by Will Decker
She slowly turned toward me and leaned over, kissing me warmly before saying, “Then maybe we should get going before you go and die on me. If that should happen, I know they would put me in a loony bin and throw away the key.”
“Have you forgotten?” I said jokingly. “We’re both up here because of our emotional stress, remember?”
Smiling, she got back to her feet and picked up the woven harness. Stretching stiffly, she slung it over her shoulders and leaned to the left and right, breaking the runners free before putting her weight into it. Because the snow was heavy from the warmth of the sun, it slid forward with ease.
The terrain wasn’t quite as smooth as it appeared from the top of the knoll. At one point, the sled almost slid into the backs of her legs, and at another, she almost fell into a shallow ravine before pulling hard to the left. The sled was difficult for her to turn because of the length of the skis, and the weight placed upon them. Yet, she managed to keep it and me from sliding over the edge, and very possibly ending up hopelessly stuck at the bottom.
She followed the top edge of the hidden ravine until it widened, flattening out enough so that she was sure she would be able to pull me up and out the other side. By that time, the sun was beginning to near the western horizon, and we both knew that we would be lucky to make it to the shelter of the trees by nightfall. We couldn’t spend the night stranded out in the open. Without any protection from the harsh wind and snow, we risked being buried alive by a snowstorm. Almost invariably, the clouds will roll in during the night, and dump several inches of snow on everything, and by early morning, there won’t be any evidence of them.
As we reached the slight incline leading out of the ravine, Sandy’s foot slipped out of the binding on the snowshoe, causing her to fall face down in the snow. Breathing hard and cussing through clenched teeth, I could hear her roll over, presumably onto her back. Though I tried to raise my head up off the padding high enough to see her, she was just below my line of sight. No matter how hard I fought against the bindings and my own physical limitations, I couldn’t look down at the area immediately in front of the sled.
Panicked, I cried out, “Sandy! Sandy! Are you all right? Answer me!”
Her heavy breathing abruptly quieted, as she took a deep breath and held it in. I immediately grew frightened by her lack of action, and the ensuing silence. But before I could question her again, she broke the silence, anxiously whispering, “Quiet! Listen up, I thought I heard something.”
Hearing the alarm in her voice, I immediately stopped my infantile squirming, and listened attentively for something, anything. At first, all I could hear was the soft breeze sloughing across the crystalline surface. Not hearing anything else, I wondered if she wasn’t just hearing the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears. She had been exerting herself for going on two days now, if you didn’t count the last day at the cabin that she spent cutting firewood. It was very possible that she wasn’t even aware of her own fatigue.
Then, slowly at first, I thought I heard something too. A new sound was gently assailing my ears. Unlike the arrhythmic sloughing of the breeze, I detected something more rhythmic. Instinctively, my eyes shot upward, looking to the sky in search of an airplane. And then, just as suddenly, it dawned on me that I recognized the sound. It was a snow tractor, and it was coming our way!
“Can you see it?” I asked eagerly, my heart starting to race in my chest.
“No. It’s in the trees across the clearing,” she said excitedly, beginning to rise in anticipation of waving her arms and signaling to it.
Just as she reached her feet, I shouted at her, “Sandy! Get down!”
Glancing down, confused by my sudden outburst, she dropped to one knee, her eyes flashing toward the distant trees, and then toward me. But the confused look stayed firmly affixed to her face, as the noise from the engine grew steadily more audible by the second.
“John, I don’t understand. That tractor can get us down off this mountain in no time. Why don’t you want me to signal to it?”
“Have you forgotten everything we’ve discussed?” I asked her incredulously. “If it turns out to be Fred coming back to check on his wolf pack’s handiwork, the wolves will hear him coming, and show up, also!”
Defensively, yet still trying to get me to change my mind, she weakly replied, “I have the gun, John.”
