Raised by Wolves

Chapter 79

CHAPTER 79

AGENT DUNHAM SAYS something to the pilot, who nods and accelerates. Pretty soon we’re coming up alongside the other helicopter. Then we stop, hovering barely fifty feet away from it.

Below us is a broad flat valley cut through by the river. I scan the ground frantically. I don’t want to see anything moving down there.

Please, Beast, stay hidden. Keep your babies close.

Our pilot’s attempting to radio the other helicopter while Dunham’s trying to get Hardy’s attention. Hardy glances our way, spits, and then leans farther out, looking for the same wolves we are.

If Hardy kills another wolf I love, I swear I’ll rip Dunham’s gun from his waistband and murder him.

“What’s that down there?” Holo shouts in my ear.

I look where he’s pointing. Squint. We’re flying low enough that I can see what it is without binoculars: a dead sheep, bloody and half-eaten in the scrub brush.

But there shouldn’t be a sheep carcass here! The ranches are miles off, way over on the other side of the ridge. Wolves wouldn’t kill a sheep and drag it all this way—they couldn’t . I don’t understand.

Wendy taps me on the knee. “It’s bait!” she cries.

Oh God , I think. Of course.

The other helicopter suddenly descends.

“Stay with him,” Wendy screams to the pilot.

We go swooping down, way too fast. My stomach flies up into my throat and lodges there. I can’t breathe. Holo grabs my hand.

“What’s happening? Are we crashing?” he yells.

I shake my head. I don’t think so. But I swear I’d be fine with crashing if it meant I could get out of this awful thing. We’re barely forty feet off the ground now. The other helicopter levels out and so do we. Hardy’s leaning halfway out, head swiveling, gun clutched tight.

Two dark shapes come rocketing out of the brush.

“Harriet!” Holo screams. “Ben!”

I don’t see the rest of the pack, but I know they’re nearby, drawn by the carcass that Hardy must’ve somehow left for them.

There’s no good cover here. Nowhere to hide.

All any predators can do now is run .

I see another gray shape—then three more. Beast is nipping at the heels of her babies, urging them on, driving them away from these black monsters in the sky.

The pups have grown bigger, but they’re not big or strong enough yet. They won’t be able to keep up. And Beast won’t leave them.

Reginald Hardy looks over our way and smiles, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s going to want to chase them for a while. Herd them. Get them good and scared and tired, so they’re easier to hit.

After all, riding in a helicopter’s fun.

And bullets aren’t free, so he wants to make them count.

The helicopter follows the wolves, and so do we. Hardy tries to line up a shot. I can see a red laser sweeping across the ground. For a moment, the dot tracks Beast’s spine. The wolf swerves to the side, almost as if she can feel it. The red dot goes wide, then swings back.

“Get in front of them!” I scream. “Block his shot!”

Dunham gestures to the pilot. Do it.

We shoot forward and drop down even lower, putting ourselves between the other helicopter and the racing wolves.

Our pilot’s yelling something into his radio. Holo’s white with terror.

“Stay in the way,” Dunham shouts.

My chest is tight with panic. Tears are streaming down my brother’s face. The pack is running in a line, but they could splinter any minute. And we can’t block Hardy’s line of fire if the wolves run in different directions.

Dunham pushes his way to the back of the helicopter and slides the door open. The wind comes rushing in so strong it takes my breath away. Dunham grabs on tight to a strap and leans out toward the other helicopter. With his free hand he holds up his badge. “Back down!” he yells, as if they could hear him over the thunder of the engine. “You can’t do this!”

The wolves are crossing a stream now, leaping and splashing. Harriet’s in the lead, and though Beast is the fastest, she’s bringing up the rear, keeping her babies in front of her. The water’s full and high from the spring rains, and one of the pups goes under. I scream. Shove my knuckles against my teeth in terror. Taste blood.

After an unbearable minute, the small dark head reappears downstream. Beast is desperately trying to keep the other struggling pup above the water. Bim circles back and runs close to the drowning pup. He stands on the far bank, yipping frantically. The pup, swimming with all its strength, makes it a few feet closer to shore. Bim lunges, grabs it by the front leg, and pulls it to the bank. The pup doesn’t even stop to shake himself off—he just keeps running.

There’s nothing but range grasses and juniper ahead of them.

They’re racing as fast as they can.

Dunham’s screaming his head off. Waving his badge. Finally he brings out his gun.

Hardy sees it and ducks back into the helicopter. And I guess the pilot must’ve seen it too, because he suddenly lifts the helicopter into the air. It hovers above us, fighting gravity. Then it turns. Flies away.

Wendy folds over, her head in her hands. Holo looks at me in shock.

I jab Dunham in his broad shoulder. I yell, “Now we need to land .”