by Will Decker
Short of breath and chilled with fever, I was leaning against a tree for support when I thought I saw something moving in the shadows to my left. My vision had been blurry and unfocused for some time, and I was forced to squint ever harder in order to make out the blur that was moving towards me. Yet, I wasn’t concerned; there was something familiar in the blur, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. As it drew nearer, I was able to distinguish a person dragging something, and I was glad, but I didn’t know why.
Suddenly, with a shot of clarity that stunned my feverish mind, I remembered who I was and what I was doing. But more importantly, I knew who was coming towards me.
Stepping away from the tree and balancing precariously on the crutches, I raised my arms to wave to her. Just as suddenly, as the bout of clarity that had come over me only moments prior, I was overcome by a dizzying wave of nausea that clouded my vision. My surroundings went from a hazy, disorienting fog, to a deeper shade of gray. Without any sensation of falling, I landed hard on the snow-covered ground. For just the briefest of moments, I was sure that I felt a cold, wet substance against the side of my face. And then, just before the sun went out and the darkness enfolded me, I caught the faintest whiff of a woman, and a smile came to my face.
With Sandy leaning over me, I regained consciousness on a cot in the middle of nowhere. It was growing dark, and the tree limbs were barely visible against the darker sky. They seemed ominous and threatening, even though I knew them for what they were. I also knew where I was, and how I got here.
Noticing that I was awake, she forced a smile for my benefit. I attempted a smile back. Moving toward my feet, she took the end of a piece of cord, similar to the cord that she wove the netting beneath the cot with, and tied my feet and legs securely to the cot. Only then did I realize that she’d already secured my upper body to the cot by stretching the fishnet taught across my chest and securing it to each side. Despite the restricting action of the netting, I was able to raise my head off the padding that she’d placed beneath it.
Something light and fluttery landed on my eyebrow, and I tried to reach up and whisk it away, but my arms wouldn’t respond. It was then that I noticed for the first time that she had put my gloves back on and secured my arms beneath the netting so they wouldn’t inadvertently dangle over the side of the cot. I also noticed that I still didn’t have any feelings in my hands.
Her backpack with the bandages and meager first aid supplies was lying open in the snow beside her. A little distance farther laid a scattered pile of bloody bandages. My stomach lurched at the sight of them, and the realization that she changed the dressings on one or both of my feet.
Looking away from the bloody rags, I watched her tie off the last few knots securing my feet. She was working faster than seemed prudent. Yet, I understood the urgency.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, as she stood and pressed her hands into the small of her back.
“There is nothing for you to feel sorry about,” she said gently, trying to hide her surprise at my ability to speak coherently. “If it wasn’t for you, they probably would have gotten me by now.”
“Leave me,” I rasped through a throat that was parched and dehydrated. “You have a much better chance of making it without me.”
“I make it with you, or neither of us makes it, love. Since I’ve met you, life is worth living again. I couldn’t imagine a life without you. Now quit talking and save your energy for getting better.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I said with a sigh, lowering my head to the padding beneath and resigning myself to being pulled along.
“Shut up and hang on,” she sternly remarked, as she put her weight into the woven harness and pushed against the snowshoes adorning her boots.
She made a grunting noise, as it took all of her strength just to break the sled free from the binding action of the snow. But once it started moving, she quickly settled into an easy pace. The sled glided almost noiselessly along on the carpet of snow, as I lay on my back and stared up into the darkened treetops. Within a short time, the rocking action of the sled in combination with the steady swishing sound of the runners through the snow caused me to doze off. I slept soundly and peacefully, as a baby in a cradle. Some time later, I awoke. The sky was dark, though the moon had risen, because of a heavy cloud cover. There were no shadows, and we weren’t moving.
Straining to see into the darkness, I felt the cold hands of panic clutching my chest, slowly squeezing tighter, and making it increasingly difficult to breathe. I couldn’t see Sandy anywhere. But even if she were standing right next to the cot, I probably wouldn’t see her in the pitch dark of the night that surrounded me.
