Page 3 of Raised By Wolves

Chester’s still making his slow progress when Randall launches himself toward them. He’s big and fast, in spite of his bum knee, a former Utah State wide receiver. The girl’s faster, though. She dodges him as the boy trips him, and Randall lands hard and goes skidding on the floor toward Chester. The kids pounce on him like starving wolves on a goddamn elk.

Randall roars in rage as fists pummel him and nails rake his face. As Chester rushes forward to protect his fellow officer, Randall tases the girl. She falls off him, convulsing, hereyes wide in shock and pain. Randall gets to his feet. He’s going for the boy next.

“Stop!” Chester shouts. “They’rekids.”

“That effing little animal bit me,” Randall whines. He slips on the spilled Gatorade. The kids skitter away down the aisle and around the corner. “She could be rabid!” He reaches for his gun.

Chester says, “Keep it holstered,” as he creeps forward.

If he can corner these two, he can calm them down. Talk sense into them. Maybe they were hiking and got lost. Maybe they were in a car accident. Or maybe they’re high on something synthetic and weird and need a junk-food fix. All he knows is if they were actual criminals, they would’ve gone for the cash register.

He finds them cowering in the back corner of the store.

“Hey,” he says in a half whisper. “We’re not going to hurt you. Randall’s sorry about the Taser.”

They’re huddled together, shaking. The boy makes a sound that’s more like a whimper.

“Just put your hands where I can see them. Let’s go outside together, okay?”

Chester’s less than ten feet away from them when they run.

They’re so freaking fast he barely sees them pass by as they dart for the exit. Chester lunges forward, sprinting faster than he has in years. He takes a flying leap and catches the girl’s ankle. They go down. He rolls to the side and gets his hand around one skinny wrist, and thensnap, he’s got one cuff on. Before she can fight him off, he gets the other cuff on.

Randall’s got the boy by the front door. He’s cuffed too, andhe’s spitting and snarling. But he calms down when he sees Chester leading the girl toward him.

They have the same gray eyes. The same high forehead.

Siblings, Chester thinks.

But who the hell are they? Where the hell did they come from? And why haven’t they said a single human word?

CHAPTER 3

THE KIDS ACT pretty calm—like they’re in shock, maybe—when they’re put into the back of the police car. But the minute Chester shuts the door, they go apeshit.

The girl kicks the back of the seat with her dirty, bloody, bare feet and the boy pounds on the window again and again. His fists hit the glass with sickening thuds.

Chester puts his face right up to the window. “Don’t do that! Hey! You have to calm down! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

The boy sends his forehead crashing into the grille part of the partition. Chester winces. That must’ve really hurt.

“Where’s a frickin’ tranq gun when you need one?” Randall says. He’s rubbing his wrist where the girl bit him. It’s bleeding. He spits a brown stream of tobacco juice into the parking lot. He says, “I hope the little beast knocks himself unconscious.”

Chester smacks the window and yells, “Stop!”

The boy’s still snarling and spitting. But then the girl stopskicking at the seat. She leans over and nuzzles her head against the boy’s shoulder. Just like that, he goes quiet.

Chester waits a few beats. Then he walks around to the front of the car and slides in behind the wheel. Nothing happens. He can hear them breathing in the back seat.

Panting. Whimpering a little.

He turns around to face them, speaking through the grille. “I’d really appreciate it if you could stay calm for the duration of the ride. Do you think you could manage that?”

Silence.

“I’ve got a good feeling about it,” he says. He’s lying. “Also, while we’re sitting here, I’m real curious about your names.”

The girl’s got a thunderstorm brewing in her eyes. But she doesn’t speak.

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