Chapter Text
The sun was still high in the sky as I wandered through the woods. I’d traversed these overgrown paths many times before, for they were an extension of my backyard. Sunlight weaved its way down to the forest floor, redirected continuously by leaves or branches as it descended. The path before me was not one of my own construction, but forged by animals that lived within the woods. It was a familiar route, but I decided to follow it further than usual. I wanted to see what was beyond the bend Mom told me to never go beyond. The twig forged path wound around a hillside dense with plant growth. A viridescent clearing came into view as I rounded the bend. A gentle stream on the far side of the glade filled the otherwise silent air.
I bounded into the brilliant sunlight without a care, a grave mistake. A wolf with fangs bared entered the clearing from beyond the stream. The monstrous creature loomed over me. It stopped ten feet from me, hazel eyes leveled at me intently. I turned to flee from the wolf, only to find myself surrounded by equally towering wolves. I was trapped. Scared. My legs gave out beneath me in sheer terror. I was going to die, slain by monstrous wolves. Despite my beliefs, my captors made no effort to attack me. They growled and barked, but did nothing else.
A soft yip broke my attention from the dour wolves. A lone pup wagged its tail playfully before me. It yipped again, tail still wagging. The playful pup failed to alleviate my fear, but did win my focus. The animal dashed around me in circles then stopped in front of me. I didn’t move, mental paralysis locking me in place. The young wolf ran another loop. I still didn’t move. Slowly the pup approached me, tail ever wagging with excitement, and sat at my feet. The growls and barks ceased while the young wolf and I stared at each other. The pup yipped again, raising its hindquarters and stretching out its forelegs to touch the tip of my sneaker. The play bow and wagging tail amid the silence of the pup’s guardians eased the fear commanding me to freeze.
Reaching out with my hand, I offered a gentle greeting to the pup. The youngling bounded forward to sniff my outstretched arm, then licked it before running another circle around me, stopping a yard away in a play bow. She wanted me to chase her. Swallowing what remained of my fear, I walked after her so that her pack wouldn’t mistake me for attacking her. The pup bounded away whenever I was within one foot of her. Feeling confident I wasn’t going to be hunted, I began chasing the lupine, who always managed to stay just out of reach, through the clearing.
Time and again, I chased the pup around the clearing, stopping on multiple occasions to catch my breath. My playmate circled my feet during each break, woofing eagerly as a sign she wanted to play more. Round and round we circled until disaster struck. The pup stepped on a loose rock by the creek that yielded under her weight and speed. In slow motion, the young wolf fell into a shallow, if steep, ravine. I had to act. Heedless of my own safety, I dove for the pup to catch her before she fell out of reach.
Scraping electronic chirps bleated from my cell phone, its screen the only source of light. Fragments of that bizarre, reoccurring dream lingered in my mind despite the persistent wailing of my alarm. Today marked the third night in a row that vision played out in my sleep. The dream felt so real. So vivid. But the reality was that despite the dream taking place in the woods near my house, it couldn’t have been real. Wolves were long gone from New England, hunted and driven out over a century ago. The idea that wolves had returned to the region without any governmental approval or notice was highly unlikely. Combine that with the fact wolves wouldn’t approach humans so cordially, if at all, and my dream remained just that.
The alarm continued to wail with infantile demand for attention. “All right, all right,” I groused, tapping my phone’s screen to silence the digital cacophony. “I’m up,” sleep wore off slowly as I got out of bed. I counted on the shower waking me up completely, given my apparent weariness. Getting up at five in the morning was far from an issue, it was standard for me, but these past nights were plagued by that incredulous dream, and it kept me from sleeping well. Steam filled the bathroom as the hot water cascaded down my back. I wasn’t the sexiest guy in school, Michael Whitethorn held that honor if the ‘Mr. Westhaven’ pageant was anything to go by, but my hours of hiking kept me in shape. 5’9”, lithe, and likable enough to avoid pariah status. It was enough to get a girlfriend and to pass through high school without any significant incidents. Dressing in a green and red plaid button-up and jeans to fend off the chill of October mornings, I then made my way downstairs to start breakfast.
Bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. A fairly standard breakfast by almost any account, but it was enough. Most of my classmates balked at the idea of making breakfast for their parents. They didn’t have a mother working as a nurse with an hour commute in the next town. As for my dad, well… I hadn’t seen the man in eight or so years since he divorced my mom and took my sister with him as a result of the custody battle. The divorce left a hole in Mom’s heart that never fully healed. She spent some nights crying herself to sleep. She thought I never knew, but I’ve always been a keen observer. Frankly, I didn’t give a damn if that asshole never showed his face around here ever again. Not that he’d made an attempt to connect with Mom or me, he’d been silent on that front.
My thoughts wandered from my family back to the recurrent dream while completing breakfast. Plates clattered on the wood table, patiently awaiting their load. I poured juice into plastic cups before distributing the prepared meal across the twin plates.
