Thomas Prescott Superpack (54 page)

The engine on the snowmobile cut, carried away by the wind.
Then the Professor said his first words. “DON’T MOVE!”

I looked at Erica.

I didn’t think the Professor could talk.

The running light on the snowmobile flicked off and the man yelled, “LET HER GO!”

Erica and I looked at one another, then at the man standing on the snowmobile holding his .45 pointed at my chest.

It was Ethan.

Chapter 50

Erica took a step forward and said, “What are you doing here?”

Ethan hopped off the snowmobile, the gun pointed somewhere between my left ventricle and my right atrium.
He shouted, “Walk to me, Erica.”

She looked at me, then at Ethan, and it finally dawned on her that Ethan Kates was under the impression the strange man in the neon leotard had kidnapped her.
Although there’s a good chance Ethan would still be leveling the gun at my chest had he known it was me.

Erica said, “I’m fine.”
She pointed to me and said, “That’s Thomas.”

“Thomas?”

I lifted my goggles and said, “Remember me?”

“I thought you went to France.”

I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t lowered his gun.
Well, actually, he’d lowered it from my chest to my balls.

“Technically, I did go to France.”
I added, “If you ever go, make sure you check out the gift shop in the east wing of the airport. It’s a thing of beauty.”

Ethan looked at me and said, “You reneged on our deal.”

“I did.”

“I’ll be speaking to the D.A. tomorrow, and I can assure you that you will do jail time.”

I had pretty much come to terms with this already. Maybe six months in county would be good for me. I mean, my knowledge of petroleum jelly was negligible. “Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

He nodded.

Ethan said, “So this whole thing was about wolves.”

Erica and I both gave him a strained glance.

“Oh, it wasn’t that difficult.
After I put together why Thomas had visited the U.S. Fish and Wildlife building, it all came together quite nicely. I even did a bit of background on Ellen Gray. Talked to her folks. Apparently, she once had a little brother. They actually didn’t know about all the great strides their daughter had taken to ensure that wolves were never relocated to the great state of Washington. Mom even choked up a little bit.

“And I did a bit of background on this Professor Koble.
Ellen actually had a restraining order against the man after an altercation at Pike Market. He wasn’t allowed within a hundred yards of her. And he had a record. He bit one of his students during his last year teaching.”

I scoffed, “Did you say he
bit
one of his students?”

“According to the report, one of his students called him a freak and the Professor latched onto his shoulder.
Kid had to get five stitches. Professor resigned two days later.”

Erica asked, “How did you find us?”

“I’ve been driving around on the snowmobile for about six hours. When I saw the smoke from the fire, I headed in that direction.”

I said, “And then you started shooting at us.”

“I thought you were the Professor.”

How ironic.
And here I’d thought
he
was the Professor.

“Well, I’m glad we got that little misunderstanding resolved.”

He grinned. I’m not sure he felt the same way. I think he would have preferred the county coroner to point out this small error.

After a cleansing breath, I asked, “So do you still think I killed Riley Peterson?”

“No, I don’t. I think the Professor saw that you were poking around too closely and wanted to get you out of the mix. So I figure the Professor killed her and framed you for the murder.” He paused. “This doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook. I told you the second I saw you to keep your nose out of this business. You harbored an ongoing investigation.”

 
“Would you be here right now if I hadn’t?”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“No, actually, that’s here. Actually, you, me, and Erica, are
here
.”

He shrugged, then said to Erica, “So how did you put it all together?”

Erica spent the next five minutes narrating the events that led up to her involvement, kidnap, rescue, and chase. She left out a couple parts, or one part, or the best part, which is probably a good thing seeing as how Ethan could still shoot me and no one would ever be the wiser.

Ethan nodded along as Erica wrapped things up.
Then the three of us stopped. Froze. A howl filled the silence. It was much louder than before.

All of us turned and squinted at the tree line where Ethan had just come from.
A shape darted from the trees into the open, quickly followed by several others. 

They’d found us.

. . .

We watched as the wolves moved fluidly through the thick snow, their outstretched bodies gliding, then spraying up snow, then gliding once more. We had maybe two minutes. 

