Aztec Treasure
Treed

Julio Salazar’s POV

Ohio Turnpike

At least the trip was almost over. All we had to do was make it through the hills of Western Pennsylvania and Maryland. We were going to stay at the Cherry Hill RV Park in College Park. It was close enough to the DC metro area to minimize our exposure after we make our move. I’d finished about half of the Blizzard when I felt the brakes slow us down.

“Shit,” Leonis said from the other side of the curtain. “State Patrol just lit us up.”

“Were you speeding?”

“Maybe seven or eight over, no big deal.”

“In a fucking CAR, but not a truck!” It wasn’t over. “Stop on the shoulder while I get back in the hiding place.”

He started to slow down. “Goddamn it! Two just crossed the median to get behind us! They are coming up fast!”

Three units for a speeding ticket? I heard a thump-thump in the distance. A fucking HELICOPTER? “They made us, you idiot!”

“What do I do?”

I opened the hiding place and pulled out a pistol and an AR-15 with three magazines. “Don’t fucking stop for anything.” I could hear the sirens and the officer ordering us to pull over. I snuck a look through the curtain; we were in the lead for the parade. “We’re sitting ducks here on the freeway. Find a place, anywhere, that you can get off the road.”

“Too late,” Leonis said. “Roadblock.” We were almost to the State Line, and Pennsylvania didn’t want us visiting. I could see four cruisers blocking the freeway. Officers with rifles were taking cover behind them. “What do we do?”

“I told you, don’t fucking stop! Slow to about thirty, downshift and power through.” I leaned the AR next to his seat and tossed the extra magazines into the map pocket on the console. “Good luck.”

I put the pistol in my belt near the front right pocket for a cross-draw and ran back towards the door leading to the toy hauler. I had to get away, and I’d never do that on a thirty-one-foot recreational vehicle. I felt it as we slowed down, then heard the motor rev as he downshifted. I had just enough time to remove the tie-downs on the Harley, unlock the rear door, and get on the bike before we hit.

The whole vehicle shuddered, and I could hear the rapid-fire shooting as the troopers tried to stop us. They didn’t kill Leonis yet, because I could feel us accelerate. They had hit the tires and were shooting holes into the big vehicle. I started the Harley and hit the ‘emergency release’ button on the ramp. It dropped down in seconds until it was scraping the road.

Ignoring the gunfire, I walked the Harley back until it caught the ramp. I barely stayed upright when the rear wheel hit and started to spin. I was still holding the clutch as the front wheel hit the freeway. I felt a bullet hit me just above my left hip, but I ignored it. I popped the clutch and twisted the throttle, accelerating as I steered into the left lane. The cracks of bullets passing close echoed in my ears as I accelerated. I could see blood on the driver’s side window, and his front wheel was riding on the rim, so Leonis was not long for this world.

I passed him without a second look. I knew he would die in a pile of brass; it was better than a needle.

I wasn’t out of the woods yet, not that I wanted to be. I could see at least four cruisers in pursuit, the helicopter was above me, and a trooper just pulled something across the road about a quarter-mile up. That would be the spike strip, and a motorcycle wouldn’t make it through either. I looked off to the right; there wasn’t a ditch here, just guard rails. Beyond that, it dropped off quickly into pine and hardwood forest.

I made a decision. It wasn’t a great option; if it didn’t kill me, it would hurt a LOT. It was crazy as hell, but nobody would follow me.

I moved over to the left side shoulder, braking hard as I picked my spot, then turned sharply right before jumping up to put my feet on the seat. When the front hit the guardrail, I leaped off and shifted in midair.

My clothes ripped and tore with the change, my shoes falling off as I sailed through the air. I finished my shift before reaching the treeline, reaching out with my claws. I crashed through branches before smashing into a young tree, snapping it as I kept going. I finally dropped to the forest floor, bloodied from dozens of cuts. I shook off the wooziness and used my teeth to pull a chunk of wood out of my left foreleg as the cops stopped up by my crash.

I could hear gunfire, but not aimed at me. I got myself up and started to move, heading deeper into the woods. I ignored the pain as I ran away as quickly as I could. If I could evade capture until darkness fell, I might get out of this mess.

It was a great plan, right up to the point I reached the back edge of the woods and looked out over open farm fields. Fuck! Couldn’t I get ONE break?

A quick look showed nothing that would help. I ran east, staying just inside the trees so the circling helicopter wouldn’t see me. I’d almost reached the road when I heard the sirens approaching fast. Skidding to a halt just in time, I saw the police cars stopping along the road. They got out and pointed their rifles my way.

The helicopter must have guided them in.

Cops to the left of me, troopers to the right? Here I am, back in the middle and screwed.

I turned and ran back west, heading deeper into the woods so the helicopter wouldn’t find me. There wasn’t a lot of room, only a few acres. Anything to the north was a no-go with the Turnpike right there. More units were pouring into the area, cutting off escape across the fields. I could outrun a lot of things, but bullets weren’t among them.

I was running out of energy and blood. I needed to rest and hide until darkness fell. Finding a large tree, I extended my claws and climbed up forty feet, finding a spot under the thick leaves where I could rest on a wide branch. The canopy would cover me from above, and my spotted camouflage would make me almost impossible to see from below, even if the cops bothered to look up.

I heard more helicopters and police arrive as I rested with my head on my paws. Another two hours, and it would be dark.

That’s when I heard the howls.

Not the barks. No, police dogs I could handle; they weren’t a threat to me with my strength and claws. No, this was something far worse.

Werewolves.

The call of an Alpha to hunt.

I started to move down the tree. I wouldn’t escape, but I’d go down fighting.

Monongahela Pack Alpha Ron Carlson’s POV

Pennsylvania Turnpike

The helicopter bringing me and nine of my Betas and Warriors landed in the median between the shutdown East and Westbound lanes of Interstate 76. I was the only one still in human form, the others choosing to travel as wolves. I hopped out and jogged to the command post as my Pack followed. “Ron Carlson,” I said as a woman in an FBI jacket came out to greet us.

“Senior Agent Pamela Jergens, FBI Pittsburgh Field Office,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”

“You did the right thing bringing us here. Is Julio still hiding in the forest?”

She nodded as she pulled out a map. “This is the section of woods he’s hiding in. We’ve got officers stationed along these roads and snipers covering these open fields. Nobody has seen him in the last hour.”

“Do you have something with his scent?”

She walked to a table and grabbed a sealed evidence bag containing a torn shirt. “Julio was wearing this when he shifted.”

I opened it up and tossed it on the ground so my warriors could get a good scent. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Make sure your people don’t fire on anything that doesn’t have spots. We’ll start at this corner and sweep to the east. If he runs, it will drive him to your people along Bukey Road. If he hides, we’ll surround him. I need a team of shooters to follow me as my warriors do the sweep.”

Ten minutes later, I had a five-person tactical team and an FBI radio with me as my wolves spread out in a picket line along the west side of the wolves. “Starting the sweep. Stay alert in case he makes a break for it,” I said into the radio.

We’d gone a quarter-mile when the first warrior picked up the scent. I told the center of the line to slow as the wings kept going until they also scented him. It didn’t take long before we were surrounding the tree with Julio in it. I could see him on a branch about twenty feet up; the scent of his blood was heavy, but he remained defiant. “This is Alpha Ron Carlson. My warriors have surrounded you. Climb down and surrender immediately, or we will open fire.” I had my wolves on the other side take cover behind trees as the FBI agents took up firing positions.

Life is full of choices.

Julio chose poorly. Letting out a roar, he leaped to the ground and ran towards me. The FBI team opened fire, shredding him with high-powered rifle rounds.

He never had a chance.

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