that night, but I knew my mother would worry if I didn’t return home soon. The whole way, I thought about what I should do if the mother coyote never returned. Surely that wasn’t going to happen. Surely when I check the next morning the mother will be right there and all will be safe and sound.
I couldn’t sleep that night.
I flew out the door immediately after breakfast calling out a quick “see you in a while, gotta go check on something” even as the door flapped close behind me.
When I approached the den, I strained to hear a sound—any sound. But there was only silence. My worst fears came true when I looked in and saw the babies alone and obviously weak from hunger. Oh, no. For the first time, it occurred to me that these little ones could be dying right in front of me. I had to help.
So afraid was I of disappointing my mom, that the idea of telling her I’d disobeyed one of her cardinal rules of living on the ranch was terrifying to me. I wasn’t supposed to have been near a wild animal, and here I was stalking a whole litter of them!
But these babies needed milk, and I needed mom’s help to take care of them. I knew I had no choice but to tell her about the coyote family. The thought of those three babies dying of hunger all alone drove me.
My mom never ceases to amaze. Instead of a lecture, she was grabbing the keys to the Jeep and rushing me out the door. I didn’t even have time to finish my explanation.
We arrived at the den just as the sun was setting. The pups barely put up any fuss as mom reached in to collect them one by one. Maze was the littlest. His sisters, though obviously wanting for nourishment, seemed relatively strong. Maze wasn’t holding up nearly as well.
We put the girls in a box on the floor of the Jeep, but I couldn’t bring myself to add the little boy. I wondered if he would even survive the ride back to the house. In my hands he lay limp, and though I could feel him breathing, his heartbeat was barely tapping against my sensitive fingertips. I held him close to me hoping my warmth would revive him, and hoping the sound of my heart beating would remind his of what it was supposed to sound like.
In her lab, mom made a coyote pup cocktail of goat’s milk and sugar. She handed me a dropper and told me to start with the littlest one while she fed the sisters. “Don’t put him down, Meg. He needs to feel your warmth, your love. Keep putting drops of milk on his lips and see if he’ll take any of it in. When you’re tired, let me know and I’ll take over. We’ll work in shifts. Okay?
“Are you up for this, Meg? Do you understand that even after all your effort, all your love, he may still die?”
I looked down at the tiny ball of fur in my arms. He was so little he could fit into the palm of my hand. How amazing he was. This beautiful gift. I loved him immediately and unconditionally. “I understand, mom. I’ll take care of him as long as he’s here. Every minute with him is…,” my voice caught in my throat, “precious.”
Mom nodded with a wisdom I’d never noticed before echoing across her face. “All right, then. Let’s get to work.”
The whole night long I stayed up with the littlest coyote. My neck was stiff and my arms ached and I really had to go to the bathroom, but I couldn’t put Maze down. At 1am, he finally started to lick the milk off his lips. By 2am, he was letting me put the drops right on his tongue. By 4am, he had finished four ounces of his special milk and was sound asleep. Only then did I start to feel like this little guy might make it. My little fighter. He was so amazing to me. And that is how he got his name. Maze.
His sisters were more easily revived. By the third day, all three of them were rolling around on top of each other like the pups they were. The girls play-fought pretty rough, so I kept Maze with me much of the time. He was still smaller than the little ladies, and I didn’t want him getting caught in the middle of a skirmish or worse, becoming the center attraction in some sort of coyote she-pup smack-down.
As soon as he could keep up, Maze followed me everywhere. He would trot behind me like a fluffy shadow as I went about my daily chores, working on my studies or playing with my brothers. I’d look over at him and he would cock his head to the side, let his tongue loll out of his muzzle and smile at me as if to say, “Hey, you. What’s up?”
Pretty soon, the entire family started talking to Maze as if he completely understood every word we said. He fast became my confidant, my entertainment, my protector and my best friend.
Mom says I imprinted on him just as much as he did on me that first night when I nursed him back to life. I believe it.
By the fourth month, Maze’s sisters had wandered off preferring life in the wild. They didn’t make a huge production of good-byes or anything. They were playing in the field behind the house one morning when some yummy scent caught their attention in the brush. They took off after it and stayed out all night. The next day, they came back for a drink of water and a quick “hey” to their domesticated brother. They left and haven’t been back since. That was more than two years ago.
As for Maze, it never even occurred to him to leave. For some reason, that silly coyote thought I was worth sticking with. I think it would be more fun chasing my nose in the wild, but I’m very thankful Maze didn’t agree. So he slept on my bed, and ate at my feet, and draped his now huge furry body across my lap when I read a book on the couch. My wild coyote was anything but wild.
