by R. K. Sidler
He walked into another section of the woods that had fewer trees, but contained many of the large boulders. He heard a padded noise behind him similar to what a four-legged animal would make while walking on the leave-strewn ground. He was still trying to master his acute senses. Sometimes he thought he was imagining things, but it often turned out that he had recognized the presence of something, or someone, long before he should have under normal conditions. Was it that wolf coming back for a dinner he thought he should have had before, he thought to himself while studying his surroundings. He moved on until he found the best place he could to position himself in case he was attacked. When he saw a flash of brown behind him, he knew it was not the wolf; not one flash, but three moving quickly through the trees. He jumped on top of one of the great stones, turned, and waited to face whatever it was with his spear in hand.
They slowed as they saw their element of surprise was gone. They did not move or act like the wild dogs of the prairie. These were cats. They were light brown, almost yellow, similar in color to a cougar, but with twice the bulk. There was no misunderstanding their intention. They stopped when they saw he had taken to higher ground, but only for a moment.
Methodically they spread out to surround their target. When they had reached their desired positions, they attacked with silent accord. But not all of them focused their attack on him. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a large black mass swiftly closing in. He could not pay too much attention to what was happening outside of his immediate area as he had his hands full. His first swing at the cat was with the butt end of the spear. It was a solid blow to the front of the animal, which only succeeded in deflecting its first lunge. When it turned on him again, Bishop knew he had no time to waste because there was more than one to deal with. The cat came forward, mouth opened wide, exposing an impressive array of teeth which he intended to use on his victim. Bishop bent his spear forward, and drove it into the maw of the cat running forward as he did, pinning it to the earth. He held the animal secure with the spear in one hand while removing one of his knives to thrust into the lion’s ear with the other. It was dead a moment later.
Regaining his composure, and trying to clear his head from the adrenaline surge, he saw the unexpected scene playing out before him. One of the other lions was lying dead not far away. Its neck was unmistakably broken as it was contorted at an awkward angle. The other lion was busy trying to escape its new enemy. The great black wolf was snarling and dripping fresh blood from his mouth while keeping the lion at bay. Whenever the lion tried to escape, the wolf would leap ahead and use it sharp front claws to rake its hindquarters. It was surprisingly faster than the lion. Bishop could see deep crimson scratches on both sides of the cat while the wolf looked unscathed.
When the cat knew it could not get away, it turned to face the wolf. Without a second thought, Bishop grabbed his knife by its blade and threw it at the cat. The razor sharp blade sunk hilt deep into the beast near the middle of his rib cage. As soon as the cat let out a cry and turned to see where this new threat had come from, the wolf snatched the cat by its neck, and violently shook him up into the air, and back down again, breaking its neck in the process. The wolf turned to look at Bishop as he walked to retrieve his knife. He growled at him as he had done earlier in the day, but this time with fresh blood and fur lining his maw.
“I take it this is your way of thanking me,” Bishop said to the wolf with a slight grin on his face.
The wolf stopped growling and stared at this human who had shown no fear of him, who had in fact helped him. He stayed a moment longer then turned, went to the largest of the cats, picked it up as if it weighed nothing, and walked off.
“Okay boy. Eat well, and thanks.”
Bishop looked at the other two animals. There was no way he could carry them both, but he could take their hides, and de-bone them to get as much meat as possible to take along with him. He made a mental note to himself that not one creature he had come upon out here displayed any kind of fear. If he encountered something unfriendly, he would have to kill it and kill it quickly. He looked down and noticed his pants were shredded along his right leg. The cat I killed evidently got in a few swipes before he died. There was no pain, but there was blood. He would clean it when he came to the next water source.
As he was accustomed to do from hunting in years past, he cleaned out both animals removing their entrails and drained any remaining blood. After the second one was finished, he stood up and saw he was no longer alone. This was another aspect of adjusting to his heightened senses. Because they were so acute, he often worked to shut out things that did not affect him. One way he accomplished this was by keeping his mind engaged on other thoughts as he had been caught doing now.
There were seven men loosely encircling him. They were a rough looking bunch but did not appear to be threatening. It was evident that they suffered from some of the effects of exposure, but nothing like the other human creatures he saw feeding on the wild dog. He did not know if that was a natural ability or something determined by location. They had a mixture of homemade weapons, some of which were fashioned as crossbows. They were not pointed directly at him, but it would only take a slight adjustment to make that so.
“Can I help you,” Bishop said with as much calm as he could while closing the distance between him and his spear.
“Who are you,” The oldest looking member of the group asked. He was a light haired man and spoke English with a foreign accent.
“Name’s Bishop. Who are you?”
“Where do you come from,” the stranger asked.
