The Amazing Wolf Boy Read online

  I frowned, taken aback. “It’s ringing a bit.”

  “Let me take a look.” He touched the side of my head. “Ah. The bullet just nicked you.”

  “What?” I yelped, cupping my hand over my ear. “I’ve been shot?”

  He grinned at my uncle. “You can’t wake a person who is pretending to be asleep.”

  Maybe he thought I was purposely being dense. But honestly, I didn’t realize I’d been hurt. I swayed, feeling faint, realizing how close I’d come to having my head blown off.

  Howard dragged over the kitchen chair I kept by the television. “Sit down. I’ll clean it.”

  I sank onto the chair, thinking the last time I sat there I was eating Chinese food and laughing, feeling invincible. “How did this happen?”

  “You’ll live,” Howard said. “You will always have a notch, though.”

  Great. The kid with the notched ear.

  He cleaned the wound then swabbed it with the yellow ointment. It smelled rancid and stung like vinegar on a paper cut. When he finished, he carried his box into the kitchen to make tea. Moments later, I heard his quiet chant.

  Uncle Bob sat on the arm of the recliner, stroking Rita’s hair. She looked peaceful, like she was asleep.

  “So, is she your girlfriend?” I asked.

  “Rita is my mate. Going on fifteen years.”

  “Why don’t you live together?”

  “We used to.” He gave her a sad smile. “But she is more of a wanderer, and I wanted to settle. She visits me off and on, and I’m always glad to see her.”

  I pulled the chair nearer, my mouth dry, thinking of Brittany. “Do werewolves only mate with other werewolves?”

  “Most do. Some never mate at all. It’s a hard life, always looking over your shoulder, always broke.”

  “Broke?”

  “You can’t keep a job missing work every month.”

  “I wanted to be a doctor when I grew up.”

  “Well, it’s possible, but I won’t lie to you. It would be tough. I’m fortunate to have learned a trade where I can be my own boss. I could have joined one of the communes in the Appalachians. Of course, they give up their identity to the pack. It’s not for me.”

  Howard came out of the kitchen. “Let’s see if we can get her to drink some of this.”

  I gave him my seat. He called Rita’s name, holding a mug to her lips. Her eyes fluttered, and she swallowed a couple of mouthfuls.

  “That’ll do.” He set the mug on the floor. “Every thirty minutes. You know the drill.”

  “Let’s go out front so she can rest,” Uncle Bob said.

  I followed them to the porch. Howard pulled out a pack of cards. “Rummy, anyone?”

  “I can’t. I’ve got to figure this out.” My uncle jammed his fingers into his hair, pacing again.

  “Okay.” Sighing, Howard sat on the steps. “You say the pack knew where you were. They followed you.”

  “They wanted us to be blamed,” Uncle Bob said.

  “But before they went into the park, they stole your clothes?”

  “It was a prank.” I leaned against the railing. “We’ll find our things buried in a shallow grave.”

  “Cody, think,” Uncle Bob snapped. “This whole thing was a set-up. You heard the deputy. Wild dogs couldn’t possibly get on the preserve by themselves. A human had to let them in. Which means they weren’t wild at all, but attack dogs on a training run.”

  I shrugged. “So?”

  “So what’s to stop the pack from murdering another woman and leaving our clothes at the scene?”

  My jaw dropped, and my blood went cold. They wouldn’t do that, would they? Just because I threatened to turn them in? All of a sudden, my head swam. I felt my back slide down the rail until I sat on the porch.

  “What I can’t figure out is why,” Uncle Bob said. “I’ve had no contact with them. Why would they be so vindictive?”

  My fault. I did it. I pushed until they pushed back.

  “What will you do?” Howard asked my uncle.

  “Working on it.”

  “I think you should give thanks that the three of you survived.”

  Uncle Bob snorted. Howard chuckled, shaking his head. “Beware the man who does not talk, and the dog that does not bark.”

  “They need to see that it’s time to move on.”

  “How will you do that?”

  Again, my uncle didn’t answer. His jaw worked like he was chewing something distasteful.

