[OLD - HAS BEEN REWRITTEN] Howl You Home

Chapter 3: Wolves

Marco Castillo slumped tiredly in his seat with paperwork scattered around him. Notes covered his desk like a pack of wordful-wolves, hoping to hunt down and slaughter the last of his patience. Not one to give up, the ranger underlined, crossed out, and jutted notes in the margins. The clustered words were beginning to feel more like organized scribbles than anything with actual meaning - but he soldiered on. His head began to ache. Or more so, it had started almost two hours before, but had now developed into an all out pounding.

But damn it he was getting all the stupid reports done.

As if on cue the ranger glanced up just in time to see his clock flash to five. Had it been the weekend, or better yet the afternoon, Marco would have happily set his work down. But no. The time was now five in the morning, and he had a shift to get to.

Or at least he would have. But given the fact he'd found a body, he was stuck on an unexpected but thankfully paid holiday.

It sucked.

Shoving the reports away left him smiling in almost relief. Despite the bags under his eyes, and the fact he was growing overly certain he'd have a crick in his neck, Marco felt like the hell was almost over.

It had to be.

The park was usually calmer during the weekdays. Not always, but he held out hope that it would be alright. Even after the town found out about what happened. Dragging himself from his desk, Marco headed towards the shower.

Halfway there Marco stopped. Johnson was still out on the couch, curled up unnervingly tight. Marco had been stuck under him and had to squirm his way carefully out that morning. Johnson hadn't stirred in the slightest. Even when Marco had thrown a blanket over him.

Tobias however had apparently snuck out after they'd fallen asleep on the couch. The not-so-lucky-guy still had work to do. Unlike Marco and Johnson, who would be stuck on holiday for however long the station deemed necessary.

As Marco entered the bathroom, he blearily tried to figure out just what he was seeing in the mirror. He'd been right in guessing there were bags under his eyes. Marco's tired smile slipped as he took in the sight of the shortest ranger of the Station. Standing only five foot five, with just enough muscle on his bones to keep him from looking like the pecker pines that he guarded - there wasn't much to guess about.

He was also scrapped up to hell and back. The fall hadn't felt that bad when it happened, but now? Now he was starting to feel his age, and then some.

At almost thirty he figured it was time to stop hoping for a growth spurt, but a man could dream. Idly he scratched at the bit of facial hair that covered his chin. It was barely more than a bit of scruff, but he was proud of it. After all it was more than his dad had ever had, and if that wasn't an achievement then what was?

The shower was quick, followed by his uniform that he dragged on tiredly but eagerly. He'd had to pull out his extra uniform. Running his hands over any creases he was careful to inspect the still somewhat blurry Castillo in the mirror. His short brown hair was swept back, and held there as he donned his ranger hat. The pride in his brown eyes matched the pride he felt for his uniform. He ran his hands down his chest one last time. His binder remained snug and carefully hidden.

Sure he might not be allowed to leave the station's grounds, but that wouldn't stop him from snooping.

He, like most of the rangers, lived in a small cabin community settled at the edge of the park, which meant he never had a long commute to work, but also meant he never had an excuse not to go to work. Or not to clean up bear scat where the trail mix dispenser used to be. Though that hadn't happened for a while, since the bear carried it off.

Marco glanced at the clock. He knew if he called in sick he'd easily get the day off, but... it wouldn't be worth it. Calling out sick would only catch the attention of the other rangers - including his old man who would certainly show up at his door to try and force feed him chicken soup. Honestly he was lucky the man hadn't shown up as it was. As the only child to a single parent, Marco knew just how protective his dad could get. Marco gave up, reminding himself that he wasn't sick, just bone tired. Something that was far from new.

That and if he was honest, Marco wasn't sure he could stomach seeing his dad in uniform after what he'd seen.

After fixing the collar of his uniform for the umpteenth time, and checking his binder for the second, the ranger headed to the station.

The commute, by foot, was just shy of fifteen minutes. Running was an option, but with the frost that clung to the fallen leaves underfoot, Marco figured tripping and breaking his neck before finding out anything probably wasn't worth the risk. The air was crisp, just short of turning into visible breaths. The chill, that he hated with every viable inch of his body, and cursed under his misty breath, helped him wake up.

Lazily the sunrise crested the mountains, setting the forest awash in multi-colored hues as the light filtered through the early morning fog. The Californian forest rose high above, eventually giving way to the small cracked parking lot that the rangers called their own. Just beyond that was the station, and Marco wasted no time escaping the harsh chill of the spring morning as he finally let himself dash for the door.

Various knickknacks greeted him as they decorated every shelf. From plush bears leaning against the glass as if to greet the visitors, to large local maps that looked as if they were skillfully drawn by hand; the gift shop was one of the newer buildings the park had. And the only place to get snacks after a different Bear totaled the other vending machine.

