Agent out of Time (The Agents for Good)

by Stanton III, Guy

  Our progress over several weeks of travel was truly astounding and we were doing what few had ever done since the beginning of the Soviet era, escape from Siberia. Another two weeks of travel should see us far enough south and towards the seacoast to arrange an air pick up.

  The next day my burgeoning hopes were crushed. Looking back I saw an endless wall of turbulent dark clouds massing along the horizon. True winter was coming. This wasn’t going to be an early snow followed by a partial melt as before.

  Nature was cruel in how it could crush one’s hopes, thankfully I didn’t pray to the fickelties of nature for guidance, but rather I prayed to God, who had both created and set nature in its order. Somehow we would get through. It was just going to take longer that was all. What we needed to do now was find shelter from the storm that was coming and I said as much to the others.

  The next morning the snow began to fall heavily, with an awful certainty to it. It was hard to see far, because of the thickly falling flakes, which were piling up fast. I wasn’t sure what time of day it was even. We were going to be in a world of hurt soon, if we didn’t find shelter.

  Deshavi tripped over something and fell sprawling into the snow. As Trent helped her up I kicked around in the snow curious to see what had tripped her. I found it and reaching down into the snow I felt at it and felt a glimmer of hope rise up in me, as my fingers traced the edges of where an axe had chopped off roughly an eight inch diameter tree.

  Out here in the middle of nowhere to find such an occurrence meant someone had to be living close by. We were on a slight rise traveling along a forest edge. To our left was a dip. If someone was living out here they would most likely be located on the lower more sheltered ground. Carrying the cut wood downhill made sense to.

  “Come on!” I said and the other two followed me blindly into the semi darkness of the falling snow.

  It wasn’t really that hard to find the cabin or better put hillside dugout, even in the poor light. Cautiously I approached it. There was no light inside the dugout, but that didn’t mean no one was home.

  The door handle was a simple lever and rope latch design and I tripped it open. Kicking the door slightly it creaked open with enough protest to suggest that it hadn’t been opened in a long time. Gun muzzle up I stepped inside and surveyed what I could see of the dark interior, which wasn’t much. The atmosphere of the place was cold and lifeless.

  I clicked on a small flashlight, whose batteries I had been saving, for just such a moment. The room was simple enough. There was a door at either end of it. I went to the one and peered inside. There was a single cot in the sparse room and on it was a skeleton. I guess that answered one question about the place.

  Cautiously I studied the remains on the cot. It had been a few years and there was little left, but bone and tattered clothing fragments. The lower left leg bone was broken and two slat boards and some rope still lay in close proximity to the leg.

  Out here by himself he’d broken his leg and tried to fix it himself. Weakened likely by infection he’d come in here and this is where he lay. It was a common enough story for people living alone in wild country. I left the room and went to the other side room. It really wasn’t a room, but rather a mineshaft opening. That answered what he’d been doing here in this lonely place. He had likely been a summertime miner come to tap Siberia’s rich mineral wealth, before the winter could set in. It hadn’t worked out so well for him, but for us this place was a godsend. I went to the door and gestured Trent and Deshavi inside. There was no food, but there was firewood and a small stove. That was enough for now.

  It was still snowing in the morning, but I did a little poking around outside. I found more wood stacked and dry, some tools, and oddly a ball. It was a big ball and rather heavy as it wasn’t filled with air, rather sand and some sort of shell that was encased on the outside by several layers of leather. I could only guess as to the ball’s purpose. I found several traps. Large traps at that, the kind used to catch tigers. Perhaps the miner had been part poacher too.

  It snowed heavy for two more days, which saw us consume most of the rest of our food. Worse than that Deshavi was sick with a cold and would likely only get worse, if we re-exposed her to the cold extremes of the outside wilderness again. It didn’t look good either staying or going.

  The snow broke on the third morning and I went out looking for food. There were a lot of small critters about in the dip and despite the snow I was able to take out two rabbits and a squirrel with a homemade slingshot. I’d taken the lead bullet tips of the useless pistol ammunition and smash them down to rough balls with the use of the miner’s tools. It had paid out and at least we would eat for another day.

  I was headed back to the dugout, when I came across a heavy path through the snow. It was a bear’s track. A sizable one by the looks of it. The bear must not have decided it was done foraging for the year and ready for hibernation yet. Whatever the case was for its appearance I had to kill it, as it represented a golden chance for all three of our continued survivals.

  Chances like this just didn’t come twice in Siberia. It wasn’t far to the dugout and I ran my way there kicking my way through the heavy snow. Trent had his rifle at the ready, but I waived him aside and told him what I needed. He got me one of the old tiger traps and I passed off the two snowhairs to him, but I kept the squirrel for bait. I left the dugout in a hurry, as a clogged up sounding Deshavi, called out for me to be careful.

  I let myself sink back into my younger years, when I had been an avid hunter. Plotting a course I headed off, in what I hoped would be an intersecting route, with the bear’s foraging pathway. I was sweating and breathing heavily by the time I reached a likely spot. I skinned the squirrel out and baited the iron jawed trap with him, then I quickly retreated to a vantage point higher up on the slope downwind to wait and watch for the bear.

