When the Red Wolf Sings (The Red Wolf Trilogy Book 3)

by Kody Boye

  “But I do,” Zachariah says, “because he took something from me too.”

  Then it hits me.

  His wife.

  His wife was killed by the Wells family too.

  Not just killed, a part of me whispers. Stuffed. Put on display. Made an icon of hatred for a small ignorant town.

  Something, and I’m not exactly sure what, ignites within me. Bursting into flames, and raging like an inferno, I find the metaphorical walls of my conscience burning in a nightmarish blaze, during which everything, my better nature included, comes crashing down.

  I don’t hesitate to turn and stalk toward the door.

  “Oaklynn?” Jackson asks. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere,” I reply, and throw the door open.

  I can’t stop what happens next.

  One moment, I’m standing on the Meadows’ front porch.

  The next, I’m stalking across the road.

  “Oaklynn!” I hear Bernard call from the RV that has been parked outside the road for the past few days. “Is everything all—“

  I ignore the man, even as he stops and calls out to me once more, and make my way toward what used to be my property line.

  Don’t change, the Light Wolf says. Not here, not now. You don’t know who might be watch—

  I ignore her instruction and burst into a run.

  The air rushes by me. The world at my sides. The grass underfoot.

  Within seconds, I am rushing into the woods—and turning, in a matter of moments, into the Light Wolf.

  A single cry escapes me as I rush through the underbrush in her lupine form.

  Wild and free, and devoid of my human emotions, I rush through the woodlands that lie in the lands between my property and Wolf Creek and make my way with abandon toward the river that runs through the small town of Red Wolf, Texas. There are no thoughts in my mind, save the uninhibited joy I experience without doubt or rage, and there is no violence in my mind.

  No.

  There is nothing but abandon in my heart.

  So, with that in mind, I do the only thing I can think of:

  I run.

  And run.

  And run some more.

  And run even further than I could’ve ever imagined possible. Through the trees I wander, and around snarling roots I jump.

  Come time I reach the river, I make my way across the bank and then up the stream, fully intending on distancing myself from not only my past and present, but my future as well.

  I have just reached the edge of Wolf Creek when I hear a voice say, Stop.

  So I do.

  Standing here, in the Light Wolf’s form, looking on at the trees that lie in the distance, I find myself breathing in the sweet autumn air, and staring at the vegetation before me.

  Do you feel better? the Light Wolf asks.

  Now that I’m away from there? I ask, breathless in not only body, but mind as well. I wait for the Light Wolf to answer. When nothing comes, however, I simply exhale, and say, I think so.

  You need to be careful, she replies. You don’t know who might be watching.

  No one’s watching, I say. Besides—you don’t have to worry about me.

  You are reckless at times, Oaklynn Smith. You should know that your actions could have consequences.

  I… I don’t—

  The Light Wolf sighs her breathy, lupine sigh, then says, I wish I could do more for you.

  You’ve given me this shape. This body. This… this freedom. I could never ask for anything more than that.

  Still, the Wolf within me says, I wish I could take away your pain.

  I think…

  You think… what? dhe asks.

  I think I need this pain.

  Why do you say that?

  To heal. To laugh. To… recover.

  The Light Wolf doesn’t say anything at first. Rather, she looks through my eyes into the distance—and then, in a low, short voice, says, We should go home. There’s a storm coming.

  I lift my eyes to look beyond the canopy—and smell, distantly, the humid scent of rain.

  Okay, I say, before turning and starting back down the creek.

  Before I can make it very far, however, a thought strikes me.

  Light Wolf? I ask.

  Yes, my friend? she replies.

  If you know my pain… and you’ve experienced it before… can I ask if it ever goes away?

  No, she says. It doesn’t.

  And that, above anything else, haunts me.

  Chapter Nine

  I take my time to make my way back through Wolf Creek. Silent as a feather, and scared as a newborn, I find myself dreading my return to the Meadows family home, and what Zachariah might say in response to my sudden flight from it.

  He’ll understand, I think. He has to. Otherwise…

  Otherwise… what? I think. He would not understand me? My emotions? What it means to be really, truly human?

  I shake my lupine head as I cross the bank and make my way back into familiar territory. My thoughts run rampant through my head, causing me to reconsider everything I have done as a result of hearing the news about Easton Wells.

  I know I should be happy. I know I should be ecstatic. I know I should be over the moon that it appears as though he is finally in jail, and that I should finally get justice. But the truth is that I am not happy, that I am not okay.

  No.

  If I wanted to be really, truly honest with myself, I would say that I am angry over everything that has come to pass, over everything that has occurred.

  The truth of the matter is that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t help but feel lost and hopeless in the grand scheme of things.

  As I broach the exit of the woodlands—and as I come to stand at the edge of my property line—I lift my head to view the Meadows family home, only to find that its countenance is becoming far too familiar for me.

  It’s home, a part of me says. You know it is.

  But it isn’t at the same time, another offers. You know it isn’t.

