Page 10 of Tracking the Alpha
If Barrett were still standing in that spot.
He wasn’t, though. Without thinking, without a plan, guided only by an instinct for survival, Barrett raced for the courtyard wall and ignored the darts that missed and smashed into the concrete. He howled as he leaped, partially because he saw those big furry paws of his again. No fingers in sight but the claws did manage to grip, and he scrabbled at the lip of the wall. For a second, he thought he might fall. Instead, he made it over the barrier and another jump took him to the ground.
A hard landing on four feet.
While he wanted to wail and rail against what had been done to him, he instead ran. Raced away from the clearing around the compound he’d been held prisoner in. Fled into the forest full of smells that teased.
Escaped those who’d taken away his humanity, but he didn’t forget what they’d done.
And when hunters came seeking, he sent back a deadly message.
I won’t be your prisoner or pawn again.
Chapter Three
The garden had nothing left to harvest, leaving Tanis with the back-breaking task of tilling the soil to ready it for the spring planting. A lot of time and effort just to have some vegetables, but she didn’t mind. It beat buying the overpriced and pesticide-laden produce found in stores. Not to mention, the surplus she grew allowed her to barter for other things, like getting Benny to fix the leak in her roof and having Rosemary trim her hair.
As she pushed her electrical tiller—and prayed the battery wouldn’t die before she’d finished—she heard the distinctive whup whup whup of a helicopter. Uncommon for her area but not unheard of. It could be for Alberta Wildfire. Their crews kept an almost constant aerial watch on the thousands of hectares of forest, especially when the season ended up dryer than usual—not a problem this year with the record rainfall. Search and rescue also often sent out choppers to retrieve hikers and climbers who’d miscalculated their adventure, although that usually was more west of the reserve. Medical emergencies often relied on STARS—Alberta’s Shock Trauma Air Rescue Service—to get people to hospitals rapidly, seeing as how it could take hours by road. Tanis lived in what most Canadians would label the boonies. She preferred to call it paradise.
The tiller jolted as it stuck on something, and Tanis gritted her teeth as she dug in her steel-toed boots and shoved to get it past the difficult hump. Despite her hair being tied back, wisps of it escaped due to the whipping wind. She cast a frown at the low-flying helicopter, which hovered overhead. Wait, was it descending? Unusual, seeing as how the reservation had a marked landing spot less than a kilometer away from her dwelling. She squinted and shielded her eyes as the large chopper dropped to the ground, right on top of the garden she’d finished working on the day before, compacting the damp dirt.
Her lips pursed in annoyance and her arms crossed as she waited for the passengers to disembark. The lack of markings on the chopper had her wondering who to expect. Most likely some government types, although why they’d be bothering her, she didn’t know. Usually, they showed up to try and convince the chief to let them run a pipeline through their lands. Clarence Trottier, the man currently in charge of their tribe, kept telling them no, not because he cared about the environment but more because he knew if he held out long enough, the feds would pony up more money.
The rotors on the machine slowed and stopped before the door to the cabin opened. To her surprise, military personnel exited the unmarked chopper. Three men and one woman, their name and rank patches embroidered white, making them army, and one dude with a crown for a rank who had a decade at least on all of them.
The older soldier hit the ground and adjusted his beret before strutting in her direction.
“Are you Tanis Rivard?” he asked in a booming voice.
“Yeah.” Why would the military be looking for her? She’d done nothing that would have merited their attention.
“You need to come with me,” the man stated, his voice lowering as he neared Tanis.
The imperious command arched her brow. “Excuse me? I don’t think so.”
“Did I say you had a choice? This is a matter of national security.”
She snorted. “Still not happening. You have no jurisdiction here.” The Cree had fought for and won the right to govern themselves, which meant this ass could take his order and shove it.
“Don’t you want to help your country?”
“Don’t you mean help the colonizers who stole it from my people?” Tanis repeated the words often bandied about by activists, even as she didn’t actually have a problem with the Europeans who’d settled here. Unlike some folks, she didn’t have a nostalgic and warped historical recollection of her ancestors. The Cree might have had some peaceful times, but they’d also had much violence, especially with their rivals, the Blackfoot.
“I don’t have time to argue the latest social trend. I’m here on a task of utmost importance,” he snapped.
“Exactly how is it my help is crucial to the military and my country? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a farmer, not a fighter.” She gestured to the tilled soil.
“You’re also a hunter.” Stated, not asked.
Her brow knitted. “Yeah, but I’m not sure why that matters. I hunt animals, not people. Or are you saying there’s some kind of beast posing a threat to national security?” She couldn’t help a mocking note.
He didn’t sound amused at all as he replied. “That is exactly the problem. The file we have on you claims you are especially skilled in tracking wolves.”
Okay, this conversation had taken a turn she’d not expected. “I am. How do you know that, though? I don’t advertise my services.”
“Contrary to common belief, CSIS is not useless.” The Canadian Security Intelligence Service being the Canadian version of the CIA often mocked by comedians with her favorite skit being the claim her country only had one agent.
“Why the heck would CSIS have a file on me?”
