The Mongrel

by Seán O'Connor

  Her body was void of energy now, and all she wanted was to rest. She lifted the baby and lay back, placing it across her chest, running her hands over every part of its body, which is when she noticed that it was a boy.

  No more speculation now—the result was confirmed.

  She smiled from ear to ear, then wept from the overwhelming emotion. He was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. His face was red and stressed from the birth, his skull a bit out of shape, but none of that mattered—he was alive and well, and nuzzled into her, his touch filling her with so much love. She could make out some of her own and some of Phil’s features—her eyes and lips, Phil’s nose. She wanted to name him there and then but couldn’t think of anything on the spot. Fuck it, she was just happy he was safe and here with her now.

  The baby took to the nipple with ease and began suckling. Erin zoned out and lay back. She knew what was ahead of her but decided to take some time to recoup much-needed strength.

  As she rested, she knew that time was working against her. With her injuries and loss of blood, she had no choice but to get herself and her baby boy to safety. Beyond the relative security of the car lay danger and salvation, and her need for one over the other would hopefully save her from sinking into the abyss.

  ELEVEN

  As the afternoon progressed, and Erin and baby slumbered, the sun glided across the sky, almost without being noticed, but she was thankful for its constant presence. It gave her a sense of security that she wouldn’t have if she remained here after dark. Nearly the whole day had gone by and no one had come to help her off this mountain. No helicopter, no search party, and no sign of her father, not to mention her missing fiancé. Where the hell was Philip?

  The wolf hadn’t made its presence heard for some time, but she didn’t doubt that it was in the vicinity, watching and waiting—biding its time. She had to accept her situation, and needed to prepare to exit this nightmare and escape on foot before night fell. It didn’t help that she had to wear Phil’s filthy garments. The smell was almost unbearable, but she had no choice if both of them were to survive.

  The baby was fine, wrapped in a pair of crinkled but dry t-shirts she’d found balled up at the bottom of the bag. The bag itself had become his first carry cot. It wasn’t ideal, but would have to do, and would allow her use her arms to keep balanced out on the road. She looked out all the windows, taking time to examine if the coast was clear. The animal wouldn’t be far. After all, she was easy prey in its eyes.

  The two rear windows were roll-down—manually operated—clearly a cost-saving measure by the manufacturer. She went to the driver’s side and opened the window a couple of inches. The ice around the rim cracked as the glass moved and a cold but fresh breeze flowed in, much to the dismay of the baby, who cried as he experienced his first winter air.

  She comforted him until he settled, then whistled out the window to coax the hungry beast over. No response. It had to be close by, but she couldn’t see any fresh tracks beyond the trail it had worn around the car. The silence was eerie, the shadows of the trees stretching across the road, forming haunting silhouettes on the snow.

  Without warning, the beast lunged at the gap in the window, the car rocking with the force of its attack. Erin acted with pure instinct and whacked the animal across its snout, forcing a yelp and recoil. Much snarling and gnashing followed.

  She figured it was as hungry as her, and probably as desperate, but this time, while fear ate into her, from deep inside, the mothering and survival instincts were in control and brewing up a storm.

  The gap wasn’t big enough for what she wanted, so she rolled the window down a bit more and waited, pulling the gym bag closer. The wolf didn’t lunge this time, maybe sensing something wasn’t right. It continued snarling as it shifted from side to side, never taking its eyes off Erin.

  Keeping an eye on the animal, she used Phil’s blue knife to cut several small pieces from the placenta, two of which she tossed out the small slit in the window.

  The wolf was on them in a second, devouring them in a vicious frenzy.

  “I got you now, you bastard,” she shouted out. “Liked that, did you? Here, have some more.”

  She tossed a bigger piece farther out and prepared to execute the plan. Not just any plan, but the plan, which she’d cooked up over the afternoon and was praying would work. With the wolf distracted on the driver’s side, she retreated back and opened the passenger-side door.

