Chapter 43 - Abandon Truck
Canyon woke up all at once, catapulted from sleep by the feeling he was missing something important.
He rolled out of bed, jumped to his feet, and hit his head on the ceiling.
He dropped back onto the bed and rubbed his head, remembering he was in the MCU, in the front sleeper just behind the driver and passenger seats.
The night before, they’d worked until four in the morning, when the steady stream of calls had finally died off.
Instead of going home, they’d parked the MCU at the triage point near the bear statue and slept.
Canyon groaned and growled and stretched. Bright sunshine filled the cab. His phone was on the floor buzzing relentlessly.
Buzz buzz. Buzz buzz.
Canyon banged on the wall of the MCU.
“Wake the fuck up!” he shouted.
“You wake the fuck up!” Timber shouted back.
Buzz buzz. Buzz buzz.
Canyon grunted, then checked his phone. It was 7:00 a.m. They’d slept for only three hours. They could get by on that. Trevor wanted them to drop the MCU off for equipment installation, then go to VF for briefing.
The passenger door opened. Timber stood there, already dressed.
Trevor wants us out at VF, Canyon told him.
Timber pointed at the nearby Red Cross tent. “Breakfast first.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way. They dropped the MCU at the vehicle yard and picked up Canyon’s truck, and headed out of town to VF, until Canyon remembered something. He cranked a U-turn.
I want to check on the foxen, he said. Make sure he’s doing alright.
Timber took Predator from the center console and pulled up a video stream of the cellblock. He held it up so Canyon could see it.
“He’s sleeping,” Timber said.
Later then.
Canyon cranked another U-turn, and they were back on their way out to Trevor’s. Canyon turned onto the highway and sped up.
“I thought for sure you were going to let him go when I got Mac out of there,” Timber said.
I tried. As soon as I unlocked the cuffs, he doubled over in pain and begged me to lock him back up.
“From the mark?”
Yeah.
“Shit.”
He didn’t tell me his name, but he talked a little. I said Reynard was a hero and that got his attention. He told me when Khain takes a foxen to the Pravus who fights the taking, it makes explosions.
Canyon dug the folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over to Timber.
He gave me that. He also said Sage Greene is really Sage White—or I’m pretty sure he did. Maybe he didn’t actually say it, but when I said Sage, he was thinking White, not Greene… Canyon shook his head, not knowing how to explain what had happened.
“You read his mind,” Timber said. “You’re good at that.”
I’m what?
“You do it to me all the time. I’m just thinking something, and you act like I’m talking to you in ruhi.”
No, I don’t.
“Do.”
Before Canyon could argue, Timber unfolded the note and read it.
“You. Danger! End up in the hole? Exit cave. North side. Code is APHOX. Don’t sleep. MONSTER.”
Timber read it again, then said, “Monster is underlined three times.”
What, like the energy drink?
Timber laughed. “Don't sleep, for real.” He refolded the note and stuck it in his cargo pocket. “You know where there’s a big-ass hole…”
At the top of Morning Bluff.
“Bingo.” Timber said. He tapped an icon on Predator’s screen. “I want to read back through Seb’s investigation notes. There’s a bunch of aerial pictures of the hole included.”
It is big.
“Two miles wide, three miles long, with underground areas and caves? Yeah, it’s huge, and no one has ever mapped it.”
No one’s even been down inside it, at least no one I know. Seb couldn’t find it. Most locals don’t even know it’s up there.
“I’m thinking we should skip briefing and head straight up the bluff,” Timber said. “If Sage Greene is really Sage White, then she’s at least part foxen, and that means she’s in double danger from Khain.”
Sure. But we haven’t told anyone about Reynard yet.
“That’s important. VF first.”
Canyon was going 80 m.p.h. The country highway was straight and mostly open. In front of them was a mom van—Canyon swung around it and goosed their speed up to 100 mph. Farmland stretched out to their left and a thick forest of White Oak trees and White Pine trees marched along their right.
“Slow down, Speed Racer, I wanna see the catamount statue.”
Canyon sped up instead. The road was open and clear, and he put the pedal to the floor.
Timber flipped him off.
Can’t see it anyway.
