Authors: Ranae Rose
Gus took a slow step, sweeping a hand in a broad gesture that encompassed all of the area he stood in, just below the ridge Braden Spencer had fallen over. Alex had a camera trained on him – presumably one equipped with night vision.
The moon shone down, round and full – the second full moon of the month, a spectacular orb hanging high in the sky, bidding a special farewell to October. Gus treated it like his own personal limelight, his chest puffing as he walked a leisurely circle around the area where the hiker’s body had been discovered.
“What brought Braden to this remote neck of the woods, miles from his campsite? Was he chased – did he perhaps stumble over the ridge above while running in a blind panic? No one knows for sure, but one thing is certain: after he fell to his death, he was
not
left to rest in peace.”
Gus paused, and even from where Michael waited and watched in shadow with Jack, Noah and Daniel, he could practically smell the self-satisfaction rolling off of him.
“Tonight, we embark on a journey intended to answer questions raised by Braden’s tragic death. Are the shadow wolves that left marks at the scene of his demise still out here, hunting for their next victim? If so, what will it take to stop them from striking again? Join us as we head deeper into the Great Smoky Mountains and expose the monsters that took a life here where I stand, just last night.”
A low sound broke the silence, the closest noise a wolf could make to a sigh, and Michael didn’t have to look to his right to know it came from Daniel.
Truth was, though he wasn’t vocal about it, he pretty much shared the younger wolf’s sentiments. Gus Oliver was an idiot. To think that if he and his film crew hadn’t shown up, Michael would have Kimberly in his arms right now… He had to suppress a growl as he shifted his weight from one paw to the other, letting the aging pine needles crackle softly beneath his feet.
The monster hunters wouldn’t hear. They’d focused their dull human senses on their work, which, at the moment, consisted of trudging forward, their equipment in tow. Gus led the group of five, and Alex brought up the rear, filming as they went. They made about as much noise as a herd of elephants, crushing sticks and underbrush, even talking.
A low growl rumbled from beside Michael, and he turned to look at Jack, knowing exactly why he was upset – the Monsters 24/7 crew were heading toward Half Moon Pack territory. Jack turned his golden eyes on the others, gave them a meaningful look and started forward, each step deliberate as he paced in the same direction.
Michael followed, as did Daniel and Noah. Keeping up with the humans wasn’t hard – in fact, they padded along at a snail’s pace, deliberately hanging back.
“Here,” Gus said after about fifteen minutes of hiking. They’d traveled almost due west the entire way, drawing even closer to pack territory – the forested acres that Jack owned. Was their direction random, or were they going that way on purpose, planning to make their way back to the road that wound down the mountain? If that was their plan, depending on where they exited the woods, they could end up right in Jack’s backyard.
Maybe – hopefully – they wouldn’t be that stupid. If Gus Oliver cared at all for his own safety, he’d emerge elsewhere on the mountain.
“We’re deep in the forest now,” Gus said to the camera. “It’s dark – so dark you can almost feel it, like a physical presence. It’s no wonder the shadow wolves have gone undetected for so long in this wilderness. You get the feeling that anything could happen out here, and no one would ever know. Serena, break out the audio equipment.”
Serena fumbled with some sort of speaker, and Gus helped her set it up.
“Wolves howl for many reasons,” Gus said. “Sometimes, when a wolf is lonely or becomes separated from its pack, it will howl to get in contact with others. It can be a gamble, though – sometimes the sound of a lone wolf howling attracts other, hostile wolves who consider the stranger a competitor for prey and territory. So we’re going to broadcast a recording of a lonesome howl throughout these woods and see what the shadow wolves think of a strange animal encroaching on their turf. With any luck, it’ll draw them right to us.”
The group fell into a dead silence – for once – and Serena hit a button.
The little speaker they’d brought along was surprisingly powerful. The sound of a single, long howl echoed among the trees, radiating through the darkness. The woods fell silent, the ever-present sounds of scurrying rodents and other nocturnal creatures stopping as the animals froze in their tracks.
They let it play for a good minute, filling the mountains with the noise of one lonely animal. And then they stopped the recording, surrendering the night to the silence they’d brought on.
Gus whispered something about waiting to the camera, and Michael listened too, despite himself. Unidentified canines had definitely been in the area the night before – had they heard the howl?
Daniel breathed another long wolf’s sigh, and his breath formed a cloud that puffed out into the night air and drifted away. Maybe he was eager to get back to his mate, just like Michael was.
Well, maybe not
just
like Michael was. Michael had a hell of a lot of catching up to do with Kimberly, and his mouth watered at the thought. He was picturing her naked and in his arms when a howl shattered the silence, making the hair on the ruff of his neck stand straight up.
The sound hadn’t come from the film crew’s speaker – no, it had come from the southeast, from somewhere maybe a mile away. The howl stretched then faded into a loaded silence that not even the smallest forest creature dared to break.
Michael drew in deep drafts of night air, screening it for any olfactory clue as to what was going on. Had he been wrong about the animal tracks left by Braden Spencer’s body – were there real wolves in the Smokies after all? God knew he’d spent enough time in the mountains to know what coyotes sounded like, and that had been more robust than a coyote’s howl. Doubtlessly, there were coyotes somewhere nearby, but they didn’t dare respond.
Maybe red wolves had wandered up from the Carolina Smokies after all. Enormous ones.
“Listen.” In his human form, Jack spoke in a low tone that went unnoticed by the monster hunters, who were too excited and too loud to notice much of anything, anyway. “Obviously, we’ve got some big canines out here. I don’t know where they came from, but we’ll worry about that later. We can’t let these fools get them on camera. Or at least, if they do, we’ve gotta make sure the footage never makes it out of these mountains.