Six o’clock rolled around, and Mom was nowhere to be seen. I sighed. She was still sleeping, I couldn’t blame her. She came home and crashed after dinner last night from working a double shift. The hospital employed as close to the minimum number of workers as it could while still being able to operate as if every bed was full. Mom commented on that fact regularly.
The master bedroom door creaked in vehement protest, we still needed to replace the hinges, allowing light from the living room to flood into Mom’s bedroom. The light flowed to the foot of her bed, losing against the natural darkness of the curtains and deactivated lamps. “Come on, William,” Mom complained from beneath the slate bedsheets. “You promised I could sleep in.”
“I did,” I said while parting white curtains. Negligent rays of light crept over the top of the trees. Sunrise was still an hour away. Woodlands extended up and around the hill behind the house. Westhaven was more trees than people, fifteen hundred people, and god knows how many trees. “I let you sleep until six. You need to get up. I won’t re-heat your breakfast if you dawdle. You did ask for this after all,” I preferred not to threaten Mom with a cold breakfast, but it was one part of my toolkit to get her moving.
“Alright,” she caved, sitting up with her nightgown sliding down her shoulder. Auburn hair pointed in every direction possible, held up by vast quantities of static electricity or none at all. “I’m up,” Mom yawned. “I’ll get out of bed shortly. Don’t miss the bus, okay?”
“That’s not good enough,” I kicked the bed frame. “Get out of bed now, and take a shower.” Mom glared at me with emerald eyes, though the lethargy within them transformed the glare into a pout, before conceding to my demand and made for the bathroom. Satisfied that she wouldn’t dive back under the sheets, I returned to the kitchen to pack my bag for school. Fifteen minutes later, Mom bounded down the stairs and dug into a lukewarm breakfast, I had long since finished mine.
“Anything specific you need from the store?” she asked in-between bites. I passed her the list from the fridge. Mom smiled sheepishly before stuffing the note into a pocket. Even awake, she looked tired. Stress lines marked her forehead above eyes only half-open. Dark circles under those eyes underscored her exhaustion, they could have doubled as an overzealous application of makeup in the right light. A loose turtleneck and pajama pants did nothing to help, rather the opposite. A four day work week ended with Mom covering part of another nurse’s shift, for reasons unknown, resulting in a sixteen-hour shift.
“Please take it easy today,” I cautioned while taking a sip from my thermos. “You’re exhausted.” She shook her head.
“No can do. The girls want to head out to the city today for some fun. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Just let someone else drive,” I acquiesced.
“I’m a good driver,” Mom replied flatly.
“Says the woman on the verge of collapsing into her breakfast.” She scowled at me.
“That’s not how a son talks about his mother.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true,” I muttered.
“William!”
“You’re breaking your back day in and day out for me. I can take care of some of the adulting. Just leave me with a credit card and I can get groceries after school,” Mom generally spurned pleas like mine, especially when they came from me. But she needed a break. I appreciated her for raising me all by herself, but I wasn’t some helpless pup. Mom’s deepening scowl told me that she was going to tell me off, but I couldn’t let her drive when she was this tired. I guess I need to apply more pressure. “You need to take care of yourself, and you can’t do that if you collapse at the grocer or behind the wheel. How will you care for me if you get hurt?” Her scolding demeanor persisted for brief minutes until giving way to an expression of somber defeat.
“You know I hate it when you guilt trip me,” Mom shoveled the last of her eggs into her mouth. I could only nod. I knew. After all, it was my greatest weapon to rein her in. She worked hard to provide for me. Too hard. She needed to have time for herself. Mom sighed, then offered me one of her sinister smiles. “Fine. Have it your way. Just don’t crash into a hydrant.”
“I won’t,” I saluted. “Promise,” I knew that smile. She was going to go behind my back to do what I didn’t want. I’m not letting you off that easy. “If you’ll excuse me,” I pointed to the stove clock behind me. “I must be going.”
“Why are you speaking so formally when you’re only going to—HEY!” Too late. I snagged the car keys from where they hung by the side door and bolted for the bus.
The bus rumbled along pocked pavement passing score after score of trees. Music from myriad country artists drowned out the chatter of the few others on the bus and most of the engine noise. Thirty minutes would pass as the bus wound down the streets of its route, picking up the students spread out across the district. We all knew each other despite the distance. That happens when there are only fifty students in your year. A buff male with short brown hair thumped into the seat next to me.
“‘Sup, Will,” the guy boomed with his outside voice.
“You don’t need to shout, David,” I winced.
“Sorry,” I shrugged, “I just wanted to make sure you heard me through your headphones. Anyways, I got a favor to ask you.” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“You want me to help you review for our chemistry exam today, right?” He nodded quietly. David wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He didn’t take well to math or science, sports were his thing. The man’s poor aptitude didn’t stop him from applying himself in the same way David could with swimming. All he needed was a little help. I spent the rest of the bus ride reviewing key points of the material using our labs as a point of reference, David excelled when he could learn by doing.
Situated in the next town over, Gladewell High School was host to students grades six through twelve. That didn’t stop it from being a small school of five hundred students. The bus turned left onto the long cul-de-sac in front of the school loaded with other buses to drop us all off. One by one, we filed like the bored students we were, all eager to see our friends and not worry about what our classes had in store for us. David and I weaved through the congregating circles of bodies to our preferred pre-class hangout.