  It opened easy, now that the snow around the car had been walked over by herself and the wolf. The baby remained silent, as if wise to what was going on. His shadowed eyes looked up at her from the bag, and her heart melted at the strength of their connection.

  She raised one of her blood-soaked fingers to her lips and settled him with a gentle hush. It was time for a gamble—one she had no choice taking if they weren’t to perish in this isolated nightmare. She slipped out and placed bag and baby on the roof, then got back in and tossed another piece of her afterbirth out the window for the wolf to gobble up. The beast obliged, darting after it to hoover up the delicacy.

  Happy enough with that, she rolled down the window a little more. In an instant, the wolf lunged, sticking its snout and two front paws through the gap, snarling and snapping as it tried to force its way into the car. The animal’s weight and power pushed the window down and within seconds it had half its body in, forcing Erin to recoil, shrieking and screaming at it in return.

  She stared at it for a moment, her breath coming hard, then she pulled the remaining placenta from the front seat and threw it at the beast. With a lifeless thud, the organ landed in front of the crazed animal, who didn’t hesitate, its teeth sinking right in—it growled so loud the noise struck terror into Erin.

  Without a moment to lose—the situation was way too dangerous and she was barely in control of it—she waited for the wolf to focus on its food one more time, and in the split-second the beast took its eyes off her, she plunged Phil’s large black knife into the animal’s neck.

  With a howl, the beast jumped and bucked, attempting to bite the blade, which was now deeply lodged, with dark blood spurting from the wound.

  Erin grabbed the handle and pulled it out, the wolf reacting as if stabbed again. Then she screamed for all she was worth and stabbed the animal two more times. Blood shot out, the hot liquid splashing her face and spreading down the animal’s coat.

  When she dropped the knife and reversed out the passenger door, the wolf tried to follow, but she used her whole body and slammed the door shut, trapping the wounded beast inside, for now.

  The plan had worked, but she was all too aware of the open window on the other side. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the bag with the baby snug inside off the roof, and took herself away in the same direction Phil had taken the day before.

  The wounded wolf howled and whimpered behind her, the harrowing sound echoing across the valley.

  Erin limped and struggled on, the bag underarm, its handles slung over her shoulder. She was fit, but she had to stop to catch her breath, her energies depleted, not only from having her leg savaged, but giving birth.

  Her heart nearly stopped when the wolf scrambled through the open window. It stopped, panting, watching her. Then it moved towards her, its head down, obviously weakened by its wounds.

  Fear threatened to overcome her, its power crippling as it surged through her body. The animal snarled. Even in the light, its eyes glowed as they fixed on her and her baby. She couldn’t move, her muscles refusing to obey her silent and desperate commands to flee. It continued on, and she was about to scream when she noticed that every step it took was slower and limper than the last. Behind it, a thick trail of blood pitted the snow. As it came to within a few feet, it stopped, scratched its neck where blood still gushed, then collapsed.

  Erin edged towards it, keeping herself between it and her baby. When she stood over the mass
of grey and black fur, she looked it in the eye.

  The wolf looked back, pulled back its mouth—possibly in one last effort to prove its Alpha worth—then its light faded. Its final breath, a long exhalation, came with a low whimper that was the last thing she expected from a savage wolf.

  She almost pitied it, but that soon transformed into a sense of victory—one she wanted to celebrate—but before that she had to make sure the result was final. With great caution, she tapped her foot against its snout.

  No reaction, no sound. Nothing.

  Something flashed beneath the fur around its neck. Something metallic. She knew the blade hadn’t snapped, so it couldn’t be that. Using her foot again, she flicked at the object, revealing the source—a collar.

  There were no ownership details on the tag, but it had the Irish Wolf Conservation logo and some sort of number engraved. A sharp chill ran up her back. Did the animal escape? If not, then where was she? Surely Phil wouldn’t be stupid enough to lead them into such a dangerous place as the sectioned-off area? Her temples pounded, and all she could do was close her eyes, take deep breaths, and try to control the panic.

