Shark & The Wolf: Predators and Prey

by Daniel D. Shields

  Old Jack had an evil smirk on his face. “Well, I’m not all that bad. I’ll send her to the infirmary and heal her up. That way, she should look nice and pretty for the auction at the breeding colony.”

  Shark shot Old Jack a quick glance. “Please, not that. Anything but that.”

  “You’re in no position to make requests,” Old Jack said in a matter-of-fact manner. “Be nice or I’ll sell you to the breeders, too. I’m sure those boys would have a field day with the likes of you.” Old Jack turned and walked slowly down the catwalk.

  Shark rested his head on the bars of his cage. He watched as the guards dragged Vixen from the cage and out the door of the cargo hold.

  Shark returned to the back of the cage and sat in the darkness. His face muscles tightened in anger as he thought of Dog Z Boy and Vixen. “Be strong,” he whispered to himself. “You’ll have your day with Old Jack.”

  CHAPTER 8

  White Fang Mountain

  Wolf sat in the back of his dark cage on the filthy ship. He wasn’t positive, but from the screams he had heard during Old Jack’s beating of Vixen, he thought that Shark was just a few rows above. Wolf hated the feeling of being confined, trapped within the confines of a man-made hell. Freedom is a right every living thing deserves, he thought, and for one species to try to dominate others is just plain wrong. But such is the way of the world. Change, if it ever comes, will come slow.

  Wolf remembered how he had been captured, tortured, and held captive during the Chilean conflict a few years before. Those soldiers, as brutal as they were, were amateurs compared to Old Jack and his crew. He remembered a night from his past that he used to think about to escape the brutality of the beatings and the pain. It was a story about a night that, although he was free to let his instincts shine, had still brought danger from humans.

  Wolf never felt more at home than in the mountains of northern Montana. Hiking the rugged ground of the backcountry gave him a spiritual connection to his ancestors who roamed these lands for millennia.

  His favorite spot was a circular clearing on top of White Fang Mountain. On clear nights, with the moon hanging full in the sky, he would let out his howls and listen to their echoes reverberate through the canyons. I Howls were an urge he contained in normal, everyday life, but out here in the wild, where the whispers of his ancestors glided on the wind, he could let his primitive instincts be heard.

  It was a clear night on a cool October evening. The season’s first snowfall covered the ground like a thin blanket, its clean white color absorbing the moonlight and illuminating the mountain with a ghostly surreal glow.

  Wolf moved quickly through the woods, the sounds of gunfire at his back. That night his howls brought more than echoes—they brought hunters intent on causing him harm.

  He stopped for a second to catch his breath and heard the bullet whiz by just above his head; it hit a tree, causing bits of bark and wood to land on his face. His attackers were close and gaining ground.

  He knew he had to descend below the snowline, below the light that was giving away his position, to the cover of the forest where he could blend in with the darkness. Then he would turn the hunters into the hunted. The gunfire continued as he ran down the mountain, finally finding the darkness that made him disappear.

  He watched as the two hunters moved slowly out of the snow and onto dry land. He could sense their eyes were now straining to see in the darkness. They started to fire randomly at shadows.

  Wolf sat silently and watched as the men walked with their guns locked and loaded. He let out a howl, and as quickly as the men turned in his direction he was gone, almost to the opposite side of where their attention now focused.

  “Did you hear that, Elber?” the short fat hunter said. “He’s over there by that ridge.”

  The second hunter, tall and skinny, adjusted his camouflage cap as he spit tobacco. “I heard it. Get your gun ready, we have him now.”

  Wolf howled again, and the two men quickly spun to face the opposite direction.

  The little fat man sounded nervous. “How the hell did he get over there so fast? Maybe there are two of them?”

  The skinny man kept peering through the darkness. “If that’s the case, then we each get a trophy.”

  Wolf darted in front of the hunters. He noticed them trying to raise their guns to take a shot but as quickly as they saw him, he was gone.

