Fangs

by Vella Munn

  Damn, damn. He hadn’t done anything bad to the duo. Thanks to him, they hadn’t had to work at filling their bellies for days.

  He’d shot a cow elk, a nursing mother.

  The dog straddling him again licked his cheeks. He couldn’t see the fangs but didn’t need to. He knew what they looked like. What they would feel like digging into his flesh. Hell, oh hell, the creature’s companion was still holding onto his foot which had gone nearly numb. Maybe he should be grateful because he couldn’t feel, but how could he when terrified anticipation made his heart pound?

  Licking him repeatedly, horrible breath making him gag, a tooth raking his nose.

  “No!” He tried to grab hold of the beast’s ears. The animal whipped its head to the side, seized the fingers of his right hand, and bit down. A fang crushed a knuckle.

  “Ah! Oh god!”

  Pressure. Slow. Building. Turning his world white with pain.

  A new sound, more growls, higher in pitch, maybe from puppies?

  “Don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me.”

  Suddenly he was alone on the ground. Not alone really, because the beasts were still within reach, but for the first time in what felt like forever, they weren’t chewing on him. Thanks to the moon and stars, he was able to make out a pair of smaller canine shapes. The newcomers came closer and started sniffing him all over, while the larger pair stood sentry over him. His foot throbbed worse than any toothache. A deep pain radiated up from his fingers and spread over his armpit, before pounding against his temple. The puppies, if that’s what they were, pawed at his sweatshirt. When one of them licked his wounded hand, he howled from pain and fear. That caused the licker to jump back. Then it growled, closed its teeth around his hand, and bit down.

  He howled, couldn’t stop. Fought the terrible jaws.

  A new pain, this one enveloping his other foot. Screaming without stop, he whipped his head about. He had to know where all four monsters were—and if there were any more.

  Oh shit!

  Barely in sight, down by his legs with its oversized head lowered, the torturer that had dragged him into the wilderness.

  Biting, chewing, severing his left foot from his body.

  He screamed until he couldn’t. Then he sucked in air and screamed some more.

  Fainted.

  * * * *

  “He’s going to bleed to death before we can get him out of here.”

  “We have to try.”

  “I know.” Summer could barely speak for the waves of disbelief and fear assaulting her. Lyle, his rifle ready, stood over her as she knelt beside Kendall. She’d wrapped Melinda and her sweatshirts around what was left of Kendall’s feet and was applying as much pressure as she dared. Instead of sobbing and pissing herself, like she had been afraid Melinda would do, Melinda was cradling Kendall’s right hand which she’d covered with a towel. If there weren’t more important things to deal with, Summer would have complimented Melinda. “We can’t wait until morning.”

  “Absolutely no waiting,” Melinda whispered. “God, we have to leave.”

  She felt the same way. In the space of a few minutes, a night with her boyfriend had turned into a nightmare. If she wasn’t afraid Kendall would die if she left him, she would already be on his trail bike and speeding down the mountain. Her body was numb, her mind barely working.

  “Let me think,” Lyle said. “I have to try to find a place where our phones will work.”

  “No!” Melinda started rocking. “Don’t you leave us.”

  “She’s right.” Summer was surprised by how calm she sounded. “They might come back. We need you standing guard.”

  Kendall made a whimpering sound and stared up at her. “It’s all right,” she assured him when it was anything but. “They’re gone. You’re safe.”

  Her boyfriend continued to stare at her, but she wasn’t sure how much he was seeing or hearing. Her presence might be the only thing that stood between him and fatal shock.

  Thanks to Lyle’s headlamp, she’d seen the damage the bastards had done, but it still didn’t feel real. She didn’t trust her sanity enough to replay the initial attack, so concentrated on what had happened after the dogs had dragged Kendall into the dark. For too long, she, Lyle, and Melinda had hollered, not that their screams had made the dogs let go of Kendall. Lyle firing hadn’t done any better.