  I waited and waited. Had I missed our golden opportunity at survival?

  I was beginning to dread that I had, when I heard a snuffle down the ravine from me. I waited scarcely daring to breathe. I heard the bear rummaging in some bushes before I saw it appear. It was a mature brown bear male of about 600 pounds. More than enough meat to meet our needs. It had caught scent of the squirrel and anxiously I watched, as it approached the trap more warily than I had expected.

  What was it doing? Tentatively it reached out a paw and pushed the trap itself around in the snow. It was apparent that it had seen traps in action before and it was wary of what they were capable of. It wanted the squirrel, but not enough. It made several tentative grabs at it, but nothing serious and then it started moving on. My hands tightened on my rifle.

  I hadn’t wanted to risk a shot, but now I was going to have to. I brought the rifle up and took aim, as the bear approached a clump of boulders on its leeward side. My finger was squeezing down on the trigger when it happened. Out of the clump of boulders directly in front of the bear sprang the striped colors of a tiger.

  The tiger was of a monstrous size and easily a match for the bear. The bear had reared up to its hind legs in its own shocked surprise at being attacked, and its intention to fight if need be. The tiger didn’t hesitate though, but sprung up to its own back legs and closed with the bear at close quarters. One massive clawed paw slammed into the bear’s left side, even as its left paw elevated and caught the side of the squalling bears face and shoved it off to the side. With a husky roar the tiger’s powerful canined mouth spread wide and closed over the bear’s unprotected throat like a vise.

  The bear struggled ineffectively and together the two fell over, but the tiger didn’t let go and within moments the bear’s struggles were no more. My hands holding the rifle shook so bad I could hardly keep it aimed. I drew a bead on the tiger that was now ripping into the bear with savage gusto, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger, because I knew what had happened here in this snowy setting.

  That tiger hadn’t sneaked up while I lay in wait for the bear.
He’d been there the whole time, less than thirty feet from where I’d crouched baiting the trap. He could have had me easier than even his perfectly choreographed attack on the bear. Shaking I let the rifle fall, as I did so the tiger leaped away from his kill and bounded up into the forest off to the right of me.

  I was tempted to swear in that moment.

  You idiot! You should’ve pulled the trigger!

  One thing was clear, if the tiger was in the forest, than I wanted to be out of it. I bounded down out of my hiding place into the open ravine below. As I reached my baited trap I turned with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sure enough the tiger had come ghosting up behind me in the snow and now it was, but ten feet away. My insides turned to jelly at the sight of the massive snarling face.

  The tiger truly was massive. It was an adult male specimen that probably tipped the scale close to 700 pounds. One massive paw swung out in a threatening swing into the air, as its roar sounded threateningly husky from within.

  I realized that I still held the stick I’d used to set the trap.

  “Easy big boy! I just came to set this off.”

  The stick depressed the trap’s trigger mechanism and it sprang shot with a loud metallic clang, crunching my stick in its iron jaws. The tiger’s heavy breathing abruptly stopped, as his ears pressed flat and he crouched down low in the snow, his big eyes going from me to the trap and back again.

  I had been backing up meanwhile trying my best to appear nonthreatening, but ready to bring the rifle to bare at a moment’s notice. Not that it would matter. The skull of a tiger is so dense in the front that you could fire both barrels of a shotgun point-blank and have no distinguishable impact other than to enrage the beast further. I was dead meat with or without the rifle at this short distance.

  The tiger stayed put and didn’t advance past the trap.

  I let the muzzle of my rifle incline towards the fallen bear, “I don’t suppose you’d mind sharing would you?”

  Amazingly the tiger seemed to sense what I was referring to and it leaped off to the side in a sudden action of movement that had my breath locked up inside of me and my finger tightening on the trigger. The tiger’s claws latched into the bear’s carcass, as the tiger’s great head turned back to me with a vicious snarl and a half roar.

  Point taken. His kill, his meal.

  I kept backing away feeling grateful to still have my life as the tiger watched me go. When I was out of sight I headed back to the cabin and depression set down hard upon me. What a fool I was!

  I was heading back with nothing, when I could have had both the bear and a tiger. There would’ve been enough meat to last for months. The two rabbits would be gone by tomorrow and if I wasn’t successful in another hunt, then our dire situation would be because of me. Worse yet, I felt another snow storm, coming on. Hunting might not even be an option open and available to us much longer.

  When I reached the dugout I told them of what had happened. I turned down the snowhair meat that they had saved for me and instead I turned in on my blankets on the floor, too sick to my stomach to care about eating. It wasn’t just self loathing that led to my upset stomach, it was fear also. That tiger would have enough food to last him for a few days, but what then?

  I had been such a fool to come this way. Wolves were more preferable than this.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Manna in the Wilderness

  I slept fitfully that night and with dawn’s first gray light I was up ready to go hunt before the snow began to fall. Trent was up too. I could tell that he burned from frustration at not being able to join in the hunt, but somebody had to stay with Deshavi and of the two of us, I could hunt better without the use of a gun.