  Still—regardless of my feelings, and despite my self-imposed persecution, I cannot allow myself to begin to think darkly of my life.

  So, with that in mind, I shift from my wolf form to my self self, and step free of the trees.

  Jackson is out the door almost immediately. Striding across the road, and crossing the expanse of healing grass, he comes to stand before me and says, “What was that about?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, lifting my eyes to look past him—at the curtain that has parted, then fallen back into place. “I… I needed some time alone.”

  “You scared the hell out of my dad.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, Oaklynn—he’s concerned.”

  “About me? Or?”

  “Of course he’s concerned about you! Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “I—“

  “We’re family now—a pack. And besides…” He sighs. “The three of us need to stick together.”

  “I know. And… I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he says. “Just come inside.”

  We enter the home, at which point my memories begin to resurface like shattered stars appearing from a dusky sky. Colder, now, than I’ve ever been before, and unsure how to respond now that I’ve returned to the home that is now in part my own, I turn my head to regard the world around me, only to find that Mister Meadows has seated himself in his chair, and is watching the news coverage which has since stopped reporting on Easton Wells.

  “Oaklynn,” Mister Meadows says.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, defeated. “I shouldn’t have run off, sir.”

  “It’s okay,” he replies. “Sit.”

  So I do.

  There is a long, drawn out silence, during which the older man turns his head toward, and then silences the television playing before us. Soon after, he turns the screen off, and he sighs a monumental sigh that I feel could move mountains if it really had the chance.

  �
��Sir,” I say once again.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he replies. “I’m not disappointed in you, Oaklynn. Hell—I’m not even mad.”

  “Then why—“

  “I want you to be safe,” he says. “Just like I want Jackson to be safe. But I can’t guarantee your safety if you do reckless things.”

  “Reckless?” I ask.

  “Yes. Reckless.” The man frowns and turns his head toward me. “We have no idea if the house is being watched. The fact is: you could’ve been spotted by someone snooping around our property. If that happened... I don’t know what we’d do.”

  “We’d have to leave,” Jackson then says, “wouldn’t we?”

  “More than likely,” his father replies. “Do you want to leave, Oakylnn?”

  “I—“

  “Answer the question. Do you want to leave?”

  “No,” I say. “My whole life has been here… and even though I feel like I’ve finished most of what I need to do… I feel like I owe it to my parents to make sure that the dust is settled before I move on.”

  “That makes sense,” Zachariah replies.

  A sigh escapes me—and though I want so hard to contain my feelings on the matter, I find myself shivering in spite of it.

  Jackson—who has seated himself beside me—sets an arm across my shoulders and draws me close to him.

  All I can say, in the moments that follow, is: “Thank you.”

  Darkness falls, and with it comes the promise of a normal evening. Told, in no uncertain detail, that we would be ordering pizza, I lie in my room and consider the phone in my pocket and try my hardest to keep from thinking about what had happened earlier.

  Was I reckless? I think. Was I really?

  Some would argue that I was—that, for all intents and purposes, I had committed myself to actions that could have endangered the Meadows family. On another, though, I can’t help but wonder if anyone would have really been brazen enough to linger around the property to try and post me.

  “No,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone in the room. “No one would be that stupid. Right?”

  Belle rolls over and trills in response. I scratch her head, and lift my head as I hear a knock come at the door.

  A short moment later, Jackson is calling, “Oaklynn! Pizza!”

  “I’m coming!” I call back.

  Within moments, I am out of bed and making my way down the hall. Already the scent of pizza is wafting toward me.

  Jackson and Zachariah have already gone to the effort to pull plates out and have just started to serve themselves as I enter the kitchen.

  “Oaklynn,” Zachariah says.

  “Sir,” I reply.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine,” I reply, seating myself opposite him and Jackson. “Why?”

  “I was just concerned was all. I haven’t seen you for most of the afternoon. I thought I’d upset you.”

  “You didn’t,” I reply. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

  “That’s good,” Zachariah says after a moment’s consideration. “I was concerned that I hurt your feelings.”

  “You didn’t, sir.”

  “This brings me to my next point. I… I wanted to talk to the two of you about something.”

  I pale.

  Jackson lifts his eyes, confusion in his gaze. He asks, “What’s up, Dad?”

  Zachariah replies, “Now that the wolves are gone… we need to consider what happens next.”

  What happens next? I think. What’re they—

  Hesitation tugs at me, attempting to drag me down. Somehow, I am able to keep a stone-cold face, and look on at the man in front of me.

  “What… what do you mean?” I ask.

  “We’re not moving, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Jackson and I both sigh.

  “Alecia went to too much trouble to get this house for us,” Zachariah continues, “so I honestly don’t see any point in us leaving, at least for a while.”

  “So… what are you talking about?” Jackson asks.

  “I’m talking about you kids’ futures.”

  I, hesitantly, nod.

  “I talked to the guidance counselor this afternoon regarding your kids’ time at Red Wolf High,” Zachariah says, “and while disappointed, she agreed that the two of you should pursue alternative means to obtain your educations.”