“Sandy,” I weakly croaked, my throat parched and constricted from the fever I was running.
From off to my left, and less than three feet distant, came a soft, scuffling noise. When her comforting voice came to me, it came from a lower position than my own, and I realized that she was lying on the ground resting. In the snowsuit, the cold couldn’t reach her.
“It’s all right. I’m right here,” she answered softly. “How are you feeling? Would you like some water?”
“Yes, water,” I rasped, immensely relieved to hear her voice. “Throat dry.”
Without realizing that she’d moved, she was suddenly leaning over me, as she knelt beside the cot and gently put the jug of water against my lips. I drank greedily; eagerly sucking in the frigid liquid, while savoring the way it flowed down and soothed my dry throat. When I drank as much as I could keep down, I pushed against the jug with my mouth.
“Feel better?” she asked softly, her voice almost a whisper.
“Yes. Thank you. Where are we?”
“I’m not sure. We have been making good time, but I’m afraid that I never was very good with distances and directions.” Jokingly, she added, “I would have made a lousy boy scout.”
The cloud cover was growing thicker, more ominous and threatening. Even a city-boy could see that a serious storm was imminent. Looking up at the swirling darkness, I said, “If the moon ever breaks through the cloud cover, I’ll be able to determine the direction that we need to take. If not, we’ll have to wait until morning, when the sun comes up.”
In a voice that was unable to hide the deep fatigue that she was feeling, she said, “I can’t see where I’m going in this dark anyway. If you’re hungry, we have boiled potatoes and bouillon to eat.”
“No, thanks. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep it down,” I answered her truthfully.
“So, that’s what you think of my cooking!” she replied, feigning offense at my remark.
“You know I don’t feel any such way,” I wearily rebuked her. My strength was draining fast from just the exertion of carrying on a conversation.
Sensing my fatigue, she offered, “Get some rest then, if you’re not hungry. I’ll wake you if the sky clears enough for us to travel tonight.”
Almost before she’d even finished the sentence, I was unconscious. Although I wasn’t hungry, and would have been unable to keep food in my stomach, the delirium that I had experienced during the day had passed. It was a feeling that I didn’t want to experience again anytime soon. It seemed like another miracle had happened to me in the way the fever had broken almost as quickly as it had started. My feet were in bad shape, and I had broken the scar tissue by walking on them, but the pain was more than bearable. Even though the scar tissue wasn’t the same as skin by any stretch of the imagination, it had been keeping in vital fluids, while keeping out infection.
Although I fell asleep almost immediately, in the dim awareness that lingered for a few moments, I thought back to the pile of bloody bandages that Sandy had removed. At the time, I was too delirious to make the connection between them and my feet, beyond the fact that she had removed them from only my left foot, leaving my right intact. I wondered why she hadn’t mentioned them to me. Or why she had only changed the bandages on my left foot, when I was sure that I had seen blood and pus o
ozing through the bandages on both.
Was it possible that she saw the futility in her efforts after seeing the deteriorated condition of the left foot?
The thought conjured up images of disgusting proportions, and I suddenly wondered what she found beneath the bandages. But I was too tired to speak. My questions would have to wait until later, after I had a chance to rest and get my strength back.
Yet, I couldn’t deny the keen sense of disappointment that I felt because she was holding back from me. Having already been to the point where I was prepared to lose my feet, if not my life, I thought she knew that she could tell me anything, regardless of my condition.
**15**
It was just getting light when Sandy woke me with a gentle shaking of my shoulder. Although the sun hadn’t reached the horizon yet, the sky was turning gray, and all evidence of the stars that normally splashed the midnight sky were gone. The eastern horizon was easily distinguishable by its sharper silhouette against a lighter gray background.
