The wolf cub continued to make its bed under the camp table, close enough to be warmed by the fire yet far from Kenzie’s human reach.
At least she’s safe here.
No predator would come near her camp. Adult Changelings were generally accorded a healthy respect by the animal population.
“So what do I call you? I have to call you
something
,” she said on the second night, as the cub stalked a cricket in the grass. “I know you’re a little girl, but I don’t know what your name is. If you don’t tell me, I might have to make up a name for you.”
The cub looked up in surprise.
“How about Gertrude,” tested Kenzie. “Or Penelope? Ernestine or Beulah might be nice.” She tried out every unfashionable name she could think of, knowing how her niece, Hailey, would respond to such dreadful suggestions. “There’s Minerva. Maybe Prudence or Ursella.”
The cub stopped playing and stared at her with wide eyes.
“I know,” Kenzie clapped her hands in mock glee. “I could call you Frederika! Then I could call you
Fred
for short! You know, I’ll just bet that’s your real name, isn’t it?”
The cub took a step back and sneezed. Twice.
Anya!
The voice was loud, clear, and indignant in Kenzie’s head.
My name is
Anya
, not Fred. Fred’s a
stupid
name! And my mom told me not to talk to strangers!
Anya whirled and stomped off—actually
stomped
, although it should have been physically impossible for a wolf—then curl Sf whirled ed up under the camp table with her back to Kenzie.
Kenzie sat stunned, a slow grin spreading over her face. Then she rubbed it off with both hands—she had an apology to make, and for that, a sober expression would work a lot better.
Josh’s chance to make good on his promise to Stanton came up almost immediately. A Mentasta Lake resident had a pet fox tied up that had bitten two people plus its owner. Josh had rolled his eyes when he got the call. People never seemed to learn that they couldn’t take the
wild
out of a wild animal. Sure, the fox was undoubtedly cute and friendly as a pup, but as it grew, it would become what Nature intended—a predator—and its personality would change. In this case, rabies was a possibility too and a vet’s expertise could be helpful. Usually Josh would submit a proposal and request to HQ, and then there’d be paperwork prior to approval, liability forms out the wazoo ... and the damn fox could have bitten six more people before he got up there.
Easier to get forgiveness than permission.
“Make sure your receptionist doesn’t bill the department for this,” he cautioned Stanton as he belted himself into the passenger seat. “I’m bringing you along as a
volunteer consultant
. That way, you’re allowed to ride in the department’s bird and you’ll be covered by their insurance. As soon as I do the damn paperwork. If you need reimbursement, I’ll pay for it myself.”
The vet snorted. “You just fly over IBC on the way back and we’re good. And Tark?”
“What?”
“Don’t crash.”
It wasn’t long after they arrived that Stanton diagnosed distemper in the fox and also in the neighbor’s two young Labradors. The fox was too far gone to be helped and was euthanized. To be safe, Stanton was taking the body back with him for rabies testing. He ordered both Labs to be kenneled immediately. Distemper was highly contagious and usually fatal. There was no cure for the disease but it hadn’t advanced very far in the dogs. Supportive treatment, such as IVs for hydration, might save them. With all the efficiency of his military background, Stanton drafted a local retired nurse to help manage the Labradors’ care, then made arrangements with the community leaders for an emergency canine vaccination clinic to be held on Saturday.
“Are you sending somebody up here or coming back yourself?” Josh asked when they returned to the chopper. He didn’t get a chance to see his friend in action very often and had almost forgotten what a force of nature the man could be.
“There’s no one to send—not many veterinarians in the region. Doc Baker over in Wasilla might travel up with me, though. An outbreak of canine distemper could take out most, if not all, the dogs in the village—and from what I see, there’s more damn dogs than people. We’ll vaccinate for rabies and parvo at the same time.”
“Good deal. Now how about giving me the coordinates for your mysterious building.”
“I told you it’s gotta be more than just a building.” Stanton produced a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket and read off the location. “Gotta be.”
