Prologue
“The wolves knew when it was time to stop looking for what they'd lost, to focus instead on what was yet to come.” ? Jodi Picoult.
Gwen Wulf~ Present day
Crossing my arms, I lean back in my chair and turn to the woman who I used to consider a friend. “Can I ask what cities you intend to destroy?”
“LA, Houston, DC, Chicago. Why? Does it matter?” As the woman steps from the dark to stand behind me, the download reads 90%.
My hands shake so badly I sit on them. “My daughter lives near here. I’d like to send her away before you set off the pulse.”
“Goodbye, Gwen.” She raises her gun.
After her shot rings out, I take a deep breath.
How long do you suppose it takes the brain to register it’s dead?
Chapter 1
“Though fairy tales end after ten pages, our lives do not.” ? Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves
Gwen Wulf~ Last Week
When I open the door to our newly purchased, three-bedroom, sixties Cape, a cool October wind whips my hair. As it tosses more yellow leaves into my front yard, I whistle to Bear. “C’mon boy, let’s feed the cats.”
“Woof.” The shepherd-collie mix bounds past me and growls at a strange SUV parked across the street.
Once I reach his side, he huffs at the vehicle’s dark-tinted windows and trots to the red asbestos-shingled house next door.
As he noses the flowerpot, I grab the key underneath, then pat his head. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.”
“Ruff.” Head tilted, those sad doggie eyes beg, but I can’t give in. He scares the hell out of Dolly DeClaire’s two tabby cats. Not only that, I want him to keep an eye on the idling vehicle. If anyone exits, he will let me know.
Inside, the two cuties jump off the bright orange Brady Bunch countertop. Meowing in tandem, the siblings weave between my legs.
As I almost topple over, my hand reaches to catch my balance on the kitchen table. “Guys, if you kill me, you won’t get fed.”
The ginger one tries to be cute while her gray-striped brother butts his head against the island’s cabinet.
“Thank you, but I know where the kibble is.” I grab a can from the green refrigerator, place their bowls on the tangerine Formica, and measure out their food.
With them busy eating, I put their chow away, then pull the note from under a magnet. Huh. I’m not wrong. Their mom, Dolly, should’ve arrived last night.
Recalling the brochures she showed me before asking me to pet-sit, I open drawers until I locate the right one. Underneath a checkbook, some matches, and an all-purpose screwdriver, I find the shiny folded paper. At the time, the relaxing, tech-free wilderness weekend sounded perfect.
Now, because I was the one who encouraged her to go, I’m responsible should something have happened to her.
Giiiiirrll, don’t even…My inner Beyoncé, quiet as of late, adds her two cents.
Because I have a teeny-tiny tendency to get into trouble, I state my case to my subconscious mind.What if her car broke down or she had an accident?
Regardless, if she isn’t home by tomorrow, I’ll make some calls.
“Woof, woof, woof.” Bear's excited barks interrupt my thoughts.
They must see me crack open the door because immediately, the vehicle roars down the street.
“Sitz.”There is no way I want him following that SUV.
