by Mark Tufo
Cedar was digging at the earth. For a moment I thought she was going to dig herself a hole to get down into. When she hefted a fairly decent-sized rock I figured it out. She was getting herself a weapon. I quickly followed suit.
“They’re coming this way.”
“I know,” I told her.
“They’ll eat us if they can.”
“I know that, too. Let’s get up.” We clasped our non-stone holding hands together as we stood, each lending the other strength. The lead dog had caught our scent. He stopped and looked up. He was easily twice as big as any coyote I’d ever seen. He was mostly black with brown markings on his face and chest. He growled, so deep and threatening that I could feel the vibrations of it through my knocking knees. He began to bark savagely, followed by those of his pack as they came running to meet him.
“Eleven. There’s eleven of them, Winter.”
I didn’t need a census. Eleven was ten more than they needed. A dog slightly smaller than the black and brown one came up alongside him. She was completely silver with a blaze of black on her face and along one side. She looked over at us and just stared, sizing us up. The quiet, intelligent way she peered at us was much more frightening than the male’s incessant barking. The female nudged the male’s side; he looked over toward her and growled. The female showed her teeth and the male backed down. His large head swiveled back toward us. He ran for a few steps; we hefted our rocks and stood fast. He slowed when he realized his charge was not going to make us run, no matter how much we desperately wanted to. He began to bark, with his front legs stiff he began to jump up and down, I believe trying a different tactic to get us to flee.
I turned to look at the tree behind us. The good news was we were between it and the pack; the bad was I didn’t think we could make it halfway before they’d be on us. By turning my head, I must have given the big male the idea I was going to run. He charged, and I faced him just as he was in mid-jump. Cedar had swung her rock, catching the beast in the side of the head. He yelped as he fell to the ground and rolled away. One paw rubbed furiously at where he’d been struck. Cedar was shaking so bad I thought she was going to drop her stone. Or maybe it was me who was shaking so bad I couldn’t focus on her properly. She’d just saved my life. The other dogs had fanned out and were now barking eagerly. They eyed us hungrily. The male slunk back to his pack, the alpha-female snapping at his hindquarters as he moved away.
“What are they doing, Winter?” Cedar’s voice trembled.
“They’re waiting for us to run.”
“Should we?”
“I don’t think we can,” I told her.
“I don’t want to die.”
I didn’t either. Life in Dystance was not an easy existence, but not once had I ever wanted to “find a way out,” not through the gnawing of hunger or the heat of illness. Life was about survival–that meant making it to the next day, and this was no exception. Two of the smaller, younger looking dogs were less cautious than the rest of the pack and began a slow, stealthy approach. They were starving, if the outline of their ribs was any indication. They obviously didn’t want to wait. If they got in first and made the kill, they would be assured of at least a few mouthfuls before the bigger dogs forced them to wait their turn.
The dogs paused when Cedar began to shout. “AHHHHH, get away!” She was trying to make her voice sound as threatening as possible. The two looked back to their leader in confusion. None of them were used to their potential meal protesting so loudly. One stopped completely as the other crept forward, his starvation too persistent to ignore. He got down low and his steps became slower as he was unsure of what to do.
“Don’t turn around, Cedar, but start walking backwards.” At first I thought this was going to work. The dogs weren’t following, even the one that had been closing in on us seemed confused as we were facing them but moving away. It was the silver female that got them going again. The young dog was emboldened by his alpha-female’s gesture. He let loose and bounded toward us. It was my rock-clad hand that hit him directly in the snout–it was more luck than anything. I’d been holding my arm out in defense and he had crashed into it, nearly sending me flying to the ground. Cedar had grabbed my shoulder to keep me from toppling over, then she had swung as well, hitting the dog in the side of the head.
