To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about wolves. They’re cute and all, but I reasoned if I ever got the urge to look at one I could just type it into Google and probably get a 4K image of one posing for Vogue. Never had I felt any sort of need to see one in person.
Unfortunately, the woman I love does give a rat’s ass about wolves. Very much so in fact. After enduring dropped hints for months on the topic, I finally caved and asked if she wanted to visit the Hilltop Preserve; our local sanctuary.
Trudging up what must have been a 30 degree incline in 90 degree weather wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time, but I did my best to endure it. The tour group was thirty people strong, led by a stocky little man with boulders for calves.
We had barely reached the first animal of interest, foxes of all things, when I mentally tapped out. The guide seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the animals he cared for, and that was good for him, but God knew I just wasn’t interested.
I pulled out my phone and started tapping at one of those music rythm games. Krissy, my wife, didn’t like that.
“Pay attention!” She hissed under her breath. “This is actually really interesting, did you hear how they get rid of fleas?”
I opened my browser, searched it, and told her. Just to prove a point.
“Unbelievable.”
“Look I’m sorry, I’ll start listening when we get to the wolves alright? They’re pretty cool. I see foxes all over the place, we nearly ran one over on the drive here for crying out loud!”
She wasn’t happy about it, but bit her tongue.
The tour dragged on for what felt like hours. My back was aching and my feet were sore by the time we finally reached the wolf enclosure, coaxing even more grumbles out of me.
With a whistle from the guide, a pack of wolves came trotting dutifully out of the greenery beyond the chain link fence. Seeing them up close, I had to admit they were beautiful creatures. But then again so were dogs, and we had one of those at home. They gathered close to where we stood, pacing up and down.
“They know what pays the bills around here,” said the guide, “and that’s kind folks like you coming out to see ‘em!”
The crowd laughed and started taking pictures. He went over the wolves’ names and backgrounds, pausing intermittently to throw a cube of meat over the fence.
“Due to current state law, we’re only allowed a maximum of eight wolves per enclosure. You might notice we only have seven at the moment. Unfortunately we had a bit of sad news last week. We lost the omega of the pack due to a complication with-“
“But there are eight.” I chimed in, quickly tallying them up.
Krissy, mortified, elbowed me to shut me up, but the rest of the group had already started counting for themselves.
The tour guide was puzzled, squinting at the animals and mouthing numbers. Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he turned away, speaking urgently into a walky talky.
Everyone was murmering amongst themselves. I couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride at being the first to notice the discrepancy. Until the guide turned back to address us.
“Sorry everyone, we’re going to have to cut the day short. You’ll all be issued with full refunds, no questions asked. If you could please head back the way you came and wait by the entrance for me to join you, I would really appreciate it.”
As he spoke, he kept throwing nervous glances at the wolves. Most of the crowd turned and began shuffling along the path without question. I, on the other hand, was now more interested in wolves than I’d ever been, and stayed rooted to the spot.
Krissy wasn’t moving either. She seemed frozen like a dog sniffing out danger.
“Do you see it?” She whispered, not taking her eyes off the enclosure.
I followed her gaze, bewildered at her suddem shift in demeanor. It took a moment for it to click, but when it did I felt my heart sink like a rock.
A small black wolf with matted fur.
It hovered at the back of the pack and was, for all intents and purposes, just a wolf. There were some issues with that statement though. For one thing, it wasn’t really acting like the others. Or should I say it was acting like them. Poorly.
While the rest of the pack fought fiercely over scraps, the black one jumped around on it’s own, tearing at food that wasn’t even there.
It wasn’t graceful either. It darted around as nimbly as you might expect of a wolf, but the movements were all wrong. Legs tangled together in a jerky fashion, reminding me of a newborn foal that needed more practice.
Clearly, the pack was wary of it. Dispersing whenever it wandered too close but commiting no acts of aggression. It was an outsider and, regardless of the size difference, they seemed to have developed a healthy fear of it.
More than anything though, the most telling sign that this wolf wasn’t a wolf, was a strange feeling of dread taking root inside of me the longer I looked. It felt like I was committing a cardinal sin by simply looking at the thing, as if my brain was struggling to process what it saw.
When did my heart start beating so fast? I felt beads of sweat welling on my forehead. The wolf’s mismatched eyes fell on me and lingered. A terrible thought occured to me.
Did it know that I knew?
My temples felt as though they were being stuck with thumb tacks and I had to choke back a cry of pain. Just when I was teetering on the verge of a panic attack, Krissy pried me away from the fence with a jerk of my arm. A bearded man with a hunting rifle slung over a shoulder was jogging up to meet the guide. He sported a grim expression.
We decided not to stick around for what came next. We strode past the gossiping group huddled by the entrance without slowing as the first shot cracked the air like a whip, silencing them. An elderly man stepped out from their ranks to ask if we knew what was going on.