  When she re-opened her eyes, disbelief overwhelmed her. What the fuck? The animal was…changing—its form shifting—the snout retracted, revealing human-like eyes that carried a dull lifeless gaze. Its limbs morphed, too, to resemble that of a human, and before she could fully grasp what was happening, the carcass revealed itself to be a mix of wolf and man. And not just any man—a familiar mongrel of a man, naked, with thick grey and black hair in patches all over. Geoff fucking Baron.

  She gasped at the sight before her. What the hell had just happened? Geoff Baron was supposed to be in Canada, off the grid. And werewolves where fictional creatures, weren’t they? Obviously not, because this monster was lying in front of her. Then a horrific dawning crept through her. If this thing hadn’t escaped—if she was within the reservation—that meant there were more of them. More wolf-men hybrids. The thought shook her to the core. She had no choice but to get moving. One werewolf had nearly been the death of her. A pack would be another matter altogether.

  TWELVE

  Cries of hunger pierced her ears and bounced off both sides of the valley, but she couldn’t stop to attend to him. Her mothering autopilot was all that fuelled her now—the same determination that gave her the strength to drag herself across the snowy valley. The sun had yet to fully set, its last rays fading behind the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before the night crept in and took its place.

  She’d left the werewolf in her wake, shaking the mental reality out of her head, or at least she was trying too. Geoff Baron, Phil’s best friend, was a werewolf. Crazy, mad, but real, and the bastard had almost had her, and her baby. And who was to say there weren’t more out there? Was Geoff the only…thing of its kind? Did it mean the other wolves in her father’s sanctuary were also werewolves? That stopped her in her tracks. Her father’s sanctuary. Did her father know what was out there? Is that what he’d tried to warn her about? Did he know about Geoff Baron?

  She pushed it out of her head and continued on. Phil had said the nearest village was only forty minutes away. Easy for him—in her state of health, only forty minutes would seem like a lifetime. As it was, she could barely place weight on her leg, reduced to dragging it after her through the snow. Blood still leaked from the wounds and her checkered bandaging was soaked through. It felt like an eternity covering any discernible distance, but she summoned strength from somewhere deep inside and continued to move along, taking handfuls of snow to quench her thirst.

  The infant cried a harrowing wail, and she tried her best to sooth him, but it was a waste of time. The boy was cold and hungry, and she needed to get him off this road and somewhere warm to feed and comfort him.

  Her thoughts jumped to Phil and how he’d failed to return last night. Anger surged and she wished something nasty had happened to him, because if he didn’t have a legitimate excuse for not coming back, she felt well within her rights to do him harm. She nearly laughed at the thought of his face at the news that his best buddy was a fucking werewolf. A dead werewolf. And where was her father? Despite his warnings and concerns, he hadn’t shown, either—it had been almost twenty-four hours since she’d spoken to him.

  But, she supposed, none of that mattered now. She’d survived her abandonment alone and delivered her baby boy without any assistance. And he was alive and safe in his bag as she dragged herself through this Siberian-esque landscape.

  THIRTEEN

  Just as she was gaining in confidence, feeling like she was making real progress along the grim path, her good leg shuddered, with all strength draining out of it like someone had pulled a plug. As much as she tried to remain standing, her legs went out from under her and she collapsed in the middle of the road. She caught the bag before it hit the snow, but the jostling had the child crying again. All she could do was pull the bag tight to her and shush the baby, but the poor thing was beyond comforting. Exhausted, she lay defeated in the cold and miserable slush, looking up at the darkening sky as a flock of birds flew overhead. They had dark feathers, so she assumed they were crows. Maybe they were ducks and she was delirious—she didn’t know—it was hard to tell with everything spinning. Another flock sailed overhead in motionless flight. This time she was sure they were ducks. Could they see her?