There was forest and more forest below, broken only by ribbons of water and the occasional overgrown logging road. Josh wondered why on earth anyone would base their operations in such a remote place—and exactly what operations were suited to this degree of isolation? Of course, there
was
that research station, HAARP, which studied the aurora. To do Surogreso effectively, it required a clear view of the northern lights, unobstructed by the artificial lights of a town or city, and so the installation had been built in the middle of the forest north of Gakona. It made sense—weren’t most observatories located far from human habitation? Stanton, of course, had other theories about what was really being studied at HAARP and expounded on them frequently. Josh usually stopped listening somewhere between
military conspiracy
and
blowing up the ionosphere
.
A break in the trees appeared ahead.
“There it is—that’s it, that’s
it
.” Stanton sounded excited. “Get us closer, Tark.”
It seemed to be a natural clearing, a rocky outcropping flanked by a river. There was nothing natural about the tall chain-link fencing that surrounded it, or the razor wire along the top that gleamed in the sun. Inside, near the west side of the compound, was a very large metal-clad building with only a few small windows. A number of smaller service buildings stood in a tidy row along the forested north side, while a long row of what looked like bunkhouses lined the east boundary, overlooking a river that ran just outside the fence. Power was obviously supplied by an enormous wind turbine looming on the north side like a futuristic tree. The method of communication was also obvious—a sizeable signal dish was perched on the roof of the main building. And in the exact center of everything was a target-like helicopter pad, occupied by something very familiar to Josh. “That’s an old Sikorsky Jayhawk.”
Stanton squinted at it. “I thought only the Coast Guard had those.”
Josh shrugged. “They upgrade their equipment like everyone else. Maybe they sold off some of their older choppers.” Made by the same company, the Jayhawk boasted a similar basic design to the Blackhawk he’d flown in Afghanistan. Of course, the Coast Guard version didn’t require the machine guns, rockets, and missiles that the Blackhawk had. And this one’s color didn’t resemble either one—its shiny new paint job was the same sterile white as the buildings. But the outline, the shape, was true to his warbird. A strange mixture of sentiment and apprehension settled into his gut.
“Didn’t I tell you they’d have a whole compound? Self-contained, just like I said. Damn, it’s nearly big enough for
two
football fields. And the main building could be used as a hangar.”
“Okay, okay, you told me. But what the hell’s it for?” Josh could see no specialized equipment, just three white pickup trucks and six white ATVs parked neatly in an open garage. Who the hell would paint an ATV
white
? All-terrain vehicles were built for one thing in Josh’s book: getting as dirty as possible.
Suddenly three men came out a side door, each leading an enormous dog. They crossed the compound, heading toward an outbuilding. Both animals and humans glanced up at the government chopper but didn’t seem concerned.
Stanton grabbed the binoculars first. “Don’t recognize those guys. Wonder what they use the big-ass dogs for.”
“Maybe to chase off bears.”
The old vet snorted. “Tell you what, it looks like a damn POW camp to me.”
Josh didn’t recognize the men either, at least not from what he could see of their features. If he’d had his M22 binocs from his service days, he could have counted their nose hairs. He gave the glasses back to his friend and circled the perimeter one last time. Rubbed the back of his neck where a headache was taking root. “Are we done here?”
“Yeah.” Stanton sounded reluctant. “Yeah, I guess. Not much to see, really. Not a goddamn hint of what all this is for. It has to have been a big investment to put up this place—it’s a helluva long way to haul building supplies and construction equipment, not to mention bringing in workers.”
“Yes and no. That old Sikorsky can carry a lot, believe me. You know, maybe you could find somebody who helped build the place, talk to them. They had to have hired some locals for a project like this.”
“When I come back for the vaccination clinic, you bet I’ll be asking questions.”
Josh was just a little bit glad he wasn’t going to be part of that expedition. Maybe it was part of his Changeling nature, but the old vet could be a lot like a damn pit bull when he wanted information.
