10:59 CDT
I hold my hands up, my palms facing toward the animal, which feels like a natural thing to do if you’re offering unconditional surrender. “Ah… nice… doggy?”
“Hughes, what the fuck… are you… doing?”
Honestly, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. Being eyeballed by an angry-looking wolf is a new experience for me…
I take a step backward, closer to Newman. I don’t think for a second this wolf will do anything, but if I’m wrong, I’d rather it went for me first.
Maybe it’s just passing by and wondered who we are? Or can they smell blood, like sharks? I don’t know…
Shit.
The wolf takes a step forward, letting out a low, guttural, growl as it shows me more of its teeth. Its feral gaze switches between Newman and me.
I call over my shoulder. “Ah, Newman? Can you move?”
“I don’t think… I can, Hughes. Even breathing is pumping more blood… outta my side.”
Fan-fucking-tastic!
Am I meant to keep eye contact with the wolf, or avoid it? Is it confrontational or disarming? It certainly doesn’t look worried or discouraged at the moment… It looks like it’s standing in line at a goddamn buffet!
I feel myself tremble slightly as a rush of adrenaline surges through me. This is probably the first time I’ve ever been in a genuinely life-threatening situation. I think people assume that, when faced with such a high level of danger, they’ll be scared, almost by default.
I did, too, if I’m honest.
But now I’m here, living the situation, knowing how close I am to my life coming to an end… I don’t actually feel scared. I feel fear, but I don’t think that’s the same as being scared. Fear is a basic, human impulse. You can’t choose to know what fear is, but you can choose to be scared of what’s invoking that fear. And I’m not. I mean, this wolf is fucking big—its shoulders, legs, and back are bulging with natural, raw strength. Its jaws will be like a vise, and those yellow teeth, all pointy and threatening… If it gets a grip on me, I’m a dead man.
But I’m not scared. I accept what’s in front of me, and all I can think about is how I’m going to beat it.
My main objective is to protect Newman. I quickly look at the ground around me. It’s wet and muddy, covered with leaves and twigs, but very little else. Certainly nothing of any use.
I take another slow step backward, putting myself directly in front of my injured friend. The wolf takes another step toward me, raising the hackles on its back. Its eyes are wide and wild.
I take a deep breath, and another, ignoring my ribs and whatever else is causing me discomfort after my hillside tumble. I’m doing everything I can to focus on the wolf—I slowly drown out all other noise… the rain, the lake, even my own breathing… Finally, even the tweeting of the birds disappears. Now, I can hear nothing except the thump of my own heartbeat and the rasping, primal breaths of the beast before me.
I think back to Hunter’s lesson yesterday. I watch its movements. It raises its back end slightly, its leg muscles tense, its mouth bares almost all of its deadly teeth…
It’s getting ready to pounce…
Oh, fuck!
I sidestep at the exact moment the wolf rushes forward, lunging through the air like a missile, teeth first, aiming for my throat. I instinctively spin counterclockwise and smash my elbow forward, hitting the wolf squarely on the side of its head mid-air.
It lets slip a yelp from the impact, and flies away from us, landing heavily. I drop into a fighting stance and watch as it recovers, shaking its head and barking rabidly. It charges again, this time too fast for me to react. It jumps and hits me with its two giant front paws. I fall backward and land hard, pinned to the ground by the wolf. I get my arms up in time to push against its throat as its head snaps down—its deadly jaws are inches from my face. I can smell the foul stench of rotten flesh on its breath, and my stomach turns.
The strength in the animal is otherworldly! My arms don’t have the power in them to hold on for more than a few seconds. They tremble as the wolf, thirsty for my blood, forces my elbows to bend, allowing its face to inch closer to mine.
If it gets through me, Newman’s done for. I can’t let that happen…
Its claws are piercing through my uniform, pressing into my chest. I let out my own primal scream as a fresh surge of adrenaline from a hidden reservoir somewhere inside flows through me. My arms straighten again, and I wrestle with the wolf, squeezing as hard as I can on its throat.
