HYBRID KILLERS

by Will Decker

  When I realized that there was a chance for me to make it to the woods before the wolves could reach me, it became even more imperative that I get there. If the first part of my plan didn’t go as I’d hoped it would, and the wolves turned upon me, viciously attacking me, I didn’t want Sandy to have to witness it. From her vantage point behind the solid door of the cabin, she could hear their high-pitched yaps, and would recognize a change immediately if they went from following scent to attacking a victim. Listening to such a disharmony of terror would be cruelly difficult for her, especially since she would know what the sounds were implying on my behalf.

  But I was more than willing to make that sacrifice for her. If my death bought her enough time to escape down the mountain, I would go willingly to the jaws of permanent destruction. If she didn’t believe so strongly in me, she wouldn’t have allowed me to venture out here without her. By allowing me to take this chance for her, she was affirming the depth of her faith in me.

  It would be scant minutes before she jumped on the sled and rode it down the meadow. Once she reached the bottom, she’d still have to cover at least four hundred feet of open ground before reaching the shelter of the trees. By sliding down the slope on the sled, we also intended not to leave any of her scent on the snow leading away from the cabin. Because once the wolves learned that I wasn’t their quarry, they would return to the cabin, searching for a scent trail to follow. It was a risky plan at best, but there didn’t seem to be any alternative.

  Staggering wildly from side to side, I finally made the shelter of the trees. The minute I disappeared from sight, Sandy would have jumped on the sled. Even while I stood here swaying, dizzy from nausea and lack of oxygen, she’s sledding across the meadow like a kid on a snow day.

  Just as a smile crept into the corners of my mouth, the wolves appeared, moving rapidly toward me through the thin underbrush between the trees. The sun was just now cresting the horizon, casting eerie shadows, and illuminating everything surrealistically. Standing my ground, watching the advancing beasts, I suddenly felt like a fool for having thought up such a hair-brained idea.

  Upon seeing their quarry, the snarling beasts slowed to a walk, confident in their ability to overtake. As I watched their glaring yellow eyes focus on me, I grew oblivious of my pounding heart and the roar of my blood in my ears. No longer, did I feel the icy sweat frozen to my forehead, or the way I had to force my lungs to breath, to keep from passing out and falling unconscious into the snow. As I stared in horror at the slowly, methodically advancing creatures, I became oblivious to everything surrounding my weakened body.

  They were no longer barking, only growling through exposed teeth, their yellow eyes unblinking. They were less than twenty feet and still working their way unwaveringly toward me. Any moment, they would break into two groups, each closing in on me from opposite sides. It was the way packs hunted, and hybridized or not, these would still revert to such tactics.

  At less than ten feet, I could smell the wet fur, the slobber and drool clinging from their ghostly-white fangs. I couldn’t help but feel that the end of my journey was near at hand.

  **14**

  I’d never been so scared in all my life. I stood immobilized by an overwhelming fear. All of my pain and discomfort was immediately forgotten. It seemed almost surreal. They didn’t look like wolves. Rather, they looked much more like snakes, slithering through the undergrowth, moving stealthily between the trees, their yellow eyes straining against their nearsightedness to see me.

  Sandy had been right; there were at least seven of the fearsome beasts. And what they lacked in eyesight, they more than made up for with their keen sense of smell. Now that they had me in their scents, running was out of the question, even if I could, which I couldn’t. I was committed, and my destiny was quickly approaching, moving toward me through the hazy light like demons coming for my soul.

  A frigid breeze stirred up from the shadows, driving away any trace of warmth the rising sun could lay down. My body shivered from its penetrating influence, my nerve endings snapping as if over-tensioned piano wires, setting my body to shaking. Yet, it wasn’t because of the cold night air clinging desperately to the ground. Nor was it from the snow that I’d brushed over my body when I first stepped out of the cabin; a feeble attempt to mask any of Sandy’s scent that I might be carrying on me. The snow, having melted on my face, now mingled with the sweat running from my pores. I stunk of perspiration from my exertions. I also stunk of fear. It was cold, running in frigid rivulets that avoided my collar, finding its way down my back and chest, making it increasingly difficult to stop the shakes.

