It's not the bullet, it's the fall that does it.
The world is blue, and he realises, vaguely, that he is staring at the sky. His leg is burning, but it doesn't hurt. Nothing ever hurts at the time. Later, he knows, he will feel it. Now there is only blue.
Dief's face swims into view, whining, urgent. He licks him, nudges him with his nose, pats at him with his paws.
He should say something to Dief, tell him not to worry. He feels the obscure need to apologise for something...
Words don't come. The world is too blue.
Somewhere he hears a wolf howling, a splendid basso profundo, then the rest of the choir join in. They are singing danger. They are singing fear.
I'm sorry, he wants to tell them, I brought it with me... But he can't sing like they do. The world is swallowed by the sky, and the wolves are singing the blues. The great white wolf bares his teeth and drags him up the hill.
…
Ray was so driven that he didn't even think to be surprised that he was keeping up with Eric. There was no trouble following Fraser's footprints and those of Dief. At one point Eric stopped, grabbed Ray by the arm and pointed. "They slept here," Eric said, pointing to a coffin shaped slot in the snow, with a protective wall built up on one side. He pointed again. "The wolf stood there."
Ray stared. The size of those prints...words failed him.
They started to run again. The sun was high, and they sweated in their furs from the effort, while their breath frosted on their clothes. They kept pushing between the extremes of heat and cold, snow crunching up to their knees at times, sometimes slipping on ice frozen beneath, always getting up again, always ploughing forwards.
At the foot of the hill they stopped.
Ray went down on his knees in the snow.
"Oh Jesus," and this time it was a prayer. "Oh Jesus, Jesus Christ."
Blood frozen as hard as ice. A trample of wolf's prints. A wide trail, where a body had been dragged away, blood tracking up the hill.
Eric knelt beside him, put an arm around him. He only cried for a moment. Fraser deserved better than stupid tears, when there was any chance, any chance at all...
When he had stopped Eric spoke.
"I don't think he's dead, the blood spatter is wrong for that."
Ray nodded, dully. He should have realised that. But what about those tracks? Those big, Hound of the Baskerville's tracks? Something had come, something had dragged him off...
Where was Fraser's... Fraser's...
He was not going to think it. He absolutely was not going to think 'where was Fraser's body?'
…
Simmons made it back in one piece, and celebrated his survival by pouring himself a very large drink.
"It's a bit early in the day, isn't it," Brown said smugly.
"If you'd just been what I'd been through you'd hit the sauce yourself."
"What happened?" Mullen glared at the other two men. They were always sniping at each other about something. "Did you deal with our problem?"
"Yeah," Simmons laughed, shakily, "and I damned near ended up a wolf's lunch myself."
"Did you deal with the native problem?"
"Yeah... and then some. I meant to shoot him, then put the body somewhere the wolves could have a good go at mauling him, but they beat me to it."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I only got one bullet off, and the man went down... I think I only winged him. But I dunno what it was, maybe the smell of blood? Next thing I know there's this huge... and I mean really damned big... this huge wolf pounding down the hill. He takes after me, and I go flying out of there on the snow mobile, and when I finally got a chance to stop and catch my breath, well... the bloody thing was dragging the guy up the hill to feed the family." Simmons prided himself on being a pragmatic man, but he'd never seen anything like that before. He was still shaking, despite the booze. "I used the zoom on the camera. We should have some really spectacular photos of that thing dragging the guy back... if that doesn't work to scare these Eskimos away nothing will. And it will be great publicity too, should really help our case to extirpate this area of the wolves altogether."
"What happens if someone finds the body with a bullet in it?"
"If there's anything left of the guy once the wolves are through with him I'd be surprised. Even if they find a bullet, they won't be able to match ballistics to any weapon, ours are off record. And besides, worst case scenario, people will just think it was a hunter's bullet gone astray, or that someone was trying to save the man, aimed at the wolf and missed."
Mullen chewed it over in his mind. "Well," he said, "it sounds like it went well. When can you have the photos ready?"
"Soon as you like. I can set up now."
"Good." Mullen looked forward to showing these pictures to the idiot Inuit over on the island. That would shake up their smug attitude. Bring a bit of realism into their lives.
Brown was standing next to the plane, rubbing his hands together compulsively. Neither Mullen nor Simmons noticed as their colleague scrubbed his hands, and scrubbed his hands.