“Hey, Will,” a voice called out to us. “Giving David a crash course before the exam?”
“Of course, Claire,” I picked up my head from our notes to meet her lips. “Feel free to sit down and join us. You’re taking this exam as well.” The redhead plopped down next to me.
“I can’t say I need to study,” she snarked. “But, I am willing to help you and David review.”
“I could use the help,” David smiled appreciatively. I could use a brief refresher, and my girlfriend Claire was one of the smartest people in the school. How I won her affection was still beyond me despite dating her for a year. We powered through the fundamentals then covered several examples in detail. David and I parted ways with her, the bell denoting the immediate arrival of first period. Claire kissed my cheek softly before heading to her advanced placement English class while we made our way to Chemistry, at least we got the exam over and done with.
“Finally,” Claire cheered while stretching in her seat. The final bell had rung, and our classmates scrambled to their buses and cars to escape the monotony that plagued every school day. “This day couldn’t have been any longer. I know our date isn’t until eight, but do you want to hang out at my place then go to the movies?”
“Sorry,” I smiled sadly, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “I would love to, but I need to take care of some business around the house before our date. Maybe another time.” Claire sighed in feigned insult.
“You and your maternal attitude,” she shook her head. “But that’s partly why I love you. Fine,” she kissed my cheek, “go and be an adult while the rest of us kids have fun.” With a bow, I left the classroom to navigate out to my bus. The thought of being an adult consumed my mind’s focus on the bus ride back. Adult… Claire used the term as an endearment of sorts while the rest of my class used it in idle jest. I simply saw it as being responsible. Groceries, laundry, housekeeping, all of that, and more went into the daily routine of maintaining a household and livelihood. My sociologist teacher from last year used the term ‘second shift’ for such work, work typically performed by women in many families. Perhaps it was the product of growing up in a single-parent household, but I’d been exposed to the work at an early age. She tried to hide it, but I saw how Mom struggled to work twelve-hour shifts, then turn around and do all the housework by herself. She broke down on more than one occasion. I started small by cleaning what I could, then took on more responsibility as I could manage it. Acquiring a driver’s license was a crucial moment for me as I could do any shopping for us on my own. Mom always made a point to thank me for my work, but she undersold her gratitude. I think she felt guilty that I was easing her burden, a ridiculous notion. We were family. Family helped each other. It was what family did.
The bus slowed to take a tight turn onto Mayview road, passing by the now foreclosed Richards' farmstead. Medical emergencies hit the family hard, and the state doesn’t care for people who can’t pay their medical debts on time or at all. Though, that is perhaps a byproduct of a society that considers the health insurance a privilege and suffering from preexisting conditions a right. The Richards' farmhouse, once a vibrant white but now weathered down to colorless wood in places, faded into the undergrowth threatening to consume it whole. A sole Ford truck left to languish, as no one could afford to restore it, in the dirt lot that served as a driveway despite snow and ice transforming it into a death trap each winter. The red barn that was a point of pride for the family verged on utter collapse from disrepair. Tree branches lay in shattered windows from the occasional windstorm that shredded the forestry, risking damage to nearly every building in town. A tree crushed part of the roof but lacked the strength to bring it down entirely. What a pity. Westhaven wasn’t in danger of becoming a ghost town. Still, it lacked the ability to grow beyond what it already was. An animal suddenly poked its head out from an open barn window. Impossible.
Grey fur coated every facet of the animal’s head, two pointed ears ever alert at its crown. Following the head revealed a tapered face with a black muzzle. Grey eyes locked with mine. It’s a wolf. How? Had a pack decided to move into the area? The wolf maintained eye contact as the bus completed its turn. I couldn’t say why, but the jubilance with those grey eyes struck a chord with me. It was familiar. The wolf was familiar. Nothing about this sighting made any sense. The bus lurched right as it turned onto another road, the sudden turn pressing me into its window in comical fashion. The predator disappeared out of sight with the Richards' barn. I sagged into the hard faux leather seat, content to contemplate the impossibility of what I’d just seen. Wolves? Here? In Massachusetts? A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I think this recurring dream is getting to me. I’m seeing parts of it in real life.
The bus rolled to a stop at the edge of the driveway, hustling away once I vacated the vehicle. The image of the wolf played through my mind again and again. It seemed so real in that barn, but the more I thought about it, the less it made sense. Not a single wolf had been spotted in this region in years, decades. I supposed the government might have been reintroducing them to this region, but that would surely have been accompanied by a public notice. I couldn’t convince myself what I saw was an illusion, nor could I convince myself it wasn’t real. “Only one way to find out, I guess,” I mused openly. Mom was out with friends and wouldn’t be back for several hours. I had plenty of time to explore the Richards' barn and shop for groceries before she’d be back. Dropping my backpack off in the kitchen and snagging the credit card left on the dining table, I hopped into the Toyota SUV parked in the garage and back to where I saw the wolf.