  Time stood still. She envied them their freedom.

  The full moon had dark cloud cutting into it, revealing a white fishhook against the night sky. She held her whimpering baby in close after pulling him out of the bag. His face crunched up into a frown. He was uncomfortable and unable to say so. His only form of communication was a high-pitched wail that pierced her eardrums again.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered in a soft, shaky voice. “I’m sorry you had to come into this world this way.” A quiver gripped her bottom lip and tears blurred her vision. Beneath the shivers racking her body, a numbness was creeping in and taking hold. Drained of energy, she was unable to pick herself up. She looked at her boy. “Your dada wanted to call you Philip Junior. Did you know that? But I don’t think you are like him.” She blinked the tears away. “I’m sorry, baba. I’m… I’m not sure if I can get up and keep going.”

  In her desperate state, the infant’s cries faded into the murk, almost not registering with her, as if he’d slipped away into the distance.

  Was she shutting down? It felt like it. The blood loss. It had to be that. As much as she didn’t want to give in and die, her body was telling her that this was the hand she’d been dealt, and the dealer didn’t accept refunds. She clutched the baby tighter. Her breath was shallower now, slower—each one a struggle. She closed her eyes in anticipation of what must be the crossover into the next world, listening to her rasping pants—the sound a gentle backdrop to the oncoming void.

  Something her mother once said came to her: when someone is dying, their mind leaves their body and the most beautiful music will play and help usher the lost soul into the next world.

  She opening her eyes and listened for that sound, but the only response was silence. The cold had gripped every part of her, with exhaustion anchoring her to the freezing ground. Giving in to the overwhelming shivers, she kissed the child on the forehead and closed her eyes.

  “Bye, bye, baba.”

  FOURTEEN

  As she sailed across the blackened plains, snowflakes sprinkled through the weightless, desolate silence. Stars sparkled like eyes, welcoming her to the other side of the astral bridge, drawing her closer, pulling her down. But it wasn’t right, she should have been rising, not falling, not feeling, not sensing beyond herself.

  Sounds of the night came to her. The woods were alive—footfalls, shifting the tiniest pine needles beneath the snow, crackling as if they were the driest of twigs. Snow fell from branches when brushed against, as if in cascade, but silent to the rest of the world. Their breaths came t
o her, with each movement a communication of intent, their mission clear, forcing her back to life, as if a shot of adrenaline had been pumped into her heart. Her eyes shot open and she struggled to clear her vision—to her left and right. They were coming. And she knew. It was as if her senses had sharpened beyond expectation.

  She didn’t have to speculate on what was coming for her. They were in her mind, clear as day, at least six or seven of them, drawn by the smell of her bloodstained clothes, or the baby’s cries. Perhaps both. And revenge. Yes, they were hungry for revenge. They were closing in, and this time she knew she wouldn’t stand a chance. Her position was wide open, and to say she was vulnerable would be the understatement of the year. They would tear her and the baby apart in seconds and, with that very thought, another surge of energy shot through her like a bolt of lightning from Zeus himself.

  Once she struggled to her feet, she hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. The boy cried, but she didn’t care, motivated purely once again by her survival mode. She looked ahead—the road still covered in snow and seemingly leading to nowhere. Her focus came easier now, and it took no effort to see that the way ahead slanted downhill, and she knew this could be to her advantage, if she could get moving.

  The wolves weren’t visible yet, but she saw them in her mind, off to either side of the road, in the cover of the trees. She didn’t need to remember her father’s documentaries to know that the pack leader would be coordinating the attack.

  A howl broke the silence and the hairs on her neck and arms shot up. They were communicating—hunting in an organised manner—but from where and when the attack would come, she didn’t know. Probably why they were the hunters and she was the prey, and if she didn’t pick up the pace, it was game over.

  Something up ahead caught her attention, but she couldn’t quite make it out. Whatever it was, it stretched across the road.