I pushed Erica forward and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Ethan jumped behind the wheel of the snowmobile. As Erica and I approached the sled, it quickly became evident the snowmobile was the compact model. Two people would be pushing it. Three would be utterly impossible.

Ethan turned to Erica and said, “Get on.”

She looked at me and I nodded.

She didn’t move.

I looked over my shoulder.
The wolves were at about the quarter mark, kicking up all kinds of snow.

Ethan repeated, “Erica, get on the snowmobile.”

I moved her towards the back of the sled and said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” For the record, I would be dinner. “I’ll climb a tree or something and you can come back for me.” I had another PowerBar I hadn’t told her about.

I glanced in the direction of the wolves.
Some of the pups had lagged behind, but the adults were in a tight formation. Five big wolves. Coming to eat me.

I said, “Please get on the snowmobile.”

She shook her head and I saw tears form in her eyes.

I grabbed her shoulders and yelled, “ERICA, GET ON THE FUCKING SNOWMOBILE!”

She reluctantly started to move. She settled in behind Ethan and wrapped her arms around him. Then she said to Ethan “Give him your backup piece.”

He shook his head, “I didn’t bring a backup.”

I could see by the bulge of his ankle that he had indeed packed his backup. But I only had about a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty heartbeats remaining and I didn’t want to spend them quibbling over such trivial matters.

Erica grabbed me around the neck and whispered in my ear.

Had I not been about to be eaten by eleven angry wolves I might have said it back. I broke away from her and said, more to Ethan than her, “DRIVE!”

Ethan nodded and hit the gas.
Erica gazed at me as they took a sharp right and went quickly down the mountain. I turned. The wolves were about two football fields away. I could see Cujo out in front leading the pack.

I started running.

Chapter 51

I made my way into the trees and immediately started looking for a tree to climb. The majority of the trees were covered in snow and would be impossible to get a foothold. I found what seemed a suitable tree and stopped. I wrapped my arms around the back, but the bark was wet and there wasn’t a chance in hell I would make it up in time. 

I gave a sideways look and yelled, “Shit.”
Cujo was close enough that I could see his snarling teeth. He would be in the trees in the next ten seconds.

I whipped my head back and forth, surveying the trees for any haven.
Anything I could climb in or climb up. There was a small clearing twenty yards away with a large white mound at center. A big boulder covered by the snow. If I could somehow find my way up the rock I might be safe. 

I noticed a good-sized stick on the ground and picked it up.
I broke it in two and took off in the direction of the rock. My legs were pumping at an impossible pace.

The mound was ten yards away.

Then five.

I made it to the boulder.
It was larger than at first glance, about ten feet high, with nearly straight sides. A giant square. I dug my hands into the thick snow and tried to find a fingerhold. The rock was smooth. I gave a couple halfhearted leaps, but the effort was futile. Finally, I took a long deep breath and turned around.

Cujo was already in the air, his large mouth open, his huge white teeth agape.
He hit me in the right shoulder, clamping down four-hundred pounds of pressure into my deltoid.

If it weren’t for the rock behind me, I would have been knocked back ten feet.
I hit the rock hard, the back of my head taking the brunt of it. A flash of white light played over my eyes and I prayed I’d just died. But death was a long way off.

I envisioned the deer. Bambi. Basically eaten alive.
The deer’s heart beating, its eyes and brain taking in everything as it lay there conscious. Until finally one of the wolves had ripped out its jugular. Only then had it died. I thought of Ellen Gray’s ragged corpse. Nearly ripped to shreds. And then Herb. Herb was relegated to nothing more than a couple bones and a hat.

The snarling of the wolves brought me back.
I had the two sticks in my hands and I pondered jamming one into my temple. Ending it on my own terms. The thought was fleeting.

Cujo was latched onto my shoulder, ripping this way and that.
I squeezed the stick in my left hand and screamed. A scream that shook the trees. A scream that momentarily took Cujo off guard. His bite relaxed ever so slightly and I rolled over and plunged the stick into the side of his head. There was a loud squish, followed by a yelp, and the intense pressure on my shoulder loosened.

