Simon Thorn and the Wolf's Den

  “Wait.” Simon scooped Felix off his pillow. The mouse squeaked and disappeared into the pocket of Simon’s sweatshirt, where he curled up into a trembling ball.

  Darryl narrowed his eyes. “That rat is not coming with us.”

  “He’s a mouse, not a rat,” said Simon. “And either he comes or I stay.”

  They glared at each other. Simon wasn’t going to abandon the only friend he had left.

  Seconds ticked by, and at last Simon’s mother called from the living room. “Are we leaving or not?”

  “I don’t know,” said Simon, staring at his uncle. “Are we?”

  At last Darryl grunted and lumbered unhappily down the hall. Relieved, Simon pulled on his backpack and hurried after him.

  “When are we coming back?” said Simon.

  “I don’t know,” said his mother. “It’s possible we won’t.”

  An entire lifetime with no more Bryan Barker. Despite how nervous his mother and uncle were, Simon couldn’t contain his grin. “Good.”

  She smiled back. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

  “Isabel,” said Darryl sharply. He stood by the door. Something metal jingled, and the lock began to turn on its own.

  Simon frowned. “Who else has a—”

  The door burst open. At first Simon thought no one was there, but Darryl snarled, and a thick odor of rotting garbage and filth assaulted Simon’s senses. As he began to breathe through his mouth, he saw them.

  Rats—hundreds and hundreds—crowded the hallway and poured into the apartment, surrounding the three of them. Their high-pitched squeaks made Simon’s ears ring, and he could see their sharp front teeth. Darryl tried to shove him out of the way, but the rats were already there, clambering over one another to get closer. A particularly eager one tried to climb up Simon’s leg, its tiny nails scratching his skin, and he kicked hard. The rat flew off and hit the wall, but before Simon could try to back away, two more began to claw their way up his other leg.

  Darryl grabbed the pair of rats and threw them into the hallway. “Come on,” he said, grabbing Simon and pulling him back through the apartment. The rats screeched in protest, scurrying after them. They moved like waves, the faster ones crawling over the slower ones to get to the front, and if his uncle hadn’t been dragging him along, Simon would have stood staring in wonder.

  “What do they want?” said Simon. “Why—”

  “In here.” Darryl ducked into Simon’s bedroom and yanked the window open. Behind them, his mother darted inside and slammed the door shut, and Simon barely had time to suck in a great gulp of fresh air before his uncle lifted him up and shoved him onto the fire escape. Simon stumbled and grabbed the railing, his head spinning as he looked down. Hundreds of rats flooded the alleyway below them.

  “Darryl,” he said as his uncle climbed out the window. “Look.”

  Darryl cursed. Instead of going back inside, however, he seized Simon’s elbow and started down the fire escape. “Whatever you do, don’t stand still.”

  Simon rushed down the stairs. The fire escape shook beneath his uncle’s heavy footsteps, and above them he heard his mother following. Simon jumped the last few feet, and when he hit the ground the rats began to climb up his legs again. This time Simon didn’t hesitate to knock them off.

  “Stop it!” he cried as a bigger one bit the bottom of his jeans. He ripped his leg away. “Why are you doing this?”

  “The Alpha wants, the Alpha wants,” said a few nearby rats, and more and more joined until it echoed through the entire alleyway.

  “What did I say about standing still?” said Darryl, taking Simon’s arm. “Sidewalk, now!”

  The rats scurried after them as they ran down the alleyway toward the sidewalk. Simon felt dizzy, a million questions buzzing like bees in his brain, but he forced himself to keep going. His mother had promised she would explain everything, and he added the Alpha to his mental list of things to bring up.

  When they were only a few feet from the street, an eerie scream echoed high above them, and goose bumps spread over Simon’s arms. Apparently an army of rats wasn’t enough right now. The one-eyed eagle had returned.

  “Is that—?” His mother tripped, and Darryl caught her before she hit the ground.

  “Told you,” he said grimly. “He’s been stalking Simon all day.”

  “Who?” said Simon. “The eagle? How do you know?”

