Why a Wolf Cries - Julie Steimle (read a book .TXT) 📗

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

 

The blanket was folded neatly under the wolf when Yellowstone Park Ranger, Jason Douglass, entered the cabin everyone jokingly called the love shack as that was where couples often got together. But he came in alone, carrying a plate of brownies and some breakfast food he had smuggled out of the cafeteria to eat in silence. Setting the food on the near table, Ranger Douglass peered at the blanket in the cage, then again at another angle. The blanket really was folded into a thick set of layers where the wolf was sleeping on it like a mattress. Had that hot rescue worker, Audry, folded it before she left? He could have sworn it wasn’t. And that muzzle. He was sure it had been on the wolf the day before. But he could see it lying off to the side, buckle undone as if by human hands.

Jason rubbed his eyes. It had been a late night, and he had been drinking. Off duty, of course.

Sighing, he went to the cage, thought about opening the lock to put in some water, but after one glance at the long snout full of sharp teeth on that sleeping wolf in bloody bandages, he decided against it. Besides, there was a slot for a shallow pan of water. He just had to slip it in. The blanket might give him trouble, though. Most of the things for the cages were in the near cupboard. The pan and birdfeed were there. Problem was, he did not have food for a wolf.

When he got the pan, he tried to quietly slide it through the narrow floor slot.

The wolf lifted his head, watching him. And it winced. It was almost a human look on that wolf’s face, his peculiar gray eyes tracking him.

“Hold on. I’ll get the water,” Ranger Douglass said.

The wolf heaved what sounded like a human sigh. In fact it eyed him up like someone deliberating hard over what he had to do, and it was a difficult thing.

Ranger Douglass poured the contents of a water bottle into the pan.

“Look, can you just open the door and let me out?”

Ranger Douglass jerked upright, staring at the wolf. He blinked his eyes and stared at the cage as the wolf gazed back plaintively. Ranger Douglass rubbed his eyes.

“You’re not hallucinating.” The wolf moved his mouth as if talking. “I know it is crazy, but I am talking—to you.”

The ranger looked at his brownies, of which he had one already. “Did someone spike this with THC?”

The bloodied wolf groaned. “For pity’s sake, I can’t open the cage door myself like this. The cage wires are too small. And you’ve locked it. You gotta let me out. I don’t want my wounds to go septic. And for the record, I don’t have rabies.”

Shaking his head, Ranger Douglass spoke to himself. “Oh no… I’m losing it. What am I gonna do?” He got up and paced the cabin.

Groaning, the wolf sat back, then did the most bizarre thing. He shook, until part of his fur fell off--forming with a human face, human neck and torso, and arms, his lower half still wolf. The bandages shifted over his skin as his wounds started to bleed again.

“Wha!” Ranger Douglass flattened against the bed, nearly tripping backwards on it. That face! He knew that face! He was really losing his mind now!

“Open the cage please! I’m bleeding here!” the half man-half wolf called out after him.   

Pointing at him, skirting to the back wall near the door, yet his eyes on his hallucination of H. Richard Deacon III combined with a wolf, Ranger Douglass exclaimed out loud. “You… you are a hallucination!”

“Ah man…” His wolfish hallucination groaned, collapsing against the wires, going all wolf again.

“See! You’re not that Deacon guy anymore! I was, was just dreaming it.” Ranger Douglass sat on the bed breathing heavily, grabbing his chest. He snatched up the water and chugged it down. It was possible someone had pranked him with the brownies, which was reacting to his hangover. 

But his hallucination of the wolf shook his head. “No. You’re not dreaming.”

Ranger Douglass jumped back, pointing his finger at it. “You! Stop it!”

But the wolf did not stop it. It emitted a human groan and banged his wolfy head against the wires. “Stupid, stupid stupid…”

It was such an odd thing for a wolf to do.

Ranger Douglass downed the water bottle and searched the cabin for another. He downed the second one then dumped the third on his head to shock himself awake.

 The talking wolf did not go away, though. In fact, he seemed to come with more clarity—which for a hallucination was unprecedented.

So, what else could he do but to perhaps walk himself through the hallucination and get to end of it where he would wake up. With that in mind, Ranger Douglass, inched closer to the caged wolf, pinching his arm.

It hurt.  

He went to the desk to get something more potent to drink. He wasn’t usually for two coffees in the morning. But he found the kettle, dug out one of the packets on the stand and brewed one up.

Taking position on the edge of the bed once more, sipping his coffee, Ranger Douglass waited for the hallucination to clear out so he would see that wolf back in his messy cage, just sleeping.

The wolf went silent.

The ranger looked down at it. But the cage was still neat. The pan he had slid in was still there, and the wolf was gazing at him in silence, watching him sip his coffee as if waiting for when he would be rational.

Heaving a breath, peering at the cage, Ranger Douglass murmured. “What just happened?”

The wolf rolled his eyes.  

Ranger Douglass set the cup down.

“Good,” the wolf said. “Now you won’t burn yourself.”

Lurching up, Ranger Douglass stared again. “No way.”

“Dammit, man, I’m a werewolf, Ok?” The bloodied wolf bit out. “Can you please open the cage door? I won’t hurt you. I just want to leave.” He then looked down at his furry self. “And maybe get some clothes.”

“Wha… Wha… No way.”

