Monsters

by Peter Cawdron

  The snow melted on his clothes, leaving him damp and cold.

  Limping, James crossed the cliff. He gathered his bow and arrows, picked up his pack, and made his way down to the stream in the gully.

  The girl lay still beneath the standing dead tree. He called out as he approached, but she didn't respond.

  James dropped his pack on the snow and stepped over the twigs and dead branches littering the ground. The young woman stirred at the sound, rolling to one side. Her leg looked bad. It was broken. The steel jaws clamped on either side of her leg bit into the flesh below her knee, reaching the bone. James reached out and touched her hand, speaking softly.

  “Hello, Sunshine.”

  Her skin was cold to touch. The sun was setting, leaving them in the shadows as the temperature plummeted.

  “Who?” she asked, her voice struggling, breaking up as that one word struggled past her lips. “Who are you?”

  “Hey. It's OK. My name is James. I'm from a small farm to the north of Amersham. Relax, I'm going to get you out of here.”

  “You,” she managed, her voice still croaky. “You're a bloody fool.”

  “Hah,” James laughed. That was good. She was thinking, and, yes, she was right, he was a bloody fool taking on that bear alone.

  James rummaged around in his pack, pulling out his sleeping bag and wrapping her in it, but he didn't open the sleeping bag, not until he removed the bear trap.

  “You're shivering,” she managed, her teeth chattering together.

  “You too,” he replied. “It's cold, and it's going to get colder. I've got to get a fire started.”

  “What about my leg?” she asked, grimacing in pain as she moved slightly.

  James glanced down at the bloody bear trap.

  “At this point, it's better on your leg. Believe me, once I start removing it, you're going to beg me to stop anyway.”

  The girl was quiet.

  “As soon as I start to remove that trap your wounds are going to open up and bleed. I need to get a fire going so I can sterilize some water to clean your wound and keep you warm while I bind your leg.”

  The look in her eyes was one that cried out for pity, but James had to be honest.

  “I'm sorry, but with all you've been through, there's worse to come.”

  James scouted around for some dry pine needles and set out his firewood in order of size, starting with the needles and slowly working up to twigs the size of his trembling fingers. He put aside two long, straight branches to act as splints for her leg, cleaning twigs from the branches with his knife.

  The bear trap had been set on rough ground, protected from the wind by the lee of a large rock. A light dusting of snow sat on the twigs and sticks scattered across the frozen ground.

  James used a small rock to carve out the snow and ice, making a shallow pit for the fire. After carefully stacking the pine needles so they made the shape of a tepee, he began striking his flint, sending sparks onto the dry kindling. Normally, he'd have started a fire earlier, while the setting sun was still warming the hills, but he had no choice. His fingers were feeling the cold, the slightest bump or slip sent pain shooting through them, but he persisted, bending forward and gently blowing as the sparks settled on the pine needles.

  Slowly, a red glow appeared, then the faintest of flames, and he dared not breathe, willing the flame higher as he carefully added pine needles one by one.

  Within minutes, James was adding twigs and then sticks to the fragile burning tepee, carefully arranging them to avoid a collapse, allowing the fire to take hold.

  The flames warmed his hand. Blood began to circulate more freely and his torn palm throbbed. Blood seeped through the bandage he'd wrapped around his hand. It had taken the best part of half an hour, but the fire crackled as it threw out warmth.

  Fire was important, not just for comfort but to keep wild animals at bay, and there would be visitations, he was sure of it. The wolves must have smelt the blood. They'd be merciless, sensing wounded prey.

  James collected some larger sticks and branches and sat his steel cup on one side of the fire, melting some snow. Within a few minutes the water began to boil, so he used a cloth to remove it from the heat, sitting it in the snow to cool.

  James ran his knife through the flames, fascinated as the metal changed color and the steel became sterile. He knew what needed to be done.

  The girl had been silent, but she was sitting up, watching him.

