Restoration: Christian Urban Fantasy Read online

  Message received. Max closed his eyes and let the rabbit he’d eaten go to work on further healing his legs.

  Chapter 11

  Monday, February 11, 1952

  MAX stretched, his back popping as it returned fully to human shape and structure. He lay flat on his back on top of the sleeping bag. The sun had risen about a half hour prior to the moon setting, so light streamed in the southeast-facing window, warming wood floorboards as it crept across the floor.

  “You did well.”

  “Considering my limitations, you mean.” He motioned to his legs.

  “Well, yeah, that, too. That won’t last much longer. The fact you were able to eat so much in the past twenty-four hours made a huge difference. Another day or two eating like that, and both of your legs will be whole again.” Dakota smiled, sat next to the fireplace, and leaned his back against the wall. “You survived the Turning. You survived your first Shift. As long as you don’t become despondent or suicidal on me, you’ll do great.”

  Max frowned. “Despondent or suicidal?”

  His friend shrugged. “Some survivors of the Turning and first Shift get that way. They don’t like living with a predator in their heads.” His eyes narrowed. “Though, come to think of it, I think all of them were Turned without their knowledge or consent, so that could have something to do with it.”

  “Is that common?”

  “Unfortunately, if you meet a Turned wolf, that’s usually the case. Cases like yours are rare, I think. Most Turns somehow survive an attack by a werewolf, for whatever reason or by whatever twist of events.” Dakota frowned. “There are probably things I neglected to tell you beforehand that might have changed your decision to attempt the Turning. Like the emotion thing. I should’ve warned you about that.”

  “You said that extreme emotion can trigger a Shift. What emotions exactly?”

  “Any of them really, but most especially anger and fear. They can cause you to Shift and go after whomever or whatever caused the emotion, if you aren’t in control. The wolf’s instinct to protect itself can be overwhelming at times.” He frowned, an almost haunted expression passing over his face. “Grief is probably our worst enemy though. If it turns to anger, werewolves go on killing sprees until they’re stopped, usually by another wolf or a bullet, whichever comes first. If it turns to despair, it causes us to give up and simply fade to death.”

  None of that sounded good. At all.

  “The phases of the moon can exacerbate emotions, too, so you need to be aware of how close the full or dark moons are, particularly when emotions are running high.”

  “Dark moon?”

  “That’s what we call the new moon, and the name suits it. It feeds heavy emotions like fear and grief. If grief drives a wolf to suicide, it’s most often during the dark moon.” Dakota bent one knee up and rested an elbow on it. “The full moon feeds both anger and fear. Fights among pack members tend to erupt then, if anger issues aren’t dealt with beforehand. I’ve seen a couple of wolves killed in fights within packs because the full moon made tempers more volatile.”

  “Sounds like a good reason to be a lone wolf.”

  The man chuckled. “It can be, at that.” He sighed. “One thing you should know though. The wolf instinctively desires a pack. If you ever find yourself living as a lone wolf, you’ll struggle with the wolf’s need for company. Humans can fill that need in some ways, but not in others.”

  “Is that why you traveled with my unit? To have a human pack?”

  “Basically.” Dakota grinned slightly. “It eased the wolf’s hunger for companionship. A temporary fix at best, but better than nothing.” He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’m thinking I need to fix the roof over this room today. The wolf is telling me bad weather is coming, and we don’t want it leaking in on us.” His eyes opened. “Want to help?”

  “I’m not sure I can.” Max wanted to growl.

  “Sure you can. I’ll rig up something so you can raise supplies to me, and I’ll do the patchwork. All we have to do is make sure everything’s within your reach before I go up on the roof. Would save me a lot of trips back down, which would save a lot of time.”

  “Okay.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Whatever I can do to help.”

  “There’s a lot of work to be done on this place to restore it.” His gaze scanned their surroundings. “It seems like as good a place as any for us to take shelter while you recover and adapt to life as a wolf.” He smirked. “Gotta love it.”

  “What?”

  “We’ll restore this old cabin and you at the same time.”

  Max wasn’t sure how to respond then shook his head and laughed. Leave it to Dakota to see things that way.

  “I better get supplies together and rig up the lift system for you. We don’t want to be sitting here with a leaky roof when rain or snow comes.” Dakota climbed to his feet. “By the way, I was thinking about something last night. Maybe in a week or two, after you’re healed completely, we should make a trip to Eugene to see your family. Let them see for themselves that you’re alive and well.”

  “That’d be great.” Assuming they hadn’t been told about the amputations anyway. If they had, he’d have some awkward explaining to do, but at least he’d return to them whole. More than could be said for others he’d seen in the various hospitals since Dakota’s rescue. Why me, Lord? Why save my life? Why restore me when so many others will live with missing limbs? I don’t understand.

  Chapter 12

  Friday, February 22, 1952

  Eugene, Oregon

  TREPIDATION crawled up Max’s spine, and he halted on the sidewalk. His gaze rested on his parents’ house, two doors from where he stood. His father’s sawmill stood not far beyond it, along the Willamette River.

  Dakota stopped at his side. “Something wrong?”