The crack of his skull reverberated through the small valley we were in. He was lying on the ground mewling, his chest heaving as he panted heavily in pain. I did not feel sorry for him. He was not “man’s best friend” like I would read about in the library some years later. He was a wild animal bent on devouring us. This was kill or be killed. He was trying to get back up when I dropped down to my knees and crashed my heavy rock down, finishing off what Cedar had started. Blood sprayed up and onto my face. Three hits later the dog was still. None of the pack had moved any closer.
The alpha-female’s teeth were bared. This was it–the dogs were no longer going to test our strength or willingness to run with a one or two dog probe. They were all going to come at us. We might be able to kill one or possibly two, but their superior numbers would be the end of us. I tried not to imagine the pain we were about to experience as they tore into our flesh.
“Run, Cedar.”
Her foot pivoted and stopped. “Are you coming?”
“Just run, Cedar. I’ll hold them off.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t stop them.”
“I know, but this way one of us lives.”
“I will not run away and watch my friend die.”
I wanted to tell her I’d be long dead before she’d be at a place where she could watch. What was the point?
“Cedar, please.”
“No, Winter, we both live or we both die. I’m not going anywhere.”
I silently thanked her for her sacrifice.
The alpha-female was coming and then her drool-covered muzzle turned to the left. She growled and I turned to look at what had caught her attention.
“Tallow,” I gasped.
“What?” Cedar was intent on what was happening directly in front of us and hadn’t seen him.
“Oh no.” The dogs had caught sight of him now. I saw him stop to assess the situation. “Run, Tallow, run away,” I said the words so softly Cedar barely heard them.
In his left hand he held a pouch, heavy with prey he had caught. In his right was the club he’d used to kill it with. He had been out looking for us to share the feast with him. The happy smile he had been wearing quickly evaporated as he saw the danger we were in, but he didn’t hesitate in the least. I think it was then that my feelings for him turned to love. He was risking all he had to save me, to save us, without a thought as to the peril he was putting himself in. He ran straight towards us, screaming and swinging his club wildly.
The pouch fell to the ground as he ran. “Get away from them!” The alpha was snarling as she looked from him to us. It was clear she did not like this new wrinkle in her hunt. Never before had her food stood and fought, not only stood, but charged. Getting food is a necessity for all living beings; sustaining injury while doing so, is not. In the wild, a wound, any wound, can be the end. Weakness is not tolerated. The large black and brown dog, in an apparent need to redeem himself, went for Tallow. His muscles rippled along his haunches and back; he snarled and barked viciously as he ran.
Tallow, with years of practice, timed his swing perfectly. He hit the dog nearly in the same place Cedar had. The beast tumbled over and rolled away to a stop, and this time he would not be getting back up to join his pack. “Come on!” Tallow yelled at the dogs. “I’ll kill you all!” It was then I noted he wasn’t running to us but rather right into the heart of the pack.
“What is he doing?” It might have been Cedar that asked, but I was thinking it and may have verbalized it as well.
The dogs were inching back but certainly not retreating. A couple looked like they wanted to break and run but their alpha was holding them in place with nips to their hindquarters. Tallow was
going to get himself killed. The fear I’d had for Cedar and myself now burned away by white-hot anger. Anger that these animals wanted to kill my friends, and not only kill, but eat them as well.
“AHHHHHRR!” I screamed, raising the rock above my head and running straight toward the alpha. She was the key to all of this; if she fell the rest would run away. At least that was what I hoped. Cedar had not even bothered to ask what I was doing. She was less than a half-step behind me as she entered the fray. Her screams joined mine as we descended on the pack. The alpha was swinging wildly back and forth, snapping her jaws at Tallow then at Cedar and myself while trying to keep her pack together.
Tallow had just reached the outer flank of the pack and had sent one snarling dog reeling with a strike to its side. The alpha yelped loudly; she was in the midst of spinning around when I drove my rock into the small of her spine. Her hip dipped to the ground from the impact. She yelped loudly, spun quickly and snapped viciously at my head. I could feel her hot breath as she came within a finger’s span of tearing into my face. I jerked back just as Cedar hit her in the neck. She yelped again and swung frantically at Cedar. Her wails were joined by other dogs’ cries of pain as Tallow was swinging and connecting with bone-crunching accuracy.
