by Dirk Patton
Hopefully I’d put the fear of God into it and it would keep running for a while. But I didn’t count on it. Moving forward, I paused long enough for Dog to sniff over the one I’d shot. Considering how the pair had been acting when we came upon them I thought we were getting close to Rachel. I was reaching down to tap Dog to get us moving again when two shots rang out, and they sounded close.
55
Rachel was tense, alert to every tiny sound in the forest when she started walking. But as she kept moving and there was no sign of the wolves she began to relax. Slightly. Frequently turning to check behind her, she was relieved to not see a snarling beast ready to leap every time she looked.
She had heard a noise that she thought sounded like a helicopter, but it faded away without her being able to tell. Perhaps it had been distant thunder? Could it thunder during a snowstorm? She didn’t know and when the noise didn’t come back she didn’t spend any more time thinking about it.
The path along the shore was easy walking, but there were several places where she had to move into the forest to bypass difficult terrain that came up to the water’s edge. She was cold, shivering, her hands feeling more like two blocks of ice swinging at the ends of her arms. She gripped the two pistols tighter every time she had to move back under the trees and leave what she perceived as the safety of the lakeshore.
But despite her fears, she didn’t see the wolves, nor did she hear any of their haunting voices. Maybe they only howled at night? It didn’t matter. As far as she could tell they had decided to leave her alone. Maybe she really had scared them off with all the shots she’d fired.
Continuing on, she saw a large uprising of the shoreline ahead. The side facing her was steep and went thirty or forty feet up. The crest was covered with a thick stand of trees. The natural barricade was narrow and she could see a way around the back, only a few yards in from the water.
Circling, she hugged the hillock with her left side as she moved, failing to notice that the ground a couple of yards to her right was beginning to rise. She came to a stop when she realized she had walked into a natural choke point. On either side of her the ground rose up steeply, boxing her in so she could only go forward or back.
To the front she could see the ground open up in another thirty or forty yards and took a step to continue, wanting to pass through as quickly as possible. She froze when the large wolf with the burns from the flare gun walked into view at the far end of the cut in the terrain, blocking her progress. It stopped, facing her, legs spread as it growled and lowered its head.
Pistol raised, Rachel glanced over her shoulder. Her knees went weak when she saw three more wolves, all smaller, blocking her retreat. They had trapped her neatly. Had probably been stalking her since she left the camp, waiting for the right spot. And she’d walked right into it.
None of them charged immediately, which was a surprise. Maybe they were more frightened of her than she thought. Not scared enough to leave her alone, but there was seemingly enough fear that they were exercising extreme caution.
Doubting she had more than a few moments before one of them grew bold enough to attack, Rachel made the only decision she could. She aimed and fired a pistol round at the large wolf she’d come to think of as the pack leader. The animal shied away from the gunshot and jumped back several feet.
Spinning, Rachel fired her last round at the three smaller wolves and ran at them, screaming. The bullet struck the one on her left in the front leg, shattering the limb as the impact knocked it back and caused the animal to stumble into the one next to it. Dropping the pistol as she ran, Rachel transferred the flare gun to her right hand, raising it to fire.
The injured wolf was back on three of its feet, holding its bleeding leg off the ground as it began backing up. The other two moved with it, a moment later all of them breaking and running. Rachel wanted to shout in triumph but her toe caught on an exposed tree root that was masked by the snow and fell headlong to the ground. The flare gun flew out of her hand and tumbled a few feet before disappearing into a small snow bank.
Frantically twisting onto her back, Rachel looked for the alpha wolf, unable to breathe when she saw it begin a charge directly at her. It remembered the pain from their first meeting and had held back until she had fallen to the ground. It was no more than a hundred feet away, lips skinned back to expose long fangs as it ran at her.
Scrambling on her back, Rachel plunged her hand into the snow where the flare gun had vanished without taking her eyes off the swiftly closing predator. Feeling the round, steel barrel she grasped it and pulled it to her, looking up as the beast accelerated.
