policeman, snap out of it! Relax shoulders, let them fall. Let your gut hang out. Slack your lips. Breathe deeply… one… two… and think about nothing, just let it roll over you.
Now when he sipped the coffee he tasted it, and for the first time noticed that it was black and unsweetened.
“Hey, I said light, this coffee’s black.”
“You need it black, man. You don’t need no light coffee. You drink that, then I’ll give you a light.”
“Thank you, Doctor, but I’m not drunk.” The counterman laughed softly, then looked straight at Wilson. “I wouldn’t say you were. You scared. You the scaredest motherfucker I’ve seen in a good long while. Maybe that coffee’ll help you get it back together, man.”
“Well, it is back together, man. And I want a light coffee. I can’t drink this stuff.”
“Sure, you got money I’ll fix you a carbonated coffee if you want it. I don’t give a damn. But don’t say you can’t drink what you got.”
“Why the hell not! What are you, some kind of a nut? I said I wanted light. I can’t drink this junk.”
“Look in the cup, man.”
It was empty. He hadn’t even been aware of swallowing it! He shut up, returned to his thoughts, to how incredibly fast they had been. It was almost as if they had vanished; but he had glimpsed flashes of running bodies. Then it occurred to him that if they were that fast they would have gotten past his defenses before he had even realized they were there.
Why hadn’t they? For some unknown reason this particular gold shield had been allowed to live. The M-11 still felt good in his pocket but it had been no protection at all. None at all. It certainly hadn’t been the speed of his draw that had scared them away. Something, then… almost but not quite like a memory. He almost knew why they had run, then—he didn’t. “Shit.”
“You ready to go, mister?”
“No.”
“Well, you notice we ain’t got no chairs in here. This is a deli, not no coffee shop. You got to buy and go in a place like this, that’s the rules.”
“So what if I don’t go?”
“Nothin’. Just I feel like you got trouble all around you. You gonna bring it in here with you.”
Wilson debated whether to go back outside or to flash his shield. What the hell, outside probably wasn’t the healthiest place for him to be right now. Whatever had stopped them before might not again. So he flashed. “Police,” he said tonelessly, “I’m stayin’ put.”
“Sure enough.”
“There a back room, some place I can bunk out? I’m tired, I’ve just been in a bad spot.”
“I’d have to agree, judging from the way you look. We got a storeroom. It’s good, there’s plenty of place to lie, and it’s pretty warm. I get a little back there now and then myself.” He showed Wilson into a low-ceilinged room, obviously a shed attached to the rear of the old brownstone building that housed the deli. There was one window, barred, and a triple-locked door. Very good, very cozy, very safe until the morning brought crowds back to the street and he could safely go out. As he settled back he reviewed his strange, terrifying failure. Obviously they were way, way ahead of him—fast, smart, in complete control of the situation. There was only one reason that he wasn’t dead right now—they wanted him alive a little longer.
When he closed his eyes he saw them, their steady, eager eyes, the cruel beauty of their faces… and he remembered the moose and the wolves. What did the spent old moose feel for the ravening timber wolf—was it love, or fear so great that it mimicked love?
When they realized who was concealed in the alley they were full of glee. He had come to protect the female, just as the father had said he would. The father knew man very well and could detect nuances of scent that the younger ones could scarcely imagine. And Father had detected the fact that the man who had seen them loved his female coworker. Father had said, we can move against them both at the same time because the male will try to protect the female. And Father had selected the place and time: where the female was most defenseless, when she was most vulnerable.
And they went and there he was. Asleep! The second-mated pair prepared for the attack, moving into position across the street. They were just about to move when the man raised his head and looked at them. The pack froze and smelled it all at the same time: sweat from the hand that held the gun.
It was a hard decision, instantly made by Mother —we leave; we do not risk moving so far against the gun, we get him another time.
Now the pack ran, rushing through the streets to the ruined building where they would spend the day. Each heart beat with the same agonizing knowledge: they live, they live, they live. And they know about us. Even as the sun rises they must be telling others, spreading the fear that the old legends speak about, the fear that would make life among men hard and dangerous for future generations.
The second-mated pair was especially anguished: in the spring they would litter, and they did not want to bring forth children if man knew of the hunter.
Not that they feared anything from single individuals, or even groups. But endless numbers of men could overwhelm them or at least force them into furtive, tormented lives unworthy of free beings. As they moved warily through the deserted streets one thought consumed them all: kill the dangerous ones, kill them fast. And it was this that they talked about when they reached their sanctuary, a long, intense conversation that left them all shuddering with a furious urge for blood, all except Father, who said, we have won. Soon he will give himself to us as men did of old, for the death wish is coming upon him.
Wilson opened his eyes. The light coming in the window was yellow-gray. A steady tapping against the windowpane indicated that it was snowing again.
“Who the hell are you?”
A man was standing over him, a fat man in gray slacks and a white shirt. He was bald, his face pinched with