  Then, grim and white-faced, Lyle had hurried into his tent and emerged with the headlamp in place. He’d picked up Kendall’s rifle, handed his to her, and started after his cousin. Summer had clutched the maybe spent rifle to her chest and run after Lyle. She’d been guided by Kendall’s screams and the monster dogs’ awful growls.

  Instead of dragging Kendall to god knows where, the two grays—funny that their color had stood out—hadn’t gone far. They were doing things to Kendall that would give her nightmares for the rest of her life. She was still trying to process that and come up with a plan that would free Kendall, when the two grays were joined by another pair of dogs, half-grown puppies. All four had crowded around Kendall.

  Going by the inhuman sounds coming from him, she knew he was still alive.

  But being killed.

  Dying.

  Then Lyle had shot at the dogs. When they’d all been at the campground, Lyle had fired into the air to keep from hitting his cousin, but this time he aimed at the attackers. Maybe he believed Kendall was beyond saving. He was shaking so much he missed, but for reasons she’d probably never know, the dogs had disappeared into the forest.

  Lyle hadn’t said anything to Kendall. In fact he’d remained silent as he shoved the rifle he’d been using at Melinda, who’d finally shown up. He’d knelt beside Kendall, shoved his arms under him, and lifted him. No way should Lyle have been able to stand with Kendall’s weight dragging at him, but he had. He’d thrown Kendall over his shoulder and started stumbling toward the campground. She and Melinda had followed, walking backwards.

  She’d only been able to guess at the extent of Kendall’s injuries until she pulled his sleeping bag out of the tent and Lyle placed him on it. The lamplight she’d been so thankful for revealed terrible destruction. Her boyfriend’s left foot was missing, and the heel was gone from the right. He’d lost two fingers on his right hand—his trigger hand, she kept thinking. A lot of his hair had been pulled out, and his scalp was red with blood. He moaned without stopping.

  “Even if you can reach nine-one-one”—she didn’t sound like herself—“he might not live until help arrives. We have to get him off the mountain.”

  Grim faced, Lyle nodded. “The trailers. We’ll put him on one. Thank god we have that.”

  She didn’t believe in a deity, hadn’t since her dog had been hit by a truck. No matter how many prayers she’d prayed, Bruce had still died. Tonight, however, she’d consider anything, including dropping to her knees and folding her hands. Everyone thought she was tough, her included. But standing up to her hard mother and what was happening tonight were two completely different things. Now she wanted nothing more than to be in her own bed—and for Kendall to still have feet.

  “I’ll ride with him,” she heard herself say. “Try to keep the bandages in place.”

  “Don’t let him bounce off,” Lyle added. “I hate hurting him more, but the trip down is going to be—awful.”

  Her life wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  She’d no sooner given the thought freedom than she mentally bitch-slapped herself. What the hell did she matter? The man-boy she was halfway in love with had been crippled. He might not survive the night, and if he did, he might wish he hadn’t. She wanted to kiss him, to perform that pitiful act so he’d have something to hold on to. At the same time he repelled her.

  “Maybe we should give him some whiskey,” Melinda said. “If he’s drunk it might make things easier for him.”

  Angry because she hadn’t thought of that, Summer insisted that booze was probably the worst thing for Kendall’s system. She didn’t understand why he
was still alive. Between the blood loss and shock shouldn’t his heart have given up?

  Damn those dogs! She’d give anything to be able to blast them into the next county.

  Chapter Nine

  Mia was in the middle of a dream in which a white elk had morphed into a buffalo. Someone was trying to put a saddle on the pale buffalo when Banshee’s long growl brought her upright and reaching for her nightstand, where she kept her loaded pistol. The only time Banshee growled at night was when he alerted her to the presence of some animal in her trees. She had no intention of killing the intruder or intruders, but the critters needed to be taught that their presence wasn’t appreciated. Usually blowing a horn sent the thieves running, but sometimes she had to resort to firing a shot.

