Page 10 of Dawn of the Pack

“I was on their Wikipedia page.” Landon rolls his eyes as if it were obvious.

“You know those aren’t factual, right? Anyone could put whatever they want on there, including Pack Montrose. They can write whatever they want. How about some useful information? Where’s the alpha’s house? How big is the territory? Are there any old mines or factories they might keep someone prisoner in?” We’ve reached the end of the main street, so I turn left and rumble slowly down a residential street. My truck takes up far more than half of this road; I hope I don’t come across another car before I can find a better place to blend in. Even though I know my truck is normal, it feels like I’ve got a neon sign over my head flashing ‘ENEMY!’ for everyone to see. It’s making me edgy.

Apparently, it’s Landon’s turn to be an asshole. “This isn’t a detective novel, Jared. For all we know, they aren’t even holding him prisoner. You know, he could be perfectly happy, reunited with his long-lost family.” He goes back to his phone, scrolling for more info.

“You saw what he did when they took him away. I don’t know everything, but I know that man didn’t want to leave with them.” His expression still haunts me, and I don’t even like the guy.

“Well, they don’t have a residence like Harridan House-”

“Who does? It’s ridiculous.”

Landon ignores my comment. “But there is a ‘Mayor’s House’ that’s a historical landmark built in 1926. Apparently, the ‘mayor’ still lives there to this day.” His voice takes on a smug tone.

Know-it-all.

“That sounds like a place worth checking out. Is it in town?”

“Sort of. It’s more on the outskirts, up on a hill that overlooks the town.” Landon pinches and spreads his fingers over the screen. “There’s only one road, like Harridan House. But it looks like there are some trails nearby. Fancy a hike?”

LANDON

After I guide Jared to the entrance of a convenient public trail system, we hop out of the truck and prepare to take a hike in hopes we’ll get close to the ‘mayor’s house’ (aka alpha’s house) of Montrose. The satellite images definitely make it look like the trails run close enough for us to slip into the woods and approach the grounds, but you never know.

Jared’s antsy, moving around and shaking his hands out like he always does before a game. “Let’s go already!” He grumbles.

I know him well enough that when he’s nervous, he’s kind of an ass, so I let it slide. I’m tucking away the stuff he left lying around in the truck that might give us away. “Give me your wallet.”

He looks at me like I’m insane. “Why, are you internet shopping right now? What the hell, man?”

Pulling my own from my pocket, I show my intent by dropping it into the glove box. “If they catch us, our best bet is to pretend to be tourists who got lost on the trails. Smoky Falls ID will kind of ruin that effect, don’t you think?”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” He pulls the wallet from the pocket of his sweats and hands it over. We’ve purposefully worn clothes with no ties to Smoky Falls, not even Jared’s ubiquitous SFC hat. I’ve replaced it with a University of Tennessee hat, the signature orange ’T’ a clear signal of where we’re pretending to be from. Neither of us is exactly dressed for hiking, but general athletic gear is good enough.

With the branches bare, the dense forest is actually pretty bright right now. Sunlight streams in between the trees, and we crunch along over a blanket of fallen leaves. There’s a small brook that follows along the winding trail, and regular markers to keep visitors headed in the right direction. Even though it’s like Tennessee, it just feels like a different forest from home.

“So, do we have an actual plan?” Jared falls in step with me as I head down the trail, attempting to follow the route I noted in the photo.

“For now, we’re hiking. We’ve parked at a public trailhead so that shouldn’t draw any suspicion, and our story is just that we’re UT students who came to town for the weekend to meet some girls we talked to online. They ghosted us, so we’re exploring. Planning to head back to school tomorrow, staying at the Horsehead Inn in Bishop, that town we passed about twenty minutes back.”

Jared’s face is unreadable under the brim of his hat, but he sounds impressed. “You just came up with all of that in the last five minutes?”

“I was thinking on the drive here that we should have some kind of story. It’s a small town, and we’re not exactly your typical tourists. I assumed we’d stand out, so I came up with something to explain us being in town.”

“That’s smart, man. So what should our names be? We need to have a good cover story. Like James Bond.” He rubs his hands together as if this suddenly became an exciting adventure.

“Okay, first of all, James Bond never had a cover story. Everyone knew who he was, and he told them if they asked. But we should keep it simple; you’re Jared, I’m Landon. The more stuff you lie about, the harder it is to keep it all straight. We should change our last names, though, since they probably know the families from our pack.”

“Right, right. What about Smith and Wesson?”

“What are we, the heirs to a gun manufacturer?” I snort. “Really subtle.”

“Fine, Smith and Wes-ton, then. We’re trying to keep it easy, after all.”

I mull it over. “Landon Smith and Jared Weston. Works for me.” We follow the left branch of the trail and start up a moderate hill. “If I’m reading it right, we’ll meet another fork in about a half mile and the right branch will take us close to the house. It’s hard to tell from the photo if there’s a difference in elevation or not, but this area doesn’t seem too mountainous, so maybe it won’t be much.”

“And what do we do if they have security or something?”

“It’s a town of 1800, Jared. I doubt they have security.”

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