  “You mean, other than the fact everybody keeps staring at the lily-white boy walking down the street with a black man?” They’d gotten odd looks, some outright hostile, ever since they’d reached town. Glares had come from folks of both skin colors. Max had always dealt with people who hated him for the dark color of his skin, but seeing the same disdain directed at his very white friend was disconcerting.

  Dakota’s eyes widened, and humor filled them. “I’m black? Wow. I had no idea! Why didn’t somebody tell me?”

  Max laughed, despite the gravity of the situation.

  Amusement faded, and his friend crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “It doesn’t bother me, so why should it bother you? Racists will always be racists. Letting their hateful attitudes bother you when they do nothing but stare and point gives them too much power. Ignore them. They don’t deserve anything better.” He cocked his head. “So? What else is on your mind?”

  “What if my family was sent word about my injuries?” He held out both hands and motioned to two perfectly normal legs. “How do I explain the fact I’m whole when they’re expecting otherwise?”

  Dakota held up one hand, index finger pointing skyward. “First, don’t assume they were told anything beyond you being found until you actually get hit with it. You may be worrying about something that’s not even an issue.” A second finger joined the first. “Second, if they were told anything, let them assume they were given wrong information and let it be. Mix-ups happen all the time.”

  Max opened his mouth then closed it. That could work. He didn’t want to lie to his parents, but he might have no choice if they asked him a question outright. “Okay.”

  Dakota nodded then started walking again, waiting only until Max caught up to ask, “Are you sure they won’t mind you bringing home a lily-white boy?”

  He chuckled. “They won’t mind at all. Both of them have white friends and customers. As long as you don’t hassle them, they’ll like you just fine. Give them grief, and Pa will throw you out on your ear without warning.” He grinned.

  “Good to know.” Dakota laughed.

  The front screen door opened as they tu
rned up the sidewalk and headed to the house.

  “Max?” His twelve-year-old sister’s eyes widened to show the whites, then Maggie squealed, ran down the steps and walkway, and launched herself into his arms. “I knew you’d be okay! I just knew it!”

  He hugged her. “You bet I am. I couldn’t let the Commies keep me from coming home, now, could I?”

  “Nope!” She released him and leaned back to grin up at him. “They told us you’d been taken prisoner and had all sorts of bad things done to you.”

  Max nodded. “I was, and they did, but my buddy Dakota here”—he motioned to the man at his side—“found and rescued me.”

  Maggie studied Dakota for a moment with a serious expression then smiled and threw her arms around the man’s waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for bringing my brother home.”

  Dakota smiled and hugged her briefly. “You’re welcome.”

  The moment she stepped back, she pivoted on her heel and ran to the house. She halted at the bottom of the steps and hollered, “Ma! It’s Max! He’s home, and he brought a friend. I’m gonna tell Pa!” She turned and ran for the sawmill, her legs churning as fast as they could go.

  Dakota and Max shared amused grins and made their way toward the house.

  Ma appeared in the doorway as they mounted the steps. “Max?” Tears swam in her eyes as she pushed open the screen door.

  “Yep. It’s me, Ma.” He gripped the edge of the screen and pulled it open more fully. Then he stepped into his mother’s embrace, closing his eyes at the bittersweetness of it.

  “Oh, my sweet boy. I thought we’d never see you again when they told us you were missing. When we got word you’d been taken prisoner, I was sure they’d kill you.”

  “They almost did.” Max released her and stepped back, laying a hand on Dakota’s shoulder. “Ma, this is Dakota Gentry. I told you about him in some of my letters.”

  “I remember.” A wide smile brightened her face as she shifted her gaze to Dakota. “My boy told us in a lot of his letters how often you lifted their spirits during dark times.”

  Dakota shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Just doing what I could to help our men through a difficult war, ma’am.”

  “He did more than that, Ma. He’s the one who found me in enemy hands and rescued me. If not for him, I’d be dead for certain. He saved my life.”

  “For that, Mr. Gentry, we’ll always be grateful.”

  “Please, call me Dakota.”

  “You two come inside. I’m sure you could use something to drink.” She stretched to hold the screen door, even as she stepped to one side so both of them could slip past her. “Have you eaten?”

  “No, ma’am. At least, not since early this morning.” Too many hours ago. Max’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food.

  “Sit yourselves down, and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

  “We can wait until supper, Ma.” If she held true to form, supper was only a couple of hours away anyway.

  “Nonsense. I can fix something to tide you over until then.”

  Max pulled a chair out from the table and dropped onto it, angled so he could watch his mother work in the kitchen. Dakota took the chair beside him.

  Ma fussed around in the kitchen for several minutes then set plates in front of both of them, loaded with leftover biscuits and bacon as well as freshly scrambled eggs.

  Max chuckled. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to eat supper after all this.”

  She waved a hand dismissively then lowered her frame into a chair across from them. “Oh, you’ll manage. Now, eat up.”

  They obeyed without further comment.

  The front screen door creaked then slapped the frame. Running footsteps were followed by heavier ones moving at a more dignified pace.

  Max glanced over his shoulder as Maggie raced through the kitchen and plopped into the chair next to Ma.

  Pa came through the archway from the sitting room and halted.