  Both of them ignored him. “If he’s here, then she can’t be far behind. We need to get somewhere safe,” said his mother. “Simon, you stay with Darryl. I’ll be right back.”

  “No,” said Simon. “I’m coming with you.”

  To his surprise, his mother didn’t argue. Instead she led them onto the sidewalk, and Simon trotted alongside her as she tugged on the door handles of each parked car they passed.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  “A taxi driver would ask too many questions, and the subway system is the rats’ territory. This is our last option.”

  “Wait.” Simon gaped at her. “You’re stealing a car?”

  “Yes. Unless you want to get eaten by vermin.”

  A horde of rats spilled out from the alleyway, and his mother’s pace grew frantic. She made her way down the sidewalk, tugging on door after door, Simon keeping close to her side. A woman on the corner screamed at the sight of the rats, and several others began to take pictures of the odd scene.

  Another shriek filled the air, and suddenly a flock of pigeons dived toward the sidewalk. As they’d done that morning, the pigeons attacked the rats, beaks and talons fighting fangs and claws. Simon stared, shocked. The birds were trying to protect them.

  “Anytime, Isabel,” said Darryl in a warning voice.

  “I don’t see you helping,” she said, but three cars later, she finally found an unlocked door. “Simon, get in.”

  He eyed the open door. There had to be twenty people watching. “But—”

  A hissing rat flew up and latched onto the hem of Simon’s sweatshirt. His uncle grabbed it and hurled it into the street.

  “This isn’t a game, kid,” said Darryl. “If you give them a chance, they will kill you.”

  “They’re rats,” said Simon.

  “And there are hundreds of them, and three of us.” Another rat flew through the air, and Darryl knocked it away with his forearm. “Car. Now.”

  Simon ducked into the backseat, and Darryl squeezed in after him. His mother cursed from the driver’s seat as she fiddled with wires, and at last the engine roared to life. She hit the accelerator, and the tires squealed as Simon flew against the seat.

  “Okay?” she said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  No, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t even close to okay. “Why are the rats chasing us? Why didn’t you tell me you could talk to animals? You let me think I was crazy—”

  “You’re not crazy,” said his mother firmly. She sped up to make a yellow light. “I didn’t realize your communication abilities had manifested already. Most of the time they don’t appear until—” She stopped.

  “Until when?” said Simon. “Until when, Mom?”

  “Don’t yell at your mother. It’s not her fault,” said Darryl as he dug around in his duffel bag. “I suspected, but it was too dangerous to talk to you about it, not until I knew for sure. I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark as long as I did.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on,” said Simon. When neither of them answered, he grabbed the door handle. The rats had to be gone by now. “If you don’t, I’m getting out of the car at the next light.”

  “If you do, Orion will find you,” said his mother.

  “Great. Then you can start by explaining who he is.”

  His mother grimaced. Finally, as if admitting something deeply shameful, she said, “He’s my father. Your grandfather.”

  Simon stared at her in the rearview mirror. “I’ve had a grandfather all this time, and you never told me?”

  “Because he’s been
trying to take you from me since you were a baby. That’s why I left—to lead Orion away from you. To give you a chance at a normal life.”

  Simon’s head swam, and his anger bubbled to the surface. He’d never wanted a normal life, not if she wasn’t in it. “You should have brought me with you. That’s what real mothers do—they don’t abandon their kids.”

  Her face fell, and for a moment, she looked like he’d slapped her. “I had no choice.”

  “Yeah, you did. You just didn’t love me enough to bother.”

  “Watch it, Simon,” said Darryl, but his mother shook her head.

  “You have to understand. Orion’s spies know what I look like, and they’re everywhere. I couldn’t risk them finding you, so I had to run. To keep you safe.”

  “Spies?” said Simon. “What spies?”

  “Every bird you’ve ever seen is under his command,” said his mother. “Including your pigeon friends.”

  It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. “So on top of everything else, he can talk to animals, too.”