The bell rang overhead was purely digital. Marco paused, closing and opening the door a few more times as he watched the numbers on the door counter go up. He wondered briefly why Chief had approved the new set up here, but refused new cameras along the southern trails.

After what happened yesterday though, Marco wouldn't be surprised if all of the cameras were replaced by the end of the week.

"Seriously man?" Tobias huffed from behind the counter. He set out bundled bills as he set the till up for the day. A ledger sat to his right, already filled with rows of color coded checks and minuses. A new candy bar selection was set aside to be priced. Somehow he didn't look tired at all.

Marco almost wanted to not-so-playfully punch him for that. He decided to bitch instead. "What, afraid it'll actually look busy in here?" Not that many people would probably visit after the news got around.

"Says the guy who's only here for the heater." Tobias said as he looked pointedly to Marco, who had indeed taken refuge by the wall heater. "Don't you have a Park to range? Birds to watch? Maybe roadkill to scrape?"

Marco didn't bother to defend himself over the mention of cold, but casually flipped his buddy off for the rest. He hated the cold. No matter how much he loved his job and the forest around them, he'd always hate the cold. Every winter was spent indoors, happy to do any meaningless task he could get his hands on, just to avoid the snow.

And now he was stuck on holiday.

Marco realized, as Tobias watched him with a growing frown, that he hadn't replied. "Says the guy who dies every summer," Marco quickly groused. Tobias responded with a laugh before shoving the tip jar Marco's way. Marco paused, eyeing him questioningly. "If you're saying I'm a charity case...." There was humor and warning under his tone.

"You are - but no, this has to go to Bella's, remember?" Tobias shrugged before returning his attention to the ledger. He pushed the new gold colored candy bars back towards the display.

"...No?" He paused and squinted. Tobias knew he wasn't allowed off grounds.

"She's baking this year for the fundraiser," Tobias explained. "The board of supervisors finally realized the bandstand hasn't been up to code. Yknow, like it hasn't for the last four years, and there's no way they'd pay for it.... "

As Tobias droned on, tone growing more bitter with each word, Marco took one of the maps from the bin and set to work circling where he knew the camera's would be. Marco was already well aware of how important the historic buildings were for tourism, but of course it'd fall on the heads of the people to fund its repairs. Especially with the town's festivities quickly approaching. The board did little but gripe and waggle their fingers, but somehow they always managed to win the occasional elections. Marco didn't bother wondering why. After all, a small town didn't have many candidates to run against.

Tobias glanced at the map. "You planning on taking your dad's shift again, huh? Could have sworn you were on break" He took his own pen, circling a spot Marco had missed. The cameras needed checking anyways, and after yesterday Marco needed something to do.

Plus his old man had no reason to do it.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Marco sighed, already expecting the jokes.

"No man, It's cool you help your dad out. I'm not giving you shit for that."

"Uh-huh." Disbelief colored Marco's tone.

"Uh-huh is right. I'm just giving you shit because Chief's gonna give you even more of it when he finds you out there instead of Mark. Let alone when you're supposed to be on break."

Marco shook his head. Chief was the head of the station, but his job apparently had the added benefits of being allowed to mess with his dad's schedule. "Chief knows Mark can't be on those ladders," he pointed out. Marco made it a point to never call his dad 'dad' while on the clock. "Your old man needs to leave my old man alone."

"And that's," Tobias agreed with a nod, "was why he planned to meet up with him and help out."

Marco groaned. The moment their boss saw him out there instead of his dad, and the fact he was sneaking around orders... "Think it's too late to change my mind?" He briefly wondered if he'd be able to put off the inevitable by calling in sick after all.

Tobias shrugged. "Probably." He pushed the tip jar closer to Marco, followed by the locked case that held the money from the till. Tobias paused, long fingers pressing the till shut. "...If you need help out there, just call me, alright?"

Marco stopped mid turn towards the door. He loved his fellow rangers, especially his best friend who was currently staring him down with brotherlike worry, but he almost hated how supporting they were. Hated how much they forgot he was a ranger just like the rest of them. He was twenty six. It had been one body, one close call with a cliff. But they would probably never let him forget.

His boss had already scheduled him for therapy. He didn't need his buddy trying to be his therapist too.

"Look, I appreciate it," Marco started with annoyance already edging his tone, " but I don't need-"

"Yeah. I know. I know. I was there too, remember?" Marco didn't remember that. He squinted. He really didn't remember that. But it did sound familiar somehow. "But I've still got your back, and I don't blame you if you call off for a bit." Tobias' tone fell softer as he locked the register and flicked a hidden switch. The neon open sign behind them buzzed to life. "Any of us would jump at a break anyways" He grinned, leaning on his elbows against the oak countertop. "We could call it team-building, or a support system. Something. You'd just be our short-stack excuse."