  Reaching into the front pocket of the snowsuit, I unsteadily withdrew an item that didn’t belong to either Sandy or me. It was an item that meant much to me, and could now possibly save not only my life, but also the life of a woman that had come to mean everything to me. It seemed like a small sacrifice, considering what hung in the balance.

  Shivering uncontrollably, my hand came hesitantly out of my pocket, now holding the item in a white-knuckled grip. The first wolf was almost upon me. While I stood my ground, determined not to show my fear, I noticed that it appeared considerably larger than the others coming behind it. If it knocks me over, I thought suddenly, there is no way I’ll ever get back on my feet.

  But I needn’t have worried. It suddenly stopped came to a halt less than ten feet from me. Cautiously, it sniffed the air, clearly confused by what its nose was telling it. Never before, did it have to distinguish between scents. My plan was working; it was clearly confused.

  This one must be the leader of the pack, and not just because he was the first to reach me, but also because he stopped when he realized that I wasn’t the scent he had been given to hunt down and kill. If the rest of the pack, which was swiftly catching up to their leader, followed his lead, I’d have a chance to implement the rest of my plan.

  As the others came charging up to join their leader, they were immediately thrown off by his actions, or rather, his inaction. This wasn’t any ordinary wolf pack. My suspicions regarding Fred had just been proven accurate. Without warning, I grew angry, completely pissed off! It was difficult to believe that someone could be so cruel and callous to sic a pack of wild beasts on a fellow human. But it made me even madder to think that he’d sat right next to me in the snow-tractor, pretending to care about my well-being, when in truth, he couldn’t wait to return with the wolves! Damn, I was mad! If I had to crawl back to their base camp on my hands and knees, I was determined to do it! Fred, and anyone else that was involved in this murderous scheme, were going to pay.

  The first wolf was approximately ten feet from me, nervously pacing from one side to other, all the while growling and threatening, his white fangs drizzling with anticipation. He’d been primed to kill, to ravage his quarry, and rent his prey from end to end. He was hungry for blood, the sweet juices that would eventually pour from the wet entrails of a fresh kill. He wouldn’t hold back for long.

  The others caught up, and they too, began pacing nervously, unable to understand what was happening. Like their leader, they were hungry for warm flesh and sweeter blood. They wouldn’t be denied for long, as they dutifully kept their distance, waiting impatiently for their leader’s next move.

  Speaking as calmly as I could, all things considered, I said, “Nice boy.”

  The larger wolf barely acknowledged my voice, yet I knew he heard me. Even a trained killer, would have been kindly addressed. After all, Fred didn’t train them to work in a junkyard. They were much more sophisticated than that.

  A new thought suddenly came to the forefront of my mind, and I felt as if I were going to wet myself. It was very possible that the leader of the pack was the only one that had been trained to be selective in what it killed. The others were just waiting to pounce on me.

  In addition, no matter how well trained this creature might be, it was still a creature of the wilderness, and in the end its instincts would rule out. There is nothing w
orse in this world than a wild beast possessing the physical attributes necessary to kill a man, without the inbred fear of man to hold it in check.

  Luckily, I hadn’t considered all this when I came up with my plan, or I might never have managed to bring it along to this point.

  Leaning forward as far as I dared without fear of losing my balance and falling into the snow at their feet, I un-balled the bloodied scarf in my hand and shook it out, permeating the cool breeze with Amy’s bloodied scent. It was a morbid keepsake, a constant reminder of how Amy had died, and now I felt that I knew what had possessed me to hang onto it.

