HYBRID KILLERS

by Will Decker

  “Hold up, Sandy,” I called over my shoulder. “It’s going to get dark soon. If he were coming, we would be able to hear him by now.”

  “What do you think he’s doing?” she asked, breathlessly, sinking down to her haunches and leaning against the front of the cot, for both support, and to be near my head so we wouldn’t have to raise our voices.

  “I think he decided to spend the night in your cabin, rather than try to find us in the gathering dark. It’s our good fortune that he doesn’t know how close we are.”

  “So now what?” she asked between deep breaths.

  “If you’re able, we need to get deeper into the trees. Then we need to set an ambush that we can spring on him when he shows up in the morning.”

  “I’ll keep going for as long as you want me to, but what if he doesn’t show up in the morning? What if he had no intentions of hunting us down?” she asked half-heartedly, almost hoping that I might agree with her.

  As she stood and got ready to start pulling again, I said, “Then my theory is full of holes, and we don’t have anything more to worry about than how long it will be before the search and rescue teams arrive to take us down off this mountain.” Then, as she put her weight against the harness and jerked us back into motion, I jokingly added, “When we get down off this mountain, I think I’m going to become a wild animal trainer. If only you could have seen the way I had those wolves eating out of my hand!”

  Night was quickly approaching by the time we found a site that looked like it had potential. There was still a fair amount of heavy gray in the sky, and the western horizon was shot through with pinks and oranges, but in the mountains, we would be plunged into darkness within minutes. Since we hadn’t heard the snow tractor, I felt fairly confident that we had the night to ourselves. Despite Sandy’s fatigue, and my disabilities, we needed to use the night to our advantage. If we didn’t, we might not live to see another.

  **16**

  “This looks good,” I said hoarsely from the back of the cot.

  At the sound of my voice, she abruptly halted, and after pushing the harness from her shoulders, let it fall unabated to the snow. Moving stiffly from exhaustion and fatigue, she back-stepped out of the snowshoes, and then sank to her knees, facing me on the cot. Despite the strain that she was under, in the shadows of the dying day, she looked beautiful.

  “You did well,” I said gently.

  “And you better have come up with a decent plan,” she said breathlessly, if not a bit sarcastically.

  Unfortunately, the idea that I came up with wasn’t much different from the one that I’d been harboring all along. Except for one detail, it didn’t require much preparation, and it wasn’t very complicated. However, because Sandy was still mobile and I wasn’t, it required exposing her to a dangerous situation. And although I knew she wouldn’t hesitate, I didn’t personally relish the idea; my plan called for her to be the bait. Since I couldn’t run after the snow tractor, or otherwise chase it down, we had to draw the snow tractor to us, and that chore fell to Sandy.

  It would be asking an awful lot of her, since there wasn’t any reason that she couldn’t just continue on down the mountain without me. As I told her before, she could easily avoid the snow tractor, if she didn’t have me in tow.

  The place that she brought us to was a small, tree-lined clearing situated in the center of a shallow depression. Because of the tight spacing of the trees, it was a natural enclosure, of a sort. From one side of the clearing to the other, the trees were never more than fifteen feet apart. All we had to do was draw the snow tractor into the clearing through the same gap in the trees that Sandy had just pulled us. Once within the boundaries of the trees, Fred wouldn’t have any other choice but to back the snow tractor out the same way that he went in. The trees grew too close together to even allow the tractor to spin on its axis, because it was longer than it was wide. And even if he did manage to turn the machine after entering the clearing, he would have to maneuver back to the same angle that he entered in order to get back out.

  Although such maneuvering was quite possible, it would take precious time to perform; time in which he couldn’t run away. Not even from someone as slow and immobile as myself.

  The whole idea is hinging on whether or not Sandy can draw the snow tractor into the clearing. And if she can, then getting out of its path and behind the safety of the trees before it can run her down. If she succeeds without getting run over by the steel tracks of the machine, then Fred will be right where I want him.

  Whenever I got to this part of the plan, I grew excited and anxious. It wasn’t easy to plan the murder of another man, even if it meant our survival. If I could find a way around it, I would. Or if Sandy’s life wasn’t depending on it, I might not be able to do it. But her life is depending on my success, and that means a man has to die. Moreover, my success means that we get control of the snow tractor, and that equates to getting down off this mountain within hours, and not days.

  After laying out my plan to her, she quickly agreed to be the bait. Nevertheless, she was clearly hesitant about my having to kill someone, especially in what seemed to be a cold and callous way of doing it. In addition, all the arguments that I gave her in support of killing the driver of the snow tractor while we had the chance did little to diminish her feelings against it. But then, that was why I found her so attractive.

  With regard to the rest of the plan, she was in full agreement. In fact, she was almost too confident that she could trick Fred into turning the snow tractor within the confines of the trees, and thus buy me the time that I would need to perform my part. Her attitude suggested that she intended on taking whatever risks were necessary to bring that about. But she was adamant that she didn’t want me killing him, at least not without giving him the opportunity to surrender.

