took the map and flew away, leaving the children to gape incredulously out of the opened window, down into the muddy hay where their parents were recovering from the fall.
The specter gave the map to Elvira Hanson’s owl. “You know where to take this,” he grumbled, and the bird, on cue, took the map in its talons, flying high until coming to rest on what looked like a dead tree stump in a quiet and deserted area in the outskirts of Portersville. As if sensing the bird’s arrival, the tree stump sprouted a bush of branchy hair, unfurled as if standing up, and took the map into its hollow before returning to its prior state as if nothing had happened.
Portersville, current day
“Coach! Coooaachhhh!!” “COOOAACCCHHH!!”
Gribbett Keith had been running all night. Sweat soaked through all his clothes and he was breathing heavily but he had made it. Eluding the wolves was something that he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to do; they had made off with his hoodie but at least he had emerged unscathed … and now he had to find Coach. They and the other members of the gang had started the night together, had located the map—figures, it had been in the last house that they broke into—but they had gotten separated in the following chase. Once those wolves started peeling through the underbrush, it was every bandit for himself. The last he had seen of Coach he was contending with a really big werewolf with jet black hair and a huge silver jacket. And now here he was alone at the rendezvous site. He scaled the wall to the elementary school building, dropped lightly through the window, and crashed clumsily to the floor in the room where he was supposed to meet the schoolteacher.
It had already been a long day for Gribbett Keith. His confrontation with the private investigator earlier that day had left his mind with a lot of jumbled thoughts. He glanced down at the have-you-seen-this-person poster the investigator had given him, with a familiar face pasted smack dab in the center. Maybe someone did actually care about the strange little guy after all.
“It’s me, Mr. Scroggins,” he whispered into the darkened room. It was not unusual for his boss to wait in the dark. It brought him peace, he would say. “I made it!”
There was a stirring in the room as a chair was pushed and someone rose to stand. “Very good,” a low voice rolled, “all you need do now is hand it over.”
Gribbett paused. Something was wrong; this wasn’t Scroggins. The voice was too deep. Then he saw the narrow yellow slit-like eyes flash in the moonlight that bathed the room. A huge figure took a step toward the young teenager.
Gribbett’s mouth fell open as he stumbled backwards in fear. “No,” he stammered, “I … I … escaped you!” he gasped.
“There is no escape from the pack,” the wolf growled, “or from me! Now, if you value your life, you will hand over the map!”
“Wh … what map?” Gribbett stuttered, backing into a desk.
“Don’t trifle with me, boy!” the wolf roared. He was suddenly joined by several equally large, equally terrifying wolves.
All of this was indeed harrowing—and for the young man who had pursued Gribbett all night and who now was watching this scene unfold before his eyes, confusing as well. But it was clear that four behemoths hidden in shadow against one teenaged boy was not fair. Pulling out his weapon, the young man fired a distractive shot into the night, hoping that the boy would be wise enough to take advantage of it.
Gribbett did. His senses were already on high alert, and while he didn’t know where that shot came from, he made an immediate dash for the door and sped through it. The wolves would no doubt be hot on his trail, so he had to move fast. He ducked into a small room, fell to the floor and hid behind a counter. He heard the wolves thrash by him loudly and put the silver ram’s horn necklace that he kept in his pocket around his neck. A opalescent barrier sprang up around him. Wow, he thought, I guess Josiah was right. Silver would ward away those wolves after all. They dashed by without batting an eye.
Gribbett produced a small parcel from under his shirt, and rising to his feet quickly, deposited it into a hamper in the corner. A Lost and Found sign hung over the hamper. He covered the parcel with random shoes, socks, hats, coats and scarfs, then scampered out the way that he had come. Outside the school, he dived into a surrounding field of bushes and caught his breath, watching several figures scurry about. There was a man in a hoodie whom he had never seen before—or had he?—who jumped into a car and sped away, just avoiding the onslaught of three gigantic wolves heading pell mell after him. Good, Gribbett thought, better him, whoever he is, than me. Later on, Gribbett was able to reach his desired contact.
“Keith!” came the voice on the other end, “where have you been?”
“I’ve been where I’ve been,” the teen shot back.“A better question is where were you?”
“What are you talking about?” asked the voice on the other end.
“Your message said you would meet me at the middle school to pick up the map,” Gribbett said.
“I never left you such a message!”
“Well, I don’t know any other Scroggins who’s been substituting at the Portersville Elementary School but in reality is out looking for a long-lost buried treasure map!” Gribbett spat.
“Shut your big mouth, kid,” the voice ordered.
“All I know is that I never signed on for this—being chased by wolves and almost served up for dinner!” Gribbett Keith yelled into the phone.
“You’re more than welcome to head back to where I found you, lost, alone and with no more than lint to pull out of your pockets,” the voice shot right back, “but you won’t do that because you’re too greedy. What concerns me is that if I didn’t send you that message, then who did?”
“Don’t know,” Gribbett said, “and the cops are coming!”
“Where’s the map?” the voice asked.
“It’s hidden,” Gribbett replied.
The other voice grunted in disapproval. “Well, get out of there, we’ll meet up tomorrow and figure this out!”
Josiah Scroggins put away his phone and sheathed his small hand held cross bow. His aim had been good but not perfect, just a minute ago when he had taken down that nosy kestrel who had been following him up until now. And while he hadn’t killed the bird, he had wounded it enough to send a message to its mistress that he, Josiah Scroggins, was not someone to be trifled with and that he was on to her machinations. Scroggins would next make his way to the small outdoor café where he was seated alone for the time being. A simmering cup of hot cocoa sat before him.. A shadow fell over his small table.
“Keeping late hours, aren’t we Mr. Scroggins?” the voice of one Beverly McClafferty asked. “Haven’t you a class of students you need to be ready for in the morning?”
“I could say the same for you, Mrs. McClafferty,” Scroggins said, rising to his nearly seven-foot height. He glared down at the barely five-foot-tall woman.
“I’m a mother and a shop owner, my job is rarely over,” McClafferty, unruffled by the towering teacher, said with a smile.
“Yes,
