HYBRID KILLERS

by Will Decker

  Occasionally, I’d lean over, scooping a handful of snow up to my mouth. It was risky business, weighing the value of the moisture against the loss of calories that my body required to melt it. Most times, though, I’d only discover to my dismay that my face was too frozen to open my mouth. With tremendous effort, and a not too small amount of pain, I’d force my mouth open just enough to accept the snow. If I didn’t take in at least some fluids, my bodily functions would quickly become impaired, which would soon be followed by the shutting down of internal organs, and eventually death.

  The wind was whipping the frozen snow crystals into my face and stinging my eyes, forcing me to keep them tightly closed. Even when I opened them temporarily to check my progress and assure that I was still in the disappearing trail left by the wolves, I shaded them against the wind with a mitten-covered hand. It seemed like a real possibility that they could freeze and glass over, causing permanent and irreparable blindness.

  Even without using my eyes, it was easy to tell that I was still on the trail. Every time I swayed to one side or the other, the deeper snow immediately impeded my progress.

  My feet were another matter. I had barely left the dead wolf’s carcass behind, when they were little more than blocks of ice; all sensation from my ankles downward was gone. But because they weren’t hurting, I quickly forgot about them.

  Of more immediate concern was with the sky, and the intensity of the growing and swirling darkness that it harbored. As the sky grew darker, the wind blew harder. It seemed as though I’d barely closed my eyes and reopened them, and the snow had increased tenfold. The harsh whiteness blending with the dark sky shrouded everything in a dull gray soup. Dismally, I realized that I was losing the trail of the wolves. Even though I opened my eyes increasingly more often, straining against frozen tears and burning wind, it slowly disappeared before me. It wouldn’t be much longer before I was on my own. Without a trail to guide me, my humble progress will be greatly impaired, and I was sure to lose my sense of direction. It was time to find a defensible shelter from the storm before I ended up walking in circles.

  Without warning, the ground dropped away from under my feet, and I went sprawling downward, the world tumbling around me. Head over heels, I sailed, bouncing and sliding down a steep embankment, finally coming to a stop at the bottom of a deep ravine.

  **7**

  Stunned, I lay motionless, spread-eagled on my back, staring up into a murky mix of snow and darkness. For the first time since leaving the cabin, I began to doubt in my ability to reach Sandy’s cabin.

  Gingerly lifting my right arm, while slowly turning my head to the side, I listened intently for any creaks or pops that would indicate broken bones or dislocated joints. When my fingers brushed across the bridge of my nose, I let it fall back to my side and turned toward the left, doing the same maneuver with that hand.

  Satisfied, I pulled my legs up toward my chest, stretching them as far as they would go. They were stiff and sore from hiking, but they weren’t broken or sprained. Relieved that I wasn’t any worse for wear, I struggled into a sitting position, and then rolled over and got my legs under me. My knee joints protested against my weight, but I knew it was just a combination of advancing age and cold. The cold was originating from the blocks of ice that were my feet. They’d been completely numb for some time now. But because my mind was preoccupied with Sandy’s safety and the trek that still lay ahead, I couldn’t waste the time or the energy worrying about them.

  Taking a deep sigh, I studied the opposite side of the ravine, straining to make out the terrain of the landscape in the dark. From what I could tell, it appeared to go straight up. With a sinking feeling, I wondered how I would ever reach the top. It didn’t seem even remotely possible that I could climb out of this predicament with my frozen feet and fatigued muscles.

  If there was any bright side to my current situation, it lay in the fact that I was out of the wind for the moment, despite the increasing intensity of the storm above me. It also meant that Sandy would be snuggled safely into her cabin, taking shelter from the storm, and unwittingly, from the wolf pack.

  Since there wasn’t any hope of scaling the side of the ravine in my present condition, I would have to follow it until I found a place that was shallow enough for me to ascend. But which direction to take?

