Trophy Cub - 24. Home at Last

It was mid-morning when Gunnar and Mike gave Thomas big bear hugs outside the doors to the ticketing counter at the Green Bay International Airport. Thomas rubbed the silver bear bracelet on his wrist and looked at the two of them with a touch of sadness. As eager as he was to get home to his own cabin in the mountains and take care of any necessary repairs after it sat empty for half a year, he was still going to miss his friends, old and new.

“Now don’t go getting all sappy on me, little bear,” Gunnar said, patting Thomas on the shoulders. “We’ll be seeing you in just a little over two months for Chicago Pride. Susie wants the three of us to ride on the She-Wolves’ mobile stage in the big parade, and she won’t take ‘hell, no’ for an answer!”

“That’s assuming the war will be over by then,” Thomas replied.

“With the way the Council forces are progressing, the war is going to be over in just a month or so. The officers of the separatist packs are being sent off to the Lycan Council prisons, and council representatives are working on-site with the subordinate members of each of the packs to try to acclimate them to modern society.

“Once Susie and Apollo finish their campaign with the final separatist packs in south Wisconsin, they are going to go into the off-duty reserves and resume their places within the Chicago pack. Apollo says that the She-Wolves and Pip have finally agreed to officially join the pack, and that Susie is going to be promoted to the rank of pack Beta.

“So, there’s no getting out of it,” Gunnar concluded, “You’d better make your June travel plans to Chicago Pride now and get ready for a wild parade weekend!”

Thomas nodded and picked up his bags. “You take care of that Cub of ours till I get back!” he said.

Gunnar nodded in response and Thomas turned and quickly walked through the airport doors.

****

“Before we head home, Cub, I have just one more detour to make.” Gunnar said, getting on the freeway headed south instead of north. “If I time it just right, I’ll show you the best little truck stop diner for lunch with the nicest waitress in the whole Midwest.”

After driving for a little over an hour through Appleton, around Lake Winnebago, and past Fond du Lac, Gunnar pulled into the parking lot of the truck stop diner just off the freeway exit in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

As they walked through the front doors, they were greeted by a familiar waitress.

“Oh, Lord,” she said, “There’s two of you this time. Do you want the big corner booth again?”

“Please, darlin’” Gunnar replied. “We’re planning to eat enough for ten!”

“You want the breakfast or the lunch menu?” she asked.

“Better give us both,” Gunnar replied with a wink. “And you can start by bringing us two carafes of coffee. Black, no cream, no sugar.”

After seating them in the booth in the corner, the waitress walked quickly back to the kitchen to get their coffee and to warn the cook. Gunnar and Mike’s sensitive werebear ears could hear her voice coming from the kitchen.

“Johnny, gird your loins! The Black Hole is back, and he brought a friend this time!”

Between the two of them, Gunnar and Mike polished off two French dip sandwiches, six fajita wraps, four ultimate meatloaf sandwiches, two orders of fried pickles, a pound of chicken wings, two orders of country fried steak and eggs, and for dessert, two “oreo waffles” which the menu described as “Oreo cookie stuffed waffle topped with a scoop of ice cream, whipped cream and drizzled with chocolate”.

The waitress and Johnny the cook peeked around the kitchen door again as the two mountains of manliness sat in the corner booth devouring plate after plate of their lunch.

“There’s no way that they’re ordering anything else on top of all that,” the cook said nervously, as Mike shoved a chicken wing into his mouth whole and then pulled the bone back out, stripped of all meat.

“Maybe not for here, but I know their type, they’re going to order more food to-go,” the waitress replied. “If I was you, I’d drop two baskets of fries and a whole bunch of the ‘Big Mother Trucker’ burger patties on the grill now.”

****

Gunnar and Mike drove along a series of back-roads after leaving the diner. There were three to-go bags of food sitting in the back seat, each bag containing two of the diner’s special “Big Mother Trucker” double half-pound burgers loaded with everything, and two large orders of fries. Two of the bags were for the bears to snack on during the drive back to Sturgeon Bay, and the third was a peace offering for the person Gunnar was going to meet now.

They pulled into the empty lot outside of an ugly, windowless, wooden building with the words Silver Bullet written in sloppy handwriting in red paint over the doors.

Gunnar grabbed one of the bags of food and Mike followed him through the doors.

The inside was deserted. No wolves occupying the sex furniture or pool tables. No wereboars scurrying about cleaning or attending to clientele. Gunnar did a full visual sweep around the room, and finally found the one he was looking for, sitting on a stool at the end of the bar with paperwork spread out in front of him, and a little pair of oval glasses perched on his nose. Axel spotted Gunnar and Mike and quickly removed his glasses and stood up to his full seven-foot height. He was still clad in his black leather pants and biker boots, but he had a clean white tank top over his massive, tattooed torso.

He strode toward Gunnar and extended his hand, clasping Gunnar by the forearm in the traditional werebear greeting.

