FSE

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*Denver, Colorado; March 3, 2016 *

Another Pall Mall and another disposable cup of disposable coffee.Dammit, I'd kill for a drink right now. Therese massaged her temples with tremorous fingertips; she hadn't had a drink since last night, and her head throbbed like a stubbed toe.

If Brock loves coffee so much, how can he drink this shit?

There wasn't a whole lot on Cobbler's Dell in the web archives; the abandoned mining town had been too small to have its own printing press, so most of the stories were in the larger Idaho and Nevada newspapers. She found a few reports on the promising mining of silver, a suicide, a couple of attacks by wolves and a group-photo of geologists visiting a nearby meteorite crater.

Therese sighed; there was nothing here that could be used for a feature article. Maybe she could spin something about the geologists and the meteorite and tie it with the radium fad of the time. But she found nothing else on the subject; maybe the eggheads just didn't discover any radium and forgot about the whole thing - end of yet another potential story.

Hypercrap! I should have picked Frisco instead. The Utah mining town saw its share of drama when their new sheriff rode into town, guns blazing and gunned down three criminals first day on the job; howdy!

The Sheriff of Cobbler's Dell only managed to get himself eaten by wolves.Yuck! but nothing worth writing a feature about. Nobody came to help him either; the locals just stood around and watched the wolves tear him apart.

Double yuck!

Then there was Lillie Olsen, a missing child. It was only a brief notice afforded half a column on page eight, and sandwiched in between Men's Suits at Sensational Prices and a cure for piles. Still, the hundred year old story made Therese gasp for a mouthful of air that wasn't quite there; the girl was seven years old when she disappeared, just like Sophie. Therese ran her fingers across the monitor screen, tracing the letters that spelt Lillie, but they remained indifferent to her touch.

"What do you look like?" Therese asked the monitor. "Do you look anything like my little girl? Did you find your way back home or..." she was unable to finish the sentence.

I need to find out what happened to you. That's worth a story.

Therese spent the next days searching the archives, but found very little on Lillie Olsen. The sheriff in charge put fifty state "wolfers" on the trail of the girl, and the community put up a finder's reward of an unprecedented five hundred dollars for her return.

Damn, that's a lot! She burst out, and her friend and colleague Avery Mitchell stopped working on her review of "Reserve two for Murder" and slid on over to peek over her shoulder.

"Five hundred bucks!" Avery whistled. "That's a whole bunch".

"Yeah, especially when you only get paid two bucks a day. That's half a year worth of salary right there. I wish I'd had that kind of friends when..."

"I don't get it", said Avery. That Baumann guy already had fifty men on the case. That oughta be enough to find one kid, so why put up all that money?"

Therese shrugged. "Don't make any sense to me either, Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless they wanted someone to find her -before the wolfers did."

Cobbler's Dell, Idaho; March 16, 2016

The ATV jumped and skidded along the overgrown trail towards Cobbler's Dell, and Therese in the passenger's seat held on to the dashboard -and to her lunch. Next to her Tyler Brock grinned like a kid driving a bumper car, all the way from Coeur d'Alene.

"Man, this is great! I wish I had the time to stay with you on this assignment. I'd drive this baby all day." Brock kept talking about the Kawasaki Mule like it was some modern marvel; "You can put one thousand pounds of stuff in the back-bed, nooo problem."

"Thousand pounds, that's just great Brock". The tiny bundle in the back contained her home, safety and comfort for the next three weeks -give or take. She'd packed tent, sleeping bag, cooking gear and of course, her Tikka Whitetail. With a three round capacity of .30-06, two-twenty grain bullets, the Tikka could stop a rampant grizzly.

"Why did you buy a hunting rifle anyway", asked Brock.

"I once thought I might hunt for something."

"They WILL catch him you know, sooner or later."

"Not if I track him down first."

"Vigilante-style killing still counts as first degree murder; do you really hate him enough to ask for a lethal injection?"

"You don't know what it's like to have your child taken away from you. Your type will never understand what it's like to be a parent".

Brock slammed on the brakes, and the ATV skidded to a halt.

"That was uncalled for; I'm doing this to save your ass. I did not choose to be what I am, but I AM your friend and I don't want to sit and watch you drink yourself to death."

"I'm sorry Brock, my head hurts and I could really need a drink."

"Coke?"

"Only if it goes up the nose."

"I've got diet coke - and a drinking straw."

"I'll snort it and lose a few pounds."