  “The frog does not drink up the pond in which he lives.”

  Uncle Bob scowled. “What does that mean?”

  “You have a good life here. Don’t screw it up.”

  I groaned. I didn’t mean to involve Uncle Bob, didn’t mean to mess up his life.

  “You look as green as my frog,” Howard told me.

  “I’m feeling…” I buried my face in my hands.

  “That’s it. Time for bed.” My uncle took me by the shoulder and pulled me up.

  “No, I can’t,” I mumbled. “I have to—” Do something. Make it right.

  “Whatever it is, you can do it after you sleep.”

  He supported me as I stumbled into the house and down the hallway. I sat on my bed, my head fuzzy.

  Howard put a hot mug in my hands. “Half now, half later.”

  I drank and didn’t even know when my head hit the pillow.

  * * * *

  I awoke to my cell phone buzzing in my pocket. I wanted to toss it out the window and go back to sleep, but I saw it was Brittany.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “It’s lunchtime, Cody.”

  “Oh.” I rubbed my eyes. “What’s up?”

  “You weren’t, by any chance, in the safari park last night, were you?”

  “Why? What did you hear?”

  “Some animals were slaughtered, and there was a car wreck. It’s all over the news.”

  “I didn’t kill anything,” I said. “It was them. They followed us inside.”

  “I believe you.”

  “They took our clothes. I have to get them back.”

  “Where are you?” she asked. “I’ll bring you something to wear.”

  “That’s not the point. I can’t let them have anything that belongs to us. It’s really important.”

  “All right,” she drawled. “Where do you think they stashed them?”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  “I bet they have them in their motel room. I could—”

  “No! I don’t want you involved. These people are dangerous.”

  “Stealing clothes makes them dangerous?”

  “Diabolical.”

  “Okay, then,” she said with an obvious shrug. “I was calling to remind you about dinner tomorrow.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Easter?”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah,” I said. “What time?”

  “Dinner’s at three because Mom doesn’t want us to go to bed with a full stomach. So I thought I’d pick you up at two if you have nothing else to do. We can make it earlier if you want, but it can’t be later because my mom will freak if I don’t help out.”

  “Two is fine,” I said, smiling at the rush of information. “See you then.”

  I crawled out of bed and tugged the box of rich boy clothes out of my closet. I hadn’t gone through them since my parents sent them to me a couple of months ago. I pulled out a yellow-striped shirt and a pair of brown dress slacks. My good shoes were at the bottom of the box. I also found my old pair of Adidas. Since my shoes were stolen along with my clothes, I grabbed them as well.

  I hung up the shirt, hoping the wrinkles would smooth out before dinnertime tomorrow. In the living room, News at Noon blared from the TV. My ears perked at the word dog.

  “These dogs were huge,” a man told the reporter. “Like prehistoric huge. One of them flipped my Jeep. I’m okay, but my buddy has a busted leg.”

  “Would you say they were wild dogs, Mister Mi
ller?”

  “No, ma’am, I would not. First off, they were organized. When I shot at them, they split up and ran in two different directions as if trained to do that. They didn’t scatter like normal animals. Also, their tails were short and stumpy like they’d been bobbed, maybe for identification.”

  “Are you saying these blood-thirsty animals have an owner?”

  “Absolutely. They are smart, bred for size, and nasty as the day is long. And someone must have ordered them into the paddock. No way could they get inside unless someone let them in.”

  “Did you see anyone, Mister Miller?”

  “No, but that don’t mean they weren’t under someone’s control. For instance, a micro-transmitter might be placed under the skin.”

  Rita laughed, breaking into the newscast. “No one’s putting a micro-transmitter under my skin.”

  I was glad to hear her voice. She sounded better. I knew I should go out and say hello, but I wasn’t ready to have a conversation. Quietly, I shut my door. Sitting on the bed, I thought about the night before.

  I was changing. Instead of dreading the shift, I had looked forward to becoming a wolf, even called the moon my mother. That couldn’t be good.