…
Fraser opened his eyes, and at first saw nothing at all. He blinked against the darkness, then gradually made out that he was in a cave, flat on his back, surrounded by warm bodies.
Ah, he thought. Wolves.
He supposed he should be feeling somewhat alarmed, but for reasons he did not choose to explore at this juncture, he felt comforted.
His leg, however, was burning.
It was also raised.
He pushed himself up slightly, and looked down the length of his body. A large female wolf had inserted herself under his leg, propping the wounded limb up, for all the world as though she knew to elevate the injury.
"Thank you kindly," Fraser said, then let his head fall back down again. The kindness of strangers, he thought, really strange strangers, he added in Ray's voice. He broke into a thready giggle. The wolves around him shifted. He could feel their attention focussing on him. He pulled himself together. Now was not a good time to get hysterical.
"Are you feeling better son?" Fraser turned his head, and saw his father squatting in the corner, between Diefenbaker and the young pups. One of the pups seemed desperate to gain his father's attention, rolling on his back, displaying his fat little belly, bouncing up and down, feinting to the left and the right. His father ignored the pup, staring instead at his son. Fraser knew how the pup felt.
This was weird, he thought. Understatement... he laughed again. What was left of his objectivity ran around in circles, trying to make sense of things. Really, really weird. He was in a wolf's den with his father's ghost, the matriarch of the pack playing nurse maid, and all of that seemed somehow to be normal.
He knew that even by his standards this should not seem normal. He felt light headed, so spaced out and giddy as to be utterly relaxed.
"Hey Dad." His voice was hollow in his ears, and even to himself he sounded as though he'd been given an anaesthetic. "Hey Dief..." He let his head drop again, and stared at the roof to the cave. There was something wrong with his eyes, he thought, it looked as though the cave was glittering.
"You're talking to me again are you?"
"Yeah," Fraser closed his eyes, and floated. "Yeah, I'm sorry Dad, it's not your fault I'm not real. I mean, it's not my fault you're not real."
"Do you have any idea what you're talking about son?"
"No," Fraser was falling asleep again. "No, I don't suppose I do."
…
Ray and Eric followed the bloody track up the slope, grimly. Ray was stone cold angry. It was better than the alternative, collapse. He didn't care what Fraser said about these wolves. If they'd hurt his friend he'd blow their heads off, that was it.
Above them there came a bark, and Ray pulled out his gun, braced himself against the incline.
Eric put his hand out, tapped him on the knuckles. "Put down the gun."
"No," Ray was beyond fury. "If one of those things so much as hurt a hair on his head..."
"It's Diefenbaker," Eric said, "he tells me that Fraser is fine."
"He tells you?"
"Listen up, you will hear it yourself."
Diefenbaker let out a whine so characteristic that Ray nearly dropped the gun in alarm. That really was Dief standing silhouetted against the sky. His heart stuttered. He'd nearly shot him... Fraser would never forgive him.
"You got Fraser up there?" He called up to Dief, thinking, stupidly, 'Timmy's down the well.' Dief yipped an affirmative, and with a flick of his head gestured at the men to keep on coming.
…
"That's... sick." Mullen stared at the photos of the man being dragged off by the wolves. One of them was huge, probably the big male they had seen yesterday from the plain. The other was smaller, more compact. They had the man by the shoulders, and were dragging him between them. There was a satisfying trail of blood, which made the pictures even more dramatic. "We need to release these to the press..."
"Let's see if we can get the locals to find the body first. Wolves chuck out the bones when they're finished don't they? We could have before and after shots. If that doesn't shut up the Peta types I don't know what will."
"I'd like to see those animal righters explain away this one."
There was a wet strangled noise behind them, and Mullen and Simmons turned to see Brown pale and sweaty, with his hand to his mouth. "I'm going to be sick," he muttered. He turned, matching words to deed, and the smell of it hit the room.
"Awh, you're disgusting," Simmons said, "you clean that up, it's your mess."
Mullens laughed. "You're the one who lectures us on temperance, if I didn't know better I'd say you have a hangover."
Brown put his hand to his mouth, and lurched.
"Not again," Simmons swung the door open, and pushed his colleague out of it. As Brown started to vomit in the snow Simmons shared a look of contempt with Mullen. "You know, if we didn't need a pilot I'd feed him to the wolves?"
"Yeah," Mullen spread his arms out regretfully. "What you gonna do about it? Guy's got a weak stomach."