Brock restarted the engine, and they followed the trail that snaked itself the last few miles to Cobbler's Dell. "Now it's my turn to go camping", Therese thoughts drifted back to the nightmare that had started seven months ago. "Last time, I was the one behind the wheel."

She had driven Sophie to the Bear Creek Park herself. The hundred-acre park was a popular place for youth clubs and outdoors people, and also for Sophie's girl-scout troop heading for a three day camp-out. The rangers called her already on day two - Sophie had gone missing.She'll be alright, they convinced each other, she likes to wander off on her own, and if the park rangers don't find her, some of the new-agers or the wiccans will.

The rangers found her on day four, but by then it was too late; someone had been there first. The rangers closed off the park and the police questioned every male person that they could spot. Swimmers, hikers and anglers - all came with different interests and all left a DNA sample behind.

"We'll match them against the DNA profile from the criminal", explained Lt. Rylan Higgins, but they both knew that DNA profile was just another and kinder word for the semen that the forensics had scraped off of Sophie's uniform.

"Can't you just find the creep, like they do on CSI Miami?"

"CSI is shit; it has nothing to do with reality."

They ran his DNA against the databanks, and the computer returned several rape crimes. The man was a serial rapist but his identity wasn't in the system -only his crimes were.

"DAMN YOU, Brock!"

Therese threw her backpack to the ground in frustration, "you are not going to leave me here without the truck".

"It's a four-hour walk to Coeur D'Alene from here. I just don't want you to be tempted to go there for drinks every morning.

"This wasn't part of the deal, asshole. I don't wanna be stuck in this place for three weeks."

"The deal was either this place or detox. You bring me a story, and I'll come right back and pick you up myself. "

"-and just how am I supposed to do that? Hel-loo! Reception is crap out here". Therese shook her IPhone at Brock; the meter kept flashing "No Signal."

"Try this one", Brock gave her his own cell phone. "I got this one when I went undercover in Dubai"

"You never went undercover in Dubai!"

"I did! I spent an entire week at "Hotel Al Qasr". Half the time in the pool, and half the time under the covers with Reese Allen."

The reception on Brock's phone flashed in at one and a half lines, one and a half better than Therese's IPhone.

"See! It's fitted with a Saudi military-grade multi-band receiver," explained Brock. "If there is a signal on any wavelength, it'll hook on to it. At least, that's what the Bedouin said."

"One and a half reception? That's not a whole lot, what if there's an emergency?"

"The hospital in Coeur d'Alene hauls in stranded mountain climbers every day. If something bad happens, they'll dispatch a helicopter to pick you up in thirty." Brock put two reassuring hands on her shoulders.

"Listen, you're gonna be fine. Get some fresh air, shoot some photos, write the story and get that shit out of your system".

He climbed into the driver's seat and put the ATV into reverse. "Oh, and cool it with the Facebook - the nearest socket for recharging is four hours away," then he skidded down the trail waving happily.

"Asshole!" Therese shouted back at him. The roar from the engine and the echoes of her shouting faded quickly, only to be replaced with a rich silence.

So, this is home? Therese squatted down on her bedroll and scouted the remains of what had once been a wealthy mining town. Twenty houses and three open ovens for smelting ore were scattered around the area. She could make out the entrance to the mine itself no more than half a mile away and easily within walking distance - but not today. About half of the buildings were made from timber and wood, and were in complete ruins from fifty-something years of neglect. The remaining buildings had been raised from stone and bricks and looked like they might make passable motives for a photo-shoot, maybe even shelter.

Christ, if passing travellers can shack up in Cisco, these houses were four star hotels in comparison.

Therese noticed that there was an eerie silence around her. She and Brock had commented on the birds doing, whatever-they-do-in-the-spring and chirping away at her brain like small shrieking needles. "Come on, I'm not gonna hurt ya", she called out. Even bird-noise would be better than this silence.

God, I need a drink.

She reached into her backpack and probed for a friendly bottle, although she knew that there was nothing left; the first thing Brock had done when he strapped the bags on the ATV was to search for stowaway bottles of booze.

"Come ON, Brocky! It's only three bottles of J.D. for Chrissakes" she had argued, but he only waved the forbidden fruit triumphantly and smiled.

"Looky what I found."

"Those are mine, motherfucker; you have no right."

Satisfied with his findings, Brock patted the backpack and strapped it onto the ATV. "It's for your own good; I'm just trying to help."

"If you really wanna help, then shut the fuck up and let me detox in silence."