  Brittany was right. The wolf was affecting my human side. For the first time, I wondered if the magic circle would hold me. Maybe I should have a backup plan—like a leash. I gnawed my lip then told myself to forget it. The whole potion thing happened on the new moon, and that was two weeks away. I had other problems.

  Like where did the pack stash our clothes? Brittany thought they took them back to their motel, but I didn’t think so. The moon had risen, so they had to be wolves, not humans, when they found our things. It would be difficult to carry them.

  Of course, they didn’t have to take the clothes far, just move them from where we expected them to be. I’m sure the leader intended to pick them up afterward. But he couldn’t. Not with deputies patrolling the streets. He couldn’t even get his car.

  No, my original idea that the clothes were buried nearby was much more likely. All I had to do was retrieve them before the leader could.

  On hands and knees, I rummaged through my closet. I pulled out the Scooby Doo backpack that my uncle had bought me for school but I never used because why would I? Staring at it, I chuckled, finally getting the joke. Uncle Bob knew I was a werewolf all along. No wonder he kept buying me things with dogs on them. I slung the bag on my back and climbed out my bedroom window.

  I considered taking my bike, but two things stopped me. For one, my bike was in the front yard. I couldn’t risk my uncle catching me and telling me not to go. I might circumvent the rules at times, but I was never one to disobey a direct order.

  The other thing was it would be easier to keep out of sight if I was on foot. The safari park was a few miles away over rough terrain, not an easy trek for a normal person.

  But I wasn’t normal.

  I took off through the woods, surefooted as a deer. The sun was high and searing as I burst in and out of shade. I crossed empty two-lane blacktops and dirt roads, following the scent of giraffe and gibbon instead of landmarks.

  Nearer the park, the stench of exhaust overwhelmed that of animals. Cars lined up three wide waiting to get into the place. Apparently, the loss of an antelope or two hadn’t hurt attendance. Perhaps everyone was hoping for a glimpse of the super-intelligent killer dogs.

  I kept to the outlying woods as I made my way toward the back. Two deputies stood at the Camaro. Their cars were on the grass, lights flashing. I crouched in the bushes, watching, when a large tow-truck, its own lights flashing amber, pulled alongside.

  That should keep them busy.

  I continued moving until I was across from the slit in the fence. The field beyond looked sparse in the daylight. I gazed toward the deputies, hoping I was too far away for anyone to notice me.

  With my jaw tight and my stomach in knots, I darted across the road, slammed through the fence, and sprinted to the nearest clump of trees. I expected to hear shouts of protest, but all I heard was the clank of chains and the whine of the truck’s winch.

  I leaned against a tree trunk, heart racing, trying to sharpen my senses. I smelled the drought-dry grass, two rabbits, and an armadillo. After a moment, I picked up the smell of wolf. If I could have walked around openly, I would have tracked individual scents. But I had to be discreet.

  The deputies laughed with the driver. There came a great clatter as the Camaro was hoisted onto the bed. Under cover of the distraction, I ran for the next island of trees. I needed to find the place where we’d shifted. That would be my starting point.

  I peered from my shelter. We’d walked in a straight line. I glanced back at the fence, cutting a path with my eyes. Far ahead, I saw the copse—the same drooping palm fronds, same vine-strangled bushes. I caught the spoor my uncle left behind.

  It was the right place. But how would I get to it?

  I gazed at the road. The truck driver was on his knees as he worked to secure the Camaro. One of the deputies stood with his back to me, talking to him. The other got in his car.

  No time like the present.

  Bent low, I ran flat out for the little copse. It was farther than I expected, and I was in the open for several moments. By the time I reached the trees, I was panting. I burst into the shelter.

  At first, I only caught our smells. Then I scented the others. Three wolves. As I figured, they were not human when they entered. That would limit how far they got with the clothing. I peeked through the branches at my surroundings.

  With a final clank, the tow-truck assimilated the car. The truck pulled away, and a deputy followed, lights still flashing.

  But the other stayed. What was he doing? Paperwork? A phone call? Whatever it was, it took too long. Despite my need to stay hidden, I stepped out of the shelter, keeping my back to the trees. I felt as if eyes were upon me. I hoped I was wrong.

