White Wolf Research

Patricia pulled the last two cans of white beans to the front of the shelf. Together with their last carton of spiral pasta, it was the only food they had left. In the corner of the pantry, one of the water tanks was still half full. She wasn't worried about running out of water, though. The electricity was still working and they had an abundance of snow they could melt. The far more pressing concern was the lack of food.

'Have you seen Rob?' Ben appeared behind her in the doorway. Peering over her shoulder, he added: 'They don't multiply if you count them again and again.'

'I know.' She turned her back to the heavy-duty metal shelf.

'You look like my dog staring into his empty bowl hoping food will respawn.'

Pat shrugged. She wasn't sure if Ben just pretended to believe he'd see his golden retriever again or if he still had true hope for them to make it down from this mountain alive.

'I don't know where Rob is.' She closed the pantry door behind her as they walked through the dining hall to the atrium of the research station.

Before it had become a research station, the building balanced high on the mountain had been a hotel. Guests would arrive in the atrium first with all of their luggage, get checked in in the small office in the right corner, and then go up to their rooms through the steel fire door on the left. The atrium had been the front face of the hotel with curved seating around the inner wall, a large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the valley, and a dark hardwood floor. Now, when research groups stayed here, the former check-in office was used as a maintenance and surveillance checkpoint from which the cable car, the only way to access the station, was operated. Back when it had been a hotel, there had been a second faster way to arrive. A cog-wheel train would climb through the forest up the steep mountain and deliver guests, staff, and supplies directly into the lowest level. The train had been out of commission for multiple decades, making the cable car the only viable transportation to surpass the hundreds of meters of elevation between the valley and the research station.

While Ben continued his search for Rob in the conference rooms, Pat walked across the atrium to the large window. It was dark outside. As she stepped closer to the window, her own reflection moved into the background, while the world outside came into view. The station was built into the mountain, just shy of the peak. From this height, they had a breathtaking view of the valley with the large lake and the mountain range that separated their country from the dangerous monster-infested realm in their backs.

The moon was reflected in the frozen lake's surface. A handful of lights shone weakly in the village nestled along the shore of the lake. A much more prominent red light blinked on her right above the door leading out to the metal-grate platform in front of the window. The U-shaped platform served as the landing point for the cable car. The large wheel for the steel cable was just on top of the atrium. The red light went on every afternoon at 5 p.m. to remind them of the avalanche risk. The light blinked through the night, casting a red hue on the hardwood floors. Pat loathed that light.

A few weeks ago, the snow storm, that was still raging outside, had ripped the twisted cable out of its anchor. The cabin had toppled down the slope until it came to rest halfway to the valley. Luckily, the cabin had been empty. She couldn't see it in the dark right now, but she had the image of the crashed cabin seared into her brain. The broken window. The bent roof. The cable coiled on the ground like a steel snake.

The storm hadn't let up since then and she could hear the howling of the wind that had pushed waves of snow up to the window. A dam of packed snow was forming on the bottom. Shortly after the cabin crashed, just before they could make a rescue call, the internet and satellite communication had gone out as well. Pat, Ben, and Rob were stranded up here without a way to call for assistance. Not that it was any good. Any rescue team needed to wait out the storm first.

Going out there in that storm was suicide. She had told Ben and Rob that when they had put on their skis, ready to slide down the cliffside. If an avalanche didn't bury them, and they didn't freeze to death, one of the white wolves with red eyes would maul them to death.

'Heya.' Rob pushed through the steel door that led to the sleeping quarters.

'Ben was looking for you earlier.'

'I know. He found me.' Rob was drunk. He had been drunk for the last three days.

'How long do you think it takes a human to starve to death after their last meal?' Pat wondered.

'How should I know? You're the biologist.'

'Not that kind.' She was a biologist specialising in nearly extinct mammals. Most of her work consisted of tracking migration patterns to explore ways to secure their survival in ever-shrinking natural habitats.

Not this one, though. These killers, she would hunt down.

The curved atrium wall opposite the window was covered in her research and was the reason the three of them were trapped here. Next to a blueprint outlining all levels of the station itself, complete with every window, door, and all utilities, a geological map outlined the mountain range. Different shaded parts and symbols showed where the light-grey stone changed to dark-grey stone. Rob was way better at explaining the significance of the different types of rocks. She also had a bird's-eye view with elevation pinned to the wall. A smaller map showed the distribution of vegetation. Not a lot grew up here, but what grew could be significant. The core of the wall, and her research, was a hand-drawn side view of the mountain range. It was not to scale and only a rough sketch. She had added all significant information as coloured symbols. Every sighting the villagers had reported, every deep trench they had spotted where large animals had ploughed through the snow, every roar they had heard at night. It was all marked.

In previous studies, her meticulous mapping had revealed clear migration patterns. If she understood where an animal ate and drank, where it mated, and where it slept, she could construct a whole life around them. Not so much this one, though. The monster wolves came from the other side of the mountain rage, but she couldn't figure out where they crossed. If they didn't find how they crossed the mountain, the whole country would be overrun by the vicious beasts, as the small village had been. The wolves' white fur blended into the snow too well to spot in advance. Despite their size, they snuck up on humans and animals. So far, they had killed nearly all livestock and a third of the village's population. If they didn't stop them, they would move beyond the mountain range soon.

'I don't see the pattern,' she shouted at the wall, not for the first time.

'Maybe there is none.' Ben had returned and hovered behind her pretending to understand her markings and abbreviations. He was the engineer of the trio. When there was a vehicle to fix or a light bulb to change, he was on duty. Unless the vehicle lay smashed on the cliffside. Then, his toolbelt was useless.