Her fingers felt the contours of a familiar box rolled up in a towel; men! It doesn't matter how much they rummage through your baggage, but they'll never touch your tampons; it's like they are afraid that they might catch something. She opened the box and took out a handful of pre-rolled reefers.

If I can't have a drink for three weeks, you can't deny a lady a smoke -just to take the edge off the hangover.

She sat down on a boulder and lit up. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. She'd just sit here for a while and chill out, then check out if she could hole up in one of the buildings. Otherwise she'd just pitch the tent somewhere. The $30-an-eight Kush wrapped her in a warm blanket of numb. A familiar electric tingle crawled up the back of her legs and worked its way up her spine, just like the days back in college when she and Skyler Levy would toke up between lectures. Only, this time the feeling was much more intense, almost aggressively so.

Hey, this stuff is pretty strong.

Then without warning, all sense of distance collapsed; her mind was no longer seated in her brain, but rested somewhere at ankle-height. Am I sitting down or standing up? She felt two inches tall, and her luggage was either feet or miles away - could be both. Maybe It's quantum luggage that can be in two places at the same time -that would really cut down travel expenses.

I'm stoned, she realised and reached for her rifle. Her hand clutched the cold steel and she felt safer. Spatial distortion - it's completely normal; just close your eyes and you'll be alright. She shut her eyes and the intruding vision of warped distances subsided.

I'll just sit here and mellow out.

She focused on tasting the fresh mountain air, and the birdsong that had finally returned now that Brock was halfway to Coeur d'Alene.

Brock, the stupid friendly son-of-a-bitch.

The warm spring sun painted patterns on the insides of her eyelids in bright hues of magenta and cyan. Monochrome! - or was it dichrome when you saw two colours at the same time? She opened her eyes briefly to take in light, and then shut them quickly and floral patterns painted the walls of her mind like streamers of living wallpaper. _God, I haven't been this wasted since third semester. _

Skyler had taught her a neat trick: blink quickly then close your eyes. Your stoned brain takes a snapshot of the world and makes pretty pictures out of it

• the green leaves, the shadows

• the grey fur

and clawed paws.

Claws? Therese was back in reality within a split second and opened her eyes to see what had interrupted her sweet visions of flowery tapestry.

It was a wolf; the largest damned wolf that she had ever seen. It was almost the size of a human, and it just stood there, piercing her with yellow eyes. There was something horribly wrong with the creature; the face was out of proportion with a snout that was way too short for a wolf. The forelegs were longer than normal and the wolf seemed to have problems resting on them.Are you really that big, or is it the dope fucking with my mind?

The wolf bared its fangs in a grimace that was halfway between a grin and a snarl, and it made strange guttural sounds -a lengthy sequence of short barking noises. Then, without warning the creature rose and stood on its hind legs with its forepaws up.

"Holy shit, it's going to pounce," realised Therese, then she fired a round into the upright beast. The wolf let out a terrible howl, and wavered on its hind legs for a few moments, before toppling over. It writhed on the ground for seconds that stretched themselves into hours of agonised whimpering, until the wolf lay lifeless. Therese felt something hot against her lips, and she realised that her mouth still clenched the reefer. She spat it out in disgust,

goddamn! that's the last time I smoke weed.

Her head was clearer now from adrenalin and terror, but the dead creature before her still looked like something out of a nightmare. A single yellow eye offered her a glassy stare, but there was no movement and no breathing. Therese sensed movement out of the corner of her eye, and a stranger stepped out from the undergrowth, attracted by the noise. He shot Therese a quick glance, and then he kneeled down before the dead wolf without a word.

"Am I imagining things, or is this the strangest wolf ever?" she asked the stranger.

He remained silent while he probed the corpse with his fingers. Therese estimated him to be around thirty, six foot tall, and heavy set. He sported an unkempt beard, but he wore quality hiking boots and Carhartt bib overalls. His silence unnerved her -and so did the woodcutter's axe that he carried with him.

If he tries any funny stuff, I still have two more bullets in the rifle.

"Am I glad to see a friendly face out here", she tried. "The creature just came at me from out of nowhere. What do you think it is?"

"It's Michael", said the stranger.

Tears burst from his eyes as he rose slowly to his feet, and for the first time Therese noticed that the stranger's eyes were yellow -like the colour of golden hay, or that of a fresh horse-plop. He reached down in slow motion and grabbed the menacing looking wood cutter's axe. His voice was thick and ominous as he broke the silence.

"You-just-killed-Michael!"

Follow link to play the title theme to "Hollow Silence"

https://www.sofurry.com/view/999890

- continues -