Adrian's War

by Lloyd Tackitt

  They had been at it for several hours and the sun had started to peak over the mountain tops. As they started across a large creek, a Grizzly bear with two cubs loomed up in front of them. The bear roared and started to attack in defense of her cubs. Adrian shouted to Greg,”Don’t shoot! Don’t run!” He then hollered as loud as he could right at the bear, letting out a hair-raising Texas rebel yell. The bear stopped in confusion. She was surprised that the man didn’t run and was confused by his ear-splitting yell. She stood looking at Adrian, swaying her head back from side to side, trying to get a better look. Then she flared her nostrils and sucked in air to get a good smell of him.

  When she breathed in his scent, her demeanor changed entirely. She went from ferocious mother defending her cubs to practically uninterested. She approached without antagonism or fear. As she got closer, Adrian stood his ground. He couldn’t outrun her, but a small voice in the back of his mind told him not to shoot her. He stood as she came closer. Greg, a few yards behind Adrian, watched, rifle cocked and aimed, dying to shoot. But Adrian had told him not to and he would not disobey, no matter what.

  The bear came close to Adrian and took another small sniff. The she took a large whiff of his scent. She came closer and looked at him closely. Adrian stood his ground, suddenly smiling. This was the sow he had shared the den with after his head wound. She had recognized his scent, a scent she had inhaled in close proximity for a week, although mostly covered by the bear scent on him. She’d had her cubs already. They came up and milled around her feet. The bear turned toward Greg and growled low but loud, a clear warning, then turned around and left with the cubs running ahead of her, disappearing into the forest as if they had never been.

  A long moment passed, Adrian turned to Greg and said, “That’s the bear I slept with. She recognized my odor. Pretty as a picture isn’t she?”

  Greg looked at Adrian with a mixture of confusion, fading fear and shock. “Slept with her? A grizzly bear?”

  “Sure. I’d been grazed across the skull with a bullet, had a concussion, and Wolfgang was chasing me. Damn near caught me too, but I found a hole under a tree and crawled inside and passed out. I was out for about a week I think, sleeping right up against that old girl. But enough of fond memories, let’s get moving.” Little did Adrian know his statement and explanation would grow into another enormous myth that would explode like wildfire across the ham radio internet and then the entire country. A story that would precede him wherever he went for the rest of his life. A story he would never be allowed to explain in a rational way. Adrian’s stories would go viral on the ham radio, the new internet.

  Two hours before dark, they came to the edge of the tribe’s area. There were plenty of signs that the people of the tribe were in close proximity. Adrian said, “I don’t want to alert the tribe; it would take too long to explain and they can’t help us anyway. We’ll scout around and try to figure out the best place to set up.” It took him just over an hour to find a good observation spot that gave a wide view of the direction that Wolfgang should be coming from. They had climbed a stony ridge that looked down over a vast sweeping area. From there, they could see several miles and had a good chance of spotting Wolfgang.

  “We’ll watch until dark, then make a cold camp. No fire for us tonight. We’ll look for their campfire after dark. If we’re lucky, Wolfgang will make a fire for the night and then he’s dead before daybreak.” They sat and watched, memorizing the lay of the land in the fading light. Adrian pointed out a particular defile that crossed much of the area. “That’s most likely the way he’ll come. It’s a natural pathway.”

  They looked for fire after dark, but saw none. “We’ll take turns sleeping; I’ll take first watch and wake you when it’s your turn.” Adrian sat, wide awake, and went over and over his reasoning. He couldn’t find a flaw in his logic, but knew that logic could only take him so far. The rest was up to intuition and fate. He thought about the bear and realized that the reason he couldn’t eat bear meat now was because some sort of bond had formed between him and the mother grizzly while they were together in the den. The thought of killing a bear now turned his stomach, and he knew he would never kill another one.

  When Greg relieved him from his watch, he lay down and was asleep in seconds. He dreamed of Alice and felt her approval of his actions since the hostages were taken, but felt no approval of his war before that. No disapproval either. His mind was projecting into his dreams what she would have thought about it all. She would not have thought of his war as something he should have devoted so much passion to. But she might have understood it as a distraction from grief. He was awakened before dawn by Greg, as instructed.

