The supple leather chair hugged him as he sipped his cup of coffee. It had been a long night, but it was about to be well worth it. Now he was just waiting for his cell phone to ring with confirmation that they found her.
In his hand, he held two steel marbles. He loved everything about them, the way the light reflected off their perfectly smooth surface, how they clanked together when he held them in his hand and when he rolled them around each other, he loved to hear their metallic scraping sound. It was out of habit that he carried these with him. Now he stared at his distorted reflection in them and smiled.
After all these years, nearly a dozen, he would finally be able to wrap his hands around the data that was stolen from him. Too bad the data was all inside her head. Ah well, there were ways of extracting information from the mind.
He didn’t usually like getting his hands dirty with such undesirable tactics, but this time, well, he would make an exception. He was salivating at the thought of watching her eyes glass over with pain.
Her fate was determined the moment she walked away with his work twelve years ago. His pocket began vibrating. A smile curved the corners of his mouth as he flipped open the phone and listened. The marbles moved methodically in his right hand.
Oh yes, it was going to be a wonderful weekend.
Chapter 3 Maze
When we were younger Alik, Evan and I would run around the ranch chasing the goats and cattle. Sometimes, when we weren’t focused on our studies or developing our survival skills, we’d play a game of hide-and-seek. I think we loved the friendly competition, the chase and the thrill of the hunt. It was during one of those carefree days of childhood, some three years ago, when I befriended a coyote.
Mom always warned us to be very careful of wild animals as we were living in their world and if we crossed them, they would only see us as a threat. But I wasn’t thinking of mom’s warning that bright morning as I wandered a little too far during one of our infamous hide-and-seek games.
I saw her crouched in bushes as she stalked a prairie dog. I stood motionless a dozen yards away from her when she sprang to life and snapped the rodent’s neck in one swift motion. She turned to watch me, even as her breakfast hung still warm from her dark mouth. She was beautiful. We stared for a moment, sizing each other up. Convinced that I wasn’t a threat, she trotted back to what was her den. She stopped at the entrance and looked back at me as if to say, “Come along, then.”
I followed her to the opening of her cozy hole in the ground and saw her beautiful pups. Three of them. They nuzzled to nurse as soon as their graceful mother curled herself up to them. Mom ate, the pups drank and I learned a whole new level of awe.
I remembered that day so long ago as I stroked Maze’s head. He was such a handsome creature. He was silver coated, like his mother. And like his mother, we had an immediate connection. Maze was one of the pups I saw that day. Who knew he would turn into my best friend. Who knew his doting mother would disappear (probably killed) and leave him and his two sisters alone to die.
See, I went to check on the coyote family the very next day. The pups were there, curled into a loud whining ball of fluff, but their mother never showed up. Thinking she was out hunting and that I just missed her, I left the pups undisturbed. I returned that night; sure I’d find all four of them snuggled together. But they weren’t. Even before I confirmed with my eyes, I could hear the babies crying painfully from their den. I stayed with them looking for any signs that their beautiful mother had returned in my absence. Nothing. The dirt wasn’t disturbed around the entrance to their home. The pups’ cries were unbearable and unrelenting.
It broke my heart to leave them that night, but I knew my mother would worry if I didn’t return home soon. The whole way, I thought about what I should do if the mother coyote never returned. Surely that wasn’t going to happen. Surely when I check the next morning the mother will be right there and all will be safe and sound.
I couldn’t sleep that night.
I flew out the door immediately after breakfast calling out a quick “see you in a while, gotta go check on something” even as the door flapped close behind me.
When I approached the den, I strained to hear a sound—any sound. But there was only silence. My worst fears came true when I looked in and saw the babies alone and obviously weak from hunger. Oh, no. For the first time, it occurred to me that these little ones could be dying right in front of me. I had to help.