“Sandy, I guarantee if it’s Fred, he won’t get anywhere near enough for you to use the gun. And then, to make matters worse, we’ll have tipped our hand to him. Not only will he know that we fooled his wolves, he’ll also know where we are.” Exhausted by the debate, I breathlessly added, “Besides, you don’t have enough bullets for that many wolves.”
I’d been speaking hurriedly, not taking time to breathe, and I gasped to catch my breath. It was extremely important that she understand the situation fully, before taking it upon herself to wave down the snow tractor.
Looking up into her face, I saw her indecision still lingering there. She knew my condition was bad and that time was working against us. But she also knew that if I were right, she would be throwing away our chances of surviving.
In a final effort to sway her, I desperately pleaded, “At least wait until we can see whether it’s Fred or not.”
Logic dictated that I was right, and she knew it. With a loud sigh of resignation, she openly admitted as much.
Meanwhile, the sound of the laboring diesel motor combined with the clattering and clanking of the wide steel tracks, grew steadily louder as it drew closer. Sitting just below the edge of the shallow ravine, the sounds echoed off the surrounding hills, an ominous portent of trouble quickly approaching. Even though we were as far below the edge of the ravine as was humanly possible, it was so shallow at this point that even if we were to lie flat in the drifted snow, we wouldn’t be completely out of sight from the driver’s higher vantage point in the snow tractor. Our only hope at not being discovered lay in the possibility that he wasn’t looking in our direction as he crossed the clearing.
Although there wasn’t any need to remain quiet, since the snow tractor would drown out any sounds that we might make, I was hesitant to speak for fear of giving our tenuous position away. I wanted to tell Sandy, just to ease her thoughts, that there wasn’t any reason for the snow tractor to swerve this far off course, since he wouldn’t have any difficulty crossing the ravine wherever he desired. Because of the capabilities of the snow tractor, the ravine wouldn’t even slow it down at its steepest and deepest point. Yet, I sat silently, unmoving, afraid of drawing the driver’s attention.
It was our good fortune that the ravine happened to be where it was. If we hadn’t veered from our course because of it, we would have been caught out in the open when the snow tractor first arrived, with nowhere to run or hide. Although the ravine, such as it were, didn’t offer much in the way of concealment, it was far better than nothing.
Looking down at Sandy, I noticed that she had assumed a prone position, the length of her body pressed flat into the ravine. She was staring intently toward the sound of the approaching snow tractor, poised and ready to jump up and signal it, if it turned out not to be Fred.
Lying atop the converted cot, I felt exposed and vulnerable. Even with the sled pushed into the center of the ravine, my body was even with the surface of the surrounding lay of the land. Moreover, there wasn’t time for Sandy to undo all of the intricate knots securing me to the cot so that she could camouflage it, and me, in the drifted snow. Before she can untie even one of the knots, the snow tractor will be upon us, or past us.
“Keep the gun handy,” I said softly, as the snow tractor suddenly came hurtling out of the woods, and breaking into the clearing.
Immediately, my heart sank in my chest, and I felt my breath escape me. Painted clearly across the sheet-metal sides, I saw the familiar colors and markings of Fred’s snow tractor. Even before the loud contraption had cleared the trees and shot out into the open, I suspected that it would be none other
than our ex-landlord. Yet, for Sandy’s sake more than my own, I had held out the hope that it would be wearing unfamiliar markings. Or even better yet, if the markings had to be familiar, it would have been nice if they had been the insignia of the local sheriff’s department.
The distance was still too great to make out the driver as anything more than just a dark shape behind the tinted safety glass. But as sure as, I had been about the snow tractor, I was just as sure that it was Fred sitting behind the controls.
“Do you think he’ll see us?” Sandy nervously asked, the fear and worry already etched into her beautiful face.
“Just don’t make any movements that might catch his attention. He probably has excellent peripheral vision, even if his attention is focused straight ahead.” I spoke as calmly and confidently as I was capable of, considering the circumstances. My intention was to keep her calm and relaxed, yet ready, if we had to take evasive action in a hurry. “He will probably pass through the ravine more than three hundred feet back of us, up there, if he stays his current heading,” I said, nodding slightly toward the direction from which we had just come.