“I didn’t see a sign or a l
ogo or even a name, did you? Seems like they’re trying to be anonymous. Maybe we should go around again. I want to look at—”
Josh didn’t hear the end of Stanton’s sentence. He was staring at the Jayhawk on the tarmac pad, its white surface gleaming in the sun—and the tiny figure beside it. She looked up at him and waved, her red and green tunic and shawl fluttering in the breeze.
Chapter Eight
S
omething rocked Josh, battered at his awareness. The figure vanished and he realized that Stanton’s fist was bashing the hell out of his shoulder.
“Tark! Put down now!”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Instinct guided him, and he landed the Raven on the wide grassy clearing away from the buildings with barely a bump. Powered down the rotors. Their throbbing slowed and subsided, unlike the pounding in his head.
Stanton was out of his seat at once, checking Josh over like a boxing coach and shining a penlight in each eye. “What the bloody hell was that? Where were you? You seemed to go completely blank, like there was nobody home, and you were still flying the damn helicopter like some kind of human autopilot. Stick out your tongue.”
“What? Hey, I’m not having a stroke. It was just a flashback.” Josh tried to brush off his friend’s ministrations. “Quit playing medic. I’m okay, it’s over.”
“Well, I’m not okay; you scared the shit out of me! We’re going to get out and walk around, get some air. And you’re going to tell me when you started having these damn episodes again.”
The sun was bright and hot in a cloudless sky, a rarity in Alaska. Stanton pulled a cola out of the cooler and insisted that Josh drink it. All he could think of as he tipped it back was how good it would have gone down in Afghanistan. The hot dusty wind over there made this summer day seem downright frosty. Until you got into higher elevations of course, or when winter set in with a vengeance....
The vet waited until he’d finished. “Okay, let’s hear about your episode—what happened?”
“Beats the hell out of me. You know I had a lot of flashbacks the first year I was stateside. Nightmares too, normal stuff—everyone comes home with at least a little of that shit, right? I finally talked to someone, a guy who’d been in another unit, and he sent me to a good counselor. I went to a few sessions and got some relief. Hell, I talked to you a few times too.”
“I remember. But I thought it helped, the counseling and all.”
“It
did
help. There’s been nothing since my second year back—not a single damn incident—until I was at Kenzie’s camp the other day.” He shook his head. “Fucking flashback came out of nowhere, sucker punched me. And it was every bit as bad as the first one.”
“Same event as you used to see? The school, the little girl?”
Josh nodded. “When it happened at Kenzie’s camp, I figured, okay, it’s because the wolf cub turned out to be a kid, a little girl who needed help. Kind of a natural trigger, right?”
“And this here?”
“I just saw the little girl, the one from the school. Nothing else. She was standing beside the Jayhawk.”
Stanton looked thoughtful. “Maybe because it looks a lot like your old Blackhawk?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Hell, it could be the hot weather we’re having, for all I know. You gotta admit it’s not a typical summer for Alaska.”
“But you’re okay now? Because the welcoming committee is on its way over.”
Two men, a short one in a lab coat and a tall one in coveralls, were hurrying across the compound. “You can’t land here—” began Coveralls, but Lab Coat interrupted.
“I’m Jurgen Shumacher, IBC Project Manager.” He extended his hand and greeted first Stanton, then Josh. His English had a trace of some European accent, but it wasn’t German. “This is my coworker, Carl Meikle. We’re a little surprised to see you here—are you having problems?”
“Nothing major, thanks. The pilot here has low blood sugar and we just had to stop and get him leveled out,” said the vet. Josh obligingly held up the empty cola can and waggled it.
“I hope you are feeling better now, Mr.—”
“Talarkoteen. I’m with Fish and Wildlife.” Josh could swear that the man flinched, although he covered it quickly. “This is Doctor Stanton, and we’ve just been on a case in Mentasta Lake. Took longer than expected and I missed lunch. My own damn fault.” He smiled and Schumacher’s answering smile contained relief.