This meal was not worth the price her pack was paying. The strength in numbers meant survival; they would live to hunt another day. The alpha barked twice at Cedar, almost as a warning, then spun away. She ran back towards the hills and those of her pack that could, followed quickly. Two dogs were dead and another two had injuries so grave that they would not see the sunrise. My chest was heaving as I dropped my bloody rock. I placed my hands upon my knees, the need to retch twisting my stomach up into knots. Cedar ran after the dogs another twenty or thirty feet before stopping. I was facing the tree; I could easily see that making a run for it would have been futile. Making it even halfway had been an over-estimation on my part.
“Are you alright?” Tallow asked wildly. His eyes seemed to be open too wide.
“Fine,” I gulped, trying to keep down the blue gorge that was threatening to come up.
“Have you been bit?”
I was shaking my head and swallowing hard. Rabies was a known disease and there was nothing the Meddies could do about it. More than one citizen of Dystance had died horribly from the illness.
“Not my blood.” I said, looking at my hands, arms, clothing. I finally stood, somewhat secure that I was going to be able to hold down my meager meal.
“Well, that was interesting,” Cedar said upon her return. She’d said it so seriously and with such ease I could not help but laugh.
It was laugh or cry–I chose the former. Cedar joined in with me. Tallow was looking back and forth at us like we had lost our minds, and that just made it that much funnier. We were laughing so hard we had tears running down our faces.
“What is wrong with you two? You just about got yourselves killed and now you’re both laughing like the village idiots.” That just got us going harder. I sat down heavily, my legs finally giving out from the flush of mirth.
Tallow went to retrieve the pouch he had dropped. By the time he came back I was down to some serious hitching with only a few leftover bursts of giggles; by the time he got the fire going, the gravity of what we had just escaped truly sunk in. My laughter turned to tears; Cedar was silent.
“Thank you, Tallow,” I told him as I touched his arm. I wanted to tell him I loved him for what he’d done, what he’d risked, and maybe I should have, even with Cedar watching like a hawk. In the end, I think he knew.
We saw the pack a couple more times over those next few seasons, but they no longer thought of us as a meal. The female would look at us for a few moments before heading off into whatever direction we weren’t going.
The scent of meat cooking broke through my thoughts of that past event. While I sat, stuck in the mud, he had a fire going and the rabbit on a spit. I couldn’t help it, my mouth started to water as I caught whiffs of the fat searing. Tal had deliberately built the fire upwind from me so I’d smell it.
I yanked on my leg a couple dozen times more; I thought I was going to separate my calf from my thigh if I pulled any harder. “What? What do you want?” I more demanded than asked.
“Are you talking to me? Because it sure doesn’t sound like talking. Sounds more like yelling. I would think someone in your particular predicament would be a lot nicer. I guess not.” He pulled his finger back quickly after touching the cooking food. “Wow, that’s hot.” He stuck his finger in his mouth.
I was seething. I was so mad I would have kicked him in the ass if I’d had a free leg to do it with. I took ten, then twenty slow breaths, making sure that what I said next did not sound like I wanted to beat him up. “Tallow. Could you please assist me in getting my leg out of here?” My words were drenched in sarcasm.
“Win, you should see the smile you are giving me right now. Your teeth are clenched down so hard and your lips are pulled back so far, you look like you might have rabies.”
“I said ‘please’.” The words pushed through my gritted teeth.
“Well there is that, but remember I said that I would do you this favor if you would do me a favor in return.”
There was a long line of insults I wanted to hurl, but I swallowed hard and resigned myself. “What do you want, Tallow?”
“Am I that bad?” He was smiling. “Win, I just want you to sit down with me and enjoy this meal. I swear this last year you’ve been avoiding me like I caught the Gue. I would really like to eat, and laugh and talk with you like we used to. Is that asking too much?” He was gazing at me intensely, looking both concerned and hopeful for my response.