  With the soiled scarf in my right hand, I flapped it before the lead wolf, coaxing the beast to come closer. It took enormous mental control to keep from yelling and shouting and waving my arms to drive the animals away. But I held my impulses in check, speaking slowly and reassuringly to the animal instead.

  Pacing nervously, almost apprehensively from side to side, the ugly beast continued growling, its sharp teeth and fangs bared at me the whole time. Yet, almost imperceptibly, there was a definite purpose in its pacing, and slowly, very cautiously, it drew nearer. It was close enough to smell the foul breath emanating from its panting, growling mouth. I told myself that it was nothing more than a large dog, a neighbor’s annoying pet. But there was no fence separating it from me, and the thought did little to console my jangled nerves.

  When the animal was less than two feet from my knees, I held Amy’s scarf out to its nose, and firmly told it to “find.”

  It was a wild guess, since I had no idea, to what commands Fred would have trained the beast to respond. But I’d seen enough police shows to know that, except for using a foreign language, the commands were always kept simple.

  The beast turned its nose toward the scarf expectantly. My hopes leaped upward. It studied the scarf, stopping its growling just long enough to look up at me questioningly with its balefire eyes and muddy pupils. I had no doubts that the beast could just as easily kill me, as it could obey me. It held no allegiance to me, and I knew it. Yet, it had absorbed the scent from the scarf into its nostrils, and now it was clearly torn, undecided.

  While it paced nervously, I could feel cold shivers running down my spine. Looking into those eyes was like looking into the bowels of hell. Here was a creature that could take life without any conscious remorse or true understanding of what that life had been. It was the ultimate killing machine, completely devoid of feelings.

  Sensing that the creature understood my intentions, I repeated the command, only more forcefully this time, “Find! Go.” And I ended it with, “Kill!”

  It took one more sniff of the scarf in my hand, and then looked around, not sure which direction it should take. Without thinking of what I was doing, I took the scarf and feigned throwing it in the direction that I wanted them to go.

  The other wolves in the pack were growing increasingly restless, and when I raised my arm and pretended to throw the scarf, one of them charged toward me. It was immediately snarled at and nipped in the flank by the leader. This action on the leader’s part had nothing to do with protecting me, because it wasn’t. It was just reminding the rest of the pack that he was just that, their leader. Every so often, he would have to exert himself if he intended to hold his position of authority within the pack. Yet, I was grateful for his actions just the same.

  Suddenly, as if a light went on in its head, the leader understood my intentions, and took off running in the direction that I was indicating to them. He was well out in front of the others, as they raced to catch up. In a matter of moments, they were gone, having quickly disappeared from sight amongst the trees and sparse undergrowth.

  For a longer moment, while I listened to their retreating yaps and yowls, I stood still, unable to believe that it had really worked.

  Almost indiscernibly, my sweat turned cold against my skin, and my limbs started shaking again. All the symptoms of my fatigue and ill health began to re-exert themselves. Feeling extremely nauseous and light headed from the physical exertion, I wanted to stop and rest. Yet, I couldn’t. Not yet. Sandy was working her way around to me and I needed to start making my own way toward her.

  The total distance we would have to traverse to reach each other would be close to three miles. That meant my share of the hike was going to be one and one half miles, if I could keep up the same pace that Sandy was doing. I had thought about making it a shorter trek, and thereby decreasing the distance of the arc from the cabin. But I didn’t want to risk putting Sandy any closer to danger than I had to. If the wolves had not stopped when they had, but had instead just attacked me, the greater distance could have meant the difference between life and death for her.

  Now the greater distance was just that much more of an obstacle to overcome. It also meant an increased chance of missing each other in the woods, or that one or the other of us might get lost. It was imperative that we connected on our first pass or we could both end up separate and alone when night fell. In addition, we couldn’t afford to spend all of our precious little energy and resources searching for each other. We needed to find each other and get down off this mountain before the wolves figured out they were running down a blind trail. My little trick would only keep them off our trail for a short time and the chances of it working twice were nil.