  “So what's your name?” he asked.

  “Lisa,” she replied as he began looking at her leg again.

  No surname? No point of origin? Common courtesy demanded that at least, but she clearly wasn't forthcoming. He started to say something but thought better of it. There would be time to learn where she was from later.

  “Well, Lisa. I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt.”

  He handed her a small branch saying, “Here, bite on this.”

  James grabbed the bear trap with both hands and pried it apart.

  “Ahhhh!” Lisa screamed, the stick clenched between her teeth, her hand squeezing his shoulder intensely. James jimmied the trap around, away from her leg and let it snap shut.

  Lisa was panting, hyperventilating. She rocked back on the ground, her fingers grabbing at the branches around her, looking for anything to squeeze in response to the pain.

  James knelt sideways next to her, anchoring her thigh against his leg to keep her lower leg immobile.

  “Lie still. I need to clean your wound.”

  “Ohhhh,” she groaned.

  Carefully, he dabbed at the wound with the warm water, washing out grit and dirt. She grimaced, jerking as he rested her knee against his leg, trying to keep her lower leg as straight as possible. In the cold, her leg must have been numb. It wouldn’t last.

  “Oh, that hurts,” she cried. “It feels like you’re burning me.”

  “I know,” he replied as he continued methodically cleaning her wound, picking out debris with the tip of his knife.

  “No more,” she pleaded. “Let it be. Please, let it be. I can't take any more.”

  “I know,” he repeated, continuing on regardless.

  “Oh, please,” she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks, her right hand reaching out and touching him, imploring him to stop.

  “Almost there,” he said, lying. “You're being brave. You're being very brave.”

  He rinsed the cloth and used the blade of his knife to scrape away more tiny bits of wood and dirt.

  “Please, no more.”

  “Just a little more,” he replied, leaning forward and cleaning another part of her wound. Blood dripped onto the ground with a steady rhythm.

  Lisa beat at him feebly with one hand, but he didn't stop until he was satisfied the gaping wound was clean. He lay the splints next to her, looking into her eyes. She didn't have to say anything, he knew what she wanted—pity, compassion, but here in the wilderness there was only life and death.

  “Listen,” he said. “I need to move your leg again, I've got to align the two halves. I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt even more.”

  Lisa was doing her best not to roll around in agony, rocking on her back while keeping her leg against his. He could see the anguish in her face, the pain in her eyes. Holding a strip of cloth in his mouth, he pulled her lower leg back below her knee and began strapping her leg to the stick.

  “OH, YOU BASTARD. I HATE YOU, I GODDAMN-WELL FUCKING HATE YOU,” she screamed into the night.

  “I know. I know,” he said, wrapping her leg tightly.

  With two splints supporting her leg, he bandaged her wound and then opened his sleeping bag and helped her inside, moving her onto a ground sheet.

  Lisa was beyond caring. He could see it in the gaunt look on her face, her blood-drained pale skin, her blood-shot eyes, she could have died right then and it wouldn't have mattered. Any fight, any desire for life was gone. She fell asleep with exhaustion.

  James restocked the fire for the
long night ahead, placing several long branches across the flames, slowly moving them in as they burnt down. He changed his clothes and tended to his own wounds. Stiff and sore, he melted some more snow, making a stew by dropping in cuttings of potato, onion and dried meat. In the distance, a wolf howled and he knew it wouldn't be long.

  With their backs to the rock, they were sheltered from the worst of the wind. The large rock also gave them some physical protection, limiting the directions from which they could be approached.

  James looked around.

  The standing dead tree was surrounded by branches and twigs littering the ground. Any approach by a wolf pack would avoid the uneven, noisy routes, so they wouldn't approach from there.

  A stream cut in front of them, but it was unlikely any wolves would risk getting wet as the chill could be fatal. That left the gentle slope leading down from the ridge-line to the right.