“If people start thinkin’ there are wolves out here hunting down tourists, they might get hysterical, and it could get dangerous for us. After all we’ve been through, the last thing we need is more trouble.”
Still in his wolf form, Michael nodded. Jack was right – maybe he’d been wrong to think the young alpha was overreacting. Like he’d told Kimberly earlier that day, humans were the real threat. Cruel ones or scared ones – the results could be deadly. With a renewed sense of wariness, Michael drew a deep breath, trying again to catch any unusual scents.
The breeze was blowing the wrong way. Whatever animal had howled remained a mystery – one that made Michael a little uneasy, but not as uneasy as Gus and his crew made him.
They played the recording again, filling the woods with the melancholy sound.
This time, no answer came. Not even after minutes of waiting.
Gus swore, but the excitement hadn’t left his voice. “We’re going to move in the direction of the answering howl.” He stumbled forward, thrashing through underbrush. “We’ve got clear audio, which is fantastic. We won’t stop until we have visual confirmation – we’re going to put a face to Braden’s killer, not just a voice.”
With Gus leading the way, the group headed north, not southeast, putting more distance between themselves and the animal that had howled. A snort that came from Daniel might have been laughter, if he’d been in his human form.
Jack and the other three wolves moved soundlessly in their wake, trailing along as they headed nowhere in particular. At least Gus was making their job easy.
After about half an hour of the crew trudging through the woods, stopping every few minutes to play the recording, Gus reached his limit. “All right!” he huffed, coming to a halt beside a large hemlock. “We don’t want to lose the wolves, so we’re going to try something new. Serena, break out the bacon.”
“Bacon?” Alex spoke, and Gus shot him a glare.
“I’ve got it right here.” Serena pulled a package out of the backpack she’d been carrying.
“And the stove?”
One of the men produced a tiny propane camping stove.
“The shadow wolves may have been attracted to Braden by the scent of bacon on his body and clothing. The Peppard family also reported having cooked bacon at their campsite prior to their encounter with one of the wolves. So we’re going to make ourselves irresistible – we’re going to fry up some fatback.”
“Whoa.” Alex lowered his camera. “What the hell do you mean, we’re going to cook bacon? There are wild animals out here – bears. Maybe even big cats or something. Put that damn bacon away.”
Gus rounded on Alex, eyes wide. “If I’d wanted your opinion, I would’ve asked. Last time I checked, you were the cameraman, not the lead investigator. We’re catching these wolves on film. We’re cooking bacon, and you’re filming it.”
From where he stood steeped in shadow and surrounded by the three other wolves, Michael could hear Gus’ teeth grinding together.
“I don’t care who does what job – I’m not standing out here as bear bait while you act like we’re running an IHOP.”
“The hell you aren’t!” Gus brandished a slotted plastic turner that Serena had produced from her bag. “Stop being an asshole. You were there for that meeting last month – you know damn well that it’s either us or the Ghost Hunting Grannies next season. Only one show is being continued, and if you don’t do your part, you’re going to end up frying bacon or burgers somewhere, if you’re lucky enough to find a job at all.”
“The Ghost Hunting Grannies are talking about going international next season,” Serena said. “At least, that’s the rumor going around. Why would the network be talking about sending them overseas for a series of special episodes if they were really considering discontinuing the show?”
Gus whipped around, kicking up a spray of dead leaves and pine needles. “That’s just a rumor those old crones started themselves! They’re not going international – they’re going off the air, as long as we make this season something to be remembered. Damn it, Serena, do you believe everything you hear?”
Serena dropped her head. “So-rry! Geez. It’s not like there’s anyone else here who hasn’t heard the rumor. Their fans have been making a big deal out of it online – they even voted on famous haunted places in Europe they want them to visit. I was just saying what everyone was thinking.”
Gus looked ready to have an aneurysm. Even in the pale moonlight, his face was visibly red. “Am I the only member of this crew who wants to keep my damn job?”
“No,” Serena said after a few moments of silence, and the others – all but Alex – echoed her.
“Then we’ll all just have to do what it takes tonight. We only have three more episodes left to film, and if they’re not absofreakinglutely amazing, they’re going to be our last episodes. Ever. So yeah, we’re gonna fry up some bacon. We have crystal clear audio and it’ll go to waste without a visual. I’m not gonna let that happen.
We’re
not gonna let that happen. Everyone got that straight now?”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and Alex glared around silently, as if debating whether to stay or go.
He must not have liked the idea of navigating through the forest on his own in the dark. Either that or he really did want to keep Monsters 24/7 on the air. Whatever his reasoning, he did his job begrudgingly as Gus and Serena began to cook.
The scent of frying bacon soon coaxed a low growl from Michael’s stomach, and similar noises came from the wolves beside him. Hungry as the smell made him, another desire was more potent – the desire for Kimberly. The aroma drifting from the foolhardy monster hunters’ little camp stove reminded him of breakfast with her that morning, and he wanted to travel back in time. Either that or fast-forward through this mission and find himself alone in the little vacation cabin with her again.
He longed for the brilliant color she brought to his world, for the sound of her voice and touch of her hand, missed for so long. Not this stalking and creeping, always watching, constantly on guard.
No pack of wolves descended on the film crew, not even when the bacon was nice and crispy.
“Wild animals – even apex predators like wolves – can be shy at times,” Gus said. “So we’re going to take a leaf out of Hansel and Gretel’s book and lay a trail they won’t be able to resist…” Gus grabbed a strip of bacon and began to tear it into pieces.
“Yeah, because that worked out so well for those two,” Alex said, staring down his nose at the bacon trail Gus was creating. “They didn’t end up almost being eaten at all.”
Gus scowled. “Whatever. I’m laying down some prime-quality wolf bait. Come on.” Trudging ahead, he and the group moved even more slowly than before, tossing crumbs of bacon and dribbling grease from the pan along the way.