56
I broke into a sprint when I heard the shots. They were close, the reports coming sharp even with the heavy snow falling and damping every sound. Dog raced ahead of me and I could hear Katie’s steps as she stayed close behind. Now I heard a woman’s voice screaming and that lent wings to Dog’s feet. He lunged ahead and I lost sight of him.
Bursting through a thicket of young trees that were covered with leaves quivering in the frigid wind, I saw Rachel on the ground. She was seated with legs splayed out in front of her, trying to bring what looked like a flare gun to bear. Movement in the direction she was aiming caught my attention and I whipped my rifle up when I saw a huge wolf charging directly at her.
Dog had picked up Rachel’s scent when he’d started running towards the gunshots. He’d also smelled the spoor of the wolf, not recognizing the specific animal but knowing he was sensing danger. He leapt forward, speeding through the heavy brush, pushing through as if it wasn’t there.
He raced past Rachel to meet the larger beast. She was tightening her finger on the flare gun’s trigger but at the last instant lifted the muzzle when Dog flashed past. The gun popped, a red trail rocketing high into the sky and out over the lake. As the shell exploded in a brilliant red blossom of fire, Dog and the wolf collided only a few yards from where she sat in the snow.
The fight was ferocious, the two animals rolling across the ground, loud snarls punctuating each one’s attempt to kill the other. Dog was big, fast and strong, an experienced fighter, but the wolf was larger and stronger. He hadn’t risen to be a pack leader without being a good fighter and only Dog’s greater speed prevented a quick ending to the battle.
I hadn’t been able to fire even a single shot as Dog streaked into the fray. As he impacted the wolf I ripped the two rifles and single grenade launcher over my head and let them fall to the ground. Charging, I drew the Kukri as I covered the open ground to where Rachel was scrabbling away from the fight.
The wolf would kill Dog. I had little doubt of that. I’d gotten a good look at the beast before Dog attacked and it was huge, probably weighing nearly as much as me. And this was probably the most foolish thing I’d ever done, but I wasn’t going to stand back and watch Dog die.
Pounding past Rachel, I launched myself at the whirling combatants just as Dog yelped in pain. Slamming into them I succeeded in knocking them apart. Dog rolled then sprang to his feet to stand next to me, snarling. He held his left front leg off the ground, blood pouring off his paw onto the snow. The wolf snapped to his feet and I could see the damage Dog had done to his face. He crouched slightly, preparing to leap, Dog starting to move in front of me to meet him, his snarl the thing of nightmares.
The wolf staggered, blood appearing on its coat in several spots. Then most of its head exploded and the corpse flopped to the ground. I was breathing like a locomotive, thinking Dog and I were both about to die. Blood pounded in my ears and it was a moment before I looked around to see Katie lowering her rifle. I hadn’t even heard the suppressed shots.
Dog whined and I turned to him. He had been chewed up pretty badly. Deep lacerations in his face and neck were bleeding freely. His right leg was also torn open but I was most worried about his left, which he held off the ground. Gently rubbing his head in a spot that wasn’t injured, I carefully took it in my hand.
A large chunk of meat had be
en bitten out of the muscle, but my fear that the bone had been broken was unfounded. I took a moment to check him over, finding more lacerations on his flanks from the wolf’s claws, but none of his injuries were immediately life threatening.
Standing, I turned in time for Rachel to run into me and wrap her arms around my neck. She was shaking so hard I was concerned about her, but she had me in a headlock and wasn’t letting go. A moment later the sobs began, racking her entire body as she cried. I circled my arms around her waist and looked at Katie.
I wasn’t sure what I expected to see in my wife’s eyes. Perhaps anger, or jealousy, or even pain. But I saw none of that. What was there reinforced my love for her. It was a mixture of relief and profound happiness. She was smiling from ear to ear and I grinned back at her.