  “There are a lot more of us out there than you think. And . . . Simon . . .” She glanced at Darryl, and something passed between them. He nodded. “There’s more to it than just talking to animals,” his mother continued. “Soon, when you’re old enough—”

  Thunk.

  A rat the size of a football hit the windshield, and his mother slammed on the brakes. “What the—”

  An odd scratching sound echoed through the car, and suddenly the engine died. “Get it started again, Isabel,” said Darryl as several more rats leaped onto the car.

  “I’m trying,” said his mother, her head ducked near the steering wheel. The engine started, wheezed, and died all over again.

  Something hit the window next to Simon’s ear, and the glass cracked. A brick. How were rats throwing bricks? “Mom!”

  Another hit the window, and another, and another. Simon scrambled to undo his seat belt. It was jammed.

  Darryl pulled a knife with an ivory handle and a wicked-looking blade from his bag. “Hold still.”

  Within seconds Simon was free, and just in time, too. The window shattered. Shards exploded all over him, clinging to his sweatshirt. The rats screamed in excitement and began to crawl through the opening. Simon could feel Felix trembling with fear in his pocket.

  “Out of the car,” said Darryl. “Isabel, try to hold them off. Simon, here.”

  He handed Simon the knife. Simon blinked. “You expect me to use this?”

  “I expect you to do whatever you have to do,” he said, and he shoved open the door. “Stay close.”

  Darryl landed hard on the asphalt and began to kick the swarm of rats out of the way. Simon scrambled after him. Rats immediately began to climb up his legs again, and though he brandished the blade threateningly, he couldn’t bring himself to kill them. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Even as another flock of pigeons dived from above to fight the rats, Simon could see that there had to be hundreds, if not thousands by now, coming relentlessly for them. They were trapped.

  “Run!” shouted Simon’s mother. Darryl grabbed his arm, and together they ran as fast as they could through the sea of vermin. Simon stumbled, and a bright circle of light appeared on the ground—his uncle was shining a high-powered flashlight at the rats. They recoiled, forming a path wide enough for Simon to follow.

  They ran half a block before he realized his mother wasn’t with them. Simon dug his heels in until his uncle was forced to stop. Several yards behind them, his mother struggled to bat away the rats that clung to her sweater and jeans, and some even swung from her braid. Several pigeons flew around her, screeching and lashing out at the rats with their talons, but nothing seemed to help.

  “Mom!” Simon tried to wrench his arm from his uncle’s grip, but Darryl held on tighter. “Let me go.”

  “She can’t fight them if she’s worried about you. Come on.”

  “Mom!” he called as they reached the end of the block. Rats clung to her, and as soon as she threw one off, two more joined.

  “Go, Simon—I’ll find you. I love you!”

  The fiery knot returned to Simon’s chest, and the need to do something, anything, built up inside him until he couldn’t breathe. But he couldn’t shake his uncle’s grip no matter how hard he tried, and Darryl didn’t give him any choice. They rounded a corner, and his mother disappeared from sight.

  “Stop—let me go!” yelled Simon. Darryl dragged him forward, nearly lifting him off the ground.

  “I can’t do that,” said his uncle. “I’m sorry. She’ll be all right. Soon as they realize you’re not with her, they’ll come after you again.”

  “Good. Let them come.” Simon clutched the knife. This time he would use it.

  “Your mother wants you safe,” said Darryl. “That’s all that matters to her, do you understand me? Your safety. Not hers, not mine—yours. If you want to help her, then stop struggling and let me protect you.”

  They neared the end of the block. The rats began to thin, and Simon could see clear pavement ahead. He may have been angry that his mother and Darryl had kept so many secrets from him, but that didn’t mean he wanted the rats to kill her, and if they got any farther away, Simon would have no chance of helping her. So at last he said, “Okay. Fine. Just let go of me—you’re hurting my arm.”

  Darryl reluctantly let go. “The rats can’t follow us over water. If we can make it to the Midtown ferries . . .”

  Simon wasn’t listening. Instead, he counted down in his head. Five, four, three, two . . .