  “Caleb get over here!” Trent whispered out harshly.

  I joined him at the single window fully expecting to see a tiger waiting for his breakfast to come out. I didn’t see the tiger though and then I saw what had aroused Trent’s interest. The large heavy ball that we had discovered upon our arrival was sitting out in front of the dugout. The snow all around it was churned up.

  Trent and I glanced at each other, as we were obviously thinking the same thing, but neither of us wanted to put words to it. It was just too crazy to comprehend what we were thinking. I headed outside and in some ways I strongly felt that I wouldn’t be back. I almost woke Deshavi up to say goodbye, but I stopped myself from doing so at the last moment. I was just getting melodramatic in my old age most likely.

  I saw nothing. Tracks were plentiful, but I saw not so much as a squirrel. Grimly I headed back to the dugout around midday, when I got there I was thoroughly exhausted. Deshavi had nothing but concern in her eyes for me, but all I could notice was the hollowing of her cheeks caused by our forced rationing. I had completely failed as a provider and the deep shame I felt at that tinged my cheeks with red, even as my insides burned with disgrace.

  “Grandpa….”

  I cut her statement of concern off, “I’ll go back out later, wake me after a couple of hours.”I turned from the concerned couple to the privacy of my blankets in the corner of the room and fell asleep surprisingly fast.

  The hand shaking at my shoulder was insistent and somewhat bleary-eyed I came half alert. Had it already been several hours? I asked as much.

  “No, just about 30 minutes, but you’ve got to see this!” Deshavi said.

  My joints protesting and my muscles aching with fatigue I let her half pull me up to my feet. The door was open and I stepped out beside Trent. At our feet lay an adult red deer buck. Part of its neck had been ripped out, but that was the only sign of injury.

  My eyes moved upward and out into the yard before the dugout where the big ball still sat. Beside the ball, the big tiger from my encounter the day before, lay sprawled out basking in the afternoon sun rays.

  “What should we do?” Trent asked.

  I didn’t know what was going on here. Perhaps this was my manna in the wilderness experience. “We’re going to butcher this deer, before our generous friend thinks otherwise about his gift.”

  I started the process of butchering the deer with Deshavi helping me, as Trent stood guard watching the lazy feline. It brought its great head up, every once and a while, to watch us for a moment and then it would flop back down. After about an hour it got up and left the clearing abruptly without any warning.

  We finished with butchering the deer and went inside to eat.

  I heard something outside about an hour later and got up to look out the window. The tiger was back and he was right beside the window!

  He reared up on his back legs and put a paw to either side of the window and we looked each other face to face through the glass. I didn’t move a muscle, as I stared deeply into his cat eyes through the thin panes of glass. The Tigers big tongue came out and he licked the pane of glass with one slurp before getting down and ambling out towards his ball.

  I began to breathe again and glancing down I saw a red doe laid out beside what was left of the buck’s carcass. Tears came to my eyes, God was so faithful!

  In the height of my despair, in the midst of the wilderness of my life He was still showing me that He cared and that I could trust Him to always provide. I opened the door and with the others help we began the butcher the second deer.

  The Tiger stayed around. I watched him as I worked. He approached the big ball, his tail flickering and without warning he suddenly sprung forward upon it biting and scratching at it, while ferociously roaring. He rolled around with the ball in the snow with it clutched by all four paws. The ball popped away and he was up after it tackling it into the snow again. It was like watching a big kitten with a ball of yarn.

  As playful as it was, it was still an awesome display of strength and agility that I couldn’t help but be in awe of. I glanced to the side at Deshavi to discover her smiling wistfully at the playful tiger.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked softly.

  She glanc
ed at me, but shook her head no.

  Trent wanted to know too, but he went about finding out with a tease. “If your thinking about asking to bring it along, as a pet, the answer is no.”

  Deshavi laughed shaking her head no.

  “Well then out with it.” I pressed, as I wanted to know what had brought forth the first laugh that I’d heard from her in a long time.

  “I was just thinking how it must have been in the garden before everything went wrong. How it must’ve been possible to approach such a beast as our tiger here, without fear. I’d love nothing more than to scratch his big belly right now and pet him.”

  I glanced back out at the tiger, who was sprawled in the snow belly up. I didn’t even like cats, but I had to admit that a belly rub looked tempting on the big tiger at the moment.

  “Do you think the miner raised him up from a cub?” Trent asked.

  I nodded, “At first I thought the miner did poaching on the side, but now I think he was against it. He probably found this one as a cub beside its mother caught in a trap and decided to raise it instead of letting the poachers have it.”

  Trent looked over at me curiously, “Why do you think he wasn’t a poacher? He may have just been raising the cub to a bigger size before killing it for its hide or selling it to a zoo.”

  “Because he trained this tiger to know what a trap was and I unwittingly enforced the training, when I sprang the trap with my stick. Another reason being for my hypothesis is that the miner’s leg was snapped by a tiger trap. It’s the kind of revenge that a poacher would take out on someone messing with their trap lines. He likely died of blood poisoning, from the penetration of the rusty metal teeth, of the trap than he did from the broken leg.”