57
It took several minutes to calm Rachel and peel her off of me. It was several more before the tears stopped and she could talk without a hitch in her voice.
“How?” She asked as I tended to Dog with the first aid supplies that were in the survival pouch on Rachel’s back.
“It’s a very long story. First things first. I brought you some warm clothes.” Katie had dropped her pack to the ground and was pulling out the extra cold weather gear she had brought.
Rachel was nearly frozen and needed help to untie the rope holding the folded canopy to her body. Katie supported her, unzipping and assisting her out of the flight suit then removing the clothing she had on beneath before working the synthetic long underwear over her feet. They kept layering until Rachel was fully dressed in a white snowsuit that matched ours.
“I’ve got one last present for you,” Katie said, digging through the pack. “I knew he’d make fun of me so I only got a pair for me and another for you.”
Katie handed over a pack of small batteries, which Rachel took with a thoroughly confused look on her face. A moment later a pair of electric hunting socks were proudly displayed and Rachel pulled them on while Katie installed the batteries.
Smiling, I shook my head and held my face close to Dog’s. I wished I had a great big soup bone to reward him with, or even a small little doggie treat for that matter. I settled for opening the MRE in Rachel’s pouch and giving half to Dog. Rachel got the other half while Katie and I packed up.
With Dog lame it was going to be a long walk back to the Jeep. I handed Rachel the extra rifle I’d brought for her, and began adjusting the sling on the grenade launcher for Katie. I was planning to carry Dog across my shoulders and needed to shed some weapons. I’d still have my rifle and a vest full of magazines.
Working on the sling, I paused when the sound reached my ears. A heavy rotor. The helicopter again, only this time it quickly grew louder as it approached.
The flare Rachel had fired. Goddamn it! I had been so wrapped up in everything that was happening I had forgotten about the helo and just how far away that flare would have been visible. And I had no doubt it would have tripped some thermal alarms as well.
“Into the trees!” I shouted, snatching my weapons off the ground and making a herding motion with my arms.
But I was too late. The sound of the rotor suddenly grew dramatically in volume and I recognized the signature of a Russian Mi-24 HIND before I turned and saw it roaring towards us over the lake. There was no way they hadn’t already seen us and I abandoned the idea of the forest for the cover of the terrain where the wolves had trapped Rachel.
We all dashed in, pressing our backs against solid rock. A few seconds later the ground under our feet vibrated as the HIND came into a hover. Peeking through tree roots I could see it hanging a hundred feet over the water, about fifty yards off shore. The huge rotor was churning up spray as it slipped sideways, trying to see into our hiding place.
Turning back, I met Katie and Rachel’s eyes as I opened the grenade launcher and traded the fragmentation grenades for high explosive. Closing the cylinder, I put a hand on Katie’s face, kissed her, then stepped around the edge of the rock and lifted the weapon.
HINDs are tough, but they aren’t impregnable. Hit them in the right spots with HE grenades and they will go down. Any helicopter is most vulnerable at its main rotor hub and its tail rotor. These two spots can only be hardened so much and still allow the aircraft to fly.
As I aimed, the HIND’s nose tilted up as the pilot recognized the danger and moved to place the armored belly of the helo directly towards me. I pulled the trigger twice, adjusted and fired two more times, adjusted again and fired the final two rounds.
I watched as one after another the grenades completely missed the helicopter as it juked up and down, the pilot frantically trying to open some distance. But the fifth grenade detonated against the undercarriage, shearing off a chunk of armor and part of the landing gear.
The HIND changed attitude as a result of the force of the explosion, tail coming up and spinning directly into the path of my last grenade. It disappeared in a cloud of smoke when the shell detonated, the tail rotor shearing off and slicing into the lake with enough force to send a plume of water higher into the air than the crippled helo.
Without a tail rotor there’s nothing to counteract the twisting force generated by the rotor and the HIND began to spin around the axis of the main rotor hub. It lost altitude quickly, spinning faster and crashing into the lake a few yards off shore.