  They set up watch on the ridge again, straining to see any movement in the early light as the sun came up. “For observation, two sets of eyes are much better than one,” Adrian told Greg. “Watch for movement of any kind.” They spotted elk and deer grazing. At one point Adrian thought he spotted a bear, but wasn’t sure. It was backbreaking work to stare that long and hard, trying to force a sighting. “This can get boring,” Adrian warned. “It’s mentally fatiguing to stay at it with concentration, but it has to be done. Don’t let your mind wander. Close your eyes now and then for thirty seconds to rest them. But not too often and let me know when you do, I’ll do the same.”

  Unexpectedly, a thick fog began rolling into the valley. Adrian watched and knew that the fog changed everything. “Greg, change of plans. This fog is going to get really thick in a few minutes; it’s moving in fast. You go on to the tribe and let them know what I’m doing. I doubt that they will be moving out of their camp in this, but to be extra sure to tell them to wait there for me. The way I’m going to have to do this, I won’t be able to see faces very well and I don’t want to make a mistake. Hurry, before it gets here and you get lost.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “No time now to explain, I’ll tell you all about it later. Get going. Hurry! Wait! Give me your cooking pot and bedroll—quickly now.” Greg looked at him with curiosity, but complied and left.

  Adrian took one long, last hard look at the valley, reinforcing key features in his memory that he would recognize in the fog when he got close enough to see them, and placed them in his mind in relation to the other key features. He moved swiftly to get into the spot he had chosen as the most likely place that Wolfgang would walk through, or near, to get to the tribe camp. He scrambled down the ridge, knocking rocks and dirt loose as he went. He didn’t have time for finesse.

  When he reached his target area he swiftly gathered dry wood. He gathered enough to make a fire that would last for several hours. He broke some of the wood up, made a separate pile, and quickly lit it on fire. As soon as the fire was burning he placed the cooking pot next to the fire. Unrolling the bedroll, he made a bed near the fire on the side opposite from where Wolfgang would approach. Still moving hurriedly he stripped to his shorts and laid his clothes on the bedroll.

  Adrian gathered dry grass from around him until he had enough. He used it to stuff his clothes, making a dummy of himself sleeping. It wasn’t great, but in the fog and behind the fire he thought it might do the trick. He placed a rock about the size of his head at the top of the stuffed shirt, threw the edge of the bedroll on it, and then surveyed the scene. It wouldn’t fool anyone on a clear day, but in the fog it might. He then took of his boots and placed them near the fire as the final touch.

  Clad only in his boxer shorts, he took his rifle and knife and found a good hiding spot behind a thick bush just a scant fifteen feet away. Using cordage he tied the knife scabbard to his thigh. Now it was time to wait. If his plan worked, the smell of smoke and the glow of the campfire would catch Wolfgang’s attention. He was hoping against the odds that Wolfgang would be hungry enough to keep moving in the fog. There was absolutely no he could find Wolfgang in the fog, but he might draw Wolfgang to him if he had guessed correctly where Wolfgang would be coming from. The fog had settled in and visibility was down
to only a few feet. He hoped it didn’t lift at the wrong time. If it did, not only would his plan fail, but he might find himself badly exposed to rifle fire.

  Adrian was a patient hunter. It was hard to tell what time it was with no visible sun, but his internal clock told him that at least an hour had gone by. Twice he had quietly moved to put more wood on the fire. It was important that the flames were bright. Each time he refreshed the fire he was taking a chance that Wolfgang would come up on him at that moment. The damp woods and the fog made moving quietly easy for anyone, and when he came, Wolfgang would be arriving in stealth mode. He would be looking for a chance for easy food. It was his style and Adrian was counting on it.

  Another hour passed. Adrian was cold and cramped, but held his position. He was on full alert, ears and eyes straining as hard as possible for any sign that Wolfgang was near. The fire was low again.