  When I didn’t have the strength left to argue with her any longer, I finally gave in, and promised that if the opportunity presented itself, I would offer him the chance to surrender to us. But I was equally adamant that I would only offer him terms of surrender if it were possible to do so without putting her in any extra danger!

  “Above all else, Sandy, I want you to be careful,” I said sternly. “If he catches you between those iron tracks and a tree, well, I don’t even want to think about it. I know you’ll have to play it close in order to draw him in, but don’t underestimate his ability with that machine, or worse, the speed it’s capable of.”

  “I’ll be careful,” she humbly agreed, sounding optimistic.

  With all the details of our plan worked out, and no sign of Fred, the wolves, or the snow tractor, I decided that it was safe enough to build a small fire. From lying still for such a long period of time, a cold chill had crept into my spine, sending shivers up and down the length of my body. Sandy dragged the cot and me to the rear of the clearing, and then gathered together enough twigs and small sticks for a warm blaze. It was dark, with only the light of the stars to guide her, yet she found sufficient material to provide several hours of light and heat. By moving to the rear of the clearing, she had also positioned us underneath the overhanging limbs of one of the larger fir trees in the area. If it snowed during the night, we would be fairly protected.

  Within minutes, the fire was burning brightly, lighting up the immediate area of the clearing, and reflecting back off the surrounding trees. Although I could feel the heat of the flames against my face, the tight cords binding me to the cot restricted me from getting near enough to draw any real comfort from it. And yet, I had a feeling that no matter how close to the flames that I could have gotten, it wouldn’t have been close enough to rid my body of the penetrating chill. I was suffering from hypothermia, and it was being compounded by a loss of blood through the open wounds on my feet. Unfortunately, their condition was beyond any care that we could give them. My feelings in this regard were only reinforced by Sandy’s lack of mentioning to change the dressings. Even from my awkward position on the cot, I could see blood soaking thro
ugh the bandages faster than the cold could freeze it.

  Before I considered what I was saying, I said, “Would we be better off if we allowed my feet to refreeze?”

  Sandy’s mouth dropped open and she gasped in surprise and shock. Before she could collect her thoughts enough to speak, I calmly stated, “I’ve been tossing the idea around, kind of weighing the pros and cons of the consequences, and I think I’ve settled on just leaving them be. If they freeze in the bandages, I won’t lose anymore blood, and the doctors can do their magic with them when we get down off this mountain.”

  Even while I rambled on, I realized that I should have kept my thoughts to myself, and not worried Sandy about it. She had enough things to worry about as it was.

  “Don’t you ever talk like that again!” she suddenly cried out angrily. “We’re going to get you down off this mountain tomorrow. All I need from you is a little co-operation. Is that too much to ask?”

  Her anger turned to frustration and tears, and I suddenly wanted to kick myself. What had made me speak in the first place? Was it delirium? Was I losing my mind?

  “I’m sorry,” I stuttered, not sure, what to say that might make things better.

  Enlightenment suddenly brightened her eyes, and she stopped crying, wiping at her tears with the backs of her hands, before asking, “Are you concerned because I haven’t changed your bandages? Is that what this is all about?”

  Before I could begin to reply, she saw the surprise on my face, and knew that she’d assumed correctly. Her voice flooded with relief, as she cried, “Oh John, I’m so sorry. I should have said something sooner.”

  Misunderstanding her, I quickly replied, “It’s all right, you don’t have to explain. I can live with the fact that they’re beyond hope. You really don’t need to explain.”

  “Oh John, you silly man,” she said endearingly, almost laughing. “It has nothing to do with your feet; we don’t have any fresh bandages!” Seeing the relief on my face, she smiled, while quickly explaining, “Because of the extra weight and bulk, I decided not to bring any extras.” Sheepishly, she added, “I honestly didn’t think we would be up here long enough to need them.”

  Smiling back at her, I confidently stated, “We won’t be.”

  Using sticks to support them, Sandy heated several parboiled potatoes in the open fire. Since we didn’t have any kettles, she split them open and sprinkled the interiors with crushed bouillon cubes. It wasn’t exactly gravy, but the flavor was delicious.

  When we’d finished eating, she surprised me with a cup of hot coffee. Although she’d foregone the heavy kettles, she had brought our mugs, and after melting snow in them, simply added the black grounds. It made for a chewy blend, but it was the moral boost that we both desperately needed.

  Unfortunately, the warm food and coffee did little to alleviate the spreading chill within my body, or the chattering of my teeth.

  When the coffee was gone, Sandy suggested that we should sleep together on the cot, to conserve our body heat, as well as keep us off the cold snow. I quickly agreed with her, even feeling a little amorous at the idea, despite my present condition.

  “That sounds wonderful, just don’t expect to get much heat back from me.”

  Rising, and placing the rest of the gathered materials on the fire, she undid the cords securing me to the cot while saying, “You just let me worry about that.”

  Without undressing, she hurriedly slid under the blankets and wrapped her arms around me. The cot was intended for one person. But because I had lost so much weight since the beginning of this ordeal, and because Sandy wasn’t much larger than a young child was, by hugging each other close, we managed to not fall off.