I had leapt behind cover as the machine started to go out of control, poking my head back around as it came to rest in the water. While I watched I reloaded the launcher with fragmentation grenades so I was ready when the Russians came boiling out of the downed HIND. Katie and Rachel moved to the far end of the cut, aiming their rifles at the smoking helo from amongst a tumble of large rocks.
The muzzle of the launcher was on target. Ready. Waiting for the troop compartment door to open. I wasn’t fucking around or waiting to give them a chance. As soon as that door opened a grenade was going through it.
I could see movement inside the cockpit so I knew that at least one of the pilots had survived the crash. Returning my attention to the door on the side of the aircraft I tightened my finger on the trigger as it began to move. But it only swung open a foot before sticking. Damage from the crash, no doubt.
A moment later someone began pounding on the door from the inside, slowly widening the opening. Double-checking my aim, I made sure the launcher was firm against my shoulder and wouldn’t wobble. Finally the door swung open with a protest of warped metal and I squeezed the trigger.
ALSO BY DIRK PATTON
Unleashed: V Plague Book One
Crucifixion: V Plague Book Two
Rolling Thunder: V Plague Book Three
Red Hammer: V Plague Book Four
Transmission: V Plague Book Five
Days Of Perdition: V Plague Book Six
Indestructible: V Plague Book Seven
Rules Of Engagement: A John Chase Short Story
Afterword
First and foremost I want to recognize and remember a man who recently passed away. US Army Master Sergeant James Bost. I was saddened to learn of his passing from his son who told me that his Dad was the best man he’s ever known. One tough old warhorse, and a bad ass Green Beret, he fought in Korea and Vietnam. He survived two bloody wars, but in the end Death caught up with him. Rest In Peace, brother.
How much do you really know about wolves? I personally knew very little, having never encountered one other than at a zoo. As I began to research them for their inclusion in Recovery, I was surprised by almost everything I learned.
For example, European wolves are much more aggressive than their North American cousins. Several theories abound for why this is, but I couldn’t find anything that presented a rational scientific explanation for the difference.
The farther away from the equator, the larger the wolf. Some varieties in more central latitudes are no larger than a small dog, while the largest recorded (in northern Siberian Russia) was more than six feet from nose to rump (tail not included) and exceeded two h
undred pounds. Stories exist of much larger specimens but lack even basic proof such as photos to support the claims.
I had always assumed that wolves were strictly predators, consuming only freshly killed prey, but it turns out I was incorrect. They are opportunistic and will eat a corpse without hesitation.
Wolves in Europe contributed to the duration and spread of the Black Plague. Though the disease was transmitted to humans by fleas carried by rats, wolves would drag the bodies of the dead into the wild to eat them, helping to spread the plague into areas previously unaffected. The same behavior is also documented in North America when European settlers brought the Smallpox virus that wiped out a huge percentage of the Native American population.
The Ballard Locks. If you ever visit the beautiful city of Seattle they should be on your list of things to see. They are a wonderful way to spend a sunny afternoon, especially when the multi-million dollar yachts come through. It’s a great way to see how the other half lives!
Also, while you’re there don’t miss the fish ladder. The North Pacific is home to a lot of salmon, many of them swimming through the locks, across Lake Washington and into a myriad of streams and rivers to spawn. The fish ladder is a stepped, underwater passageway for the salmon. At the locks there is a subterranean tunnel where thick windows are set in the wall so you can watch the fish migrate from the ocean into the lake. The best time of year is July and the first half of August.
A final note on the locks, especially before a Seattle area resident calls me out. The level of the lake is actually around twenty feet above sea level. That wouldn’t have worked for my purposes in this book, so I took a little literary license with the facts and made it just a few feet. If you haven’t figured it out, literary license means I’m full of shit or I don’t know what I’m talking about. Usually it’s the former, but sometimes the latter slips in, too!