  The skinny man shook his head in disbelief. “He’s a quick son of a bitch, I’ll give him that.”

  The fat man moved slowly and now sounded scared. “Why do you think he’s letting us know where he is? Something doesn’t feel right. It feels like he’s hunting us rather than us hunting him.”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. He’s an animal and that means one thing. He is stupid.”

  The fat man tried to reason with his friend. “This one don’t seem stupid to me. Maybe we should let him go. I think he’s a wolf, and that means he’s on the endangered species list.”

  The skinny man turned and looked down at his squat friend. “That’s a prize I’ve be waiting for my entire life.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s illegal to hunt them.”

  The skinny man turned and continued to search through the darkness, his rifle raised, ready to fire at anything that moved. “Illegal? Those are just man-made laws, and what are they good for? Down in the cities and the towns it’s all about what’s right and what’s wrong. But out here, where the wind blows through the trees under the light of full moons, we live under different laws, the laws of nature, and we are within our right to hunt and kill wild prey.”

  Wolf listened as the skinny man spoke. He nodded to himself in agreement. If they wanted to make their own laws, so could he. Little did the two hunters know that they had just given him the justification he needed to make them his prey.

  His first attack came quick. The little fat hunter barely saw him coming. He grabbed the man’s gun with very little struggle and was off into the darkness.

  “He took my gun!” the little fat man squealed.

  Wolf fired the shot before the skinny man could even react to what was happening. The bullet hit him in his leg, sending his bony body to the ground. “He shot me!” he screamed like a little baby. “The son of a bitch shot me!”

  The little fat man ran and knelt down next to his friend, checking his wound while continuing to look into the darkness. He picked up his friend’s gun with his bloody hand and stood nervously. “I told you about these wolves, Elber. They are smart, and this one knows how to shoot. What do we do now ?”

  “Beg me to let you live,” Wolf said, still concealed in the darkness.

  The little fat man spun in circles. “Listen, mister, we don’t mean you no harm.”

  Wolf let out a sarcastic laugh. “Then why were you shooting at me? Drop the other gun and get off my mountain. If I see you two again I won’t be so kind.”

  “Those guns are worth two grand!” the skinny man yelled.

  Wolf’s voice echoed through the darkness. “I know, and that’s more than your life is worth. Your choice. Drop the gun and live, or keep the gun and die.”

  The fat man dropped the other gun and helped his skinny friend to his feet. The skinny man laid his arms across the fat man’s shoulder as they hobbled out of the forest.

  Wolf picked up the other gun and brought the two weapons to the top of a large cliff. He threw them over the side and watched as they broke into a thousand small pieces on the rocks below. He sat on the cliff face and resumed his howling at the moon.

  Wolf opened his eyes and looked at the steel bars of his cage. He looked up to the very top of the dark ship and noticed a round porthole. It must be day, he thought, because sunlight illuminated the small porthole, almost making it look like the moon hanging in a dark, starless sky. Hell with it, he thought, they can confine my body, but they cannot confine my spirit. He was still free to practice his species’ traits. He looked at the fake moon and began to howl at the top of h
is lungs. Soon, in between his howls, he heard the sounds of other animals joining in. There were trumpets, barks, growls and a menagerie of whistles, all working together to make the inside of the ship sound like a sweet, sweet symphony. Wolf closed his eyes, taking the moment in, then smiled and howled at the top of his lungs.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Auction

  The ship had sailed in semi-rough seas for the better part of two weeks. It was now stopped. It must be docked, Shark thought. He felt weak from the lack of food and thought that the rest of the animals on board were probably in the same condition. He missed sunlight, missed the revitalizing effect its warm rays had on his body and his mind.

  He heard a loud buzzer ring and watched as guards moved hastily to the top deck. The large steel hatch on top of the deck opened, and the sunlight he sought burst into the hold and down upon his face. The bright light burned his eyes at first, but then filled his soul with the warmth and reassurance that the outside world still existed.

