“All right then,” he says, leaning forward, grinning so his gold grill is visible. “I’m listening.”
I glance at all three of them quickly. The guy on the right turns his head slowly, his eyes all bloodshot. Is he high?
Terrance gestures for me to step forward.
“We came looking for you,” I say. “I mean, we’re traveling, looking for rogues to help us.”
The skinny old man on the left lights a cigarette and speaks with half his mouth. “What makes you think we’re interested in helping a pack rat?”
His taunt catches me off guard, but I sense Omar edging a little closer, letting me know he’s got my back.
“With respect,” I say, thinking sucking up to these guys might be the best tactic, “the troubles facing my pack are facing all of wolfkind. The Axis Pack, the wolves trying to destroy our home, are doing the same to rogues across the country, we’ve seen it, we’ve been speaking with rogues for the last couple of weeks—”
“Couple of weeks?” The old man doesn’t seem impressed. “Boy, you know how long I’ve been living out here like a damn coyote?”
I swallow. “No, sir.”
“I’ve been a rogue in this camp for going on thirty years now. And not once have I heard of a pack wolf doing anything for us.”
“I appreciate that,” I say. “And ... and I’m sorry. But you have to listen.”
“I don’t have to listen to nothing,” the old guy says, crossing his arms and staring at the upside-down milk-crate-cum-coffee table in front of him.
“We just want what’s best for all of us,” I say, although I’m feeling so meek that barely any sound comes out.
“There’s more, gentlemen,” Terrance says, arriving at my side. “This pack wolf claims to also be the blood wolf.”
“That true?” the rhino guy in the middle says.
“Yes,” I say.
“It is,” Omar echoes, looking for a chance to back me up.
“Then you deserve our hospitality, even if we can’t help you with your problem.” Rhino Guy glances at the old man, who’s huffing on his cigarette, pretending we’re not here. “But who knows, maybe we can work something out. Terrance, why don’t you take these boys someplace they can wash up and rest? We’re having a little party this evening, and lord knows we could all use a wash. We can talk more about what we can do for you then.”
He leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee, the chair straining underneath his mass. “And what you can do for us.”
“Don’t worry about old Horace,” Terrance says as he leads us away from the so-called council. “He’s stuck in his ways. But Gerald, that’s the big guy, he’s sort of our de facto leader, he’s got a good head on those massive shoulders. He’ll listen to what you have to say.”
“Great.”
I wish I could say our conversation hadn’t left me with a sickly, skin-prickling feeling, like a million ants scattering all over my skin. But something about this place is putting me on edge. As we stop outside one of the cleaner-looking RVs I try to tell myself not to let my own inherent prejudices stop mefrom making connections. At least Gerald seems willing to talk. Though I have no idea what he could want from us in return for their help.
“You boys can rest up in here. This trailer’s been empty for a while, so you’ll have to excuse the dust. Dinner’s at sundown and you won’t want to miss the festivities after.”
The trailer creaks on its wheels as Omar, then I, step inside. Only a thin stream of afternoon sun is shining through a gap in the busted blinds. We both cram into the narrow benches on either side of a two-seater table built into the wall. The driver’s seat is behind me, and in front, a kitchen that looks like it could take a thousand deep cleans and still not be verifiably sanitary. Further on is a narrow hall and one of those sliding accordion doors, pulled at a weird jaunty angle, which I assume means it’s broken too, and behind that is a messed-up bed. The smell is earthy and strong but not unbearable.
“What are you thinking?”
Omar is picking at the skin around his thumbnail and staring at the table.
“It’s weird right,” he says, “that there’s no women?”
“Yeah, I mean, it does feel strange but then again, we just met that all-female community. They were nice.”
“Yeah, but do these guys seem nice to you?”
I think about it for a second. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had to brace myself for every possible reaction to my arrival in these spaces. The rogues are right to be wary of pack wolves. After the way we’ve treated them, the way we’re taught about them in schools.