My wife answered him truthfully.
“No.”
We didn’t turn back. Not even when that thing started to shriek like no animal I’d ever heard. More gunshots followed. By the time we reached the foot of the hill it sounded more like an off key siren, but it still hadn’t been silenced.
Krissy and I bundled into our nippy hatchback and wasted no time in speeding away.
Neither of us said anything for a while.
I was busy chanting something over and over in my head as I drove. Maybe if I thought about it hard enough, it would come true.
Let it die. Let it be dead.
I spotted a deer poking out from the treeline.
And let that be the only one.
Returning to normality was a slow process. Instead of watching TV at home, I would find Krissy staring quizzically at Jack, our greyhound. I knew what she was thinking, because I would often wonder the same.
How could we be sure that Jack was really Jack?
Everyday I combed through the local newspapers, scouring them for any updates from the preserve. Nothing ever came up, but I supposed that no news was good news.
Krissy took it upon herself to buy and install a set of smart doorbells for the front and back doors, rigging them up to our phones. She explained how it could detect motion within a certain range and send a recording to us, along with the standard live feed and doorbell functionality.
Seeing the postman and various delivery guys sauntering up the porch was somehow pretty cool to me, and I wondered aloud why we hadn’t bought one of these things sooner.
“Because you’re a cheap prick and never let me!” Krissy chimed from the other room.
“Doesn’t sound like me,” I shrugged. “Though, I still don’t get why we needed two.”
“Security.” She said, simply.
I found myself spending much of my nights lying awake, alternating between video feeds. On more than one occasion, I shook Krissy awake to show her recordings. One time, it was a pair of glowing eyes peaking around the corner outside. Another, a shadowy blob darting across the screen. It never turned out to be anything strange or nefarious on closer inspection, just plain old wildlife.
“I’m sorry,” I told her on one such occasion. “I’m being paranoid.”
As she stretched, yawned, and fell back on her pillow, she shook her head.
“I like that you’re keeping an eye out. It lets me sleep easier at night.”
Motion detected.
My heart damn near burst when my phone buzzed with the notification and Krissy shot bolt upright beside me. It was oddly comforting to know she was as jumpy as I was.
I grabbed up my phone and tapped the message, expecting to see the underside of a bug.
A scrawny youth stood beneath our security light, wearing a bright blue cap and balancing a chunky brown package on one arm.
“Uh, you didn’t happen to order a pizza in your sleep did you?” I asked Krissy.
She shook her head slowly, fixated on the display. I held the microphone button.
“Sorry bud, you’ve got the wrong place. What address was it for?”
The teen turned stiffly toward the source of my voice. He moved closer to the camera until every angry pimple was visible, and grinned into it.
“You couldn’t tell!” He exclaimed, positively brimming with something akin to pride. “You couldn’t tell!”
My blood ran cold. The stranger dropped the package at his feet and strode swiftly back across our yard in that grotesquely familiar, jerky fashion, disappearing into the pixelated treeline.
A stunned silence followed. I looked over at Krissy, who seemed subdued and almost beyond the point of fear. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t think of the words to comfort her, but then I wasn’t accustomed to being the brave one.
Thinking there was a first time for everything, I hopped out of bed and ran between every door and window with the capacity to open, ensuring each was locked tight and secure. When I reached the front door, I hesitated, hand frozen on the knob.
I told myself I’d only be a second, took a deep breath, and pulled it open so fast that the sudden change in pressure almost left me winded. I ducked down and grabbed the package, before straightening up and chancing a glance out over the field.
There he was. Sprinting flat out toward the house at a breakneck pace, closing the distance so quick that his ragged, inhuman breaths were within earshot. I barely managed to slam the door and get the locks in place before he came crashing into it in an almighty collision.
I heard Krissy scream my name from upstairs, but hadn’t the nerve to call back. I was too focused on the door, hoping against hope that it had the strength to remain on it’s hinges after an impact like that. All remained still.
Krissy eventually tip-toed down the stairs behind me.
“Tell me that’s you?” She asked the back of my head.
Again, I just couldn’t bring myself to answer her. It felt like opening my mouth would be an open invitation for the vomit to start flowing. Instead, I turned my attention to the package, tearing it apart with all the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas who already knew he was getting coal.
Inside was a mess of matted black fur, and I reckoned I could hazard a pretty good guess at where it came from. A certain dead omega wolf from the Hilltop Preserve. I thought back to how I’d made eye contact with the thing wearing its skin, wondering if it could tell that I knew.
Then another morbid thought occurred to me. If this thing kills in order to change its shape, who was it wearing now?
Well, I shuddered, looking down at the stinking pelt. One mystery at a time.