The town hall felt different these days. The air didn’t hum with tension anymore — it hummed with life. The seats were full, the stove was warm, and laughter had started to replace the sound of caution. For the first time since anyone could remember, they were planning something for the future, not just for survival.
Marta stood at the front, gesturing to a map spread across the wall. “—so the west stockpiles are full, the grain stores are ahead of schedule, and the hydro wheel is back to ninety percent efficiency thanks to Sable’s team.”
Polite applause broke out. A few ferals lounging near the door flicked their ears at the sound, unsure if they were supposed to join in.
Marta smiled. “Now, there’s one other thing we need to talk about. Communication between towns.”
That word — communication — quieted the room a bit. It was a constant sore spot. Too many times they’d gone blind waiting for word from trade partners or scouts.
Marta looked toward Thane. “Right now, we’re still limited to handhelds and the shortwave relays Mark maintains. The repeaters barely reach halfway to Kalispell. There’s no way they’ll touch Spokane.”
A few murmurs circled the table. Hank scratched his chin. “Two-way’s good for a day’s drive, tops. After that, we’re yelling into mountains.”
Gabriel raised a hand. “Could try carrier pigeons. You know, with Holt handling the training. What could go wrong?”
Holt, sitting two seats down, looked deeply offended. “Birds stupid. Drop letters.”
“See?” Gabriel said. “Already pessimistic.”
The room chuckled. Even Marta smiled. “I think we’ll pass on the birds.”
That’s when Thane leaned back, tail giving one lazy sweep across the floor. “You know,” he said, “I might have an idea.”
Marta tilted her head. “Oh?”
Thane folded his arms, voice casual but steady. “Before the fall… I worked for the phone company.”
The room blinked at him. Even Holt looked confused. “Phone… what?”
“The old landline system,” Thane said, half-smiling. “Wires. Switchboards. Central offices. The whole thing.”
Silence.
Marta blinked twice. “You’re serious?”
Thane nodded. “Indiana Bell. I ran a central office for years before everything went sideways.”
Gabriel choked on a laugh. “Hold on. You mean to tell me you—big, scary Alpha of the forest—used to work in a cubicle with a tie?”
Thane shot him a look. “It was a collared shirt, not a tie.”
That broke the room open. Even Rime’s quiet laugh rumbled low and brief.
When it settled, Thane continued, tone a little more serious. “The point is… those lines are still there. The cables in the ground. The junctions, the trunk lines—they’re all buried deep and shielded. The copper doesn’t rot, and the switches are mechanical. They don’t need an internet; they need power. That’s it.”
Hank frowned. “Even after all these years?”
“Absolutely,” Thane said. “They were built to last through nuclear winters and lightning strikes. We could power a small section—say, here to Spokane—with a few solar panels and batteries on each end.”
Mark leaned forward, interest lighting his eyes. “You could really do that?”
Thane nodded once. “If we can find the old phone office here and the one there, yeah. I could wire up enough lines for emergencies and trade coordination. Wouldn’t be fancy, but it’d work.”
The room went quiet again—but this time it was the kind of quiet that meant everyone was thinking the same thing.
Then Holt said softly, “Alpha make phones talk?”
Thane grinned. “That’s the idea.”
Gabriel burst out laughing. “Of course you can! You’ve been fixing everything else since day one—why not resurrect Ma Bell while you’re at it?”
Marta’s laughter came next, shaking her head in disbelief. “You never cease to amaze me, Thane.”
Thane shrugged. “What? I may be wolf, but I did have a regular job back when the world wasn’t dead.”
That brought another ripple of laughter, but underneath it was excitement—the kind they hadn’t felt since the first lights came back on in Libby.
Marta finally said, “Alright. Let’s plan it. We’ll take a trip to Spokane and discuss it with their mayor. If you can pull this off, Thane… it could change everything.”
Three days later, the truck rolled into Spokane again.
This time the gates opened the moment they saw the wolves. Word had traveled fast after the envoy’s visit, and now the guards waved eagerly, smiling as if greeting old friends.
Mayor Mason himself waited in the square, coat flapping in the wind, Eli standing proudly beside him with a carved wooden wolf in hand.
“Thane!” the mayor called, grinning wide. “Back so soon?”
“Couldn’t stay away,” Thane said with a grin. “We’ve got an idea.”
“I was hoping you would,” Mason said. “Eli’s been asking every day when the wolves would visit again.”
Eli stepped forward shyly. “Hi, Mister Thane.”
Thane crouched. “Hi, Eli. You keeping your dad out of trouble?”
Eli giggled. “Trying.”
That earned laughter from everyone, breaking the last of the old fear. Marta stepped forward, shaking hands with the mayor. “We’ve come about communications. Thane thinks he can link our towns through the old landline system.”