“John. Wake up, John. The sun’s coming up and we need to get moving.” Groggily, I opened my eyes to a cold dreary dawn. Even with the rising sun, the day felt cold and forbidding. It would have been easy to just shake her off and go back to sleep. “Here’s some water,” she said, putting the lip of the jug against my mouth. While I drank, she asked, “Are you hungry? I’ll give you some potatoes; you can chew on them while we travel. There isn’t time to fix a real meal.”
While drinking greedily of the water jug, I slowly grew aware of yet another sensation. To my embarrassment, spreading outward from my crotch was the warm feeling of wetting myself. It wasn’t easy to accept the fact that it didn’t matter, and that my pants would dry. We had more important concerns than simple incontinence to worry about. Moreover, Sandy knew that when she tied me to the cot, she had made it impossible for me to stand upright, and thus, impossible for me to pee like a normal man. Although I could have rolled over on my side and hung it over the edge of the cot, even that seemed like a lot of extra effort for naught, and would have required Sandy to undo all of her intricate knots beforehand. Despite the temporary embarrassment, it was better that I just go in my pants.
To my good fortune, though I knew that Sandy was aware of what had happened, she didn’t tease me or otherwise mention it. Her indiscretion was just one more reason that I loved her as much as I did.
After placing the water jug back among the rest of the supplies suspended beneath the cot, she placed a half-baked potato in each of my snowsuit’s breast pockets. They were intended for me to chew on, should I get hungry before our next break.
“If I appear to be getting off course,” she said seriously, “I’m going to be counting on you to let me know. Other than that, you just get your rest and enjoy your spuds.”
“If you vary in the least, I’ll let you know,” I answered her earnestly.
Leaning over me, she bent down and gave me a kiss before saying, “I’m sure you will.”
There was a grave look of concern in her eyes. Whether it was because of me, or the wolf pack, I wasn’t sure. But after an awkward moment, she stood and walked around to the front of the sled. Picking up the harness, she quickly shrugged into it. After checking that it was tight against her body in just the right places so as not to inflict unnecessary pain or a blister, she leaned first to the right, and then to the left. By doing this, she was able to rock the cot from side to side, effectively breaking the ice-hold on the runners. When the runners crunched and creaked, and the cot rocked up before dropping back into place, she leaned forward and strained against the harness. With a start, the sled lurched forward. Within a few feet of where it started, the runners were scraped clean by the friction of the snow beneath them, and the sled was sliding forward with a minimum of resistance.
With the aid of the snowshoes, she pulled the sled at a fair pace. When going down slight declines, she even had to jog for a short distance to avoid being run into by the moving sled.
But when she ascended even the slightest incline, I could hear her deep panting, and the lurching of the sled with each forward placed snowshoe. Yet, if the wolves didn’t bother us, I felt confident that she would pull us to safety.
Lying on the cot, my view was strictly limited to the treetops, unless I strained my head against the padding to see the higher ridges outlined against the sky. Every so often, when traversing the side of a ridge or hillock, the cot would lean over to one side or the other, and I would get a good view of the countryside.
For the most part, though, we were working our way through tree-covered mountainous forests, which consisted mainly of Douglas fir and some lower growing Spruce and Junipers. Occasionally, I would doze off, only to be rudely awakened by the harsh glare of the sun in my eyes. With the exception of an occasional cloud or two, this was the rule when crossing open meadows.
Sandy’s breathing was labored but steady over the soft slap of the snowshoes dropping forcefully against the virgin blanket of white. Fainter still, could be heard the steady swishing of the well-waxed skis, as they rode gracefully over the shallow impressions left by the snowshoes. The soft slapping sound of the snowshoes proved hypnotic after a while, and I continually dozed off, only to be quickly reawakened by either the movement of the sled, or the nightmares lurking on the fringe of my subconscious.