  After arming herself, she jammed her feet into her slippers and headed for the front door. She’d grab her jacket on the way out. At least that had been her intention until she noted something unusual about the sounds her dog was making. She and Banshee had been dealing with four-legged trespassers so long that, once she had her shoes on, Banshee turned responsibility over to her. Tonight, however, his nose was pressed to the crack between the door and jam. He was still growling. On edge, Mia went to the front window. Because she kept a high intensity driveway light on at night, she had a pretty clear view of the swath of land she thought of as her front yard. She didn’t see anything.

  “Hush. I don’t know what has you so riled up, but hush.”

  After giving her a disapproving glance, Banshee nevertheless did as she’d ordered. That was when she heard a sound she recognized as coming from more than one trail bike. Bikes were a common mode of transportation for people wanting to get into the back country. Only rarely did anyone come through her property. She hadn’t checked to see what time it was, but it was definitely the middle of the night. Not that many days ago she would have been irritated, but not alarmed. Tense, she placed the gun on the windowsill long enough to put on her jacket.

  “Come on,” she told Banshee. As she opened the door, she wished she weren’t alone. Specifically she wished Jeff Julian was here. Later, she told herself, she’d try to determine why she wanted that particular person around.

  Pistol held in both hands, she stepped onto her porch with Banshee at her side. Because she slept in a nightshirt, her lower legs were bare. The yard light left too much of her world in shadow, but she soon spotted two dirt bikes heading toward her on her dirt road. They were pulling some kind of trailer and something other than belongings was on the lead trailer.

  “Help us!” a woman cried. “Please help us.”

  Banshee growled. His hackles lifted. This time she didn’t try to silence him.

  “We need help,” a man said. He sounded as if he was somewhere between shock and desperate. “He’s hurt. God, so badly hurt.”

  As the newcomers pulled in close to her vehicle, she realized a man was straddling the first bike while what appeared to be a teenage girl was on the other. A second girl was kneeling on the trailer that was behind the man, crouched over as if trying to protect something.

  Even with Banshee’s reaction as warning, Mia’s wellbeing no longer mattered. Only a nightmare turned into reality could put so much emotion in a human voice.

  “What is it?” she asked as the two bikes fell silent.

  “My cousin—” The man jabbed a finger at the trailer behind him. “Please call nine-one-one.”

  “He’s bleeding so much.” The girl on the trailer sounded too calm. Either she didn’t care or she cared a great deal.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Much as she wanted to join them, she’d wait until she knew more.

  “He was attacked,” the girl answered. “Kendall, please don’t die. Lady, you have to call nine-one-one! Get help to him, now.”

  “Attacked where? What are you doing here?”

  “Your place is the first one we came to,” the man said. Now that she’d listened to him for a little while, she realized he didn’t sound much older than the girls. “We didn’t stop to try to use our cells while we were on the mountain. Where are we? I’ll make the call. All you have to do is tell the ambulance where to come.”

  She could have told the young man that the nine-one-one system could probably identify where they were, but that wasn’t the point. The girl she’d been talking to was rocking while cradling something that looked like wadded fabric.

  Blood-red fabric.

  “I’ll get my cell phone. Make sure they have the right directions,” she said. “You guys stay where you are.”

  The rocking girl straightened. “Just do it! He needs to be in the hospital. In surgery. Getting transfusions.”

  By the time Mia emerged from her house, punching three numbers as she did, the girl who’d been on the second bike had propped her machine on a kickstand. She stared at the trailer with the other teenager and victim on it, but didn’t get close. Trusting that her visitors could hear, she identified herself to the nine-one-one operator and made sure the ambulance knew where to turn off the highway. No, she wasn’t sure of the patient’s injuries, but his condition might be critical.

  “They’re on their way,” she assured her young visitors after hanging up. “What does he need? Bandages? Maybe a blanket. Is he unconscious?”

  “I—think so.” The rocking teenager folded herself around whoever she’d been caring for. “Damn it, Kendall, hang on. Don’t you dare die.”