The mayor’s brow lifted. “Landlines? You mean telephones?”
Thane nodded. “Exactly. I used to run a central office back before everything fell apart. I know what to look for.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” the mayor said, gesturing for them to follow. “Ours is still standing. We’ve been using it as storage for years.”
The Spokane central office sat on the corner of what had once been 2nd and Pine. The brick façade was weathered but intact, its glass doors scuffed but unbroken. A faded sign above the entry read Northwest Telecommunications Exchange.
Thane’s breath caught for a moment as he stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of dust and insulation — home to a man who hadn’t been inside one of these in decades.
He ran a claw along a rusted rack of circuit cards. “Looks like an old 5ESS system,” he murmured. “Solid gear. You could drop a tank on this thing and it’d still ring through.”
Marta looked around, awed by the rows of silent equipment. “This used to connect every phone in the city?”
“Every one,” Thane said, voice softer now. “All that noise and conversation, moving through here in a heartbeat.”
He found the stairwell and descended, claws clicking lightly on metal. The others followed, flashlights cutting through the dark. The basement opened into a concrete vault — a tangle of cables as thick as tree trunks feeding through the wall in neat, ordered bundles.
“Here it is,” Thane said quietly. “The cable vault.”
Even Holt fell silent. The sight was almost holy in its complexity.
Thane knelt by one of the massive conduits, brushing dust away from an embossed label: LIBBY – TRUNK LINE 4.
Marta gasped. “You’re kidding.”
Thane smiled faintly. “Told you it’s all still here.”
Mayor Mason stared, half laughing in disbelief. “And you think you can bring this back?”
“Not all of it,” Thane said. “Just enough. A few lines. I can build a small solar-fed mini-switch, splice into this trunk, and do the same in Libby. Once it’s powered, it’ll carry voice like it used to. Quiet, secure, invisible.”
Marta was already nodding. “That would give us a private line no raider could jam or intercept.”
The mayor grinned wide. “You’ve just made my week. What do you need?”
Thane looked thoughtful. “Copper wire, a few rotary phones, relays, and batteries. I can build the rest from scrap.”
Mayor Mason slapped him on the back. “You’ll have whatever you need. You’ve already given us peace — now you’re giving us a voice.”
Eli tugged Thane’s hand. “Can I help?”
Thane chuckled. “You just did, kid. You found the line.”
Upstairs, as they left, a crowd had gathered — word spreading again like wildfire that the wolves had returned.
Children ran ahead of their parents, giggling and waving. Several called out, “The wolves are back!” and “It’s the big one!” Holt, who had been quietly inspecting a phone booth outside, looked up in alarm.
“They talk about me?” he asked, tail wagging in confusion.
“Yep,” Gabriel said. “You’re famous, big guy.”
Holt looked genuinely pleased. “Good famous?”
“The best kind,” Thane said, smiling.
When they reached the trucks, a half-dozen children darted up, all trying to touch fur or claws. One small boy—a bundle of energy in a too-big coat—jumped right in front of Holt and looked up with fearless eyes. “Can I ride on your shoulders?”
Holt blinked. “Ride?”
Thane laughed. “Go ahead.”
Holt hesitated, then gently lifted the boy up, settling him on his broad shoulders. The child squealed in delight, clutching Holt’s ears like reins.
“Careful,” Holt warned. “No steer fast.”
The kids following behind shrieked with laughter, and Holt started walking proudly through the crowd while the boy waved like a king on parade.
Marta whispered to Thane, smiling. “You do realize you’ve started a new legend in Spokane, right?”
Thane grinned. “Good. Let them remember the day the wolves brought the phones back to life.”
Gabriel snorted. “That’ll be the first song with a dial tone solo.”
By the time they reached the trucks, the crowd was still waving. The mayor shook Thane’s hand again. “You’ve got our full support. I’ll have a team gather parts from every old exchange we can find. You’ll have what you need.”
“Then we’ll be back soon,” Thane said. “When the line rings… answer it.”
The mayor laughed. “You’ve got a deal.”
As the engines rumbled to life and the convoy turned toward home, Holt lifted the small boy off his shoulders and set him down gently. The child hugged his leg and ran back toward his parents, waving until they were out of sight.
Gabriel leaned out the passenger window, grinning. “You’re really gonna make the phones ring again, huh?”
Thane smiled at the snowy road ahead. “One line at a time.”
Marta looked over from the map she was folding. “You realize what this means? When it works, we’ll have the first long-distance connection since the fall.”
Thane nodded. “A voice between cities. A line between worlds.”
Holt rumbled softly from the back seat. “Good name.”
Thane glanced back. “For what?”
A song, “The line between us.”
Thane smiled. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “The lines between.”