  We argued briefly and dispiritedly over who should sleep on the side by the fire. Against her argument that I needed the heat of the fire more than she did, I finally persuaded her to take the side nearest the fire. To me it only made sense that my frigid body shouldn’t draw down her core temperature as well.

  She was exhausted from the day’s exertions and fell asleep almost immediately. I, on the other hand, remained wide-eyed and alert. My mind refused to stay in the present and simply enjoy the nearness that I was sharing with Sandy. Instead, it kept racing forward to the morning, and what lay ahead for us. I knew my plan was risky, but I also knew that if we didn’t get control of the snow tractor, there was no way that we were going to make it down off this mountain alive. Moreover, because Sandy had exhausted herself dragging my dead weight all day, she was too fatigued to outrun the wolf pack or the snow tractor, even without me as a burden. By taking me along, she had burned that bridge of escape; in her present state of fatigue, Fred or his wolf pack would easily catch up to her long before she could reach help.

  When Fred first discovered that Sandy had escaped his hybrid killers, he may not have been too worried. But when he discovers the second set of tracks leading away from the cabin, he’ll realize that Sandy has help. Fortunately, he doesn’t have any idea in what condition that help is. Or, that it isn’t really any help at all, but more of a hindrance.

  Unfortunately, he’s going to grow extremely anxious to stop her and her unknown partner before we can reach civilization. Even if all we know about the situation is that there are wolves after us, the attention that we will surely receive from the press might very well bring the whole scheme crashing down.

  My mind quickly grasped onto this thread of thought, and I suddenly wondered what it must be like to be the one that has to tell the next of kin when someone is killed. It was probably very difficult informing them that their loved one had been killed by a tragic accident on the mountain. After all, you can never know how someone’s kin will respond.

  Yet, it must have been easy giving the impression that it had been an isolated incident. For the most part, details would be very sketchy, at best. If they looked in the paper to see what the press had written about the mishap, they might not find much more than a single sentence, a short statement glossing over the details describing how the deceased had died, and that would be in the obituary column.

  But he knew, as well as any others involved that if even just one of these little mishaps made much publicity, it would snowball into a real big problem for all of them. It was imperative that he stop us before we get too much farther.

  The night passed slowly for me as I stared over Sandy’s shoulder and into the dying embers of the fire. Although I’d been resting for most of the day while Sandy dragged me along on the converted cot, I had pushed my weakened body beyond its physical endurance. The cold had taken a hold of me clear to my core, and no amount of boiled potatoes and bouillon broth was going to warm me. Except for an uncomfortable and disquieting tingle that originated in my knee joints, I had lost all feeling in my legs. Below my knees, life ceased to exist; I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that my heart was being strained, and not only by the sheer exhaustion of my body, but also by the poisonous toxins that were slowly working their way through my veins. If I didn’t get some serious medical attention within the next forty-eight hours, I would probably be dead. In all likelihood, I was probably very susceptible to pneumonia in my presently weakened and defiled condition. But even if it were working its way into my lungs at this very moment, it would be too late to be my final killer.

  I knew what my situation was and I should have been devastated by it. Yet, oddly enough, I was more worried about the effect that it was having on Sandy, than I was about myself. She had a hard row ahead of her to hoe, just to escape this mountain. The last thing she needed was to have to drag me along, slowing her down.

  I was considering what a burden I was to her, when it came to me that, if my plan for the morning doesn’t work out, I must still find a way to relieve Sandy of one more burden, me. If I see that our chance of taking over the snow tractor is quickly declining toward the point of failure, I will find a way to assure that my life doesn’t continue either. The only outcome that I find truly disturbing about my plan is the outcome th
at leaves Sandy injured, or worse. Above all else, I cannot let that happen.

  While Sandy slept fitfully on the cold cot and John worried about the upcoming showdown, Fred is nervously pacing Sandy’s abandoned cabin. Like John, he too is nervous about the upcoming day and what it might bring.

  Foremost on his mind, is why there isn’t any sign of his wolf pack. Except for the large number of old tracks, which were already filling in with sun-hardened snow, it was as if they had vanished. This might be expected with a pack of wild creatures that had no human ties or loyalties, but his wolves were almost domesticated animals, and they were much too well trained to just wonder off. He had spent a lot of time working with them; they would never just wander off.

  In addition, he couldn’t afford to lose another leader of the pack so soon. He’d just lost one less than three weeks ago when a freak avalanche occurred above the writer’s cabin. He still hadn’t found the poor creature’s body, or the man’s either that was leasing the cabin, for that matter; it wasn’t something he liked to dwell on. In the short time that he knew the man, he hadn’t grown particularly fond of him. But his money was good, and according to the boss, that’s all that really mattered.

  Also, everything was pretty much buried under twenty feet of snow. Maybe in the spring, when the snow wasn’t quite so deep, he would go probing around up there. If he did happen on the man’s body, he would just dispose of it as he had all the others. Very few bodies were ever recovered for their next of kin, due to the extent of the mutilation suffered by the fangs of the wolf pack. And what they didn’t dispose of, smaller and more numerous rodents usually took care of. But because it was an important aspect of his job to make certain that bodies never showed up unexpectedly, he would make a point to look around when the time came.