Bishop decided he was going to be the one providing answers and he saw no reason to be hostile yet, since they were at least still talking. For some reason, he did not sense a threat in these men.
“North,” Bishop said pointing in that direction.
“You should not have done,” another man said pointing to the dead lions.
Bishop assumed they were sacred or something and that things were about to get interesting.
“I’m sorry if they mean something to you, they attacked me. I didn’t attack them. Three on one isn’t good odds, so I had to do what I had to do.”
“Three,” the other man questioned. “I see two.”
“Yeah, well, I had a little help. He took one with him,” Bishop said a bit lamely.
“The wolf,” the stranger asked in surprise.
“Yeah, the wolf.”
He turned to talk to two of the other men while those with the cross bows kept their weapons ready. When the brief exchange was finished, he turned back to Bishop. “We’ll take cats.”
“I beg your pardon,” Bishop said getting himself ready for more unpleasant business.
“You took our wolf, we’ll take cats,” he said in a firm manner.
Bishop realized that these were the men who set the trap; the one he sprung. He decided it was only fair. He was sure it would not be long until other trouble found him anyway. These people seemed as normal as he would likely find out here, and he did not need to make an enemy out of everyone.
"Okay. They’re yours. I thought you said ‘I should not have done’ before. Are these cats special or something?”
It took a moment until the stranger understood what he was referring to. “No. You bleed them,” he said pointing to the ground. “Much blood; Raveners come quickly.”
“Raveners,” Bishop asked.
“Raveners like us, but not like us,” he explained.
“Mohctp,” another one said.
Bishop thought about it. He must mean those creatures I saw on the plains and in the cave. I was right. It is the blood. Something else I’ll have to remember.
“Why the wolf no attack you?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t know. I have a way with people sometimes. Maybe some of that rubbed off on him,” Bishop said in his dry manner. It was clear that his wit did not register among this crowd.
The stranger gave commands as four of his men ti
ed the two lions to wooden poles to make it easier to transport. Bishop walked to pick up his spear and was a little surprised when he was not challenged. They must believe I’m of little threat to them considering their numbers. That was fine. I’m glad to have some company. More than likely, I’m extra support in case they run into something more dangerous than I am.
They walked at a fast pace and continued on in the southerly direction he was heading. One of the crew remained at the rear. He was able to keep an eye on this newcomer, and their back trail at the same time. Bishop was content to let the others do the watching for him. If they were going to be hostile toward him, they would have already done something. If he were wrong about that then he would know soon enough.
—
The wolf remained at a distance listening to the humans speak. Once they were gone, he returned to feed on some of what they had left on the ground. He ate both of the livers and the hearts, leaving most of the rest. He was not sure why the humans left without taking them as they were considered to be the ‘choicest' parts. He walked back to the lion, picked it up, and went on his way.
He returned to the crags, which were his home. Upon entering, he dropped his catch on the ground and walked toward his den. He saw the golden stares among the rocks as the faces of his pack looked on. After he passed them, they slowly made their way to the food he brought. He did not care. He provided for the pack, as was the custom. He was the largest and most successful hunter. Unlike the rest, he was not a pack animal at heart. He viewed them as weak because they were unable to function alone as he did. They were opportunists who sought to find the easiest prey. Even long dead things appealed to their hunger. He did not hunt out of hunger; he hunted for the challenge. The only creatures he stalked were predators, like himself.
He bedded down for the remainder of the day, in the protection of his den, knowing he would not be bothered, and thought about the human who helped him out of the pit. He was the first living thing the wolf had ever encountered that showed no fear of him. Even his own kind feared him.
He followed him after the human had moved on and thought him gone. He knew other humans were around, as well as some other predators. He smelled them all. As he flanked him in the cover of the trees, he saw the lions moving in. This was when he went on the attack. He killed the first lion with relative ease as he caught it unaware. The second lion was indecisive when it found itself between the human and the new threat from the wolf. Before it could turn to run away, the wolf struck it several times with its sharp claws inflicting serious wounds. The cat knew then he had to stand and fight. The great wolf had killed many cats before and took pleasure in doing so.
Before he went on the attack, the human threw something, which hurt the cat. When the lion had its attention diverted, he seized his opportunity. When it was over, the human walked to the lion, spoke to him in the same tone as he did before, and removed his weapon from the dead cat.
He sensed in this man creature a kindred spirit. He would find him again as he knew his scent. It was something to consider for another time. The sounds of the other wolves eating faded as he drifted off to sleep.
NINE
It was well into the evening by the time they entered the valley. It was a careful walk down a well-worn trail to reach the valley’s floor. Bishop could see fires burning both inside and outside of the dwellings. It looked to be a permanent settlement. When he looked into the night sky, he noticed that it was different here. It was the first time he had seen the shimmer of stars since the event. It was one more thing he had taken for granted in the course of his life.
