Chapter Two: All Good Deeds Get Punished
The rabbit scampered away before I had a decent shot, startled by the sudden commotion further into the forest. I dropped to the heavily leafed floor and did my best to conceal myself from any prying eyes. I've learned the hard way not to go rushing to the rescue these days. When playing white knight it is important to check all your possible exits, count the number of bad guys, double check for hidden traps or reinforcements before charging in to save the day…if there is still someone at that point to save.
It is also important, when investigating a strange noise, to know what you are dealing with. Are you are dealing with a few straggling zombies or a mob of the undead? Is it a group of humans trying their best to survive? They require even more caution. So far I've seen more death from human hands than I've seen from zombies and Others combined. It's also important to know if you are dealing with an Other. All three situations have the same response: running. It's just a difference in the speed and distance you need to move.
Staying low, the fall foliage giving me minimum cover, I shifted closer to the sounds. The trees cleared, giving me a decent view of the low lying bog where the stream had started to dry out. The werewolf was huge, at least seven feet tall. I'd seen werewolves before, off in the distance, but they had all been mostly human seeming. This wolf was completely furred, long muzzle flecked with foam, his hands ending in wicked razor tipped claws.
He was stuck, the muck almost chest deep, surrounded by four zombies that were tearing chunks of his flesh out from where ever they could reach. Others couldn't be turned, the zombie virus had no effect on them but I couldn't imagine a worse death than being eaten alive.
The wolf was beautiful in a terrifying, 'he's going to eat my liver' way. Ebony fur that held blue highlights in the afternoon sunlight was speckled with mud, saliva, and blood. Glowing red eyes flashed as he tried to lunge his way out of the sludge, fighting for his life against horrible odds.
I'd had the unpleasant opportunity of seeing what happened when a zombie got hold of a person. During that first horrible day my friend had been pulled under a wave of zombies as I watched in horror from the safety of the balcony I had franticly climbed just moments before. Gagging and sobbing, I watched as the undead tore him apart with sickening moist crunches and ripping tears until they moved on, leaving nothing but a bloody smear and a few stray bones behind.
Two of my remaining five arrows were buried in the skulls of the zombies before I even realized I had strung my bow. The remaining turned toward me with an eerie movement, a swing of their head, lifeless white filmed eyes tracking my position before their bodies rotated as well. Even free to run away and not trapped in the muck I looked like easier prey than the wolf.
I ran for a low branched tree, pulling myself out of range of bony hands and virus laced teeth as I drew another arrow out of my quiver. The ebony wolf used my distraction to rip off the head of the closest zombie while my arrow took out the last one through its left eye. I stayed high in the tree as I caught my breath, climbing up a few more branches while I looked for other dangers. Below me the wolf continued to thrash helplessly in the mud.
If I was smart I would have retrieved my arrows and ran, good deed done for the day but I am a helpless white knight, doomed to get myself killed by trying to do the right thing.
I dropped down and timidly approached the massive wolf. I kept my head lower than his and my eyes downcast, treating him like the trapped wild animal he was. "Easy big guy. I'm not going the hurt you." God, I felt like an idiot for saying that and from the way the wolf stiffened, back going ramrod straight, I had just offended a seven foot tall, razor tipped, killing machine.
A cluster of three packs rested just outside the edge of the bog, obviously thrown there by the stuck wolf. I took a quick look at the contents spilling out the top: basic foods stuffs that had my mouthwatering, extra blankets, a tarp, and a three filter top canteens.
It's funny where your priorities end up when the world is over and done for. Something as simple as dry goods and a canteen had me questioning whether I should leave a person to die a slow death and take off with his packs or do the right thing and lose out on what could very well mean the difference between life and death for me. The canteen was the type that could filter water automatically without it needing to be boiled. Starting a fire these days was like setting off a "come eat me beacon". I had to walk a careful line between needs (not being zombie kibble) and wants (not dying of cholera).
Being a good guy is going to get me killed one day. Careful to stay out of reach of the clawed hands, I pulled my arrows out of the zombies. The two that I managed to fire through an eyeball were salvageable but the third was cracked along the shaft.
"Damn it." That left me with four arrows. I had been careful, retrieving all my shots and protecting my arrows at all times but their constant use was taking its toll and if I didn't find some replacements soon I would be looking at lean times to come.
Walking back to my tree, I rifled through my own pack pulling out a length of bright yellow nylon rope. Tying one end to the tree closest to the bog, I tested its strength by swing and bouncing on it with all my weight. I picked up one of the filter canteens and looked at the trapped wolf who growled, eyes flashing a red that rivaled the gates of hell as I touched his possessions.
"I was thinking we could make a trade. I trade you this rope for your filter canteen. I can see you have others in you pack so I am sure you can do without this one." I knew I was being a suicidal idiot but I couldn't' just leave the wolf to die of thirst or be eaten by the next roving band of zombies.
The wolf's only reply was to snap and thrash helplessly against the heavy mud.
"I'm going to take that as a yes."
Tossing the rope to the wolf I waited until I was sure the wolf would be able to pull himself out of the thick mud. Once the giant, and completely naked, wolf was half way out of the bog, I turned tail and ran, switching direction as soon as I judged myself to be out of the line of sight. I backtracked twice, splashing through a stream and wading along its shallow edge until I couldn't stand the chill of the water and climbed out, hanging from a branch to obscure my tracks.
The last thing I needed was a pissed off wolf tracking me down and eating me in the middle of the night. The world had gone to hell and all good deeds were sure to be punished.