  Nose twitching, I located the scents of the three pack members. They’d circled the copse several times, but then they went to the right. I narrowed my eyes, searching. A truck with Animal Control printed on its side jangled down the dirt road. The driver pulled next to the deputy, and they held a window-to-window conversation.

  Crouched, I stepped into the open, following the trail. But there was nothing around me. Where did they put the clothes?

  Fingers of panic tightened about my throat. I was going to get caught. For nothing. The clothes were gone.

  Another patrol car cruised down the road. This one was the sheriff himself. The big man. I flattened, hoping the grass was tall enough to camouflage me, and came nose-to-nose with a jackrabbit under a rotting tree limb.

  And just like that, I found them.

  Our clothes were tucked beneath the branch and partway into the rabbit hole. I only saw them because I was on my stomach. Couldn’t smell them because the rabbit scent was so strong. In fact, the rabbit hadn’t run at my approach. Maybe she had young ones inside.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The Animal Control truck took off, but the sheriff and his deputy sat side-by-side, their cars pointed the other way. Still on my stomach, I slipped off the backpack and stuffed the clothes into it. Everything was there; even our shoes. I zipped it shut then half-ran, half-scuttled back to the shelter of the trees.

  Relief struck me. We were saved. The werewolves couldn’t use the clothing against us. And Uncle Bob wouldn’t get into a confrontation with them because of something I shouldn’t have done.

  I gazed through the trees. The deputy pulled his car off the grass and led the sheriff away. Now was my chance. With the bulging bag cradled in my arms like it was made of gold, I sprinted across the open field. I shimmied through the slit in the fence and bent the chain link back in place.

  At last, I was on the roadside. I wanted to whoop and laugh. It didn’t matter if they caught me now. No one could say anything against a boy walking around with a load of laundry.

  The wind gusted at my back, bringing
with it the scents of antelope and hay. I breathed deeply, figuring I wouldn’t be back this way for a long time.

  Suddenly, the sensation of being watched intensified. Across the road, in the shadows of the tree line stood three tall silhouettes.

  The werewolves.

  My heart nearly stopped. I couldn’t move. I’d done all the work for them, taken all the risk, and now they would just collect the package. It wasn’t fair. It made me angry. I straightened my shoulders and slung the bag onto my back. It would hamper me in a fight, but I didn’t want them to just walk up and take it. With my fists clenched, I faced the watchers.

  Here I am. Come and get me.

  The leader stepped forward, still in the shadow of the trees. His mustache twitched in a sneer. I knew he wouldn’t let this challenge to his authority slide. Not in front of the others. He was going to let me have it. Maybe even kill me. I couldn’t run. Wouldn’t get far, in any case. I was doomed. I only wished I had the chance to tell Brittany how I felt.

  The leader flexed his fingers. As if on cue, his two underlings spread out. The woman was blonde. Her face looked hard, like she never smiled. The man was tall and paunchy. I tensed, trying to keep my eye on all three. But before they could rush me, a car rattled down the road.

  Brittany in her lime-green Volkswagen. “Hi,” she said as she leaned to open the passenger door. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  I hopped inside. “Go!”

  At the same instant, the pack leader leaped onto the car, hitting spread-eagled on the windshield. Brittany screamed and punched it. I grabbed the wheel. The car veered back and forth, but the leader had a good hold. We couldn’t shake him.

  Still screaming, Brittany slammed on the brakes. We went from sixty to zero in three seconds. The pack leader flew, then rolled over and over in a cloud of dust. Brittany shifted into reverse and floored it again. We shot backward. Briefly, I saw the other two werewolves staring slack jawed.

  The car skidded and turned. Brittany manhandled it until it faced forward, and we sped away from the safari park and the werewolves. I turned in my seat, relieved to see they weren’t pursuing us.

  “Oh God, oh God,” Brittany cried, visibly shaking. She kept looking in the rearview mirror. “I didn’t think they would get here so soon.”