“Ah, come on!” The wolf haunches slumped like a man hanging his shoulders. “How would you like being locked in a cage? I know Audry meant well but—”

“You know that woman rescue worker?” Ranger Douglass said, eyeing the wolf more.

Moaning, the wolf bit back, “Of course I know the rescue worker. She once dug a bullet out of my leg. Saved my life. I kind of owe her.”

Staring, moving in slowly, Ranger Douglass bent down, peering at the wolf in the cage. “How do I know you are not lying to me?”

Such an inward grown came from the wolf as he said, “My name is Howard Richard Deacon the Third. If you go to certain websites, you will see that I am a wanted werewolf—and a multi-billionaire.”

“You…” Shivers went through the young ranger.

“If anything happens to me, my father would make certain the perpetrator would not live long,” the wolf growled out. “Now, open this damn cage and get me some pants to put on, at least.”

Those shivers went through Ranger Douglass again. Only this time they warned him that if this was not a hallucination, he could be in real trouble—as werewolves in movies were infamous for attacking human beings for food. And yet, he could also accidentally be freeing a rabid wolf.

“Open the lock and get you pants?” Ranger Douglass asked to be clear. “Nothing else?”

Glancing to the table where the food was, the wolf said, “Breakfast would be nice.”

“And what do you eat?” Ranger Douglass asked.

The wolf chuckled. “What you have up there looks good.”

Cautiously, Ranger Douglass looked around the cabin. There were no clothes to speak of. He backed off. “I can… undo the lock. But I’d have to leave to get you pants.”

The wolf narrowed his peculiar gray eyes on him. “If you bring back a gun, I will bite you.”

Ranger Douglass paled.

Yet, he pulled out the key and unlocked the lock. However, he did not open the cage door. Instead, he rushed out of the cabin door and closed it behind him, panting.  

Outside, everything seemed as normal as day. If he truly were hallucinating, wouldn’t everything look weird? The sky was the same normal color. The clouds, fluffy, white, fine… The buildings and trees… normal, green. Same warm healthy, earthy scent of life. The cabin behind him felt solid and real.

Turning, he peeked into the cabin window. The wolf, if things were normal, ought to be in his cage as a wolf.

He wasn’t. What he saw nearly made him soak his pants.

A naked man with the same reddish brown hair as the wolf, rose, covered in bloody bandages which now did not fit him well at all and were sliding over seriously gashed skin, limped across the room to the bed next to the food. His body was crisscrossed with old scars as well, one tracking up his neck as if Dr. Frankenstein had built him. And that face. It was definitely that wealthy CEO’s son.

Ranger Douglass opened the door and peeked into the cabin. H. Richard Deacon was sitting naked on the bed, eating his food.

“Hey!” Ranger Douglass rushed back in. “That was mine.”

Blinking at him, the naked man who had been a wolf smirked back. “So hunger is what motivates you, huh?”

Grabbing the brownie plate, Ranger Douglass jerked it away. The man had already eaten two. “Look. This was made for me.”

Richard Deacon grinned. It wasn’t a malicious grin. It was an amused, yet-in-pain grin. He licked his lips.

Setting the plate on the desk away from the wolf-man, Ranger Douglass reassessed the situation again. This was not a hallucination. But it most certainly was something near impossible. He said, “Alright. What do you want from me?”

“I already told you,” the naked, ravaged wolf-man said. “Breakfast and some pants….” Yet he looked around the room, wincing. “And maybe a little conspiratorial help.”

“You… want me to keep this a secret, I suppose,” Ranger Douglass said, his eyes fixed on the rich werewolf now, keeping his gaze them higher than the man’s waist.

But H. Richard Deacon laughed. “You can tell whomever you want. But trust me, it will do you no good. Sensible people will question your sanity—just like you questioned your own a few minutes ago. And those who will believe you, well, they would do you harm.”

Ranger Douglass pulled back. “Is that a threat?”

The wolf-man shook his head. “No. It is a warning—for your sake. You’re not a horrible person, though I didn’t like the way you were hitting on Audry. I’d rather you had a normal healthy life.”

But that still sounded like a threat.

And the wolf-man laughed, nodding as if he understood that impression as well.

Another thought came to Ranger Douglass. “That… that woman, the one who brought you here and rescued you. How well do you know her?”

Richard Deacon laughed painfully. “Very well. I’ve known her for years.”

Thinking on what the wolf-man had said, Ranger Douglass nodded. “Since she rescued you last time.”

But H. Richard Deacon shook his head. “No. I knew her before that. That was just when she first met the wolf.”

Ranger Douglass stared.

Chuckling, the wolf-man smiled at him. “Look. I’ve watched her in various relationships. And a forewarning—Audry has tazed ex-boyfriends, sprayed them in the face with mace, and she has a whole bunch of friends who would protect her from any man who dared take advantage of her of her kindness.”

“Even from you?” Ranger Douglass hands grew clammy. Sweat formed on the back of his neck.

The wolf-man laughed. It almost sounded like a bark. “No. I’ve never…” He shook his head. Yet lifting his eyes to the ranger, he said, “My name’s Rick Deacon. And though this is thoroughly embarrassing, but I’m going to need your help.”

“Pants,” Ranger Douglass said, remembering.

Rick shook his head. “No. I mean, yes. But more