James Smith - Hybrid

He grabbed a thick folder from his attaché and pulled out of it an eight by ten photo that he passed around the table. It showed a wire cage resting on snow and inside it, an ebony black wolf. Nothing notable about the animal, except for a silver stripe along its chest.

“That’s the killer,” Dr. Wallace said. “The picture was taken just after capture in Alberta. Wolf number 25M. The male belonged to the Soda Butte pack, the first pack released into the Park.”

“It looks like a normal wolf to me,” McFarland said.

“According to his records,” Wallace replied, “mainly those from the teeth, it was eleven months old when captured. Only a pre-teen in dog age. Yet at one hundred twenty-eight pounds, it was the largest wolf in the pack.”

“Why didn’t the biologists see a red flag at the time?” McFarland continued.

Dr. Wallace held his open palms out and shrugged. “Other than observing that it was big for its age, there was absolutely nothing unusual. You can see from the picture that its dominant characteristics are those of a wolf. But its genetic makeup leaves no doubt—absolutely none—that 25M is a hybrid.”

McFarland peered at Corey. “I take it that you can locate the whereabouts of 25M from the radio transmissions on his collar?”

Corey quickly rifled through the stack of papers he’d brought to the meeting while McFarland tapped an index finger on the table. It took only a minute for Corey to hold up a double-sided sheet of paper that listed every wolf radio-collared and the frequency of its transmitter. “It’s right here on the chart.” He slid his finger across the paper. “That wolf—25M—transmits at 152.38 megahertz.”

“The superintendent wants this taken care of,” McFarland quickly responded. “You need to get search and capture underway.”

“With all the visitors coming in over a holiday weekend,” Corey said, “I’ve had to pull in a dozen extra rangers. And that’s just to direct traffic. We don’t have the manpower to—”

“Listen to me carefully, Jack. I am ordering you to track down the wolf this weekend. Even if you and Montgomery have to go it alone.”

Looking embarrassed for a colleague, Dr. Wallace averted his eyes.

Take a deep breath, Jack.

Corey sat up straight. “Okay… and when we locate this creature, we’ll bring in a chopper and get rangers on the ground. I’ll page you.”

“You can call me directly,” McFarland said. “I’ll be right here. And remember the regional Boy Scout outing at Indian Creek. I’m told a hundred Scouts or more will be there. What are your plans for that?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Corey replied. “The incident happened on the far side of the Big Horn Pass. That’s a good fifteen miles or more from their campground. There’s no reason to get the Scouts all worked up.”

“Is that your only recommendation to the superintendent?”

“We could take other precautions.”

“Like?”

“Like closing the Fawn Pass trail.”

McFarland leaned back in her chair to think it over before replying. “I’ll give the superintendent your advice. It’s his decision, but he’s out of town. I’ll try to reach him.”

Montgomery watched amused as it all played out. He’d seen it all in action before. McFarland got what she wanted out of Corey and if anything goes wrong—no matter the size of the problem—she could point the finger at him. And where the hell was the superintendent when it all hit the fan? He’d already gotten out of Dodge for the long weekend.

After the meeting, Montgomery followed Corey into his office.

Corey slammed shut the door and immediately turned and shoved Montgomery against the wall. He pinned back his shoulders and mashed his face into Montgomery’s. “For the last time, Bantz, when we’re in front of her, let me do the goddamn talking. The next time you pipe up—”

“She asked me a question, Jack.”

Corey released his grip and twisted away. “I don’t give a shit what she asks you.”

“I kept telling you about the wolf tracks—”

“It was a Grizzly kill. Plain and simple.”

“But the bear could’ve smelled the blood and come in after the wolf attacked.”

“Why the hell are you making such a big deal out of this, Bantz?”

Montgomery waved at the Park map on the wall. “If we don’t close off the entire northwest quadrant, I think we should at least give the Scouts a warning.”

“You trying to be some kind of hero? Still after my job, you little prick?”

No, he didn’t want Corey’s job or anything more to do with Yellowstone after the weekend. He wasn’t trying to act like a savior for the Scouts, the Park visitors, or for Greta McFarland. He was doing what he was hired to do eight years before. No longer any need to waste his breath. All he had to do was make it through the weekend. He’d had enough. The wild card was Corey.

“Wheredo you plan to take your overnighter, Mr. Farmington?” Jack Corey asked. He’d agreed to meet up with Leonard Farmington in the afternoon at Yellowstone’s Indian Creek campground.

The two men sat on benches at opposite sides of a picnic table. Wearing his tan outfit full of regalia, Farmington had introduced himself as the scoutmaster for the Gallatin District. He’d added that he was also the leader for a Boy Scout troop in Colter. The way he spoke, along with his hand-waving mannerisms, suggested a long history of organizing Scout activities. A trail map lay spread out on the picnic table.

Farmington pointed at the map with a pen engraved with the Boy Scouts of America insignia. “We had our council jamboree here four years ago. Back then, we hiked the Howard Eaton. But this time we plan our overnight hike on the Bighorn Pass. That’s our best option, of course, since we’re camped so near the trailhead.”

“The Bighorn’s a popular trail,” Corey said. He pointed to the map. “It goes from here all the way over to the western edge at Highway 191. But you should be aware that we did have an unfortunate accident yesterday. Here on the Fawn Pass trail. It runs across the Park north of the Bighorn.”

“What kind of accident?”

“A Grizzly mauling. The hiker was killed.”

Farmington dropped his jaw and jerked back his head. “Good golly!”

“Now it’s nothing really to worry about.”

“But we haven’t heard or read anything about it.”

“It’s one reason I wanted to meet with you,” Corey said, “and go over the—”

“An actual Grizzly mauling?”

“That’s why I wanted to review your plans. It was quite sad. A college student hiking with a local girl. She got away unhurt, for the most part.”

Farmington couldn’t stop shaking his head. He examined the map one more time. “The Fawn Pass trail doesn’t look that far away.”

“It’s pretty far north and west of the campground.”

“Do you consider it a safe distance?”

“I don’t see it as a threat at all,” Corey said. “But keep in mind, we’re in a national park. Animals take priority over people here. You do have all the info we provided on campground safety?”

“We know there’s always a threat of bears. We’ll follow park guidelines, of course. Hang our stored food in the trees and all that.”

Corey rose from the table. “By the way, wolves have been spotted in the area.”

“We’d love to see a wolf pack! Can you give me any tips?”

“There’re no packs where you’ll be hiking. But there may be a lone wolf here or there. We’ve had reports of one on the prowl.”

“A wolf on the prowl? Is that something we should be watching out for?”