“So this is quite the place you got here,” said Stanton. “Beautiful facility, must have cost a mint. You know, as a veterinarian, I’m always interested in science. Any chance you could show us around while we’re here, tell us what you’re working on?”
Meikle jumped in at once. “We don’t do tours; they’re not allowed.”
“What Carl means is that IBC has a strict no-visitor policy,” explained Schumacher. “Information is a commodity these days and corporations have to be concerned about security.”
“Yeah, of course, but I’m really interested in the environment—”
“I’m sorry, I can’t answer any questions. It’s a condition of employment that we sign nondisclosure agreements, so I couldn’t even tell you what color the cafeteria walls are painted.” He shrugged. “It’s the world we live in. I’m sure you understand.”
Josh could see that Stanton was warming up to argue. “We don’t want to intrude,” he said, catching the vet’s elbow. “I’m feeling a lot better now, so we’ll be taking off in a few minutes. Thanks for the landing spot.”
“I’m glad we could help. Have a nice afternoon.” The men walked away and Stanton fumed in silence until he got inside the chopper.
“What’d you do that for? I could have found out something.”
Josh fastened his four-point shoulder harness. “Not from that guy. If he was an Afghan local, I’d bet my boots that he’s working for the Taliban. Jumpy and a terrible poker face.”
“Yeah, I picked up bogus vibes too.” Having Josh agree with his assessment of the man seemed to mollify Stanton somewhat.
“I picked up a helluva lot more than vibes. There was somebody with a flak jacket and a sidearm holster watching from an upstairs window.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Believe me, I would never do anything to make you more paranoid than you already are, Stanton.” He powered up the bird and prepared for takeoff. “The guy was talking into a radio. Hired gun by the looks of it, not a rent-a-cop.”
“Added to that fence, it seems like an awful lot of security for an isolated scientific facility.” Stanton glanced over at Josh. “So Tark, are you sure you’re good for flying? I got a little air time in a chopper, I could get us home if you need it.”
“My
blood sugar
seems to be back to normal now. Good story by the way.”
“Hey, I figured they didn’t need to know why we were here. But you’re certain you’re okay?”
“Good to go, bud.” At least he sure as hell hoped so. He’d never had a flashback in the air before and didn’t ever want to experience another one. Fortunately he’d never had back-to-back flashbacks so he was reasonably certain he was okay for a while. “Sorry if I spooked you.”
“My heart needed the workout. You know, maybe we should make a little side trip.”
“Where?”
“I think I should meet this gal of yours and the little werewolf kid. They’re on the way, right?”
“She’s not my gal.”
Stanton snorted. “Only because you haven’t had time to work your mojo on her.”
“Maybe I’m not interested.”
“Don’t try to shit me, boy. Besides, I’m thinking somebody oughta make sure she’s not mixed up in this IBC stuff—what if she picked this site for a reason? Maybe they hired her to look for something.”
“I’m not taking you to meet her if you’re going to interrogate her.”
Stanton rolled his eyes. “I won’t scare her off, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
For a moment Josh considered it, he really did. After all, Stanton was right, Kenzie’s camp was on the way. Seeing her would be like a breath of cool, fresh air, balm for the headache that was throbbing in time to the rotors, and a great antidote for the flashback he’d just had.
But what if the presence of the little wolf brought on another episode
? His sensible side kicked in then—he had a passenger to worry about and the risk was too great. And as much as he hated the idea, he knew he needed to ground himself for a while until he was damn certain he was fine.
“I’ll drive you there. Hell, I’ll take you as soon as you finish your clinic in Mentasta Lake if you want. But right now, I’m taking this bird back to base.”
And leaving it there.
Kenzie had four squares excavated to about eighteen inches, and the one she was presently working on was a foot deep. She could see the striations in the soil, dark and light, layers that showed sections of time like pages in a book. By her estimates, she’d turned back those pages a [thoations bout 900 years. Far too early for what she was searching for.
