Page 49 of Protecting the Flame

Chapter 7

She snappedupright from her slouch, pulling her head up from where it had come to rest on her knees. Feel asleep. She smeared drool from a cheek. She wasn’t aware she’d dropped off. She aimed an anxious look at the fire, which had not dwindled much at all. She wasn’t toasty by any means, but she wasn’t freezing either.

So what had awakened her? Not the cold. Something else. Earl was still, his features arranged in what looked like sleep. She laid a palm on his chest then felt her shoulders relax a smidge at the rise and—

Something, somewhere, made a very faint but very audible sound.

She froze. The hairs rose on her arms. What was that? She listened hard over the snap of the fire, the pop of a log. The sound had been so fleeting, it might even have been her imagination. She willed herself to hold still. That had sounded like…

Something growled.

Oh hell. Her heart kicked. She inched her head over a shoulder to peer into the darkness to the east. The noise came again, a soft growl followed by a scuffling, a hissing noise that could be ice against ice or stone. The sounds were coming from the direction where she’d found those faint impressions of boot prints and fresher, deeper animal prints. But there hadn’t been anything to find, no body, no bits of clothing, nothing.

But I didn’t think about digging beneath the new snow to check now, did I?

It had been snowing when Burke wandered off. He could have fallen fifty feet from the wreck or five hundred, and she and Will had been too preoccupied with doing what they could for the survivors.

Rifle in hand, she slowly made her feet. What could she possibly do here? Bringing a body into camp would be inviting the wolves in for a buffet. And there’s a mountain lion out there, too, don’t forget. Killing the animals wouldn’t be right. They were only doing what animals did. Would a single shot over their heads scare them away? Or, wait…she felt for the flare in a parka pocket…she could touch that off and accomplish the same thing or simply use a log from the fire. No matter what she did, the solution would be only temporary. The wolves would be back and pick up where they’d left off—or that mountain lion might take their place.

She crept around the cockpit, wincing every time snow squeaked and squealed. She knew the animals must hear her coming, too, because at every misstep, the sounds ceased, the air quivered, and she could imagine them all pricking their ears and pausing in their feeding to look, as one, in her direction. When she’d drawn even with the cockpit’s ruined nose, she could make out the animals’ shadows as they fed. Her ears caught the dry tearing of cloth and the deeper, meatier, wetter sound of ripping flesh. Heart booming, she flipped on her headlamp and socked the rifle’s butt into her shoulder.

Four wolves, three a mottled gray and one larger wolf who was the color of jet, leapt from the darkness. In the light of her headlamp, their eyes were green cinders. Muzzle dark with blood, the jet-black wolf’s lips peeled back revealing orange teeth and the dangle of something pink and stringy. The snow, chunked and churned, was red. The rest was a fractured kaleidoscope of torn clothing, tangled guts, a cage of rib bones partially stripped of flesh. Burke’s body lay at an angle, his head cranked impossibly far back on the stalk of his neck because they’d torn out his throat and eaten the flesh down to bone.

She should use the rifle. That had the best chance of really spooking them. But it was stupid to shoot. This wasn’t their fault. But wasn’t it also true that once an animal had the taste of a human in its mouth, it wouldn’t stop but would hunt down what was, in the end, very easy prey? She wished she knew what to do. Should she call Will? No, that was stupid, too. She was supposed to have this.

She took aim for a spot over the animals’ heads and fired. The rifle cracked; a bright yellow flare of muzzle flash leapt from the barrel. Yipping, the wolves jumped and backed off but didn’t leave.

“Go away!” She let go of another shot and then another. This time, two of the wolves wheeled about; a third jumped in a high, frightened hop. At the fourth shot, even the black wolf finally broke and ran off into the darkness beyond the range of her headlamp.

Her pulse thundered. Sweat trickled down her neck, and she shivered. She was panting, though she couldn’t hear much over the ringing in her ears. Her grandmother had always warned her to wear ear protection.

She felt a vibration at her hip. Pulling the walkie-talkie from her pocket, she depressed the send button. “Yeah?”

“Emma? Are you all right?” The words, barely intelligible over the roar in her head, spilled from the speaker in a hash of static. “I heard shots. What’s going on?”

So, it was true. Sounds really did carry at night in the wilderness. “W-wolves,” she managed. Her mouth didn’t seem to want to work. The smell of spent gunpowder was sharp and turned her stomach. Swallowing, she pressed a hand to her mouth then said, with a weird little laugh, “I found Burke. Well, the wolves did. He was buried under the snow and they…they…he’s all torn up and…”

“Oh Jesus.” Maybe he heard that slight hysteria, maybe not. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Emma. I wish I could make it better for you. Are you all right?”

“N-no. I mean…” She forced a swallow. Now that the adrenaline was tailing off, fear gnawed her neck. She didn’t dare fall asleep again. She wasn’t supposed to have drifted off at all. Some great helper bee she was. One little thing, and she couldn’t get it right. “I didn’t shoot them, Will. Was I supposed to? It didn’t seem right. It’s not their fault we’re here and Burke’s dead and…”

“Hush, honey, hush. You didn’t do a thing wrong. They were doing what wolves do.”

“Will they come back?’

“Doubt it, but I don’t know. I’m not an expert on wolves. You did the right thing. I’ve heard that in some places, they shoot the wolves so they don’t get used to being around people.”

“I didn’t shoot them,” she said again.

“You did fine.”

“I fell asleep.”

“You’re human. We’re all exhausted and scared and half-starved. It’s okay. You’re safe. Earl and Hunter are safe.”

A sob balled in her throat. “I think Earl is really dying.”

“You’re doing what you can do.” A static-filled pause. “I can come be with you. Rachel will be okay, and Mattie will have the radio. I can be there in an hour, maybe less.”

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