"Well, if that's a typical reaction I think we can say we've solved the wolf problem. And we should get the natives right back where we want them."
Mullen smiled, and tilted his glass at Mullen. "A good day's work then?"
"Yeah," Simmons smiled proudly. "A very good day's work."
…
At the mouth to the wolves' cave both Eric and Ray paused. Dief stood, yipping, and the men looked at each other.
"What do we do now?"
Eric looked unsure. "I suppose we go in."
"You suppose? No Inuit wisdom?"
Eric snapped. "I'm Raven, not Wolf. I've never done this before."
"Well, I'm Yank, not Wolf, and I've not done it before either."
Eric looked helpless.
"Lie flat boy," a voice said.
Ray blinked, and looked about him. "Hello?" Who was that? "Is there anybody there?"
"What?" Eric looked at him with his brow drawn. "You hear something?"
"Get flat on your face, right now son. Think of it like knocking on the door."
Great, Ray thought, I'm stood outside a wolf's lair, and now I'm hearing things.
"Are you stupid or deaf? GET DOWN!"
Ray dropped to his hands and knees, still looking around to see who was talking. From inside the cave he could hear movement. His heart hammered in his throat. Slightly behind him Eric also dropped, following suit.
"Head on the floor, that's right. Now, don't move till I tell you."
Who the hell are you, he wondered, but didn't say. Then, with an 'oh crap,' his mouth went dry, seeing the huge paws padding out towards him. I'm going to be eaten by a wolf, he thought, so loudly that Eric could probably hear him... if he wasn't thinking the same thing himself.
"You're doing fine son," the strange voice spoke reassuringly. "Just don't move."
The thing was prodding him, sniffing him... he must just stink of fear. He could smell it himself, who knew what the wolf was thinking.
Kibbles, probably, knowing his luck.
The thing barked. "You can sit up now," the voice said.
"Thanks," Ray whispered, and sat up.
Eric took a little longer to straighten himself. He looked across at Ray, a reluctant admiration creeping across his face. "How did you know to do that?"
"I didn't," Ray looked puzzled. "Someone told me what to do."
Eric nodded. "I heard nobody." He didn't say it in a challenging tone, he accepted Ray's words. He was simply observing that the voice came only for Ray. "Do you know who it was who spoke?"
Ray paused. He felt as though he should have recognised the voice. "I... I don't know. It might have been a friend, I'm not sure."
"So, what do we do now?"
Ray stared at the mouth of the cave, into which the giant wolf had returned. He swallowed, and rubbed his sweaty hands against the furs of his coat. "Only one thing for it."
I can't believe I'm doing this...
He got back to his hands and knees, and crawled in.
...
"So, you're going now?" Pakak tried not to let his resentment show as Tatkret took her place with the hunting party. She nodded briefly, not meeting his eyes. Perfect, he thought, she heard what we did. She'll never look at me now. At the best of times it would have irked him to be passed over for a girl, particularly this girl, illogical though that was. The fact that it was his fault nobody trusted him any more just made it worse. That and the thought that Tatkret would never smile at him again.
Somebody had to go, of course. It should have been him. After the howling of the wolves a meeting had been called, and it was agreed. They would send a hunting party, to track down the three visitors, Chulyin, the Amarak and the man who was his brother. And the decision had settled on four hunters, three men, and...
She wasn't a girl, she was a woman. He had hoped she would be his woman, but there was no chance for that now. She would never smile his way again.
He fumbled his fingers together, and couldn't think of anything to say.
"Ready?" The men were already in the boat. Tatkret looked up from the snow, gave him the briefest of glances, utterly unreadable, and stepped off dry land.
Above them, as the boat set off into the lumpen lake, a plane whirred. Pakak looked upwards as he made his way back to the village. Not Maggie's little biplane, which sometimes flew in supplies. That was the aeroplane of those liars, Wolf Mining Company. The enemy. Pakak curled up his fist and scowled.
…
Simmons heard it first.
He dropped the playing cards on the table between himself and Mullen, exposing his hand, then made a run for the door.
"Hey! Hey! Brown you piece of garbage... "
Mullen stood, alarmed, and followed his colleague out of the door.
The plane was moving.
"Hey!" He joined in with Simmons, jumping up and down angrily, waving at the pilot. If Brown noticed them he gave no sign.
Mullen gave up shouting and began to run towards the plane, but he was too late.
The plane was taking off.