Wild Ones

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It was darker
in the witch's tent than the girls had expected, and smoky without
the actual smoke. It smelled funny too, like crushed grass and old
furniture.

The witch held
out her hands, and the girls obediently placed their hands in hers,
palms up. They had agreed to have their future foretold in exchange
for a couple of dollars that had been tucked into their pockets by
their mother earlier that day, when she had promised an outing to
the fair. Somehow they had managed to bypass all the rides and end
up here. It was inevitable.

"Ah,"
intoned the witch slowly, and the girls breathed out in awe at the
gravity of the moment. "You girls have the
wild gene
."

The girls
looked at each other, puzzled. Where were the tall dark and
handsome strangers? The fairytale weddings? The spectacular lives
that other witches and clairvoyants had spoken of? This was not
their first foray into the world of fortune-tellers, and they had
certain expectations. One of the girls narrowed her eyes, and
spoke, her voice filled with confidence beyond her age.

"What
does that
mean
?"

"You both have
the wild gene," the witch said again in a hushed voice and then she
fell silent as she gazed at them, her expression pensive. The
atmosphere in the tent seemed to thicken.

"What that
means, girls, is trouble. Terrible trouble. But not yet. Give it
another dozen years or so, and they will come for you."

"Who will?" The
girls could never remember who had asked this crucial question.

"The wolves.
The bloodfeeders. Whoever finds you first." She released their
hands and her expression hardened, anger flashing in her eyes.

"And they take
without asking."

The witch
remained silent after that, and appeared to go into some sort of
trance. The girls watched her for a few minutes, completely
dissatisfied with the whole experience. They left then, and spent
most of the afternoon repeating the witch's words to each other and
giggling.

Wolves and
bloodfeeders. As if.

I
imagined trying to explain all of
this
to the police and chuckled. I guess laughing
should really have been pretty low on my list of things to do,
considering what had just happened, and what was still happening -
I cringed slightly at the sound of tearing flesh and crunching
bones - but I have never reacted to anything in what you would call
a
normal
way. I tended to make
light of the darkest situations, and when things became super-hairy
and downright dangerous I would laugh and rejoice in the adrenaline
flooding my body and making me feel so
alive
. I guess you could call me an adrenaline
junkie, but that wouldn't be strictly accurate. Adrenaline junkies
chased their highs by jumping out of planes and diving off
rooftops. My highs chased me.

I worked for a
local private investigator as a part time freelance
investigator-slash-bait. John, my boss, handled a lot of 'cheating
spouse' investigations, and inevitably I would be called in to
provide some incentive for the spouse to actually cheat, especially
if John wasn't able to find any good evidence of spousal
infidelity. John liked to deliver, as he had often explained while
I grumbled about having to try and charm the pants off some
unsuspecting guy. And he couldn't deliver if the guy wasn't
cheating. So he brought me in, and more often than not the
previously pristine man would turn into a vile creep who tried to
stick his tongue down my throat. I couldn't blame them, really. Put
me in a low cut red dress and high heels, and most men would try
that. I'm not really sure why.

John tried to
explain it to me one day as he clutched his bleeding nose. He had
just seen me in said dress and had tried to take it off again. I
had explained nicely that he should leave it where it was and step
back, but he'd ignored me and tried harder. So I broke his nose
with a well aimed fist. Then I had demanded that he explain his
behaviour. There was a lot of explaining going on that day.

"God, you're so
hod," he had said thickly as his blood dribbled down his shirt
front. "Every ban I dow wants to fug you." It took a while for me
to figure that one out, and when I did my face must have
transmitted my disapproval, because he stepped back hastily.

"Sorry,
Baddie," he pleaded. "I won'd ever do dad again."

I had chuckled
then, as I did now. It wasn't the best situation to be in, but it
was ridiculous enough for me and my dark sense of humour to
appreciate it.

I was hauled
back to the present by the crunching and growling just behind and
to the left of me. I was backed up against a giant pine tree, and
the rough bark was scratching my back through my thin t-shirt. But
neither the crunching nor the growling nor the discomfort of the
bark against my skin was bothering me as much as the reason why I
was pressed up against the tree.