Sitting with Maze at that moment, watching the way the light shinned off his soft, thick coat, seeing the look of unconditional love in his sweet, expressive eyes, I felt a wave of thankfulness for my life and my family.
Forget leaving the ranch. I love it here. I love my goofy brothers and my fiercely devoted mom.
I never wanted things to change.
Chapter 4 A Watched Pot Never Boils
Our chores were long since done. I warmed up the lasagna for our dinner and we ate in relative silence—each of us lost in our thoughts. We three had just tried killing some time playing a board game, but it really wasn’t fun without mom. She would always get us laughing at something and we would get so lost in the fun we wouldn’t even care who won. But tonight, with just the three of us all so competitive and tense, it didn’t feel like the same game. We gave up an hour ago.
I was working on a puzzle, Alik was reading about the Civil War (again) and Evan was calculating triple digit multiplication proble
ms in his head then checking his answer with a calculator. Yeah, he’s scary smart.
Just when I located the last of the “edge” pieces, I noticed the clock. Mom was late. She was supposed to have called to check in by now. Sensing a change in my demeanor, Maze looked up at me with those beautiful yellow eyes. I didn’t want to say anything and worry the boys so I pretended not to notice the time and kept working. But now I couldn’t concentrate. I kept glancing up at the clock—trying to be inconspicuous. Pft. I’m horrible at keeping things from the boys. They can’t keep anything from me either. It’s like we have this sixth-sense about what one another is thinking and feeling. Sometimes it’s helpful. But times like now, it’s irritating.
“Why hasn’t mom called?” Alik asked.
“Maybe her flight was delayed,” Evan responded logically. I promise you, it’s as if that kid is a walking computer. Sometimes I wonder if I got all the emotions and he got all the brains. He rarely got upset; he was too pragmatic for such things.
“She said she’d call us at seven. She’s really running late. It’s nearly eight o’clock now.” I spoke my thoughts as they came to me. “I hope she’s all right.” Now that I had started, it was difficult to control the flood-gate of worry I’d been holding in. “Would someone call us if she was hurt? How would they know where to find us? Oh my goodness, what if mom’s hurt and in the hospital and they know her name, but they don’t know she has children. Mom has no family for them to contact besides us. She would be all alone in that bleached white sterile room shivering cold with tubes sticking out all over her…”
“Meg, you have to stop reading those paperback suspense novels. You’re overreacting just a smidge, don’t you think? Mom’s flight was running late and she had to hurry to her dinner conference. I’m sure that’s all that happened. She’s probably going to call us at 8:30 to make sure we’re all in bed.” Evan was calm and logical. It was maddening.
Alik stayed silent and turned a page in his book.
I tried to shake the mental pictures that blossomed into my mind’s eye. Darn it, I had too vivid of an imagination. It was helpful sometimes, but not tonight. Tonight, I was feeling very on edge, and if the boys were being truthful about it, they were too. Mom was never late. She was meticulous about punctuality, organization and planning. She would have found a way to keep her promise to call at 7pm even if they were circling the city waiting for a storm to pass, or something. She would have found a way. There were phones on planes. It would have taken one swipe of a rarely used credit card into the back of the seat in front of her and punching ten little digits to call us. Something was wrong. Mom would never have allowed her promise to be broken unless something stopped her from keeping it. Something bad happened.
All three of us, suffering with unspoken worries, watched the second hand fly around the wall clock. At 8:25 we headed upstairs to brush our teeth, softly so we could hear the ringing of the phone over the schwish-schwishing of our toothbrushes. But the phone didn’t ring. We all knelt at the side of my bed and prayed together, quietly, listening. But the phone didn’t ring. We gave one another a quick “goodnight” before dragging ourselves to our bedrooms, lying quietly in bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening for a phone that still didn’t ring.
Chapter 5 Check Out Time
He spared no expense. He hired the best. This collection was going to happen perfectly.
She was being followed this very moment. Leaving the airport in a taxi, she was headed directly to the hotel in which she had secured reservations. Everything was unfolding perfectly.
Very soon, she would be right here. She’ll be coming home; full circle. He chuckled to himself at his play on words as the metallic spheres danced in his hand.
Chapter 6 The Phone Call
Morning sunlight spilled across my face startling me awake. I sat bolt upright just sure that something bad was going on, but not being able to remember what it was. Then the cogs in my mind caught and it all flooded back to me. Mom never called last night. I even checked the voicemail at midnight and there were no messages.
I took the steps two at a time rushing down to check the voicemail again. Maybe she ate a bad shrimp at the convention and was sick all night and couldn’t leave a message till early this morning. My mind raced with what I was begging to be plausible explanations for her silence.
The light wasn’t blinking on the phone.