Sandy was doing a fine job of keeping us on course. She was much more adept at it then she had previously implied. Whether she had feigned helplessness for my sake, or if she was just lucky staying on course this time, I wasn’t sure. And it bothered me to wonder why she would feel she had to pretend ignorance or ineptitude. Because I felt as deeply toward her as I did, I wasn’t willing to let silly doubts penetrate our relationship. After all, what was there to doubt? She’s put herself in harm’s way for me! Even if the wolf pack never had her scent, she could easily have left me on my own. She didn’t have to pull me into her cabin, and out of danger.
The more I entertain this train of thought, the angrier with myself, I become. Sandy doesn’t warrant this doubt in our relationship. We’re closer than that! Whether she intended it or not, we have a history together.
Occasionally, she would find herself skirting a thick stand of undergrowth. But after circling it, she would unerringly get us right back on track.
It was after one of these extended detours, when I was lying awake on the back of the cot looking up at the sky, that I grew even angrier with myself. It happened when I caught myself wondering if she’d told me the truth that time she mentioned never having been a boy scout.
Around mid-afternoon, we crested a small rise and stopped for a minute so Sandy could catch her breath. We took turns drinking from the jug of thawed snow, while Sandy sat looking down at an expansive clearing that spread out before us. It went on for at least a mile and a half, possibly closer to two, with a gradual downward slope that didn’t appear broken by obstacles. If it were any steeper, Sandy could have climbed on the cot with me, and we could have just glided down to the lower side. But even so, with Sandy’s unwavering stamina, it wouldn’t take us long to traverse. And once we reached the shelter of the trees on the farther side, we could begin looking for a place to lay low for the night.
Unfortunately, the grade wasn’t quite inclined enough for the sled to slide down of its own accord, even with the combined weight of the supplies and myself on it, adding to the natural inertia of the slope. But the slope, even as slight as it was, would make it considerably easier on Sandy.
“It looks like it’s going to be easy going for the next few hours,” she said absently, staring out over the clearing.
“If it was any steeper, I would offer you a lift,” I teased her light-heartedly.
When her breathing stabilized, and her heart rate returned to normal, she knelt down beside the cot and pulled two boiled potatoes from the supply cache underneath it. After replacing the one from my pocket that I’d already eaten, she offered me the other. When I shook my head in the negative, she
turned back toward the clearing and started eating it herself. For the first time since I’d met her, she seemed despondent and out of sorts. Since nothing relevant had happened recently, her behavior was both puzzling, and a bit disturbing. Because it bothered me to see her acting so distant and detached, I felt obligated to pry into her thoughts.
“What are you thinking?” I blurted.
She jumped, startled out of her reverie by the sound of my voice. Without thinking, she nervously blurted, “Nothing, I guess. I was just daydreaming.”
“You looked as if you were in another place, far away from here,” I said softly, consolingly. When she didn’t answer me, I added, “I didn’t feel welcomed there, like I did in your cabin.” When she still didn’t say anything, I said, “It’s okay, if you don’t want to talk about it. But if you do, you can share your thoughts with me.”
“I was just thinking that if….”
“If, or when?” I interrupted her, reading ahead of her thoughts.
“Okay,” she admitted, almost irritably, “When! When, we get down off this damn mountain. What happens then? What becomes of us? Even if we can convince the authorities that we were almost killed by a pack of hybrid killers, and that others have already died, we have no proof!”
She was growing more agitated by the minute, while I listened in silence.
“We’ll look like a couple of fools, when we try to tell them what Fred and his accomplices are doing up here. How can we convince them that Fred is training hybrid wolves to hunt down and kill innocent people, just so he can keep their rent money, when he re-rents their cabins? It sounds so ludicrous, I’m not sure that I even believe it!”
When she finally stopped, I said, “Sandy, I really don’t care whether anyone believes us or not. I’m sure our accusations alone will bring enough victims’ families out of the woodwork that the police will be forced to investigate. But in truth, I don’t really give a damn. All I really care about is us. Just you and me and to hell with the rest of the world!”