  Two guards removed Shark from his cage. His legs, weak from the lack of exercise, buckled a bit when he walked. When they reached the top deck, Shark put his face toward the sun and took a deep breath of the fresh, clean air. It felt as if he was breathing for the first time.

  It was a long walk across the deck of the massive ship. Shark finally noticed the scale of the operation that was in play. Hundreds of animals from around the world were on the deck. All were in chains and all, he thought, were about to be sold, some into slavery and some into something much worse, the human food chain. He had heard rumors that this ship was just one of many that pander their immoral and illicit cargo to seedy buyers in decrepit ports around the world.

  Shark looked up the line and recognized the bar back, Hippo. His face was ashen and his body emaciated. His usual boisterous demeanor was replaced by what seemed to be a broken spirit. He moved with the aimless steps of a comatose zombie.

  Shark felt sad to see such a strong creature reduced to a shadow of his former self. He wondered if others thought the same of him, Shark. After all, the great white shark was one of the top predators in the world, and here he was, forced to be an obedient servant to his mindless captives, left to waddle in their chains and plead for their mercy.

  Shark’s army training taught him that if he planned to survive, he had to get a grip on his psychological well-being. He could let them break his body, but he could not let them break his mind. With that single thought, a small fire reignited in his eyes.

  The animals were led off the ship one by one. As Shark neared the side of the ship he surveyed the port city below. He could not tell exactly where they were but sensed from the temperature, the rain forest in the distance, and the mixed Caucasian and Indian look of the people, that they were somewhere in South America.

  As he approached the gangway the guards put a steel mesh net over his head. It made it hard for him to see, and he stumbled every few feet. He heard onlookers laugh. “Look, it’s a shark that can’t swim and can’t walk. It must be the missing link.” They pelted him with garbage.

  Shark was led to a concrete room where they hosed him down with a powerful surge of water. The flow was so strong that it stung his skin. They led him up to a large hall and removed the metal mask, leaving the chains around his body in place.

  He looked around and noticed that the entire chamber was filled with humans. There was an old, grey-haired man with a gavel standing on a large stage. He spoke rapidly and pointed to people who raised little signs. “Do I hear fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty, for this fine specimen?” He pointed to a gentleman dressed in all white. “We have eighty, do I hear ninety thousand for this prime trophy? This creature is a rare find indeed, one of the largest insects in the world known as the Giant Fijian Long-Horned Beetle. Do I hear ninety? No, it’s eighty going once, it’s eighty going twice, and sold.” The man banged a gavel on the desk. “To the gentleman in white, Mr. Shaw, for eighty thousand dollars.”

  Shark could see Woodsy behind the stage, a large chain around his neck, a depressed look on his young, bubbly face. A guard yanked the chain and pulled him toward the exit. The man named Shaw, who had purchased him, pushed his way through the crowd, excited, no doubt, to inspect his new property.

  “Let’s go, Shark, you’re up.” An armed man nudged him in the back with the butt of a rifle. “Start walking.”

  Shark sensed that all the eyes in the place were on him as he shuffled down the aisle, the chains impeding him from taking his normal stride. He climbed the steps and stood next to the old man.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for your bidding pleasure, we are proud to bring you one of the rarest creatures ever to grace our stage.” The old man looked at him. “We have here one of the world’s top predators and the only one of its kind currently alive in captivity. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you lot number two seventy-eight, Carcharodon carcharias, a species known to the world as a Great White Shark.”

  The crowd gawked at him. Shark watched as little children ran toward the front of the stage and stared at him in amazement. Their little voices created growl sounds, and their little jaws opened and closed, mimicking him.

  The man banged the gavel. “Bidding will start at one hundred thousand.” Little signs went up across the room. “Do I hear two hundred thousand?” the old man asked. Signs continued to rise.

  A voice from the back of the room yelled above the crowd. “I’ll offer five hundred thousand.”

