The Survivors

Devils Head, Colorado

February 21st

1

Arrrooooooo!

Samantha’s eyes flew open at the howling, drawn away from dreams of duty and honor.

She groaned. “You’ve got bigger things to worry about than wolves or coyotes.” The pain in her leg was agony, and her hands and feet were so cold she couldn’t feel anything in them but pain. It was dark and drafty in the cabin.

Samantha forced herself to scoot over to the fireplace. She clenched her teeth at every jar of her leg against the hard floor. She needed heat, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to shoot up. It was the same craving that made her drool when she woke with only flaring misery to comfort her. So she made herself wait. I will not come out of the war an addict.

It was frigid in the hunting lodge, but the front glass windows had survived the cold wave with only small cracks. The thick line of birch evergreens in front of the cabin had taken the brunt.

And the birds. She shuddered.

Samantha hadn’t realized the birds were there until the freeze came. The larks had been huddled on an upper branch for warmth. She could still just make out the faint yellow hue of their snow-covered bodies. It was a mirror of her own fate, had the windows not held.

The temperature was a little better now. She could even go to the outhouse. Samantha was glad the freeze had let up, but she still had plenty of nasty weather to travel through. The feeling of wrongness invading this place said it wasn’t safe here anymore. She needed to get moving.

She stacked some of her dwindling supply of wood into the charred fireplace, adapting to the thick, groggy feeling of the morphine upon waking each day.

She surveyed the dark corner, but didn’t spot the animal. She had noticed a cage in an SUV as she’d come up the driveway to this hunting lodge, but it hadn’t registered then. She had mistaken the ferret for a mouse in her fear of doing self-surgery. The fur had hung from its narrow frame. She’d been feeding it whenever she ate, and leaving water out in a jar lid. If it would come to her, maybe she would have a companion.

Samantha squirted the lighter fluid, then struck a match. She had to use three before the fire roared to life, singeing her fingertips. Sam pulled the blanket tighter around her thin shoulders and huddled as close to the heat as she could get, vaguely thinking she had never smelled worse in her life.

Needing to know how her wound was doing, she pried off the bandage, being careful not to disturb the forming scabs.

It was ugly, but improving. She could even put a little weight on it now. Her shaking hands replaced the material. It had hurt–

Arrrooooooo!

Samantha froze at the sight of red, malevolent orbs glaring through the front window.

She stared back for a long moment, evaluating her situation. It had been three days. It was blizzard cold, the snow was still falling, and the wolves were still out there…stalking her.

Sscccraatch. Sssscchh.

Paws dug at the small gap under the front door.

Samantha got moving, but her eyes stayed on the window, where more hungry snouts had appeared. She was in trouble once again, and there would be no rescue except for the one she provided.

Sam squared her shoulders, feeling the helpless anger that always rose when she thought about the old world now. Fine, if they want a war, I’ll give them a taste of what they’re in for.

The first thing the storm tracker did was give herself a light dose of morphine. Then she used the bedpan, glad her leg felt stronger. She would need that. She dressed as fast as she could, hoping the layered shirts would protect her from bites and scratches. The sweatpants went on over her jeans for the same reason. After tying her dirty blonde braid up, she strapped the gun belt around her hips, wishing the weapon had more than two bullets.

Samantha chose to make her stand in the corner, to the left of the stone fireplace. She was crying hard tears by the time she had tumbled the cumbersome desk onto its side and pulled it in like a three-sided wall. The light dose of morphine wasn’t helping now.

After stowing all her things behind the desk, she filled half a dozen syringes with morphine, leaving the caps off. She added them to the knives already in the wide pockets of her trench coat. They made a comforting clink. When the wolves came, it would be through the windows that had been weakened by the first strong wave of the blizzard. It would get cold in here, fast.

“Sure could use a solid.” Sam was aware this was probably where her luck had run out. “If I’ve got any credit left, I’d like to use it now, please.”

She took a little more of the morphine she feared she would crave forever, recapping that needle with shaking fingers. I’ve already survived worse. Wolves, no matter how determined, were nothing compared to Melvin and Henry, both drunk, wanting sex. She would survive.

Scratch. Paw. Sniff.

Sam counted two shadows under the door, four pairs of eyes at the window. Six animals, and probably a few others hanging back, waiting. But not for much longer. She could feel their hatred as they glowered through the frosted glass. The storm had piled up a foot of thick snow, giving the wolves a ledge.

She glared back as she put the torches near the fire, not sure why she’d made them. They were a last–

Smaaaaash!

The front glass shattered under a huge black wolf. It landed on its side. Sharp pieces of glass flew across the floor; snow blew through the jagged hole.

Snarling as it gained its feet, the wolf padded her way, promising death.

Crack! Thud. Ccrrassshhh!

The second window failed. Snow and wolves streamed through the gap.

Sam jerked two needles from her pocket; adrenaline squeezed her heart.

Long claws dug into the slippery wooden floor as the wolves advanced.

Sam waited. They had to get close enough for her meager weapons to be effective.

Craasshhh!

A third window exploded under the weight of a large white wolf. The animal didn’t slow as it hit the wooden floor, using it to jump again instead, mouth open in anticipation.

Sam slammed both syringes into the white wolf’s furry chest as it leapt on her.

“Ahhh!” She pushed the double dose in, cringing away from the heavy, reeking weight and snapping teeth.

A second wolf had lunged with its leader and was hit by the first animal’s convulsing body. It knocked them both into the corner of the desk.

The heavy marble slid against Sam’s good leg, shoving her away from their snaps. Pictures crashed to the floor behind her.

Sam quickly looked up to find a lanky wolf flying through the air, with two more about to launch.

She fired the last bullets in her gun, with only one of them hitting. She jerked a kitchen knife from her pocket.

The third animal flew toward her, growling.

Sam leaned into the lunge and impaled it, ripping upward.

Yiiipe!

She let the bloody blade fall with the body as she grabbed the Taser she’d found refill packs for. She shocked the wolf she’d missed with the gun. She hit it in the muzzle as it went for her injured limb.

The wolf fell, whining.

She kicked the animal that had recovered from hitting the sharp corner; blood flew from its ear.

Iiippe! Iippe!

Her boot crunched against its ribs as the wolf continued to yelp.

The rest of the animals fled, retreating before the injured prey that had taken out half of their pack.

Sam rotated in time to see the remaining three wolves jump through the snowy window and vanish into the cold drifts of slush, tails tucked between their legs. Bloody paw prints marked their path of retreat. Their howls were haunting.

Samantha lowered her arms, struggling not to puke at all the blood.

The white wolf at her feet twitched, trying to recover.

Samantha lunged down and plunged her last knife deep into its thick neck.

Scratch…

Sam swung around, shoulders relaxing when she spotted the ferret.

It stared at her, tail twitching.

Sam’s body pumped more adrenaline. Why is it even out here? There was a lot of noi–

The ferret charged.

Sam stomped with her injured leg as it lunged for her ankle, saliva dripping from its fangs. The ferret’s body crunched under her boot, guts squeezing out as stabbing pain shot up her thigh.

Sam ground the ferret into the bloody floor, taking bitter satisfaction in every snap, crack, and splatter. “Slam you too!”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Sam gathered her gear. I don’t care if my body isn’t ready yet. I’m leaving now.