“Adrian! Here!”
The words distract me momentarily and I chance a look to my left. There’s a thick, sharp, bloodstained twig lying next to me, just within arms’ reach. I frown, before looking up at Newman, who’s clutching his side as best he can, staring at me. He slumps over, his head bouncing off the ground.
“Newman!”
You crazy, dumb sonofabitch!
Using every ounce of strength I have left, I push the wolf up and hold it with my right hand. I know I only have a couple of seconds… I desperately reach out to the left, grab the stick in my hand, and then whip it into the side of the beast.
I feel it penetrate the wolf’s body, and it yelps again as it rolls off me, falling away to the side. I scramble to my feet, holding the twig in my hand. The wolf is still on all fours, breathing hard, but almost staggering toward me.
As I charge it, I let out a guttural roar, sensing its weakness. I stab it again in its side. Its high-pitched squeal sounds loud in the wilderness, sending birds fleeing from the trees. I slam the makeshift weapon into its body repeatedly, losing count of how many times I penetrate the thick fur and puncture its flesh.
After a few moments, I swap hands, and with one final jab, I plunge the twig deep into the creature’s throat. It falls sideways, momentarily twitching, as it hits the ground. Then it’s still… dead.
I sink down onto all fours, gasping for breath and ignoring the pain as the adrenaline subsides.
Oh, shit, Newman!
Looking up, I rush over to him. “Newman, you crazy bastard! Talk to me!”
I’m not sure if I should move him, so I lean close to see if I can hear his breathing.
“…in… uts…”
What? His voice is a barely audible whisper. “What are you saying, Newman?”
He wheezes, followed by a weak intake of breath. “You’re… fucking… nuts…”
I smile. “Hang in there, buddy. You’re gonna be alright.”
I move over to my bag and pull out the medical kit. There must be something I can do to help him while I figure out how to get us out of here.
16:37 CDT
I’ve managed to patch Newman up and stop the bleeding from his side wound. It took nearly all the bandages I had with me, but he seems to have stabilized. Everything else, he’ll have to suck up and deal with.
The rain’s finally eased, and we’re sitting side by side against the tree, rationing our water and food, staring out at the nearby lake. Newman’s been asleep most of the afternoon, but I’ve kept waking him to give him water every half hour or so, mostly to make sure I can wake him. The corpse of the wolf is lying motionless a few feet in front of us.
A couple of hours ago, we heard the chopper overhead, flying the rest of our unit, and presumably the boys from the 16th Armored, back to base, after the training exercise was complete. I did stand and wave my arms, but there was no point—they wouldn’t have been able to see through the trees. I figure they’ll be heading back to try to find us, but I’ve heard nothing yet, either in the air or nearby on foot, to suggest they’re actually out there looking.
I unscrew the top off my water bottle and pass it to Newman, who takes a grateful swig before handing it back.
“If we stay in this forest much longer, we’re gonna start losing natural light,” I say to him. “We should get moving if we want to make it back to base by nightfall. How are you feeling?”
He grimaces a little. “Better.”
“Better enough to stand up?”
“I’ll give it a shot.”
I get to my feet and hold my hand out, which he takes. I pull as he moves his legs to push, and with some effort, he stands upright and leans back against the tree, smiling through the obvious pain.
His left arm is hanging by his side, and he traps it close to his body, placing his left hand on his side wound. “The list of shit that hurts is longer than the list of shit that doesn’t.”
I smile. “I heard that.” I pick up my bag and sling it over both shoulders. “Come on, let’s go home.”
He rests his right arm across my shoulders and I take some of his weight. We set off, back in the general direction we came from, along the waterfront, hoping to find civilization sooner rather than later.
After a few steps, we draw level with the wolf. Newman nods to it. “We should bring the body back, so people will believe us.”
I shake my head. “Nah, too heavy. Besides, I didn’t kill it to be remembered or to brag… I did it to survive.”