Their view of the statue was blocked by another triage point and Red Cross tent set up in the parking area.
“Think the kit statue is still there?” Timber said.
Why wouldn’t it be? The catamount statue had been there for as long as anyone could remember, and no one knew where it had come from, but the kit statue had only shown up last week. They had no official word from Wade about what it meant yet.
“Think it grew?”
Canyon worked the brakes, slowing down just enough to make the turn onto the road that led to Trevor’s place. Once that was managed, he turned in his seat and eyeballed his brother, then turned back to the road, winding his way around potholes.
It’s going to grow?
“Of course it is. It’s a kit. Kits grow and become adults.”
Statues don’t grow.
“This one’s going to.”
I’ll believe it when I see it.
Canyon turned into Trevor’s long driveway. The thick forest of evergreens and oaks stayed thick up the driveway. A hundred feet in, the trees had been thinned out to make way for parking. There were always a shitload of people at Trevor’s.
Timber picked out trucks by owner. “Harlan’s here. Jaggar’s here, Mac’s here.”
Which means Eventine, Leilani, and Rogue are here.
“Wade’s here.”
Good.
All the parking spaces were full and Canyon had to drive past Trevor’s house itself and park near the back, close to the cabins.
Timber pointed at the far side of the driveway where all the picnic tables and tarps were set up. It looked like many of the KSRT were there, talking animatedly.
Canyon parked. They got out and Timber went around to the back. Canyon had a chest fridge wired into the back, right next to his toolbox. Timber opened the fridge and rummaged around.
What’re you doing?
“We might run into Graeme.”
You think he’s got a taste for fresh meat?
Timber held up a thick steak. “Best I can do is a porterhouse.”
Canyon laughed. Hell no, that’s mine—put it back. There’s gotta be some chuck steak in there.
Timber climbed into the bed of the truck for a better view and dug around. He came out with a pound of bacon in each hand. “Baaaaconnnnn,” he said. “There’s seven pounds—more than enough to spare some for a joke.”
Yeah, okay.
They crossed the driveway, heading for the picnic tables, looking for Trevor. At the first picnic table, they passed Harlan and Eventine talking to Crew, with Beckett listening in. Crew looked murderous.
“Trent’s echo says you need watching, and so you’re going to be watched, and that’s that,” Harlan was saying as they walked by.
“What’s that about?” Timber said.
Canyon shook his head and shrugged.
At the next picnic table, Mac and Jaggar were talking to Troy. “The bear’s always scented honest,” Troy said. “I don’t think he’s working with the witch.”
“Which bear?” Timber muttered. He stopped next to them and started to speak, but Trevor appeared from nowhere and got up in his face.
“You two, your priority is finding Sage Greene,” Trevor said.
Wade came over fast from another conversation. “No. It’s finding Abigail White.”
Trevor and Wade looked at each other, each ready to argue, but Timber stuck a pound of bacon between them.
“No need to fight over us,” he said. “If we find one, we’ll find the other.”
Wade flicked a look at the bacon then back to Timber. "What are you talking about?"
“Seems like Sage Greene might actually be Sage White.”
Wade shook his head. “No,” he said dismissively. “It’s not possible that there’s a foxen One True Mate.
Irritation spiked through Canyon. After what he’d seen Reynard do, he had no tolerance for this bullshit.
“I'm pretty sure you're wrong, old wolf,” Canyon said, crossing his arms over his chest, staring Wade down.
Canyon’s voice and insubordination shut the others up. Their groups broke apart, and the wolven moved in closer to hear.
“The night before last,” Canyon said, “Just before all this shit started, me'n Timber saw a foxen try to kill Khain.
His name's Reynard Van Crimson. Khain came from the Pravus to get him, but he fought it.
Khain was King Kong-sized, but this foxen was a warrior.
He chewed his way through Khain's face, tried to eat his brain, got slapped into the Pravus for it.”
Timber nodded through the whole thing. He whapped the table with the package of bacon, then cradled it like a football and turned around to point at several males with the other. “If you saw it, you’d want that foxen right here, working with us, not locked up in a jail cell.”