  Thinking it was better to assess Kendall’s injuries herself than depend on what the others told her, she placed her pistol on the railing and descended the steps. She was wide awake, but there was a dreamlike quality to what was happening. Hopefully, that would change once she had a better understanding of the situation, but maybe she didn’t want to know more than she did. The young man had gotten off his bike. Her yard light illuminated a face bleached of color.

  “What happened?” she asked as she approached the makeshift gurney. Kendall’s head looked as if he’d dunked it in red paint. He was missing most of his hair on the side she could see. “What happened?” she repeated. Maybe explaining would help pull the trio out of their collective trance.

  “He was attacked,” the previously silent girl said. “By big wild dogs.”

  Dogs. That was the last thing she expected to hear. Yet now that the words were out, she simply absorbed them. “Where were you? On Dark Mountain?”

  “How did you know?” the young man asked, but Mia didn’t try to answer because the patient had captured her attention.

  Kendall’s eyes were closed, his head lolling to the side. In contrast to his scalp, his face was death-white, and he was trembling. His bandaged right hand lay on the teenage girl’s lap. Sweatshirts were wrapped around both of his ankles and belts had been used to cinch the shirts against—oh god, where he’d once had feet.

  Sick, she splayed her legs to keep from collapsing. If these young people hadn’t needed her, she might have turned and run.

  The big gray dog that had killed the calf must have done this. The mutt must have had help, probably from whatever creatures had been feeding on the cow elk.

  “All right.” Hopefully she sounded calmer than she felt, because these kids had been through hell. It had taken everything they had to get down off Dark Mountain at night with a critically injured friend. They needed someone else to be in charge.

  To tell them it was going to be all right, which she couldn’t do.

  She nodded at the girl who’d been on the second bike. “I need you to go into my house. The bathroom is off my bedroom, right past the living room. Second drawer down in the bathroom is where I keep my first aid equipment. Grab everything you think we can use. On the way out, take the spare blanket off the end of my bed. We’ll use that to keep him warm. I don’t want to move him.”

  “Is he going to die?” the girl who’d been caring for Kendall asked.

  Probably. “Let’s don’t think about that. The ambulance will soon be here. In the meantime, I want to make sure those belt
s aren’t too tight.” She’d taken a first aid class soon after buying the tree farm, but most of what she knew about dealing with injuries came from living where there wasn’t any help. From dealing with death.

  She introduced herself and learned the others’ names, which made the situation even more real. As they waited for Melinda to return, Banshee paced around the trailer sniffing and whining. Lyle, Melinda and Summer stared at Banshee as if they expected her dog to attack them. She tried to calm their fears, but suspected they weren’t in any shape to listen. Even as she talked, she mentally explored what might have happened. Maybe this hadn’t been their first trip to Dark Mountain. Maybe one of them had shot the cow. Maybe they’d gotten too close to the carcasses and dogs had attacked to protect what the canines believed belonged to them.

  Maybe the young people had returned to the mountain, not just because they wanted to poach another elk, but because they’d seen Ice.

  When Melinda rejoined them with her arms full, Mia shoved her thoughts to the back of her mind. Nothing mattered except trying to keep a young man alive.

  After clamping down on her reaction to what she was seeing, she told Summer to place Kendall’s mangled hand on his belly and stand so Mia could take her place.

  “I’m afraid to let go,” Summer said. “The bleeding slows down when I keep his arm elevated.”

  “That’s good thinking, which is why I suggested putting his hand on his stomach.” She paused. “I’ve dealt with injuries. Hopefully that’ll help in this situation.”

  “All right.” Summer’s legs must have gone to sleep, because she nearly fell when she slid off the sled, prompting Mia to hold on to her. After a few seconds of letting herself be embraced, Summer pushed away.

  “I’m all right,” she insisted.

  No you aren’t.

  Once she was kneeling next to Kendall, Mia placed her fingers against the side of his neck and tried to take his pulse. The beating was so faint she barely felt it, something she didn’t tell the others. She then positioned the back of her hand near Kendall’s nose. He was hardly breathing.