Wolves in the Fog
It’s the kind of night that wolves love. I can tell because the twirling wisps of fog try to catch my eye.
Abuelita used to say that no living creature is safe on nights like this, when the heavens blindfold the town with a blanket of mist. On nights like this, even the moonbeams can’t find their way. Instead, they bounce back and forth until the whole foggy veil crackles with electric blue lightning. It’s like the moon herself is lost in blindness, trying to get home before the wolves smell her fear.
Another wisp of fog flashes the light of a moonbeam at me and an icy finger drags its sharp nail along my spine. A cold shiver crawls over my skin. It’s almost like the smoky mass winked at me…like it’s alive and knows it’s being watched. I know there are innocent wanderers out there. I know there are wolves lurking in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to pounce. It’s only a matter of time before the wolves take their first victim. Trust me, it’s that kind of night.
A loud whip cracks outside and I can’t catch the small scream that escapes my mouth. After a few seconds, the bellowing groan of thunder rolls across the night sky. Even the front window rattles from the skyquake and I can’t help but shudder again.
“Go back to sleep.”
The voice catches me by surprise. I turn my attention from the window and see three larger-than-life burritos wrapped in heaps of blankets on Tío’s living room floor. The lumpy cocoon furthest from me is the one that moves first: my big sister, Josefina.
“How can you sleep?” I ask.
“Well, I’m trying to,” she snaps, “but between the storm and your yipping, it’s almost impossible.”
“But Sefa, it’s one of those nights,” I say.
“Oh, give me a break…” she groans.
“How can you sleep when there are wolves hiding in the…”
“That’s an old wives’ tale!” Sefa shouts. “Abuelita told us those stories so we never broke the rules or stayed out late. They’re not real! Grow up, Enrique!”
Sefa has a nasty habit of treating us like subjects in her kingdom. But ever since her quinceañera last month, she’s even quicker to lay down her law, like we’re all taking the same test and God Almighty gave her all the answers ahead of time. She didn’t see the fog winking at me, telling me it knows something that we don’t.
“You didn’t see the fog…” but she cuts me off before I can make my point.
“Cut it out!” comes a voice from the heap next to me.
My big brother Roberto sits up in his sleeping bag and throws off the hood of his sweatshirt just as another thunderclap rattles the window.
“The first thing you have to do is shut up,” Berto groans. “Then, you have to put your big boy pants on and stop believing in stupid ghost stories, okay?”
“Oh, what do you know?” I argue back. “You didn’t see what I saw. You were too busy snoring.”
“Impossible,” Berto scoffs. “I couldn’t have been sleeping because I was busy listening to your whining, you little puppy dog.”
Berto whips my face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, which is two sizes too big for him. I’m too surprised to feel angry at first, but when I see his smug smile, I feel my cheeks start to burn.
“Maybe that’s what we need to do,” he says, stinging my nose with his sleeve. “Throw this little puppy dog out to the wolves so we can finally get some rest.”
When he whips me a third time, I catch his sleeve and pull him toward me as I throw my fist into his chin. I’m not sure how he moves so quickly, but before I know it, my shoulders are pinned to the floor under his knees and he’s slapping the top of my head until I see double. I see the outline of two shadows behind him trying to grab hold of his swinging arms. Once the attack stops, I notice the two shadows blur together into the shape of my sister. Sefa knocks Berto on his side and then falls to her knees between us.
“I know…you’re both…upset,” she says between breaths. “I am, too. We’ve all had a long night, but it’ll only get longer if we take it out on each other. Things will be better in the morning.”
“What about Papá?!” I yell.
All I hear are Sefa and Berto complaining that they’re sleepy, but neither of them seem to care about Papá.
“What if he’s on his way right now?” I ask, unable to hold the tears that roll down my cheek. “He could be walking through the storm, trying to get to us, and all you care about is going to sleep? None of you saw the fog wink at me. The wolves are out there.”
“Let the fog take him,” Berto answers.
“Berto, don’t,” Sefa calls out.
“What? Do you feel differently?” he says. “Did you see the look on Mamá’s face when the jefe kicked us out of the apartment today? The man’s supposed to be the head of the house, right? He’s supposed to provide for us and for Mamá, right? Instead, he pisses his money away at the bar while we starve! Let the fog have him. If not the fog, give him to Enrique’s wolves!”
I can see Sefa working things out for herself. She’s looking at her hands, inspecting the raw calluses on her fingertips from helping Mamá sew the handbags they sell on the side. Even Berto helps pump gas at the local station sometimes, but we still can’t afford rent.
“Is that what you’re doing, Enrique?” Sefa asks. “Are you waiting up for him?”
I’m too embarrassed to look at Berto because I know he’s right to be angry at Papá. But I can still feel his judgment warming my face like the heat of a flame. Sefa’s eyes have pity in them, but her look isn’t for Papá…it’s for me.
“Be careful, little brother,” she says. “If you’re waiting for Papá to come around, you may be waiting a long time. And if you look out there too long, you might start seeing things that aren’t really there.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind – way back where I know things I still don’t understand – the weight of my sister’s words hit me like a grenade going off in the distance. I know she’s right, but I can’t admit it. I’m too ashamed that I still want to see Papá, even though he hurt everyone so badly.
“Maybe you’ll see him another day,” Sefa says, putting her hand on my shoulder. There’s kindness in her gesture, but I can tell she’s also disappointed that I see past Papá’s sins to the man who used to kick the soccer ball around with us every Friday evening. “Til then, you still have us.”
Suddenly, a strange noise meets our ears. It’s a faint clanging at first, but it gets louder slowly until it sounds like it’s just outside Tío’s door.
“Do you hear that?” I ask.
Sefa and Berto don’t need to speak for me to see the answer in their baffled faces. A few more rings and I recognize the sound from the old cartoons I used to watch on Saturday mornings.
“Is that a trolley bell?” Berto asks, reading my mind.
“That’s it!” I shout.
“But it can’t be,” Sefa says. “The old trolley lines haven’t worked in our town since our parents were kids.”
“Well, even if they did,” Berto adds, “there’s no trolley line within miles of Tío’s house.”
We all look at the window at the same time just as a bolt of lightning comes alive from inside the fog. We see it just as the thunder shakes the window. A pale blue trolley floats in thin air along Tío’s street, with one antenna extending skyward into the fog. It’s like the ghost tram is being powered by the storm itself. The trolley is empty except for its pilot, who is wearing a thick hooded cloak. He steers the tram along the curve of the street until it comes to a halt at the end of Tío’s driveway.
When we see a little girl in a red jacket and a brown suitcase waddling toward the street, my heart stops. Sefa, Berto, and I stare at each other in disbelief, but it only takes a second before one of us is moving. Sefa jumps over Berto’s sleeping bag and unfolds the last of the four sleeping bags still bunched up between hers and Berto’s. Sefa pulls the cover back only to find two pillows wrapped inside it. There’s no sign of our little sister.
“Nora!” Sefa cries out.
All three of us are outside in an instant, but we’re already too late. The trolley is picking up speed down the lane, as it sinks into the fog like an anvil in quicksand.
The last thing I remember seeing is a metal plate welded on the back of the tram and the emblem carved into its surface: the face of a wolf with angel’s wings sprawled above it.