  Without giving it any thought, other than it was the easier to negotiate because of a natural downward slope, I set off, my entire body lurching from side to side with each awkward step. It would have been much easier to just lie down and sleep.

  I hadn’t gone far when I came to a pile of logs and debris that stretched from one side of the ravine to the other. As I drew closer, I noticed a small opening nearer to the ground, leading into a darker cavity beneath it. With a numbed sense of concern for my immediate safety, I got down on my belly and peered into the dark recess. It was just large enough for my shoulders to squeeze through, and I quickly dragged my body in behind.

  What first appeared to be a small cavity, actually turned out to be a fairly large cavern, once I got through the tight fitting opening. By sliding on my belly, using the naturally downward slope of the ground to ease my forward progress, I inched along toward the back of the recess, finally coming to a place that the snow couldn’t reach. I felt something soft against my face and realized that it was dried grasses and twigs; the ground was covered by several inches of the material, forming a soft and inviting bed.

  My first impression had been that the cavity was unoccupied, but within seconds, I had my doubts. Although the space was currently vacant, something was using it for a home, and that something was liable to return at any time.

  In the far corner, almost glowing in the dark, I could just make out what appeared to be a substantial pile of bones. They’d been picked clean and shined a ghostly white against the dark backdrop. Yet, that only proved that something had inhabited this space at some time in the far past. What confirmed my suspicions regarding the present was the smell of fresh dung accented by the sweeter smell of blood.

  Slowly, my hands searching the air above my head, I carefully got to my knees, and then, fighting a growing stiffness in my joints, I rose to my feet. To my surprise, I found that nearer to the center of the cavity, I could stand upright, and the debris was still inches above my head. Feeling my way along the makeshift ceiling, I worked my way out from the center. The roof quickly sloped downward, forcing me back to my knees.

  Once again on the floor, I felt around in the dark with my hands, familiarizing myself with all the little crooks and crannies. When I reached the opposite corner from the hauntingly white pile of bones, I found what could only be described as a nest.

  Exhausted, I plopped down on it, and pulled my boots off. With frozen fingers, I started working on my frozen feet, rubbing them, and massaging them, trying to get the circulation flowing in them again. The nest was soft and comfortable, and I could lean back against the wall for support, both physical and moral. If only I had something with which to build a fire, this place could be quite comfortable, I thought to myself.

  In the darkness of the cavity and the night, I was unable to see my feet. But as I rubbed first one and then the other, alternating back and forth while I placed the idle one beneath a layer of bedding, the feeling slowly returned. In no time at all, my hands were warm from the friction and my feet were stinging from renewed circulation. The pain grew almost unbearable, as I realized that if I were suffering from frostbite, it was only a mild case at this point, and nothing too serious. And yet, while I was thankful for my positive self-diagnosis, I couldn’t shake the depressing feeling that came over me as I considered the near future.

  Before too long, exhaustion took over, and I dozed on the matted weeds. But I didn’t get much rest. Throughout the night, I was constantly waking with fits and starts as the pain in my feet became a dull throb, and my stomach ached from a lack of food; I hadn’t eaten since the night before.

  During one of these waking fits,
I cursed myself for not having had the foresight to load the pockets of the snowsuit with additional supplies when I’d had the opportunity. Instead, I had packed everything into the one ditty bag, basically putting all of my eggs in one basket, so to speak. I reached to the pocket containing the magnum and ran my hand over the bulge it produced, glad for at least that one foresight.

  My reverie was suddenly interrupted by a noise coming from the small opening between the rising level of snow and the stacked brush and debris. It was the sound of something being drug over the snow, and despite the distant sound of the wind, it grew more distinguishable as it came closer to the opening. My hand was pressed against the gun, and I quietly moved it up, searching carefully for the tab on the zipper. With a dexterity in my fingers that hadn’t been there just hours earlier, I slowly slid the zipper open and withdrew the gun.