'There has to be.' If she didn't find it, this whole mission would have been wasted. They would starve for no reason. She told herself that if she could at least stop the wolves from invading their country, her death would have been worth it. Since communication was down, she would leave a note pinned to this wall for the team recovering their bodies once the storm ceased.

'There is a door there.' Rob had fetched another bottle from his hiding place. A dark brown rum with a historical-looking label.

'How many do you have left?' Ben scowled at Rob.

'This is the last one.' He hiccupped and pointed at a straight line depicting a solid wall on the station's blueprint. 'There. There is a door.'

'I'm still surprised by the sheer amount of alcohol in this place,' Pat mused.

'I'm not. Researchers get frustrated with their work. Frustrated people drink.' Ben abandoned the pretence of helping and sat down on the wooden bench underneath the map.

'It wasna... was not the researchers.' Rob swayed and took a large sip.

'The tracks all centre around the station. The howling at night sounds so close. There is no way they can get inside, though. Maybe underneath?' Pat mumbled to herself.

'The rum is old. Like really old. Must be from the hotel times.' Rob continued as if Pat's task were utterly unimportant.

'Where did you find those, anyway? The stash in the kitchen was empty after a few days.' Ben frowned at Rob. He was not a fan of Rob's drinking. Rob was a geologist and used to being outdoors all the time. Being stuck in the station hit him hard. He spent a lot of his time on the top-floor balcony, but that was not enough.

When they had first arrived at the station, the silence and the spectacular views had been mesmerising. They had celebrated the first few nights, congratulating themselves on receiving the grant for this expedition. It had been a competitive call, but they had won against their colleague's proposals. In those first few days, they had still believed the task of finding where the wolves came from was well within their skill set. It had sounded ambitious, for sure, but not impossible. They had dreamed of the awards and fame bestowed upon the research team that kept the wolves out. Maybe it would even be a puzzle piece in finally acquiring tenure.

'I'm telling you. It was in that door. The one that is not on there.'

Rob's rambling finally filtered through to Pat. She whirled around so fast she made Rob jump in his skin.

'Show me the door.'

'Shouldn't we look for the pattern? We shouldn't waste any time. It's probably nothing.' Ben stood up and studied the map on the wall again.

'Anything could be important. At this point, we have to think in all directions.'

Pat followed Rob through the fire door and up the grated metal steps. Their steps echoed in the staircase. Ben dragged behind.

On the third level, Rob entered the hallway through another similar fire door. He walked around the corner of the narrow hallway before stopping in front of a door that looked like any other in the station. The white paint on the door was scratched in the corner and a handwritten sign was duck-taped to the door, marking the room behind it as private.

Pat compared the position of the door to the blueprint that she knew by heart by now. There was no door in the plan. They were on the side of the building close bto the mountain. Behind that door should only be massive rock for hundreds of meters. Because the station was built into the rock itself, they were nearly underneath the peak with another half a kilometre of rock above their heads.

'Told you.' Rob slid down the wall until he was sitting. He spread his legs in front of him, spanning the width of the hallway. The bottle of rum slowly spun between his legs.

Ben hung back. He eyed the door, but joined Pat when she opened it. It swung open on oiled hinges. No creaking or moaning. Someone had cared for this door.

Behind the door was a dark tunnel cut directly into the stone. A slow trickle of water ran down the rock walls and pooled on the uneven ground. The tunnel went slightly up and then turned sharply to the left. They could only see a few meters past the empty cartons marked with the same logo as the rum in between Rob's legs.

Pat leaned forward. The air smelled moist and a bit mouldy. A cool breeze moved her hair.

'This must be an old smuggler tunnel.' Ben observed. He stepped over the empty cartons into the dark tunnel.

'Smugglers?'

'The rum of pirates.' Rob raised the bottle in the air and took a large sip.

'More like businessmen selling booze to rich hotel guests.' Ben peered around the bend of the tunnel. Before Pat could warn him, he returned to the entrance. 'It's too dark. Let's get the big torchlights from the office.'

As Ben was about to close the door, a howl echoed through the tunnel. Rob's bottle fell out of his grasp and shattered on the floor. Pat's curse was muffled by a second howl, louder and more high-pitched. At least two wolves were in that tunnel.

Pat threw the door closed and leaned against it.

'What do we do?' She asked the two men.

Rob pointed at her. 'You're the biologist.'

'Not that kind of biologist!', she yelled at him. Behind the door, they heard big paws scratching over rough stone.

They ran downstairs, through the fire door, and barricaded it with a metal chain. It would not stop the wolves forever, though.

Rob stumbled to the ground, the red blinking light illuminating his sweaty face. He rolled onto his back and just stayed there. Ben paced back and forth in front of the window. The stars had multiplied while they were upstairs.

Pat turned to her map. She took the red marker and circled the door that was not on the plans. She drew a line across the wall to her sketch of the mountain. It was so obvious. The skid marks next to the stations. The howling at night. The villagers swore the wolves climbed over the peak. They came through the smuggler tunnel and left through the balcony on top of the station. There was a platform there for all of the weather sensors, including the satellite dish that had been destroyed. Not by the storm, but by wolves. It all made sense. Except for one thing: Wolves didn't open doors.

Pat froze. Her back was turned to the atrium. She heard Rob snoring and Ben pacing. She put the red marker down and, without turning around, walked to the dining hall. She kept walking. She didn't say a word. When she reached the pantry door, she ran inside, slammed the door, and turned the key. She heaved one of the shelves in front of the door before she sank to the floor. Barricaded in the pantry, she would wait until the storm ceased. There was nothing else she could do.