  Adrian eased over to the fire and a stinging sensation struck his right arm, above the elbow, instantly accompanied by the sound of a rifle shot. Adrian instinctively and immediately rolled away from the fire into the fog. leaving his rifle behind. He pulled out his bowie knife, crouched, and waited for a second, then he quietly moved off to the right several paces. Another shot rang out. Adrian wasn’t hit, and he couldn’t tell where the rifle had been aimed. He guessed that Wolfgang had fired into the area where Adrian had been only a moment ago. Adrian threw himself on the ground, making the sound of a body landing, let out a low groan, then quietly jumped to his feet and moved off again a couple of yards. He wanted Wolfgang to believe he had been hit again.

  Adrian checked his arm. It was a through and through shot, hitting muscle but not bone. He was bleeding badly, but not spurting from an artery. Blood loss would weaken him soon, and this was no time for weakness. He was on the clock now. He had to make this happen, and soon, or he would grow too weak to be effective. Adrian lay down flat and listened. He heard a slight crunching sound of boots on soil.

  Slowly the outlines of two men came into view. They stayed close enough together to see each other, but no closer. They were only five yards away from Adrian, and they were five yards apart, the three of them making a triangle. They were looking in the wrong direction, but as soon as either one shifted his eyes to the right Adrian would be visible. His knife against two armed killers. Adrian liked the odds.

  Slowly, Adrian gathered himself into a crouching position. His naked skin was nearly snow white from the long winter, and he blended in with the fog better than they did in their dark clothing. Adrian achingly reached a fully loaded, crouched position and then silently launched himself at the nearest of the two men. He reached the man before he could react. Adrian hit him with a full body tackle at the same moment that he plunged his knife into the man’s throat, the point of his blade exiting the back of his neck.

  Adrian kept rolling forward as he pulled the knife free, tumbling away from the thrashing body. The other man shot at him in a reflexive action, missing Adrian by a fraction of an inch spraying him with stinging gravel. Adrian stopped his forward motion, sprang sideways, rolled, and came up on his feet, instantly launching himself at the other man. This maneuver had kept him from being able to line his rifle up on Adrian, so the man used it as a club instead, swinging at Adrian with a brutal butt stroke. Adrian used his injured right arm as a shield. It was all it was good for at the moment, absorbing the punishing blow on top of the gunshot wound. Searing paint jolted through Adrian’s body like lightning.

  Adrian pressed on with his attack and slashed out with a backhand cut that deeply cut the man, who quickly fled, disappearing into the fog. Adrian had lost sight of him, but knew he was badly cut and would leave a blood trail. He had cut him deeply but he wasn’t sure where, wasn’t sure it was a killing cut. He now had to trail the main in the thick fog. He set out slowly, looking for a blood trail and following it. This was dangerous; he could walk up on him at any moment and be shot. The wounded man would be on the alert and Adrian was wounded as well. The odds weren’t good but he wouldn’t back off and wait; he was too close to give up. As Adrian followed the blood trail he occasionally stopped to listen intently. He was hoping that his quarry would make some small sound and give away his position.

  The blood trail was diminishing. Whatever wound it was, it wasn’t arterial and the blood loss was slowing. There wasn’t enough blood to indicate a significant wound. Adrian crept on, hoping that the blood trail wouldn’t end. It was difficult to find in the fog, trailing off and then occasionally reappearing. Adrian kept following, knowing he was exposed, and had only a knife and his wits against a rifle. His quarry, whether Wolfgang or not had the advantage. All he had to do was sit still and wait for Adrian to appear, then shoot.

  He kept going, and had covered perhaps an eighth of a mile when the blood trail gave out completely. He stood there, unsure what to do next—perhaps go back to camp and get his rifle and wait for the fog to lift. Then he heard a small sound in front of him. In the fog it was hard to tell where or what or how far away. Adrian clenched his knife in his teeth and threw a rock to the right of where he thought the sound came from, re-gripping his knife before the rock could land. A rifle shot rang out directly in front of him. Adrian charged as fast as he could run and ran right into Wolfgang as he was working the bolt for a second shot. He hit Wolfgang with a full body tackle, swarming all over him and knocking the rifle loose from his grip, the two of them tumbling down together. Wolfgang was strong and foul smelling. Adrian plunged his knife deep into Wolfgang’s chest and held his eyes with his own, watching the man’s life ebb away. Adrian slowly got up, weak from blood loss, and followed the blood trail back to camp. He saw the glow of the fire with relief.