  The sound was drawing nearer. Silently, careful not to rustle the dead grass and leaves, I drew my feet in to me, as I sat huddled on the straw nest. Holding my breath, the steel of the gun cold in my palm, I heard more than saw something come through the opening, entering the cavity, my cavity, as I’d come to think of it.

  On the verge of panicking, I let out a scream and clapped my hands together, hoping to startle and scare out whatever had slinked in. My shouting was answered by a short snarl, and then a frantic scuffling noise as the slinking beast turned and scampered back out of the cavity. Although I couldn’t be sure, the snarl sounded as if a feline creature, most likely a bobcat, had made it, as they were indigenous to this area.

  My body went limp, and I took a deep breath, letting the relief flood through me. It was then that I noticed, in my moment of immense fear, I’d dropped my revolver in the dry weeds, probably when I’d clapped my hands and yelled.

  Suddenly fearful that the wolves would find me in the cavity, and that I wouldn’t have any way of protecting myself, I scurried around on my hands and knees, searching frantically for the gun. Urgently running my fingers over the matted grass, I was bordering on hysteria when I fumbled over it. Grasping it tightly with both hands, I hugged it to my chest. For the moment, I was too afraid of losing it again to put it back in the zippered pocket of the snowsuit. It was almost as if I could draw strength from it by merely holding it. And though it contained such tremendous power, it offered such limited use, or did it?

  With relief came a loss of strength, and I fell slowly back on my haunches, landing softly on the old nest. My breath was still coming in great gasps, and I bordered on tears. My situation suddenly seemed too hopeless and futile; I questioned my sanity for continuing to put my body through the agony and torture.

  Just as quickly as the thoughts of defeat entered my head, I cursed myself for letting them in. I wasn’t a quitter when Amy died, and I wasn’t a quitter now. Even if Sandy wasn’t aware of the fact that she was in danger, I knew that to give up on myself, was the equivalent of giving up on her.

  After a long moment, I suddenly realized that all I could hear was the slight murmur of the wind howling above the ravine. The poor beast that I’d so rudely evicted from its home on this cold and snow-swept night hadn’t returned, and probably wouldn’t. Although it had caused me a fright, I was sure that I’d scared it even more.

  Tired, both emotionally and physically, I slowly returned the gun to the zippered pocket in the snowsuit, and then let my head fall forward into my waiting hands. It was all I could do, just to support the weight of my head.

  Sleep returned, and I rested peacefully for a couple of hours, the first undisturbed rest in quite a while. It was still dark outside, but the predawn light would be breaking through the night sky very soon. Even though I hadn’t slept much during the entire night, the last couple of hours had refreshed me, and I could once again hold my depression at bay.

  It also helped, that my feet were feeling much better and, except for the tips of my toes, I felt pretty confident that I wasn’t suffering from frostbite, at least not very seriously. Even my knees were feeling more like their old selves, as I stood up and stretched; the pain of yesterday only a painful memory. Regretting having to give the refuge back to its former lodger, I slipped my boots on and retied the shirt around my head. Almost as an afterthought, I decided to put the mittens on before working my way back through the small opening and out into the snow.

  Kneeling down, I put my face into the opening, smelling the cold bite of the still-night air that caressed my face, welcoming my return to the harsh world of reality. Pushing forward, my hands came across something soft and pliable in their path. Pushing it ahead of me, I continued crawling until I cleared the outside of the opening and was able to stand once more.

  Taking my right glove off, I did a cursory inspection of the find with my bare hand. It turned out to be a wild rabbit, and even though it no longer retained any body heat, I sensed that it hadn’t been dead for long; despite the cold, it was still pliable.

  Without hesitation, I stuffed it into one of the many pockets in the snowsuit. For the briefest of moments, I felt a small amount of guilt for taking the wild cat’s food, especially since I wasn’t prepared to eat it just yet, at least, not raw. But I quickly set my guilt aside when my stomach let out a loud rumble. Even though I couldn’t eat it right now, I might reconsider.

