Slanted red sunlight cast ominous shadows across the asphalt as the convoy of adult werewolves pulled into the mountain rest stop. The canyon lay a mile south of where they stopped, its own parking lot filled to bursting. Hearing how many teenagers there were was one thing, but actually seeing the parking lot filled with hand-me-down cars, scooters, and quads made Micah’s blood run cold. How were thirty-two adults supposed to control hundreds of super-powered adolescents?
“Distract, divide, discipline,” Micah muttered to himself.
“What?” Zeke asked.
“It’s what my professor told us the day before graduation,” Micah explained. “Someone asked how one teacher could possibly handle an over-crowded inner-city high school classroom. That’s what he said. Distract, divide, discipline.”
“Was he right?” Zeke asked.
“I don’t know,” Micah admitted. “I’ve never had a problem classroom.”
“Great,” Zeke sighed. “Play it by ear, then, I guess.”
“Are you sure the baby will be okay?” Aster asked Brandy.
“He’ll be completely fine,” Brandy told him. “I’m pretty sure he was only born a puppy because you were in your wolf form last night. He should stay human tonight, and the sitter is very good. Everything will be okay.”
“Okay,” Aster said doubtfully.
A grim mood settled over the crowd as they walked along the path beside the highway which led down into the canyon. They had their plan of attack, complete with a multitude of contingencies, but there was no telling how the kids would react. Adolescents weren’t exactly known for their reasonable, predictable, and emotional responses. Micah suppressed the urge to hold Zeke’s hand as they dipped down into the trees. They could be torn to shreds by a horde of angry teenagers this very night, but it didn’t seem to matter. Zeke was still dead set on suppressing whatever it was that was growing between them.
Brandy held up a hand and the group froze in their tracks. They were close enough now to hear the sounds. If he didn’t know better, Micah would have assumed that it was just a bunch of normal kids out having a normal party in the middle of the wilderness. Happy screams, music, and the scent of barbecued meat drifted through the trees, sounding perfectly innocent.
Brandy’s tense stance was a firm reminder of the precariousness of their situation. She waved them into the trees and they crept single-file until they had the canyon surrounded. The teenagers were clustered in the center, soaking up every last precious drop of sunlight while they still could, and didn’t notice the silent padding of adult feet through the surrounding woods. Snippets of conversation met Micah’s ears, compounding his feeling of dread.
“...Think he’ll do it again?”
“Not after last night. He couldn’t walk all day.”
“...Heals fast, thank god.”
“Too much blood. Science was like a total flashback today.”
“Mom thinks I’m getting high.”
“Ha! You wish, right?”
The strange juxtaposition of attitude, innocence, and horror sent chills down Micah’s spine. His work forced him to remember his own adolescence daily, so it was pretty easy for him to imagine just what it would have done to him if he had contracted the werewolf virus as a teenager. It wasn’t a pretty picture. He took his position between Zeke and Gloria, crouched down between a pair of boulders.
The very moment that the warm glow began at the back of his neck, a hush fell over the canyon. Fires were put out. Conversation ground to a halt. He watched the formless group split and bunch into tight little packs. A sound like wind began; after a moment, he realized that it was hundreds of teens breathing in slow unison. He found his breath automatically matching theirs, slipping seamlessly into their primitive ritual.
It was faster this time, but no less horrifying. By the time it was over, the whole of the canyon was filled with trembling, panting wolves hovering over the shells of their human bodies. It was time. George’s howl echoed through the space, captivating the pups, sending shivers of longing through the air. Zeke’s voice joined his, then Brandy’s, then Micah’s. The other adults offered their voices up, harmonizing until it sounded as if the canyon was surrounded by a thousand wolves. The teenagers backed away from the edges of the forest, huddling together in the center, a massive spiral of fur and yellow eyes. It was working.
Then something went wrong. George, who was supposed to step into view, suddenly stopped howling. Without his lead, the harmony began to falter, voices rising in panic. Zeke took the lead with force, drawing the focus back, but the damage had been done. The teens had taken an aggressive stance, challenging their unseen foes in the trees. The spiral broke into little bands of five and six, each targeting a different section of trees.
Just as Zeke gave the order to move in, a different wolf leapt into the center. He was massive and black, gnashing his vicious fangs at the kids, herding them back to the center. Ice ran through Micah’s veins when he recognized him. The first werewolf he had ever seen in the flesh, his sire and Zeke’s. Where was his handler? Why was he down here? Micah barked a question to Zeke, and was ordered to stay put. Zeke wanted to see what this wolf was going to do.
“Good boy, Jacob,” Kenneth’s booming voice rang through the canyon. “Sit.”
Jacob sat, but his snarl stayed firmly on his grotesque face. Kenneth appeared then, dressed in some sort of ceremonial robes. He didn’t seem entirely solid; silver rivers ran over his skin, subduing the ripples of fur which appeared and disappeared in an undulating rhythm. His mouth and eyes hovered in the in-between, fangs and yellow eyes flashing in and out of existence like a heartbeat. It made his grin look somehow evil, and Micah felt a savage growl bubble up out of his throat.
“My children,” Kenneth said, spreading his arms wide. “Ah, sweet children. I thought to leave you to your own devices; I believed in you. I still do, in fact...but I am beginning to realize that children cannot make the proper decisions without a bit of guidance. I am here tonight to give you that guidance. If you would all follow my son Jacob, he will lead you home; your real home. I would prefer if you went willingly; I do so hate to harm my own offspring.”
With this, he pulled a semi-automatic rifle from beneath his robes, holding it up to let the moonlight glint off of it. A wave of panic rushed through the crowd, through Micah’s body; the last historical shooting was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and the sight of the vicious machine was enough to make anyone piss themselves. Micah especially; Kenneth seemed to be an entirely different person this time than he had been during their first meeting. The salt-of-the-earth rancher had been replaced by a shimmering wizard, and a crazy one at that.
As stealthily as he could, Micah crept around through the trees to Zeke’s side. He nudged him, then shot him a questioning look. Zeke shifted on his paws, uncertain. It was likely that the old man had silver bullets in that gun. If he opened fire, he could kill...everybody. But what was the alternative? Do nothing and let the kids get kidnapped? A low growl from his throat indicated that he wasn’t going to let that happen.
With eyes and body language, Zeke instructed Micah to go after Jacob while Zeke crept around behind Kenneth. Adrenaline coursed through Micah’s veins as he crept slowly through the trees and brush until he was belly-crawling across the long grass, wriggling behind Jacob. He was close enough to see the individual hairs of Jacob’s glossy black fur when the beast spun around, baring his teeth, and lunged at Micah.
Chaos erupted. As Micah rolled around with Jacob, using teeth and claws in a clumsy, unskilled, but instinctively savage fashion, Zeke attacked Kenneth from behind. The gun went off, sending bullets ripping through the air. Half of the teens fled, half froze. The adults spilled out of the forest then, flanking the remaining teens and pushing them out of the canyon, herding them to the open road. Micah couldn’t see his parents anywhere. Panic gripped him as Jacob’s massive teeth closed over his throat, and he kicked his hind legs, his terrible claws ripping through Jacob’s tender belly flesh.
By the skin of his teeth, Micah gained the upper hand, pinning Jacob to the ground, lunging for his throat. Just as his teeth brushed Jacob’s fur, something hit him in the back of the head hard enough to blind him. Enraged, he whirled around; just in time to see the butt of Kenneth’s rifle flying toward his eyes. At impact, Micah collapsed, unconscious.