As I shook off the dead Cujo, two separate wolves clamped down on my left thigh and my left forearm.
I still had the stick in my right hand and tried to bring it up.

Every tendon and muscle in my right shoulder was torn and my arm didn’t respond.

I opened my eyes for a split second.
The wolf on my left arm was the only thing I could see. I had suspected it was one of the pups, and it was. I brought my right leg up, wedging it between me and the pup. I pried him loose, then shook my left arm free.

I rolled over and grabbed the stick out of my right hand.
As the pup lunged for my face, I leaned back and drove the stick upward, plunging the harpoon into the wolf’s neck. He fell on me and I rolled him off. Then I hit the wolf latched onto my left thigh in the face.

Smash.
Smash. Smash.

I continued smashing my clenched fist into his snout.
Finally, his jaw relaxed and I grabbed him by his collar and flung him off. I could see the other wolves standing around waiting for their turn. I only had a second. Half a second. I pushed myself up with a grunt. My left leg and right arm were useless. I took one step and three of the wolves came at me. One hit me on each arm. Another went for my left ankle. They dragged me down.

I let them.

The fight had drained out of me.
 

I took a deep breath.
I’d died once. I knew the drill. As the blood drained from my body, my blood pressure would drop and my heartbeat would increase, trying to compensate for the lack of blood.

And then I saw him.
The big black wolf. Cartman. He was jetting forward, about to sink his inch-long daggers into my throat and rip—tear—the life out of me. I saw his eyes. Saw him zeroed in. Never wavering, just like that first day.

I could feel Cartman’s breath on the back of my neck.
I could feel him run his nose on the back of my head and sniff my wet hair. My dad used to do that with his baked potato. He would lean down and sniff it. Then he would smile. Then he would devour it. I wondered if Cartman was smiling.

I felt his teeth scrape my neck.
His jaw open, the joint stretched to its absolute breaking point. And when his brain sent the signal to those muscles to clamp down. Then I would be dead.

And then I heard them.
Three cracks.

I peered behind me.
Cartman lay directly behind my head. His mouth was still open. There was a small hole just above his left eye.

I looked up.
Ethan was ten feet away, standing on the snowmobile, his gun still trained in my general direction.

I looked around.
The wolves had scattered. Gone.

Erica jumped off the snowmobile and ran to me.
She fell to her knees and cradled my head in her lap. She whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.”

I tried to sit up. I hadn’t felt much while it was happening. Now I felt everything. My entire body was on fire.

Ethan made his way over.
He had the gun up and was scanning the area for any sign of the deadly predators. He stood over me and I gave him the obligatory “thanks for saving my life” nod.

He nodded back.

Then he laughed and said, “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

They helped me to my feet.
There were four dead wolves scattered in a five-foot radius. One pup, the one whose throat I’d stuck the stick into, was laboring to stay alive, his chest still rising and falling.

Erica took a look at me and said, “If it wasn’t for that ugly-ass snowsuit, you’d probably be dead.”

She was right.
Without the snowsuit, most of my flesh would have been ripped from my body. As for the damage assessment, my right shoulder was ripped to shreds and covered in a decent amount of blood. The left leg of the snowsuit was tattered. There was a large rip in my right torso. And the entire sleeve of the snowsuit’s left arm had been ripped off clean.

I lifted my left forearm and inspected the bloody gash.
A full set of teeth marks, top and bottom. This wound alone would need ten or twenty stitches.

All in all, I was in bad shape, but assuming I found my way to a hospital in the next couple hours, I would live.

We heard movement. The pup was trying to stand. He got his feet under him and tilted his head back. A shrill howl escaped. I think he was calling for backup.

Ethan took two steps towards the pup, raised his gun, and shot the wolf execution style between the eyes.
Its body went limp.

Ethan had a wry smirk on his face.
But not for long.

There was a loud crack and both Erica and I whipped our heads around.
Under the cover of the wolf’s cry, we’d failed to hear the approaching skis. The Professor was standing no more than twenty feet from us,
my
rifle leveled in front of him.

Erica and I followed the rifle’s gaze.
Ethan’s body was on its way down. He fell to his knees in the deep snow. His mouth was agape, his eyes clenched shut. He was already dead.