  With the rabbit tucked safely away for later, I glanced up at the predawn light as it filtered through the dense cloud cover. A cold shiver ran through me, even though the wind had died during the night. The shiver came from knowing that the dark clouds were going to unload more snow on me during the coming day.

  For the first time in twenty-four hours, I knew which direction I needed to go. By looking up the ravine, and then down it, the lighter horizon indicating East, I was delighted to learn that the direction that I’d been traveling, was indeed the correct direction, or at least close enough. Once I find my way out of the ravine, I can make any course corrections that I feel necessary then.

  With no more reason to procrastinate, I climbed over and through the debris that formed the shelter in the ravine, and continued on my way. By the time I’d scaled the shelter, the predawn light had faded, and the sun, though hidden by clouds, was working its way into the sky. Moving with renewed enthusiasm, and by staying in the shallower snow on the leeward side of the ravine, my confidence was slowly restored. If I can keep up this pace, I should reach Sandy’s cabin within the day. In addition, I hadn’t seen any sign of predators, wolves or otherwise.

  After two hours, in which I made excellent time, I finally came to a break in the ravine where the side had collapsed, making it shallow enough for me to climb out. Without hesitation, I hurriedly guesstimated how far off course the ravine had forced me, and then started plodding through the snow in the direction that I hoped would take me to Sandy’s cabin. Although I was quickly tiring from the journey, I was feeling much more optimistic about the day’s coming events, than I had the night before. Furthermore, I took advantage of my thawed condition, and ate snow constantly as I worked my way along.

  Because I didn’t have the snowshoes, I had to work my way between trees, and up and down slopes, and other less traversable routes, all in order to avoid obvious snowdrifts. In my present condition, a deep snowdrift would easily have been the end of me. With the snowshoes, I could have picked the straightest route, going over the top of everything. Unfortunately, without that luxury, I was adding at least two miles for each one that I needed to cover. Yet, despite my slow progress, I still felt confident that I was going in the right direction, and would make it to Sandy’s before nightfall.

  But that wasn’t going to be the case. As the day dragged on, my legs grew stiffer, and my feet colder. Several times, I tripped over snow-covered limbs and lost my footing on small slopes, only to roll back to the bottom, where I was forced to start all over again. Each time I fell, it got harder to get up, and easier to remain down.

  Shortly after nightfall, I was snapped out of a delusional reverie, where I’d made it to Sandy’s cabin, and
we were enjoying a hot cup of coffee and sandwiches by a warm fire, by what sounded like a pack of dogs barking in the distance. I was immediately aware of the cold on my face and the radiating pain in my limbs. All my limbs, that is, except for my feet. Sometime during the day, they’d gone numb again, only this time it was different. I wasn’t sure how I knew it, but I sensed that the frostbite was much more serious than it had been last night.

  The barking could only be from one of two things, and I felt confident that it wasn’t from a dogsled team. My spirits rose dramatically when I considered the possibility that if this was the same wolf pack that had been after me at my cabin, and I was confident that it was, then they hadn’t gone directly to Sandy’s cabin after all. Because it stood to reason that if they had, they would be there by now.

  And then a new thought jumped to the forefront of my mind and stopping me in my tracks. It suddenly became difficult to breathe as a force constricted my chest tight, forcing my heart into my throat. There was one other possibility that explained their presence; they’ve already been there!

  With all thought of my own safety set aside, I hurried in the direction of the barking. In the dark, I couldn’t see, and I ran blindly forward, going more than fifty feet, when common sense took over, and I pulled up short.

  “What the Hell am I doing?” I harshly asked myself between great gasps of air.

  It was full dark and the moon hadn’t risen yet, and I was charging ahead toward a vicious wolf pack simply because I feared for a woman’s life. Of course, she wasn’t just any woman. But how much of my image of her was reality, and how much was fabrication from a fatigued mind? Was it possible that I’d made her into something that she wasn’t, simply because that was what my overtaxed mind needed?

  Whatever the reason for my overt concerns for her safety, in the dark, this was the last thing I should be doing.