  “I want to go to college,” I offer. “I mean… eventually.”

  “I do, too,” Jackson offers.

  “I’m not asking you kids to do anything right now,” Zachariah replies. “Considering everything that’s been happening, and everything that you’ve both gone through, I feel it’d be cruel to ask you to study for your GEDs. I just want you both to be aware that I do expect something to come out of this.”

  “We understand. Right, Oaklynn?”

  “Right,” I say, and nod.

  Zachariah smiles. “I’m sorry to bring this up, but I’m glad the two of you ag—“

  Something strikes the window.

  Shatters it.

  Causes raindrops of glass to cascade throughout the kitchen.

  I scream.

  Jackson swears.

  Zachariah spins, brandishing his cane like a weapon.

  “What the hell?” Jackson asks.

  “What was that?” I ask.

  Zachariah starts forward.

  “Let me, Dad,” Jackson says. “There’s glass everywhere.”

  “Are you sure you should—“

  Jackson holds a hand up and turns, only to frown as he stoops to gather whatever it was that struck the window.

  “What is it?” I ask, leaning forward so I can see.

  “I—“ Jackson starts as he rises to his full height. “I don’t—“

  The brick he holds in his hand is ominous enough, but it’s what’s wrapped in twine around its surface is what truly chills be to the bone.

  Two words stand out on the attached message.

  They simply say: I know.

  Chapter Ten

  “Know… what?” Jackson asks.

  “Shh,” Zachariah says. “Be quiet. They might still be nearby.”

  The crunch of glass beneath the older man’s shoes echoes ominously throughout the place as he steps forward to look out the window. A frown on his face, caution in his eyes, he leans forward, then cranes his head out the window.

  I hear Bernard call, “What the hell was that?”

  To which Zachariah replies, “Someone just threw a brick through our window!”

  “Wait. What?”

  It takes a moment for a knock to come at the door; and when Jackson rushes over to open it, Bernard steps in. His eyes are instantly drawn to the glass glittering on the floor.

  “Did you see anyone?” Zachariah asks.

  “No,” Bernard says. “Justin and I were asleep in the RV when it happened. I only came out because I heard the glass break.”

  “So you’re telling me you saw no one snooping around out there?”

  “No, Zach. I didn’t.”

  Mister Meadows sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he considers the mess at our feet. “Jackson,” he then says. “Get the broom.”

  Cleanup doesn’t take very long. But unlike the glass, which is swept into a dustpan and deposited into the trash bin, the unease persists—to the point where, while sitting here, I feel my stomach twist into a solid knot.

  No matter how hard I try to ignore it, the paranoia continues to intensify.

  They know.

  But who are they, and what do they know?

  The idea hits me, suddenly and inexplicably, and leaves me with a sinking feeling in my gut.

  The twig, snapping—

  Me, turning—

  Me, seeing nothing.

  All those days ago. All that time. All that potential for discovery.

  I can’t help but swallow.

  Zachariah sighs.

  Jackson finishes sw
eeping the floor.

  Bernard, though, is simply staring—at me, no less.

  “What?” Zachariah asks, turning his eyes on the man. “What are you thinking?”

  “Something… happened,” Bernard says, his gaze refusing to leave me. “Didn’t it?”

  “What are you—“ Zachariah begins, but stops before he can finish. His eyes fall on me soon after. “Oaklynn?” he asks.

  “Yeah?” I manage.

  “Do you know something we don’t?”

  All three men stare at me—caution in their eyes, daggers on their lips.

  A sigh escapes me—and though I want nothing more than to ignore all three of them, I know I cannot. So, with that in mind, I say: “The woods…”

  “What about them?” Jackson asks.

  “When I asked to stay behind all those days ago… so I could take a breather… I… I heard something.”

  “You heard something?” Zachariah frowns.

  “Yeah. Like… a twig snapping, or something. I turned around to see if I could figure out what it was, but… I didn’t see anything.”

  “Was this before or after you shifted?”

  “After,” I say.

  Zachariah swears.

  Bernard lifts a hand to his chin.

  Jackson says, “You don’t think—“

  And his father cuts in by saying, “Yeah. I do.”

  The knowledge hits me like a truck.

  Could I, Oaklynn Smith, have exposed the Meadows family for who they truly are?

  Oh God, I think, closing my eyes. Please don’t let it be true. Please don’t let it be true. Please don’t let it be true. Please don’t—

  A hand falls on my shoulder.

  I open my eyes to find Jackson standing right beside me.

  “What?” I ask, breathless.

  “You’re hyperventilating,” Jackson says.

  “I—I know I—but—I—“

  Zachariah lifts a hand to stop me.

  I immediately shut my mouth.

  “We don’t know,” the older man begins, “what might have happened, or what the person might have seen. For all we know, it could’ve been a local drunk just pulling a fast one on us.”

  “It doesn’t matter what they saw,” I reply. “All I know is that I’ve gone and screwed everything up again.”