  Pushing aside the sick nauseous feeling that was churning in my stomach, I started by planting one crutch before the other, all the while struggling to maintain my balance. If I fell, I would never get upright again. Before Sandy could find me, if she ever did, I would be frozen to death. Without help, I’ll never survive this ordeal.

  Keeping a steady forward pace that slowly ate up the yards, I continually searched ahead with my eyes, always looking for the path with the clearest ground cover. The snow was a troublesome hindrance, constantly trying to drag me down. Frequently, I had to stop and catch my breath, which was growing ragged and harsh from my efforts. My head was pounding ferociously, whether from altitude sickness or simple exhaustion, I didn’t know or care.

  When I grew dizzy, I started worrying that I would slip in the snow, or become entangled in the underbrush. Because of this growing concern, I changed my tactics, almost without realizing that I’d done so. Instead of maneuvering toward the widest clearings between the trees and undergrowth, I started guiding my quivering limbs toward the next nearest tree so that I had something to lean on while waiting for the dizzy spells to pass. This technique, although vital to my efforts, added many more additional yards to my journey, as I was forced to zigzag along my course. Although I tried my damnedest, I couldn’t come close to the same pace that I was sure Sandy was making with the sled in tow.

  This realization brought on a new bout of guilt, forcing me to push myself even harder than I was previously. The longer it took me to find her, the more distance she would have to cover.

  Before leaving the cabin, we had decided not to yell for each other until we were sure we’d covered enough distance to put us in the same area as the other. I hadn’t realized at the time just how optimistic those words must have sounded. In my present condition, I couldn’t have raised my voice above a whisper without collapsing, even if I had looked up and seen Sandy passing by less than fifty feet away. It was everything I could do just to remain upright while working my way from one tree to the next. The dizzy spells were coming at increasingly shorter intervals and never completely clearing from my head before I would press on to the next tree.

  The cold had worked into my core again, chilling me to the marrow of my bones. The straps securing the crutches to my legs needed loosening, yet I couldn’t remember why. They were cutting into my flesh with increasing cruelty, cutting off the flow of blood to my recuperating feet. They had become tourniquets, and they needed attention.

  But the cold had numbed my feet, or so I assumed. I wasn’t thinking too clearly any longer. Yet, it seemed strange that I was coherent enough to be aware of that. A fever was growing within me, and yet, it
had been only mere hours since leaving the wolf pack and cabin behind.

  For reasons that I could no longer comprehend, I kept a close watch on the sky. Particularly, I was watching the sun. It was important that I keep the sun at the correct angle to the direction that I was traveling. But I couldn’t seem to remember just what made that particular direction important.

  Leaning against a stout fir tree, my head hanging listlessly forward, I noticed for the first time that one of my footprints was a deep shade of red. And though this should mean something important to me, I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  My hands were scuffed and bleeding from bracing myself against the rough winter bark. Several fingernails had been pushed back and broken beyond the cuticle. They were also peppered full of minute slivers. In the excitement of the moment, I failed to put my gloves back on after removing them to retrieve the scarf from my pocket. But none of this seemed important. They didn’t hurt. And wasn’t that all that really mattered? Moreover, they were much too stiff now to get the gloves over them anyway. This should concern me, but it didn’t.

  With increasing difficulty, I continued trudging forward, always keeping the sun above my right shoulder. Time had ceased to have any meaning for me. At some point, one of the bindings came loose and it gave me the sensation of stepping into a hole, as my right foot suddenly dropped lower than my left. Unable to help myself, I stumbled forward. And would have fallen to the snow covered ground were it not for a large tree standing directly in my path.

  Landing hard against the tree, I was awash in waves of nausea. But nonetheless, I was still standing upright when the darkness cleared from before my eyes. Pushing off from my savior disguised as a tree, I continued my lopsided plodding, toward a goal that seemed to be eluding me.