She glanced over to see Anya still asleep under the salmonberry bushes. And still a wolf. The child refused to use mindspeech, other than that initial outburst to declare her name. She seemed to have accepted Kenzie’s apology for teasing out that information, however, and followed her everywhere as if nothing had happened. But only when Kenzie was a wolf would the little girl come anywhere close to her. Anya’s mom had done a terrific job of cautioning the child against strangers—but just how long was it going to take before Anya stopped seeing Kenzie as a stranger? Hopefully Josh was having better luck uncovering some clue that would help them locate her parents.... He hadn’t been by her camp for an entire week and she had to admit that she missed him. Even though she most certainly didn’t
want
to miss him.
Jeez, it’s hot.
Kenzie pulled back from the hole, wiped her hands on her jeans, and drained her water bottle. Tucked some stray wisps of hair back under the bandana on her head. The temperature seldom rose above 75 in the Copper River region, even on a July afternoon, but it felt a great deal warmer than that—well above 90. As a Changeling, her body temperature was higher than that of a human and truly hot weather could be tough to deal with, uncomfortable at best, dangerous at worst. Luckily, it wasn’t that bad yet, and she was more acclimated than most Changelings. She’d been through far worse in Chile and Egypt. She knew the trick was to keep herself hydrated, and she’d have to make sure Anya did too.
It was early in the afternoon and the still air gave way to a faint whisper of breeze. The scent of a grizzly came with it, but it was well over a mile away so she didn’t pay much attention. After all, this was bear country and the big creatures were plentiful. With spawning salmon coming up the Copper River and its many tributaries, there were countless grizzlies along the banks and in the water, each trying to gobble as many fish as possible to store fat for the coming winter. There might even be a few black bears here and there—as long as their much larger cousins didn’t spot them.
Suddenly her sharp hearing caught the sound of a truck. Somebody was braving the rutted goat path from Chistochina but it didn’t sound like Nate’s Humvee. She held her breath and concentrated on listening—the vehicle didn’t stop below her camp but continued in her direction. It had to be Josh. She could hardly wait to tell him Anya’s name and hear what he’d found out. Mostly, she’d be glad just to see him.
Whoa, hold it right there.
Kenzie squelched her impulse to head down to the road to meet him. She liked Josh but she wasn’t going to let herself get carried away. She’d made that mistake with Nate and she wasn’t going to do it again. Josh was a friend. Maybe he’d become a really good friend, but damned if she’d give him—or herself—the teeniest, tiniest reason to think they might ever be anything more.
To her surprise, her inner wolf whined softly.
Shut up
, she told it firmly.
I’m not asking for your opinion.
Anya heard the truck too, but remained motionless except to wag her fuzzy tail. It was too hot to move from her cool and shady spot. The ground beneath Kenzie wasn’t nearly so pleasant—the shade had vanished hours ago. Still, she remained on her stomach, working deep inside a square with the point of a trowel. She kept her head down, determined to concentrate, even when she caught Josh’s scent and her wolfen self decided to do handsprings. What the hell was
that
about?
Suddenly there was a second scent, sharp [scetheand distinct, just as Anya yipped and Josh yelled, “Heads up!”
Kenzie sat up just in time to catch a cold bottle of iced tea. “Hey! Are you trying to brain me?” She blinked at the slight man with thick gray hair who had followed Josh. Piercing eyes looked out from under the wildest eyebrows she’d ever seen. But it was his scent that held her attention in an iron grip. She knew what he was.
And he would know what she was too.
She started to rise to her feet but the man shook his head. “Don’t get up on my account, honey. It’s too damn hot.” His voice was thick and gravelly.
“This is my friend, Bygood Stanton,” began Josh. “He’s a veterinarian and a—”
“Werewolf,” finished Stanton, plunking down beside her and shaking her hand.
Josh rolled his eyes. “Well, I was going to say
shitty poker player,
but yeah, he’s a shapeshifter. He wanted to meet you. Hope that was okay.”