  James dug out the chain anchoring the bear trap in place and moved it over onto the slope, setting it so as to catch any beast creeping down from above.

  He buried the trap slightly below the snow, hiding it from sight, although he knew the wolves would probably smell the blood on it. They might even think it was an old kill, buried by some other animal, and possibly trip the trap while trying to exhume it. James marked the trap with a stick in the snow. It wouldn't do for either him or Lisa to stumble upon the trap in the morning.

  Sitting by the fire, James whittled away at a long shaft of wood, fashioning it into a spear. He carved barbs into the wood, staggering sharp sections that he could break off as they embedded into an animal.

  Fire was his best option and he knew it.

  Wolves may have increased in size, but their dislike of man and their disdain for fire hadn't changed. Once, they had been larger than most dogs, now they were the size of a small horse. But their instincts kept them wary. Their instincts hadn't changed as quickly as their body size, giving James the ability to keep them at bay by exploiting their pack instinct, their desire to move in unison with one another.

  Without straying too far from camp, James gathered more wood in the early evening. Snow drifted in the air. It was late in the year for fresh snow, but not unheard of, and James wondered what the morning would bring. If a blizzard closed in on them, it could kill them. They had to get off the mountain.

  The moon rose above the ridge, lighting the night, giving James a semblance of time as it passed. He wanted to sleep, he needed to sleep. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. Lisa was in a deep sleep, but he had to keep watch, he had to ward off any wolves or, if it came to it, another bear. If a predator came upon them in the dark, it could tear them to pieces before he had time to react.

  With a heavy blanket wrapped around his shoulders warding off the cold, James struggled to stay awake. As the hours passed his eyes felt heavy and he slipped into a deep sleep.

  It was dark when Lisa woke him. She was shaking his shoulder, saying something in a whisper. On opening his eyes, James could see how far the moon had moved. At least six hours had passed. Dawn couldn't be too far away, but the horizon hadn't lightened yet.

  The fire was low, but still burning. It took a few seconds for his eyes to register the dark shapes moving beyond the flames. Red eyes glowed in the darkness. Slowly, James got to his feet, staying low. A deep growl resonated through the night air.

  James picked up one of the burning branches. The glowing embers at its tip flared as he swung it around, yelling at the wolves, trying to startle them, to scare them with the sudden rush of noise.

  One of the wolves circled in closer, baring its teeth and snarling at him, demanding its portion of any kill. But there had been no kill, the blood that they smelled was Lisa's. James kicked the logs crossing the fire, stirring the embers, pushing the dry wood in further where it would catch alight. Sparks rose up into the night sky.

  Stepping forward, James waved the glowing stick around, threatening the closest wolf. He stabbed at the wolf, making as though he would attack. With each swing the flames flared up, releasing a crackle as the branch swished through the air. The wolf backed away, drawing him out a little.

  Creeping backwards, its soft paws barely breaking the packed snow, the wolf snarled, threatening to lunge at him regardless of the puny flames.

  James felt exposed, scared. His heart pounded in his chest. He was aware his range of focus had narrowed, fixing on this one wolf. He turned his head, trying to keep the other wolves in view, but they were hidden in the shadows.

  He tried to be aware of their movement, but his eyes gravitated back to the beast before him. This was all just a bluff, and he knew it, if they charged there was nothing he could do. He stepped forward boldly, asserting himself, yelling at them, trying to appear bigger than he was, trying to suggest he wasn't worth the effort. It was only then he became aware of the wolf on top of the rocky outcrop beside him, but it was too late.

  “Look out,” cried Lisa.

  The wolf on the rock leaped through the air, howling as it lunged at him. Just one swipe from its mighty paws would be enough to tear his arm out of its socket and that terrified him. He ducked, dropping and turning, striking out at the wolf with the burning branch but he missed. The giant wolf landed with a thud, kicking up a fine spray of snow.