  As soon as he hit one, he bolted in the opposite direction. The rats moved aside for him, apparently sensing that he was heading back into their trap, and he ran as fast as he could down the sidewalk. Behind him, Darryl shouted, but Simon didn’t slow down. He’d already lived his whole life without his mother. He wasn’t going to lose her again.

  But when he turned the corner, he skidded to a stop. She was gone, along with the pigeons. And a thousand rats were waiting for him.

  They descended on him with impossible speed, climbing up his clothes, flinging themselves at him, biting him everywhere they could reach. He tried to shake them off, but they were bigger than any rats he’d ever seen before. One of them crawled up the knife, and though the blade cut its belly, the rat either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  “Simon!” yelled Darryl. “Hold on!”

  Simon’s knees buckled. The weight of the rats was too much. He couldn’t move. Within moments, he wouldn’t be able to stand, and there would be nothing stopping the rats from killing him.

  A ferocious howl ripped through the air, and Simon looked up in time to see his uncle flying toward him, his enormous form unstoppable. But he didn’t barrel into him like Simon expected. Instead, Darryl seemed to shimmer midleap, and to Simon’s shock, his body began to change.

  Darryl’s fingers shifted into claws, his hands into paws, and his nose into a snout. Gray fur sprouted all over his body, engulfing his clothing, and as his torso thinned and lengthened, a tail appeared at the base of his spine. In the time it took Simon to blink, his very human uncle had changed into a real, live, snarling wolf. No, not just any wolf—the wolf from the park.

  Simon froze. It wasn’t possible. Humans didn’t turn into animals.

  Humans weren’t supposed to be able to talk to animals, either, but Simon could. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was going crazy. Or maybe his uncle had been keeping a huge howling secret the whole time. Whatever it was, as far as he could tell, a very real wolf stood on the sidewalk in front of him, and no amount of frantic blinking made it disappear.

  His uncle—the wolf—Darryl tore through the sea of rats and snatched two that clung to Simon’s sweatshirt. Within seconds, the others either let go or were yanked away by the wolf’s sharp teeth, and at last Simon was free of them. Breathing heavily, he watched as they scampered several feet away. At first Simon thought they were retreating, but then they grouped to
gether once more and advanced on them. He held out his knife with a trembling hand.

  “Go, Simon,” snarled the wolf in Darryl’s voice. He snapped as a rat got too close. “I’ll hold them off.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” said Simon.

  “Yes, you are,” said Darryl. “Take a bus to the Midtown ferry terminal and wait for me there. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’m not leaving,” repeated Simon. He had no idea where his mother was, and if the worst had happened . . . Darryl was all he had left.

  The wolf growled and nipped at Simon’s knees. “Go. Before you get us both killed.”

  He stumbled backward. The wolf glared at him, his black eyes exactly like Darryl’s, and Simon swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “If you’re not there by the time I get there, I’m coming back,” he finally said.

  A rodent the size of a cat threw itself at the wolf, landing on his shoulder. Darryl howled and bucked the rat off him, whipping it back into the horde. “I’ll be there.”

  Simon took one last look at the hulking wolf facing off against the army of vermin, and then he began to run. His uncle could take care of himself. He always could. Everything would be fine.

  Simon sprinted down the street, dodging pedestrians as he searched for a bus route heading west to the water. For blocks he ran, until he was breathless and sweaty, trying to remember where the closest stop was. As he turned a corner, he spotted a subway station with a thin stream of rats heading down the steps, and he stumbled to a halt. His mother had said the subway was the rats’ territory—that was where they must have taken her. He glanced back over his shoulder. His uncle would kill him, but if there was even the slightest possibility she was down there, maybe he could take a quick look and—

  “Simon!”

  A hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve, yanking him into an alleyway dark with shadows. He squinted. “Mom?”

  “Do I look like your mother?” said an all too familiar voice. Simon’s eyes quickly adjusted, and his heart sank. The girl from lunch—the one who had returned his backpack—stood in front of him.

  “Winter? What are you doing here?”

  She pulled him deeper into the alleyway. “Saving your hide, that’s what.”