“He won’t see our tracks, will he? And what do we do if he does? They lead right to us,” she said anxiously.
“Trying to outrun it, will be out of the question,” I answered her, as my mind raced forward to the scenario, and came up empty. “For now, we just stay put and pray he doesn’t. By the way, have you ever used a handgun before?”
“No.”
“Don’t move now, but he’s about to reach the ravine. If he swerves in this direction, I’ll need you to hand the gun to me.”
“And what do you propose to do with it while lying flat on your back?” she asked sarcastically.
“I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” I quickly replied in a hushed tone of voice, while still mimicking her. When she smiled back at me, I added in a more serious tone, “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”
I had thought of something, but I was hesitant to share it with her. Even though she was a tough girl, what I had in mind might not set too well with her. And I surely don’t want her to hesitate, if I have to ask her for the gun.
In order to come up with my plan, I had to analyze all the possible scenarios, which in this case, were few. In fact, there was only one that mattered. Then, I had to judge how the individuals involved would react to the stimulus acting upon them. As a writer, this was the easy part. All I had to do was treat the players in the scenario as characters in a book, and simply play their respective roles out in my head beforehand. Since there was only one possible scenario that would have a dramatic impact on us, it took me very little time to run it to its conclusion in my mind, and then determine the best way to jog it off track. Or at least, change something that would have a favorable impact on it for our sakes.
The main scenario went something like this, and it was based upon Fred seeing us first. If he didn’t see us at all, this was a moot point. But when he sees us, his reaction will be a gut level response, putting his body into motion before he considers the end result. Without thinking, he’ll simply turn the snow tractor in our direction while accelerating to maximum speed, and then try to run us down. He will be operating on nothing more than impulse, simply, and predictably. If he’s successful, he’ll grind us up in the steel treads, crushing us beneath the weight of the machine, and leave our carcasses behind for the wolves to feast on.
In that chain of events, I see only one option; only one plan that will have a positive outcome for Sandy and me, and derail Fred from his ultimate goal. It’s so simple, that it isn’t really a plan at all. It’s based on the whole idea that when he sees us, he will turn the snow tractor in our direction, and come charging across the meadow. When he gets close enough, I intend to shoot him through the windshield, long before he can reach us.
Because I realize the folly of this idea, not to mention the cold-blooded and calculating nature of it, I cannot share it with Sandy. The minute the tractor veers in our direction, Sandy will convince herself that Fred isn’t coming to do us harm, but only to our rescue. The moment that thought lodges in her mind will be the moment that I need her to hand me the gun. And when she hesitates, Fred will run us over and chew us up beneath the massive weight of the snow tractor. I don’t plan to give Fred that moment of hesitation, while we argue with each other over his intentions, as he comes boring down on us.
Although I’ve never killed anyone in my life, and I’m not relishing the thought of having to kill someone now, it isn’t just my life that’s involved. This goes way beyond me, and way beyond Sandy. The man in the snow tractor is responsible for quite a few deaths, if my theory is correct.
Having done a lot of target shooting with the magnum, I am very familiar with its latent power. I have no doubt that its steel jacketed bullet will shatter the tempered glass windshield with a minimum amount of deflection. I am also aware that a thirty-eight special would simply ricochet off that same pane, unless it struck at precisely a ninety-degree angle of impact. Silently, I thanked my lucky stars that I had remained faithful to my first impulse to buy the magnum, and not allowed my friends to dissuade me by talking me into the lower powered thirty-eight.
The tractor continued moving across the snow-covered meadow without pause, slowing only as it reached the ravine. Though I wanted to watch, I felt sure that my stare would attract the driver’s attention just as surely as waving my arms would. Yet, I had to know what it was doing.