  The first wolf turned on him, lunging in at him, knocking the branch from his hand. James scrambled as the wolf danced to one side. Rather than attacking, it was cornering him, backing him up against the fire. He knew what it was doing. He'd seen this before. Wolves would corner an elk by mesmerizing the animal, having one wolf lead the attack, keeping the petrified animal distracted as the rest of the pack closed in on its hindquarters. James knew the real attack would come from the side, coming at him from out of the shadows.

  The spear, where was his improvised spear? He couldn't see it anywhere so he grabbed an icy branch from the ground. The wood was cold to touch, but he swung it anyway. The wolf kept its distance, its eerie dark eyes locked on his.

  He stepped backwards beside the fire, wanting to use it for protection.

  Lisa screamed. One of the wolves had emerged from the darkness and was edging toward her.

  As James turned toward her, he caught the motion of several other wolves coming in for the kill. With all his might, he lashed out at the fire with his stick, brandishing it like a club, driving at the glowing coals.

  A wall of fire erupted from the ashes, spraying the oncoming wolves with burning embers. Glowing coals scattered in the air, catching one of the wolves in the face while the other had its fur set alight.

  James lost his footing and fell into the fire as the wolves howled.

  Another cloud of burning embers billowed up into the air, and James rolled away into the snow, trying to put out the fire on his clothes.

  Burning coals caught in his jacket, they seethed and sizzled as he rolled in the snow. He'd burnt his hand and had hot ash in his eyes, temporarily blinding him.

  In the confusion, James could hear the wolves snarling. Then came the sickening sound of the bear trap snapping shut. It was only then he realized he was yelling out in pain as Lisa screamed in terror.

  The wolves fled. As silence fell, he got to his feet, hearing one of the wolves whimpering in the trap, pulling feebly against the chain staked in the icy ground.

  There must have been a clean break in its leg as the wolf should have been able to pull the trap loose quite easily. The animal had to have been fighting as much against the sudden shock of the pain as it was against being snared.

  James rubbed his eyes, clearing out the ash. The pack had gone, leaving one wolf struggling on the ground, its bloodied hind leg torn open by the trap.

  Lisa was hysterical, yelling at him.

  “Are you all right? What are you doing? What are you going to do? What if they come back?”

  James wasn't sure which question she expected him to answer. As for him, a grim determination swept over his face.

  He knew how to keep the wo
lves at bay. James picked up the wooden spear with its jagged barbs and walked calmly over to the wounded animal. There was only one thing the wolves understood, dominance.

  Looking down at the massive beast with its bloodied leg, James could see numerous burns on its fur. It had pulled the chain out of the ground, but the animal was so stunned it didn't realize it could have limped away, dragging the trap with it. Instead, the monster lay there, its legs scraping at the snow as it inched forward, lying on its side.

  The wolf was blind in one eye, but that was an old injury. The monster snarled at him, baring its teeth, but this was a hollow threat and they both knew it.

  In the distance, on the ridge-line, the other wolves watched as James thrust his spear repeatedly into the wounded animal's neck, severing its jugular vein. Blood sprayed across the ice. There was no mercy to be shown, only a clear message to be sent to the pack.

  The wolves would not return, not tonight.

  Chapter 03: Laughter

  James soaked his hands in the icy cold water running through the stream, soothing his burns.

  “They're still out there,” Lisa said.

  “Yes, they are,” James replied, “but they won't return. They'll see that carcass like a scarecrow.”

  He dried his hands and placed more wood on the fire, ensuring there was enough to burn for hours.

  His heart was still racing, pumping adrenaline around his body, but he knew he needed to rest. He wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down near the fire. The cold crept up from the ground, but he was past caring.

  “You're going to sleep?” Lisa cried. “Are you serious? We're surrounded by wolves and you're going to sleep?”

  “Yes,” James replied. “And you should too. It's going to be a long day tomorrow.”

  “I can't believe you can go to sleep after all we've been through,” Lisa said, but her words barely registered.