He was shown to a vacant structure and encouraged to remain there. He looked inside and saw a bed with a mattress along with a few other items indicating it was a residence of sorts. He decided to sleep outside instead. He was not sure how far these people could be trusted, and he did not like the idea of having walls around him until he knew.
He saw people moving about but no one came near to him. Once he made himself comfortable, he drifted off into a half sleep. It was an ability he learned in his early military days. It was made easier now because he never required much sleep.
Before the sun crested the peaks above, he was awake. He refreshed and washed himself in the freshwater stream below the dwellings, and waited on whoever it was that was going to pay him a visit. He saw small birds flitting about in the underbrush; a small herd of cattle was feeding in the distance, and wild flowers were in bloom everywhere. It was as beautiful a setting as he had ever witnessed. It looked untouched by the harsh outside world. The valley exhibited life while the area above represented death.
Two men approached him from the same trail they had traveled the day before. “Hello. My name’s Weston and this is Sasha,” he said while offering his hand. He was older than Bishop, had a full red beard, graying in places, and looked to be in relatively good shape.
“I’m Bishop,” he said shaking the hands of both men.
“Where did you come from? We don’t see as many strangers as we once did,” Weston asked.
“North, far north.”
Weston just raised his eyes realizing the man was cautious and not likely to offer too much information.
“An area like this?” Weston asked referring to the valley.
“No, in the mountains.”
They looked at one another, each taking a measure of the man before them.
“The reason I asked if it was an area like this,” Weston went on thinking he would try to break the ice, “is because there is no radiation here. That is why you see life thriving. Our resident professor says it is due to an electromagnetic field. Whatever it is, it allows us to live as we do. Not too many things survive for long out there,” he said indicating the land above the valley.
“No, I don’t figure they would. Seems a bit hard and to the point; kill or be killed.”
Weston smiled. He liked this man. “I heard you did some killing yourself.”
“Yeah, your men took the bounty,” he said without malice.
“They told me you let the rock wolf out of their trap.”
“Rock Wolf; I didn’t know what it was called… Big thing.”
“And he is the biggest. I’ve never heard of anything ever escaping him alive, until you. He hunts alone, that is why we knew it was him,” Weston said. “How is it he not only didn’t attack you, but apparently helped you kill the lions?”
“I don’t know; maybe because I helped him out.”
Weston smiled at the reply, “I don’t think you will see much in the way of gratitude out there. It’s a hard life, like you said.”
Bishop just nodded.
“Okay. If you’re not in the mood to talk, that’s fine. We are friendly here toward those who are also friendly. We eat our afternoon meal as a community. You are welcome to come. I’ll send somebody for you. If you would like to look around, feel free to do so.”
“Thank you,” Bishop said in reply.
“Would you like someone to take a look at your leg,” Weston said noticing the tear marks and dried blood stains on his pant leg.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Up to you. Keep in mind that infection kills as quickly as anything out here.”
“I’ll do that.”
―
He decided against taking his spear as he saw no reason for it. He walked through the valley noticing life he thought only existed in his memories. There were all types of livestock, rabbits, squirrels, and even a beaver pond. Fish jumped out of the deeper pools of water, and children were playing the games children play. Nobody said a word to him as he walked along, but they were not unfriendly either, just cautious.
He walked in among hardwood trees with their overflowing canopies of limbs and leaves. The sky was clear here. The ground was soft and full of life indicating its richness. It was a little piece of paradise.
When he was close enough to a few of the residents, he noticed the effects of the environment. They must have had to
spend some time out of the valley, and that being the case, have suffered from exposure; some more than others. They appeared to be of mixed nationality though he could not be sure of which.
He spent the better part of the morning simply enjoying the scenery. It was the most pleasant experience he had since leaving the mountain. When he returned to the building he was first taken to, a young boy was waiting for him.
―
“Are you the concierge,” Bishop asked the young man.
He tilted his head in curiosity not understanding the phrase before he spoke, “I’m to bring you to dinner.”
“Then lead on maestro,” Bishop said teasing the young man.
They walked along the side of the valley wall. As they drew closer to their destination, Bishop could smell meat roasting. When they rounded a rocky outcropping, Bishop saw two large wooden pavilions. A large number of people were milling about around them. The boy must have figured they were close enough that this stranger would know where to go next, so he rushed off to join a group of young men playing not too far away.
There were several large adobe-like ovens and two fire pits between the structures. Two animals could be seen turning on a spit, and smoke was rising from the ovens. Picnic benches were lined in rows beneath the covered roofs. Bishop saw someone waving at him and noticed that it was Weston. He walked over and accepted the seat that was offered.
“Quite a place you have here,” Bishop said.
“Better than many alternatives,” Weston replied.