Free A Game Called Chaos by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

car,” Joe said. “It’s gone now.”
    â€œProbably just sightseers,” Frank said. “This place is beautiful.”
    â€œWell, it won’t be as beautiful when it gets dark in a couple of hours,” Joe said. The two of them walked in silence for a while after that, Joe keeping his eyes peeled for any landmark clues from the games.
    Suddenly Frank stopped.
    â€œWhat is it?” Joe asked.
    â€œShh! Listen.”
    Joe listened and heard a faint rustling in the woods behind them. He and Frank turned and looked.
    About thirty yards away, through the underbrush, they could just make out the form of a huge gray wolf.
    â€œHe’s stalking us!” whispered Frank.

10 The Cave of Chaos
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    â€œI’ve got my pocketknife,” Joe said softly. “And a hand ax in my backpack.”
    â€œNot enough,” Frank replied. “Maybe we could take him, but we’d get badly mauled in the process.”
    â€œNo way we can make it back to the van,” Joe said. “Look at the way he moves through the woods.”
    â€œHe’s lived here all his life, probably,” Frank said. “Though I don’t remember gray wolves being in this part of Massachusetts.”
    â€œWell, one’s here now,” Joe said. “At least he’s not closing in.”
    â€œNot yet, anyway. If we can’t go back, we should press to look for shelter. Come on, Joe. We’ll just keep a careful eye on him.”
    â€œI’ll keep two careful eyes on him,” Joe said.
    The Hardys ventured deeper into the woods. Occasionally, they would spot the wolf trailing them, or ranging off to one side. All at once, though, the creature was in front of them, barring their path.
    He stood on the path about a hundred yards away from the brothers, growling menacingly.
    â€œLooks like this is the end of the road,” Frank said. “Unless you want to tackle Tall, Dark, and Furry.”
    â€œAt least he’s not a bear,” Joe replied. “Chelsea said there were bears in Forest of Chaos.”
    â€œWell, I don’t want to fight either a wolf or a bear if we can help it—unless, of course, it was Bombo Bear,” Frank said. “I’ve got a feeling Bombo would be a pushover.”
    Despite the tense situation, the quip brought a smile to Joe’s lips. As Frank watched the wolf, Joe checked their map. “If we leave the trail here,” Joe said, “I think we can still get to the river.”
    â€œI guess that’s our best bet,” said Frank. “Assuming Mr. Fuzzy agrees.”
    Joe nodded and the two left the path and stepped into the woods. Joe fished out his compass. “You know, I’d love to have one of those Global Positioning Systems right about now,” he said.
    â€œI’d settle for a phone,” Frank said.
    The wolf didn’t move any closer, but the brothers could still see him through the woods, ranging off to their left. Kendall State Park was quiet for the summer, Frank thought. The only noise was the sound of their footsteps, the soft padding of the wolf, and the whistle of an occasional bird.
    As the sun started to dip low in the sky, the Hardys continued to play cat and mouse with the wolf. The wolf didn’t get any closer to them, nor did he veer away. He seemed to be watching and waiting.
    â€œYou know,” Joe said after a while, “that doesn’t look like any wolf I’ve ever seen before.”
    â€œYeah,” Frank agreed. “I was thinking the same thing. His face isn’t shaped quite right. Maybe he’s a wolf-dog hybrid. Sometimes people keep hybrids as pets.”
    â€œAnd sometimes they get loose,” added Joe. “That’d explain what a wolf is doing in this part of the country. Guess that’s why they have leash laws.”
    Frank cocked his head. “Joe, do you hear that?”
    Joe did the same. “Those birds singing?” he