  He sat down abruptly. The combination of the gunshot wound, the blood loss, the punishing butt stroke and the final fight, all underscored by rushing adrenalin, made him faint to nearly black out. He was nauseous and threw up bile. Adrian sat there for a few more minutes, gathered his strength and stood. He stumbled over to the fire and poured water from his canteen into the cook pot and set it on the fire to boil. Then he reclaimed his clothes from the dummy and dressed. He dragged the bedroll close to the fire and pulled it over him like a robe, absorbing the warmth of the nearby flames.

  When the water boiled, Adrian cut off a piece of bedroll and using a clean portion of it dabbed it into the boiling water and began to clean his wound. It was an ugly hole going in and even uglier coming out. There was already a bruise forming from the gun’s butt. He washed the wound as well as he could, then he boiled the cloth in the water for a minute and used it again as a bandage. The bleeding had slowed but hadn’t stopped. The bandage was soon soaked. Adrian had to stop this bleeding or he would be in serious trouble.

  He took the bandage off and put it in the water to boil again. Then he took a knife off the body nearby, and put the blade into the fire to heat. When it was red hot he picked it up and pressed the blade flat against the entry wound, until the raw meat was cauterized. The smell of his burning flesh and the searing pain nearly made him pass out. He vomited again. Again, he placed the knife blade into the fire and sat rocking back and forth, trying to stem the pain as he waited. The bleeding had nearly stopped on the entry side, but the backside was still bleeding freely. He had to stop it.

  Adrian pulled the knife out when it was red hot again, and painfully twisting his arm around applied the knife blade to the exit wound. He held it there as long as he could—this was a bigger hole. He held it there until it cooled off. It took every ounce of will power he could muster to hold it against his flesh. The bleeding was almost stopped, but there was still non-cauterized flesh inside the hole. Once more Adrian placed the knife in the fire and waited. Using just the knife’s tip he spot cauterized inside the wound until the bleeding stopped. Then he fainted.

  Adrian came to a few minutes later, washed the wound one more time with the boiling hot bandage, then, when the bandage cooled enough, wrapped it around his arm. He desperately wanted to lie dow
n, but the fog was lifting and he knew he had better get to the tribe’s camp while he still had some strength left.

  Chapter 25

  THE SMELL OF SMOKE TOLD Adrian that he was near the tribe’s camp, he began shouting “Hallo the camp!” It wouldn’t be a good idea to appear to be sneaking in. He shouted three times before Greg and another man armed with a shotgun came running out to him.

  The man lowered his shotgun and shouted, “All clear!” Four men, five women, and three children appeared from behind fallen trees and boulders at the edge of the forest. All of the adults were armed. The children hung back.

  “Welcome, Adrian. I’m Martin. We’ve heard a lot about you. Glad to meet you. Come and sit down. You’re injured—how bad is it? Allyson! Come take a look at Bear’s arm.”

  Adrian was startled by the woman’s name since it was so close to that of his wife. He was equally nonplussed by being called Bear. He knew that nicknames were spontaneously awarded and often stuck for life. He was probably stuck with this one. “What do you think about that, Alice?” he thought. “You would probably have loved it and given me hell about it.” Adrian sat on a handcrafted bench, his tension releasing. He was weak and in considerable pain, but he was alive and was healthy. He would heal; Wolfgang was dead. That was what counted.

  “Have you eaten?” Martin asked. “We have fresh elk. Jenna, would you be so kind as to cook this man some steak? He looks hungry.”

  Adrian’s stomach, alerted to the possibility of incoming food, began growling loudly. He was suddenly ravenous. “Thank you, I am a bit hungry at that.”

  “Greg filled us in. Did you kill those two men? I’m guessing you did or they would be here instead.”

  “Just a little while ago.” While he ate, Adrian told them the whole story, ending with the death of Wolfgang. The elk steak was delicious and refreshing. Martin asked about the sow grizzly. Adrian repeated the story to everyone’s amazement.