Using furtive glances, I kept the snow tractor’s progress in the corner of my eye, willfully not making direct eye contact with it. When it dipped into the ravine, and then roared up the other side, I realized that the driver was too preoccupied with the cabin that lay directly ahead of him. From his vantage point high up in the cab of the snow tractor, there wasn’t any other explanation for his not seeing us.
My confidence bolstered by the fact that the machine was beyond the ravine and moving steadily away from us, I raised my head and studied the cab’s single occupant. Immediately, I recognized him as Fred, our ex-landlord. To our good fortune, he was so intent on where he was going that his eyes never strayed from the course directly ahead of him.
Almost as quickly, as he had appeared in the clearing, he reached the far side, and disappeared into the trees. There was no mistaking that his intended destination was Sandy’s cabin, as he entered the trees in almost the same spot where Sandy and I had come out just hours earlier.
Looking toward Sandy, I immediately recognized my own relief mirrored in her face. But what I said next had to be said, even at the risk of upsetting her. “When he gets to the cabin and sees that you’re not there, his first assumption is going to be that the wolves flushed you out. Although he will assume that the wolf pack is taking care of you, he’ll still check around the cabin for signs so that he can follow their track, and make sure you’re properly disposed of. Once he sees the two separate trails that we left, he’ll know that you’re not alone. Or at least, you weren’t alone when the wolves showed up at your doorstep.” I paused to catch my breath. Although Sandy had been doing all the work, as of late, speaking was difficult for me. “Then, he’s going to panic, because he doesn’t know who you’ve been with, and why you didn’t stay together. Unfortunately, our ruse won’t take long for him to figure out. Because no matter which set of tracks he follows, it will only be a matter of minutes before he reaches the juncture of our trails. It might take him a little longer to figure out why his hybrid killers didn’t follow either of our trails. But then, he’ll quickly overtake us, and it won’t matter anymore.” When she didn’t say anything, he quickly added, “When he catches up to us, he is going to try killing us. It won’t matter whether we figured out how to distract his wolf pack, only that we did, and that means in his estimation, we know too much!”
“Then we better get going,” she firmly stated, as she stood and put the harness over her shoulders.
“Right, but not necessarily aw
ay from him. That’s what he’ll expect us to do; especially when he figures out that one of us is dragging the other.”
“Then what are you suggesting? We dig in and make a stand?” she asked incredulously.
“Something like that. But first, we have to get to the trees so that we aren’t caught out in the open. If he catches us out in the open, I’m afraid we won’t stand much of a chance against him in that snow tractor. Do you think you can get us there before he comes back looking for us? If you can do that, I’ll think up a plan.”
Without a word, she turned and put her weight into the harness, her determination evident in the harsh jerk of the sled as she pulled it out of the ravine and continued down the slight descent of the meadow. She continued on at a pace that was limited only by the bulky awkwardness of the snowshoes.
While she struggled to remain on her feet and not trip in the bulky bindings of the snowshoes, I wracked my brain for a plan. But though I tried to come up with something more elaborate than what I already had, I kept drawing a blank. I also kept my ears open for the sound of the snow tractor. But to our good fortune, Fred was spending more time at the cabin than I had thought he would. Although I didn’t want to underestimate him, I almost laughed aloud when I envisioned him puzzling over the second set of tracks, and the strangeness of their shape.
When we entered the shelter of the first thin stand of trees, we still hadn’t heard the roar of the diesel from the snow tractor. Huge white plumes of condensation were erupting from Sandy’s mouth, and I knew she couldn’t go much farther. And though I tried to come up with a better plan, I was still drawing a complete blank.
In amongst the thicker stands of trees, the snow tractor would be much less maneuverable. But with me confined to the sled, the advantage was almost mute. If we were to have any chance of setting up an ambush, I needed my mobility back. Sandy was pulling the sled jerkily along, her exhaustion almost debilitating; she couldn’t go much farther without stopping to rest. The day was also growing tired, as long shadows were being shot through the trees, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish individual objects. It would be dark before much longer.