Marco found himself grinning despite himself, and forced away a snarky remark as he accepted the tips and deposit case. Tobias waved him away, and Marco flipped him off, money tucked under each arm, as he headed to the back. Tobias' laughter trailed behind him.

Another bell rang above him as he entered the back room. Unlike the gift shop, the room was much more dated. But worse, it reeked of burnt coffee and what he could only assume was stale old donuts. Dusky brown shag carpet covered the floor. At some point it had been green, but that had been years ago. A few desks and filing cabinets filled the room, marking its rare use as a meeting place for the more serious briefings.

Marco's ear twitched as a muffled bell chimed from the gift shop. The distant sounds of campers filling the gift shop in desperate need of coffee quickened his pace as he made quick work of unlocking the safe and putting the deposit and tips inside.

An old metal clock-card machine hung haphazardly on the wall just above the safe. Marco regarded it for a moment. The soft ranger-green paint was worn away from countless years and clock-ins. He yawned, then promptly slid his time card in it, adding only further to the worn paint.

Right before he realized he wasn't supposed to.

Oh well.

"Long night?" a voice said behind him.

Marco turned, already smiling at the old but warm voice behind him. Dread crept up the edge of his heart. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

Mark Castillo raised a pointed brow, but shook his head. He grumbled something about youth under his breath as he clocked in beside his son. "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?" Insult or not, his voice gave way to the hint of amusement.

His dad was alive. Marco knew he was but seeing it-

"How is my stupid luck a pain in your ass?" Marco nabbed a cup of coffee, ignoring the dusted feel of the Styrofoam cup, and his growing emotions. He wondered briefly why they even used Styrofoam, given their whole job was about nature and protecting it. "Cause I'm pretty sure it's not, and you're just using your only son to gripe like every other old man around here."

"Because," Mark said as he swatted Marco's shoulder, "I was going to call in another favor, but now I'm not so sure you're up for it."

Marco regarded his father for a moment, suspicion edging his brown eyes. His father was everything he was, only older. Where Marco's hair was brown, his father's had started to turn grey. Where his height ended, his dad had a couple inches more; a reminder that Marco was forever stuck being the shortest Ranger of the station. But more worrying, was that this would be the second favor in that many days.

Something had to be up. And not just the body.

"Managed to get a date...?" Marco eventually managed, sipping his bitter coffee. He shuddered. He hated the taste, as did most of the sane rangers, but it sure as hell woke him up. Between the acidic tar on his tongue and the chill that had only now left his lungs, Marco was almost ready to conquer the day.

He tried not to think about how the campers got the good stuff.

Mark huffed. "Unless you consider keeping idiots from falling off cliffs a date, then no." Marco held back a comment about how the last cliff he'd almost fallen off of himself. He squinted. His father had meant to say that, didnt he? "I actually was going to ask you to take over my shift tomorrow," Mark continued. "Some asshole," he paused, saying the word quietly as he looked to the desk to make sure no fellow rangers were listening in, "put me on record duty. We both know I can't understand the damned computer."

Marco knew full well that the last part was a lie. There was nothing like that posted on the job board. Tobias usually took care of entering the records on the office computer. Even if Marco had missed the listing, his dad was far from qualified. Not because of it being a computer, but his dad hated being cooped up indoors. The gentle old man was quick to turn into a grouch the second he was cooped up. Even the Chief was wary to approach a bored Mark.

Mark had stayed somewhat technologically in-the-times, but not without help. From the old commodore-64 to his somewhat new flip phone, his dad was one of the techier old men he knew. Marco's expression must have said as much, as his dad gave him a mischievous grin that he didn't bother to hide.

"Look, you cover for me, and I'll cover you for Friday if you want to slip into town for anything." That caught Marco's attention. The promise of a morning to sneak away was already tempting - even if that meant risking the Boss' ire. As if suspecting that, Mark continued. "We all know you've been covering extra shifts. You deserve a break, kiddo, but not like this"

Damn it. Marco sighed from behind his Styrofoam coffee cup. "You sure the Chief wouldn't mind?" Marco asked cautiously. He already knew the answer, but it was worth seeing his dad grin. The old man stood there, the same mischievous grin as a kid who was caught pestering a friend behind the teacher's back plastered on his face.

"You think I care?" He replied. Mark, just like every other ranger, certainly cared, but his old age and even older friendship with the boss was just the leverage he needed. The old ranger knew it too. Insults were akin to greetings between them. Mark knew how to mess around with Chief while no one else dared to, and managed to get away with it without a scratch. "Tobias already told me you're checking on the cameras. Thanks for that."

"Not a problem old timer," Marco shook his head, followed by his dad's hand. The risk was more than worth it. The two spent a few more minutes talking over their charred coffees before heading out into their morning routines.

"Oh," Mark added before he slipped out the door, "Don't forget to take Johnson with you."

Marco sighed. There was no way this wasn't about the corpse.