“Yogi,” Axel said with a small smile on his otherwise sad face, “You came back, and it looks like you’ve brought Boo-Boo Bear with you.”

Gunnar chuckled, “Mike, this werebear is Axel, but if he keeps calling you ‘Boo-Boo’ you can go ahead and call him ‘Hair Bear.’”

Mike and Axel clasped forearms, and Axel got a good look and a sniff of him.

“Gunnar, is this the human… the kindred one who was here?”

“Yes, Axel,” Gunnar replied. “I told you, he is a true werebear, and nothing was going to stop me from saving him.”

“I should never have doubted you,” Axel said sadly, “What a fine, handsome werebear he is! I should have helped you back then when I had the chance. It turns out that my loyalty to the wolves isn’t worth squat to them in the end.”

“Here,” Gunnar said, handing Axel the bag of food, “We brought you a snack.”

“Is this from the truck stop by the freeway?” Axel asked, perking up. “I can smell one of their Big Mother Trucker burgers from a mile away.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Gunnar replied, “Because there are two Big Mother Truckers in there and a whole mess of fries. Let’s sit and talk. You can eat and fill me in on what’s happened here, and I’ll fill you in on what’s happened out there.”

“Ah Gunnar,” Axel said after they were seated and he had swallowed his first bite of burger, “What you see around you tells the story. Over the last month, the funding to run this place was cut in half, and then cut in half again. Many of the pack Alphas suddenly stopped sending me their regular cash to cover my operating expenses, and they no longer answer my calls to ask them why. A couple weeks ago, the number of wolves visiting the Bullet began to drop dramatically, and for the last week, there have been no customers in here at all. I had to let all my wereboar staff go, and even without those employee costs, the money from the packs has slowed to a trickle. If they don’t restore their funding, and if the customers don’t return, I’m going to have to close this place up for good.”

“Axel, I’m sorry,” Gunnar said, patting the big bear on the shoulder as he crammed another big bite of burger in his mouth to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. “I need to let you know what has happened out there.

“It all goes back to that Alpha Kane who was the cause of the trouble that night you and I both met Mike here for the first time. After I rescued Mike from Kane’s pack house and evaded his hunters, we went into hiding in the northern part of the state for the winter. Kane enlisted the help of the other pack Alphas in Wisconsin and Minnesota to help track us down. Using that collaboration as an ice-breaker for the packs to begin working together, they hatched a plan to form a single ‘holy army’ and overthrow the Lycan Council in Calgary.”

“Those holier-than-thou fucking assholes,” Axel muttered, setting down his burger.

“Indeed,” Gunnar replied. “The next steps in their plan after wiping out the Council were to sweep through the rest of the packs in North America like an inquisition. Converting, torturing, and killing as they went. What they didn’t know was that the Supreme Alpha of the Council had a mole planted in one of those packs, and when the word leaked about their plan, the Council mobilized strike forces and began quickly taking out those packs one-by-one before they had a change to fully organize. They started at the Canadian border and took out the Minnesota packs first, before coming to the rescue of me and Mike here before Kane had a chance to finish us off.

“When your money supply was suddenly cut, it was because the Council forces had already wiped out those packs, imprisoning the officers and starting to rehabilitate the subordinates. When the customers stopped coming, it was partly because the Council had taken over half of the packs, and partly because the males in the remaining packs in Wisconsin were preparing to march on Calgary, unaware of what was already happening in Minnesota.

“As we speak, the Council forces are continuing their sweep through the remaining Wisconsin packs, and it will not be long before they reach you here. It’s time for you to cut your losses and get out, Axel. I’m not happy with the type of business that you were running here, but I don’t want to see you ending up in a Council prison, on trial for collaborating with the separatist Alphas.”

“Where am I supposed to go, Yogi?” Axel cried out. “This bar is a shithole, but it’s been my home for close to fifty years. I have no friends. The only people I’ve met for the last few decades, besides the waitresses at the truck stop, have been boars and a bunch of anonymous degenerate wolves. I don’t know anyone out there, and I’d essentially be homeless. Maybe I should just stay and wait for the Council to throw me in a cell. It’s probably what I deserve.”

“Axel,” Gunnar said, rubbing the big bear’s shoulder, “You should know that I wouldn’t break this kind of news to you without giving you an option. I want to you get on the road today and start heading north, to Canada. Go to a small town not far over the border from Minnesota called Atikokan, Ontario. When you get there, ask for Grand-Papa Ezekiel. Tell him that Gunnar sent you, and you will be welcomed. Atikokan is a werebear enclave, where you can live among our kind for as long as you need, and Ezekiel is an ancient Kermode and leader of the group. It will be an opportunity for you to contribute to a community in a positive way, and a chance to make the necessary friends to help you survive in the world outside of the Silver Bullet.”

