Wild Men of Alaska 02 - Moosed-Up

have him for a last meal? He unwrapped the Jolly Rancher and popped it in his mouth. Grape. He grimaced. It tasted like cough medicine.
    Chances were good no one would know what became of him. His therapist had encouraged him to return to Alaska, to make peace with his father, and his past. What a laugh.
    His editor might be the one to make some noise but not until his deadline was closer on his next graphic novel. He didn’t have any friends. For family, his Uncle Roland was hiding from the law, his cousin Lana was back in college. She’d miss him. But she’d get over it soon. The only thing they had in common besides the commercial fishing operation was that both their fathers were assholes.
    The only people who’d really wonder would be the IRS. What did that say about his life?
    He heard a howl. Then another. And another.
    Wolves .
    God, he prayed they waited until he was dead to feast on his carcass. He laughed, the sound bitter. He’d been born under the sign of the wolf. Conceived under the Northern Lights and born in a blizzard. His Athabascan mother, before the booze had drowned all the love and warmth from her, had strung him tales about the power of the wolf he was supposed to possess.
    Guess that had been a load of shit too.
    He heard the wolves grow closer. He knew what they’d do. They’d circle him. Enclose him in a death ring. That is, if they were brave enough to venture onto Earl Harte’s property. But with a warm meal staked out for them like a buffet, they’d come. They’d surround him, enclosing the circle closer and closer. Yellow beady eyes shining with greed and hunger, gleaming, sharp teeth dripping with saliva, until one of them—the alpha male—would lunge for his throat. At least when that happened, he’d die quickly. He wouldn’t feel them tear into his stomach and feast on his organs, shred the meat off his bones. At least, he hoped.
    They were closer now. He could hear them breathe.
    “Hey, Mr. Harte, nice wheels. Fishing must’ve been good. About time you got…home.” A young gangly teenage boy, dressed in a fur-rimmed parka and mukluks skidded to a stop when he saw Aidan. “You’re not Mr. Harte.”
    Aidan had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. “I need help. And we better hurry. I hear wolves.”
    “Wolves?” The boy scowled in confusion and then smiled. “Those aren’t wolves. They’re my sled dogs.” He ventured closer and saw the trap. “Don’t know much about Mr. Harte, do you?”
    “More than I wish I did.” Aidan gestured to the trap. “Help me out here?”
    “I can try.” He knelt down in front of Aidan and looked him in the eyes. “You’re stuck pretty good. Must hurt bad.”
    “You could say that.” Aidan clenched his teeth. He was also freezing to death. He struggled to his knee for added leverage and grabbed the jaws of the trap.
    The boy put his hands next to Aidan’s. “Ready?” he asked.
    Aidan nodded, and as cold as he was, he began to sweat. They pulled, heaved with all their might, but the springs wouldn’t budge. Aidan felt the teeth move but not enough to release his leg.
    “All right, break.” He moaned. Any minute now he was going to cry like a baby. “What’s your name?” Aidan asked, trying to concentrate on anything that could help distract him from the pain. This kid might be the last to see him alive. Last to let anyone who might be interested what had become of him.
    “Fox, my name’s Fox.” Fox tilted his head to the side. “Are you related to Mr. Harte?”
    “Yeah,” Aidan scoffed. “You could say that.”
    “Well…are you?” he asked as though the answer meant something. “Either you are or you aren’t. What is it?”
    “Earl Harte is…was my father.”
    Fox fell back on his haunches. “You’re Mr. Harte’s son? The graphic novelist, Aidan Harte?”
    A fan? Clear out here? “Yeah.” He nodded and wiped sweat off his forehead.
    “Whoa.” Fox stared at him. Really stared. As though he were looking for something. “What do you mean Mr. Harte was your father?” Fox swallowed.
    Could the kid have liked Earl? Nobody had liked Earl.
    “He was ki—died this summer. I’m here to take care of his effects.”
    Fox’s eyes fell to the ground, and he gave a heavy sigh. “I was afraid something like that had happened when he didn’t come back. Seeing the SUV outside his place…well, I thought he’d finally made it home.”
    “Were you and him…close?” Earl hated