“Man, it was fucking unreal watching you fight that thing. Weren’t you scared?”
“Not really… I didn’t have time to be. I just felt these… instincts take over, and I knew I had to do whatever it took to win. Ironically, it was Staff Sergeant Hunter’s lessons that helped me the most—but if you ever tell anyone that, I’ll leave you in a worse state than this, believe me!”
I smile and he laughs. “Your secret’s safe with me, Omaha.”
18:03 CDT
We’ve found a good rhythm, and it feels like we’re making decent progress. Daylight is fading fast under the cover of the trees, but I reckon we’ve managed at least a mile, maybe more, in the last hour or so. We’ve only had to stop the once, just so Newman could catch his breath. His bandages are holding up, despite blood having seeped through, staining them a deep red.
“How far out do you think we are?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. The rendezvous point and target zone for the exercise was only supposed to be about five miles into the woods. Thanks to Jones’ navigation skills, or lack thereof, I reckon we only got halfway there, which means we’re hopefully close to halfway home by now.”
“You think we’re gonna be in trouble when we get back?”
“You won’t be. I might be in for a disciplinary hearing or something, but I honestly could give a shit. If I’d done what Jones suggested, we might not have got to you for another few hours, and you’d have been eaten by that wolf. Worst thing they can do to me is kick me out, and I hate it here anyway.”
“Actually, the worst thing they can do to you is throw you in the USDB, over at Fort Leavenworth, and then you’d face a court martial for disobeying a direct order from a commanding officer.”
“Huh… aren’t you the fucking cheerleader of the unit…”
He chuckles and we continue in silence.
The waterfront starts to dog-leg to the right, leading us to a distinctive path heading forward, which looks promising.
After ten minutes or so, I actually see something I recognize. I point to a clearing that resembles a crossroads. “Hey, this is where we started. The highway mustn’t be far from here now.”
The cover from the trees begins to thin out as we walk on, and the natural light actually increases as the gray skies finally show through. Another fifteen or twenty minutes pass, and we step out of the woods and stare across the interstate.
We both take in deep, painful breaths of fresh air, enjoying the view of cars shooting past in both directions. It’s strange, but being in those woods for so long today felt like we were a world away from Fort McCoy and the rest of our squad.
“Do you think they’re out looking for us?” asks Newman.
I shrug. “I dunno. I’d like to think they would be, but we did the right thing not staying in the same place. That wolf’s friends might have come looking, and we couldn’t afford to wait an unknown amount of time to get you some medical attention.”
We hurry as best we can across the interstate and head along South 8th Avenue toward the barracks. As we approach the main gate, the two MP’s on duty walk out of the guard hut to greet us. One of them is talking into his radio.
“I need a medic ASAP,” I shout over to them.
“En route,” replies the guard with the radio.
Within a minute, two Jeeps appear, speeding toward us. They stop just inside the barrier. One is the army’s version of an ambulance, which has a stretcher in the back. The driver and his passenger rush out, take Newman’s weight from me, and lead him over to the vehicle. One climbs in the back with him, helping him lie down, while the other slides back in behind the wheel. As they drive off, toward the main base, Newman gives me the thumbs up, and smiles weakly.
The other Jeep has two MPs inside, who step out to meet me. The guard who first greeted us appears next to them. “Private Hughes, we have orders to detain you on sight, pending an investigation.”
I frown. This is one of those situations where you kind of expect something to happen, but secretly hope you’re wrong—then you’re pissed when it turns out you were right.
I already know the answer to this…
“On whose orders?”
One of the MPs from the Jeep moves next to me, producing a set of cuffs. “Staff Sergeant Hunter. Turn around and place your hands on your head.”
I let out a heavy sigh. Piece of shit…
I wince as I mentally relax for the first time all day, which allows all the physical pain I’ve gone through to finally register.
I don’t move.
The MP steps toward me. “That’s an order, Private.”
I slowly turn around and feel the cuffs slapping onto my wrists. “Yes, sir…”
Give me another wolf any day…