Gunnar handed Axel a piece of paper with all the important information written down. Axel stared at the paper for a minute, and then the big, tough bear burst into tears, grabbing Gunnar and hugging him tightly to his chest.

Mike stood up to give the bears a minute to themselves and wandered to the back of the bar where a set of dark curtains hid what lay behind. He pulled the curtain to the side and stood staring at the leather sling hanging in the middle of the room under a single spotlight.

He was still standing there when Gunnar walked up behind him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“This is where it happened,” Mike said. “This is where I was trussed up in a sling in a dark room and raped by all of those wolves.”

“Yes, this is it,” Gunnar replied gently, “It’s also the place where a lost and curious bear followed the scent of a human in distress and discovered the kindred man who would change his life and teach him to love again.”

“I love you Papa,” Mike said, dropping the curtain and hiding the backroom from view once again.

“I love you too Cub,” Gunnar replied. “Let’s go home.”

****

Gunnar backed the Jeep and the cargo trailer into the driveway of the blue house with white trim along the lake shore. He’d have to disconnect the trailer and find a better place to store it, but that could be a job for tomorrow. He and Mike got out of the Jeep, stretched their arms and legs, and walked up onto the front porch.

Gunnar noticed a new hand-carved plaque hanging over the doorbell painted in blue and white to match the house:

N & G Olafson

1975

G & M Bergan

2021

Gunnar opened the front door and stepped inside. A cheerful fire crackled away in the living room fireplace, and the smell of fresh coffee drifted from the kitchen. The bears walked through the house and through the bay windows they saw Joshua sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs in his coat and wool cap, looking at a fire burning in the patio firepit.

“Hello Jay,” Gunnar said, opening the back door and stepping out onto the patio, “Long time no see.”

“Gunnar,” Joshua replied, getting up from his chair and turning to greet him, “It didn’t take you fifty years this time!”

“Hello Joshua,” Mike said in his deep voice, standing with his hands in his pockets to the side of Gunnar. “Don’t recognize me, do you?”

“Oh, Mike,” Joshua said, walking over to the big man and putting his hands on his broad chest, “I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. It looks like you chose wisely and have a big bear inside you too now. You are so muscular and handsome. Congratulations.”

Mike hugged Joshua and even picked him up off the ground a little bit.

“I have so much to tell you,” Mike said, “It’s been one crazy winter, but I’m so glad to finally be home.”

“Is this home now?” Joshua asked hopefully, looking over at Gunnar.

“I think it is,” Gunnar confirmed, “At least for the next forty years or so before we’ll have to change our identities and move on again. A nice little town that welcomes a gay couple living together will be a fine place for me to raise this Cub of mine. But we’ll have to find jobs that allow us to blend in.”

“Are either of you very good at fishing?” Joshua asked, “There’s always work on the fishing boats in the warmer weather.”

Gunnar looked over at Mike and grinned. “I think that when it comes to fishing, we’re both what you could call a ‘natural’.”

“I have a surprise for the two of you,” Joshua said. “When you called to say that you’d be coming back today, I brought my laptop computer over with me to show you. Come inside, I have it sitting on the dining room table.”

They followed Joshua inside to the dining room and then stood looking over his shoulder as he pecked away at the laptop’s keyboard.

“I never told you, but my hobby is genealogy. When Mike told me that his last name was Bergen, and that Nils frequently used the last name Bergan I thought that it was a curious coincidence that there were two werebears with almost the same last name.

“Over the winter I got to working on Mike’s family tree. He’s been declared missing and presumed dead now, but I was able to access public records and connect to some online family trees already completed by some of his distant relatives. I got back as far as 1650 when I found this…”

He pulled up the image of an old document written in Norwegian.

“It’s the birth record of a boy born in Oslo, Norway named Bjørn Bergan. Mother, Helene Bergan. Father, Nils Bergan. It’s my belief that at some point in the seventeenth century, over a hundred years before he met you, Gunnar, your Nils spent at least part of a lifetime settled down with a human woman named Helene, and they had a boy named Bjørn. That boy and Nils are your ancestors, Mike. When your family immigrated to the United States, the Bergan name was changed to Bergen, but I’ve checked and re-checked this, and you are definitely a descendent of Nils himself!”

“That explains the eyes,” Gunnar said, looking at Mike with love.

“I told you before,” Joshua said, “You two were destined to become family!”

Later that night, after Joshua had gone home for the evening, Gunnar built a fire in the bedroom and the bears retired to their soft, cozy king-sized bed with the quilt hand-embroidered in a bear motif. The same bed where Mike woke up from his harrowing ordeal with the wolves, and the same bed where the two bears had made love for the first time so many months ago.

“Well Cub,” Gunnar said as they lay on their sides looking into each other’s eyes, “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“As long as it’s with you, Papa, I’m ready for anything. Tomorrow, next week, and the next thousand years. I love you, Papa.”

“Love you more, Cub.”

“Good night.”