  “Pa.” Max pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

  Dakota followed his example and stood silently beside his chair.

  Tears in his eyes, the older man closed the few feet between them and wrapped Max in a hard hug. “Boy, it’s mighty good to see you.”

  “Good to see you, too.”

  “Matthew, Max brought his friend Dakota.” Ma wiped a tear away with a cotton dishtowel. “Dakota rescued him from the Communists and saved his life.”

  Pa released Max and turned his attention to Dakota. He offered his hand. “We’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done.”

  “No need.” Dakota shook the man’s hand without hesitation. “I was glad to help. Max is a good friend. I couldn’t leave him in enemy hands.”

  “Sit. Both of you.” Pa motioned toward the table. “Finish your meal. We’ll talk while you eat.” He pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sat. “You look good, son. I wasn’t expecting that after the last letter we received from your commanding officer. He said you’d been held prisoner for more than a month and were in really bad shape.”

  “I was. The doctors in Korea, Japan, and the US took good care of me. So did Dakota. He’s been with me every day since he pulled me out the”—he glanced at his sister and changed his word choice without pause—“rathole they held me in.” He lowered his gaze to the plate. “Truth is, I was so sure I was dying, I prayed for the Lord to take me quickly, so I didn’t weaken and rat out my buddies.” He smiled and met Ma’s watery gaze. “Next thing I knew, there was Dakota, hauling me out of the darkness and getting me the medical care I needed.”

  Dakota shook his head. “It wasn’t all me though. If your son wasn’t such a hard-headed marine, I don’t think he would’ve survived until I found him. He was too stubborn to let his captors kill him.”

  Pa chuckled. “You boys are staying awhile, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.” Max glanced sideways at Dakota. They’d discussed that on the way from Klamath Falls to Eugene. They could stay until a day or two before the next full moon more than two weeks away. “If you don’t mind having us, we thought we’d stick around for a week or two.”

  Ma’s eyes widened. “You aren’t staying, Max?”

  He shook his head. “Just visiting.”

  She frowned.

  “Leave the boy alone, Alice. He’s a grown man. I’m sure he wants to start a life of his own now that he’s out of the military.” Pa pinned him with a look. “You are out of the service, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.” Medically discharged, but he wasn’t sure he should say as much. “For a while at least, I’ll stay with Dakota near Klamath Falls. He’s restoring a cabin there. By the time we’re done with that, I’m sure I’ll figure out what’s next on the life path the Lord is laying for me.”

  Pa nodded.

  “So what have I missed here in town since my last letter in early December?”

  Discussion turned to various people and events in Eugene, and things going on at the state legislature and throughout the nation with the Civil Rights Movement. Though encouraged to hear of progress, Max was also troubled by the fact some things never seemed to change. Hate was universal and pervasive. Hatred over a man’s skin color made no sense. He’d served with some mighty fine men of all skin colors in the Marines.

  * * *

  On his back in the bed he’d used as a child, Max stared at the ceiling and listened to Dakota shift in the narrow bed on the other side of the room. Seeing his family hadn’t been as difficult as he’d feared. No questions had arisen that required him to lie, though he’d had to hedge on the truth when discussing his time in captivity.

  “You have a great family.”

  Max smiled and rolled his head on the pillow to look at his friend, who had turned onto his side to look at Max. “Yeah. I missed them.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to find a way to stay?” His voice had dropped to little more than a whisper, but Max could hear him fine. “Some wolves reclaim their lives
after they adapt to their new way of life. It requires adjustments, to be sure, but it’s not like you have to live in the woods for the rest of your life.”

  Max matched his friend in volume to ensure no one else in the household heard their discussion. “How long are they able to manage that?”

  Dakota shrugged, rolled onto his stomach, and hugged his pillow. “A few years.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to create a new life and just write letters home?” Max rolled onto his side and tucked an arm under the pillow. “It seems like it’d be harder to adjust to being what we are while surrounded by people who can’t know the truth.”

  “It probably is. I can’t really speak to that, given how I grew up and where. I didn’t have to hide what I am from the people closest to me.” He frowned. “There’s a wolf in my mom’s pack that was Turned. I think Brady was, too. Maybe after visiting your family, we need to go to Flagstaff so you can talk to Brady and Graham. They could provide information I can’t even begin to offer.”

  Max grinned. “You said it was better if you and Brady weren’t in the same territory.”

  “It’ll be fine if we keep the visit short, and make sure we’re not there during a full moon.” He chuckled. “Brady and I running in the same pack during a full moon is not a good thing. Trust me.”

  “What about Graham?”

  “He’s pretty laid back, for the most part. Really nice guy. He’s been with Brady, I think, since day one.” He shrugged. “Neither of them likes to talk about how they became wolves, so I haven’t asked questions.”

  Max laughed then glanced toward the closed bedroom door. No footsteps on the hallway floor, so hopefully he hadn’t wakened anyone. He turned his attention back to his roommate. “Oh, I see how it is. You’ll have me ask the questions, so they get mad at me instead of you.”

  Dakota chuckled. “Not exactly. I think they’d be willing to talk to you about the after Turning time. I’m hoping they’ll want to help you survive.”