“That’s who we have in the cellblock?” Mac said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That’s not Reynard, that’s his brother or uncle or dad or something.”
“Makes sense,” Beckett said. “I always thought we were making shit up about foxen.”
Wade was shaking his head. “What about Rex?” he demanded. “What about Soren?”
Timber shrugged. “What about Grey? Maybe Rex and Soren are considered foxen traitors, like Grey is a traitor to us.”
A lively conversation started between the males. Wade looked pissed. He pulled Trevor away from the others and spoke urgently to him.
Timber hit Canyon in the chest with the pack of bacon, saying, "We’ve got our orders. Let's get out of here."
Canyon tossed the bacon on the table and followed Timber. Agreed.
Behind them, males talked all over each other, with Eventine standing back, watching them.
Canyon and Timber crossed the driveway, then got in Canyon’s truck and left. Halfway down the driveway, they saw a tall male with short dark hair, wearing a KSRT uniform, holding a pudgy baby with a shock of black hair. The baby wore a purple onesie and stared at the male with adoring eyes.
The male pointed at a tree. “Tree,” he said.
The baby giggled.
“Leaf,” he said.
Another giggle.
“It’s Trent!” Timber said. He rolled down his window and stuck his body out. “Trent!” he called.
A black wolf pup ran by them like a blur.
From behind them a female yelled, “Track! Come back here!”
The puppy didn’t act like he’d heard. He ran for Trent.
“Trent, don’t let him touch his sister!”
But it was too late. The little black puppy reached Trent and climbed halfway up his pant leg like a cat, then lost his grip and fell to the ground.
The baby in Trent’s arms squirmed this way and that, while Trent curled her close to him, trying to keep her under control.
She shifted into a little black pup that looked just like the other one, but still wearing a purple onesie.
She levered her legs against Trent’s chest and managed to wriggle out.
The pup dropped straight down, landing on the other pup.
Instantly, they were wrestling and biting at each other, leaving Canyon and Timber laughing.
The pups heard the laughter, and they stopped wrestling and sat on their haunches, looking at the truck.
They both cocked their heads to the left, their teeny ears facing front, then they moved in close to each other and pressed their sides together.
“Oh no,” Trent said, and he reached down to grab one or the other, but it was too late.
Canyon felt woozy. The ground tilted. No, it wasn’t the ground, it was the truck! It was rising and they were already five or six feet in the air and going up fast.
My truck! Canyon shouted in ruhi, grabbing at his seat belt.
“Abandon truck!” Timber shouted at the same time, shifting to a black wolf inside his clothes, looking about to jump out the window, but he must have had second thoughts when he saw how high they were. He shifted back to human and righted his clothes hurriedly, while the truck swayed and rose.
They were higher than the roof of the house and rising. Canyon stuck his head out the window just in time to see Trent about to pull both pups apart.
Don’t do it, he told Trent. Me and Timber might die. My truck definitely won’t make it.
Track and Treena had been born conjoined, but were surgically separated, and now whenever they touched each other, they could lift things with their minds. Canyon didn’t think they’d ever lifted anything heavier than a grown man, until now.
Trent looked up, saw how high they were, and he changed tactics, hugging both pups together tightly so they couldn’t stop touching.
Ella came booking it out of the house, down the steps, to the tree line, straight to Trent, talking a mile a minute to the two babies.
Slowly, the truck lowered to the ground, lower, lower.
They touched down and the truck shook and settled.
Timber and Canyon both breathed out theatrical sighs of relief.
Ella’s calm demeanor cracked. She took both pups by the scruff of the neck, one in each hand, and marched toward the house, her face lined with motherly anger.
“I thought she didn’t let anyone hold them by the scruff,” Timber said.
Ella must have heard him. She stopped walking and turned to look at him, very slowly, her expression homicidally blank, a black pup dangling from each hand.
Don’t shift, Canyon told him, because it looks like you’re next.
“Pssht,” Timber said. “She can’t pick me up.” But his face looked worried all the same. He turned and looked behind them, then said. “She can’t catch me if we’re hauling ass. Let’s find my mate. Go! Go!”
Canyon laughed and stepped on it. The truck lurched forward, and they sped down the driveway before Ella chose violence.