I held down the message button, anyway. “You have no new messages. You have no saved messages. For the main menu, please press eight,” a synthetic voice advised me. Oh my goodness, what are we going to do? Maze licked my hand. His warm, wet tongue woke me from my fog.
There was an emergency list taped to the inside of the cabinet directly above the wall phone. I hadn’t even thought about this list before now. It had been taped in place for so many years; my eyes didn’t even see it when I opened that cabinet to retrieve something. The list was such a fixture in my mind, it was just something to ignore.
I couldn’t ignore it now. It had only three numbers. The first was 911, of course. The second was Poison Control. And the last phone number was labeled “Dr. Andrews.”
All I knew about Dr. Andrews was that he went to medical school with mom and they were hired by the same pharmaceutical lab right after graduation. They worked together for a few years there and that’s when mom had us with her ex-husband. Mom eventually quit her job at the lab and moved us here to Texas to “escape the rat-race and raise us in a wholesome environment surrounded with nature” while she worked on her scientific theories.
We’ve been here for some twelve years. Come to think of it, I don’t have any memories of life anywhere but here. But mom had a life before our ranch and in that life she had trusted Dr. Andrews; trusted him enough to keep him on our emergency list.
As the oldest, I felt a deep sense of responsibility for my little brothers. It was my job to make sure they were okay when mom was away. A chill ran through me.
I stared at the phone number written in mom’s neat script. The ink was faded with time and the paper was yellowing. My left hand gripped the telephone. My right hand clutched the edge of the counter. How long has this list been here? What was she thinking when she added this name? Did she write the number hoping we would never need to call it? Or did she write it knowing we would need it? What kind of relationship did Mom and Dr. Andrews have, exactly? Did Dr. Andrews know our father? Was this number still current for him? What was I supposed to say to him? “Hi, you don’t know me but you know my mother and she’s missing?” That sounded pretty stupid to me.
Evan padded into the kitchen so softly that when he spoke I jumped, “Hey Meg, any word?”
“No, no word Evan. I was just looking at the list of emergency numbers and thinking about how much more time we should give mom before we contact this ‘Dr. Andrews.’ What do you think?”
Evan shrugged his slender shoulders. “What does Alik think?”
“What does Alik think about what?” Alik plodded into the kitchen and jumped up to sit on the counter. Something he would never get away with doing if mom was here.
“I’m wondering how much more time I should give mom before I contact the one person she has listed on this old emergency list.”
Alik rubbed his eyes. “Mom still hasn’t called? I was sure she would have left a message on the machine by morning.”
Yeah, he was upset. I can always tell when he’s upset because there’s this vein that starts turning blue and bulbous in the middle of his forehead.
“I’ll call this Andrews guy. Worst thing that can happen is already happening. He won’t know where she is or how to find her.”
“Or maybe the number will be disconnected and we can’t find him at all.” Evan added.
“Exactly,” I said.
I picked up the phone and started dialing not knowing what was going to happen, but feeling a deep sense of ominous fear seeping into my heart.
Chapter 7 Er…That Went Well
> A female voice answered on the third ring. “Hello?” she said.
“Um, hi, I’m Meg Winter. I’m looking for Dr. Andrews.”
“Oh, sure! He’s out back mowing the lawn. Give me a minute Meg, and I’ll get him for you,” she said cheerfully. Now, I know I don’t get out much, but she seemed super nice, in a creepy sort of way. Couldn’t put my finger on what it was that struck me as insincere about her.
A male voice interrupted my thoughts, “Hello?”
“Hi, Dr. Andrews?”
“Yes. Meg was it?” he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice.
“Meg Winter, yes. I’m calling because yours was the only number besides the authorities on our emergency contact list, and I need to know if you can help me find our mom,” all the words spilled out of my mouth. I held my breath waiting for his response.
“Well, who’s your mother?” he asked the million-dollar question.
“Margo Winter. Dr. Margo Winter. She told me once that you knew each other in college and worked at the same place for a few years and that you knew my dad—” I let my voice trail, hoping he’d jump in and help me because I was feeling like a complete idiot.
“Margo,” he almost whispered. “Your mother is Margo? Wow, I’m floored! I thought I’d never hear from her again. Where is she? Where are you? Are the boys with you too?” His questions bubbled to the surface so fast; I didn’t know which to answer first once he paused.
“Mom is at a conference in LA, I’m in Texas, and yes Alik and Evan are here with me.” I tried to answer specifically.
“Margo had my name on an emergency list?” Dr. Andrews wondered aloud. He was putting it together now. “What’s going on? What’s the emergency?”
Winter's Awakening: The Metahumans Emerge (Winter's Saga #1) Page 2