His relief was palpable as I agreed to his conditions. He grabbed one of the bigger sticks he was carrying and began to dig the ground out from around my leg. When he wrapped his hands around my knee that same warm, electric pulse radiated throughout my body. I didn’t know if I should be attracted to or repelled by this. We could never be more than friends; as that was strictly forbidden. Men fought The War and women fought or supplied the fodder, and that was it. One man with one woman was considered selfish and even dangerous–something that had even helped to start The War.
I didn’t know what my body was telling me, but it was affecting my mind, and this is where the anger and confusion came into play. Right now, I was going to have to find a way to deal with these feelings. He had stood to pull me up and I was left to stare at the bottom of his strong chin and neck, his muscles straining as he tugged hard at my knee. At one point, his grip slipped and his hands traveled most of the way up my thigh before he was able to pull away. For long moments he stared into my blue eyes and as I stared deep into his green ones, I could feel myself getting lost in them.
“Umm, sorry, al-almost free,” he stuttered. It was nice to see him having his own problems, as he always seemed so strong and sure of himself. “Maybe it would be better if I tried this from behind.” He didn’t even touch me before he spoke again. “Yeah, that’s probably not going to be a good idea.”
I had no clue what he was talking about and I almost wanted to stay stuck in this hole if it meant he had to keep placing his hands on me. For another ten minutes, he pulled clods of dirt and debris away from my leg. “You should be able to pull yourself out now,” he said abruptly, turning to go check the meat.
I sat again and continued the messy job of digging myself free, trying not to press in any deeper with my other foot as I braced. It was exhausting. I stopped and grasped the locket around my neck. It was the only material item I considered really mine. Possessions, besides the basic necessities, were discouraged; they only formed attachments, and attachments are not permitted. As I fondled my locket, I realized that the same day I got it, I had formed an attachment to Tallow.
He could have been my brother we were so close, though we weren’t supposed to know our siblings or our mothers. Children of about the same year were ward mates; we stayed in communal hous
ing in a building separate from the Breeders. The women took shifts watching us, so from infancy until our eighth birthday we were cared for–not loved…but cared for. I remember my eighth birthday like it happened yesterday. One of the women had grabbed my hand and unceremoniously walked me down the broken tiled hallway. I wanted to rip my hand free from her, to run and hide. But I think maybe she knew that, as her hand had completely enveloped mine.
“Where are we going?” I’d asked weakly although I already knew. Everyone knew.
“Shh,” she’d admonished.
The walk had seemed so very long; we passed the bunk area where some of my friends watched my departure, a few waved, but most didn’t; no one liked to be reminded of what was at the end of the hallway. We passed the classrooms where we’d been taught the rules and laws of our society and all manner of study revolving around The War. Then the cafeteria, where we’d been served a porridge-like gruel I couldn’t stand (and just three days after I left, it sounded like the best meal anyone could ever have). Finally, there was just an empty hallway that led to two large double doors that only opened outwards–always and only outwards.
Once we were on the Plaza, the concrete slab that signaled our exit from childhood, the woman sat down on her haunches in front of me. Pretty once, yes, but she looked so tired, like her will to live had been drained away. She tenderly moved a stray strand of hair from my face; I'd never been touched so lovingly.
“Hello, Winter,” she whispered softly. “My name is Hope. I’m your mother,” she said with a sad, lopsided smile.
The word “mother” held no special meaning for me, or for any of us, really. The Overseers had abolished the familial system, labeling it as corrupt and as the evil at the root of our conflict. If given a choice I would have blamed it on the gruel. It had been determined that family ties, like all intimate relationships, fostered horrible behaviors, misplaced loyalties, and distraction; therefore out of necessity for our continued survival they had to be outlawed. But if it was so destructive, why did I feel a tug in my chest when she said those words? How could that be wrong?