  The abrupt offer caused a slight commotion among the spectators. The old man was looking through the audience, trying to determine who the speaker was. The crowd parted, and in the back of the room stood the man dressed in white named Shaw. The old man acknowledged him and continued. “We have a generous bid of five hundred thousand from the gentleman in white. Do I hear six?” There was silence as the old man scoured the room for any additional cards. “That’s five going once, five going twice, that’s sold.” The gavel banged on the desk. “To Mr. Shaw, for five hundred thousand dollars.”

  Shark stood on the stage feeling the utmost contempt for the humans in the room. He felt sick at the thought of being sold as a slave. Who are these creatures to think that they can purchase the soul of another living being? Do they actually believe that their vanity will be overlooked by the natural order of nature itself? The forced servitude of others is a human trait, a stain on evolution’s grand plan that nature will surely one day cleanse.

  Shark made steely eye contact with Shaw. He looked into the man’s cold blue eyes, wondering what type of man he actually was. He was dressed in an all-white suit that matched his long, white, perfectly cut hair, which he had tied back in a ponytail. He had a decent build and looked like the adventurous type. His face was aged and weathered but handsome in a rugged way. He had what appeared to be the light whiskers of a five o’clock shadow that seemed intentionally manicured. The man smelled like money and trouble.

  Shark continued the stare as they led him down the steps and out of the hall. The worst part about all this, he thought, is that a good portion of that five hundred thousand is going straight into the pocket of Old Jack. The wave of anger started in his gut and moved up to his throat, creating a small mouthful of bile that he abruptly spit to the floor.

  The guards led him out of the building and across a dirt field toward a train. He was forced to climb into an old, empty, weathered boxcar, and as the heavy door slammed shut, he looked around and realized he had traded one cage for another. He stood and looked out through the barred window. Across the way he could see a big tent in the distance. On the top there was a sign that read: Shaw Brothers Circus – The Greatest Show in the Universe.

  Shark looked to the right, and a slight smile came across his face. He watched as Wolf was led out of the building, across the field, and placed in a boxcar a few doors down. He realized that he would at least have one ally in the inevitable battle to come.

  A few moments later, he was shocked to see a large van pulling away from t
he auction house. The sign on the side read: The Animal Mill – Breeders, Buyers, & Sellers – Babies Our Specialty. Through the filthy windows of the van he could clearly see three familiar faces: Vixen, Cahira, and Frenchie.

  Shark watched as the van bounced over the bumpy dirt lot and moved away from the auction house, away from the circus train, and away from the protection that he so wished he could provide. Shark turned, leaned against the wall of his cage, and let his body slide down to the floor. He picked at the chains around his wrists until the tips of his fingers bled.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Big Tent Gladiators

  The train rode the rails for two days before it finally came to a stop. Shark’s mind raced between memories of Dog Z Boy and worried thoughts of Vixen. He had to find a way to save her before she was forced to endure the horrible ordeal of an animal mill. Then and only then would he be free to seek revenge on Old Jack, the animal that had taken the life of his best friend. He knew the two tasks he had given himself were equally daunting, but also knew he would have to accomplish both if he ever wanted to live a normal life again. But his captives did not make any plan easy. There were round-the-clock checks by armed guards, and the chains that held him were extra thick and very secure. He would have to wait for a single moment when their defenses were down. It would be at that time that a move could be made.

  The large wooden door swung open, and bright sunlight filled the cage. Shark lifted his hand to cover his eyes. Two armed men motioned for him to step down off the train. He stood, reached down, picked the slack out of his chains, and slowly jumped from the boxcar. Shark looked across the dingy rail yard and could see the immense crowds that lined the exterior of the huge circus tent. They were all trying to push their way inside.

  Shark looked to the left and spotted Wolf. He too was in chains, and from the mangy look of his physique was faring about as well as could be expected. The two made brief eye contact, just long enough to reinforce their unspoken bond of unity. They were on the same side, and everyone else was now the enemy.