Three enormous
wolves stood in a loose semi circle around me, their gazes
unwavering. They just stood there, oozing threat. Having just been
a witness to their pack mates' activities, I was only too aware of
the realness of that threat, and I stood very still and breathed
very quietly. After a while they still hadn't killed me, and the
crunching sounds were diminishing, so I started pretending I was in
the small local police station, reporting this incident to a highly
sceptical and very distracted Officer Jenkins. He was one of two
local law enforcement officers, and I had been in the same class as
him throughout primary school. Unfortunately he had been my
boyfriend for all of two days when I was ten years old, and he
tended to dwell on what might have been, so having any sort of
conversation with him was a complete nightmare. But he was better
than his creepy older colleague, who saw me as an evil temptress,
and spent a lot of time quoting the bible at me. I remember once
trying to explain that putting a hand between my legs while I stood
in a queue at a bank was not an appropriate thing for a random
stranger to do, and that is why the perpetrator of this outrage was
now in the ED having three of his fingers set and splinted. He had
looked me up and down, and told me that the victim with the broken
fingers was refusing to press charges. I had stormed out of the
office when it dawned on me that the police in this town would do
nothing to help me. It was as if they regarded this and several
other minor sexually motivated assaults on my person as
'self-inflicted'.

I had started
carrying concealed weapons after that. My favourite was the
retractable car key that I had honed to a fine edge. Press a button
and it turned from an innocuous looking key to a dangerous and
highly effective weapon that had served me well in the past.

Unfortunately I
had been out running when I had crossed paths with the group of
bikers, so no keys. It probably wouldn't have been very helpful
against all eight of them, I guess. I might have damaged one or
two, maybe three. But eight?

"Well,
Orificer," I imagined myself explaining. "I was running down one of
the dirt roads up by Brown's Creek when a group of eight bikers
dressed all in leather and riding a bunch of, uh, bikes drove past.
They changed direction and started following me down the road,
riding alongside and just behind me. They were looking at me funny,
so I decided to jump the gate a bit further along. You know the one
that says Private Property, No Trespassing."

"I have asked
you several times in the past to refrain from calling me Orificer,
Ms Leigh. What do you mean they were looking at you funny?"

"Well,
Orificer, kinda like you're doing now, except with gestures. They
were leering."

"I am not
leering at you Ms Leigh. I don't know why you should say such a
thing." Nervous glance at recorder.

"Anyway, I
jumped over the fence and started running down the overgrown track
on the other side of the gate. I could hear them behind me messing
with the chain, and when I looked over my shoulder I saw that
they'd cut the lock and swung the gate open."

"What did you
do then?" A very unsubtle glance at my breasts. I had been
interviewed often enough to know that this would inevitably
happen.

"I ran faster,
Orificer, as fast as I could. The bikers started down the track
behind me. They had almost pulled alongside me again when out of
nowhere there huge shapes flew through the air and knocked them off
their bikes. I turned and saw a pack of huge wolves, at least a
dozen or so."

Sceptical look.
"What happened then, Ms Leigh?"

"They ate
them."

I couldn't
imagine the conversation beyond that. The whole scenario dissolved
before my mind's eye when I tried. Nobody would ever believe
me.

The
wolves stirred then, their attention drawn to something behind
them. A larger wolf appeared out of the lengthening shadows that
surrounded the track. The others withdrew slightly as it approached
me. It fastened its predatory gaze on me, its green eyes unblinking
and unmerciful. I hoped that it would be fast, that the beast would
clamp its huge jaws around my throat, squeezing the life out of
me,
before
I became its
dinner. From the sounds of things some of the bikers hadn't been so
lucky.

It walked
towards me slowly until its nose was almost touching me. It was
black and huge, much bigger than normal wolves, and it's nose was
almost level with my belt buckle, or would have been if I had worn
one. I was dressed in running shorts and a tank top.

The black wolf
leaned forward and I screwed my eyes shut, not willing to see my
own flesh being torn apart. I felt nothing for a few seconds, and
then there was something prodding my legs. I opened my eyes to see
the wolf's muzzle nudge my one thigh, and then reach out and nip
it. I moved my leg away from those sharp teeth, and the wolf buried
its nose between my now open thighs, sniffing furiously.

Seriously? I thought to myself. How does shit like this
always happen to me? Well, not like this
exactly
, but I bet nobody else would ever find
themselves in this kind of situation.

The wolf stood
like that for longer than I thought necessary. I thought about
trying to push its head away, but quickly abandoned that plan. I
could feel the power in its neck as it almost lifted me off my feet
with its insolent nose. Then it withdrew and turned to the other
members of its pack and growled. They all bowed their heads and
flattened their ears. I couldn't help noticing how several of them
still had biker blood staining their muzzles. I counted twelve in
total, plus the black one made thirteen. Unlucky indeed, especially
for me.

Nine of them,
including the black wolf, suddenly turned and loped off, leaving
four smaller wolves standing guard around me. I tried at one stage
to move, but every time I even twitched, one of them would bare its
teeth and growl. So I stood like a statue while the sun retreated
and the temperature dropped.

After what felt
like hours I heard the low rumble of an engine, and two headlights
bobbed into view. The wolves stood their ground until the vehicle
came to a stop a couple of metres away from where I stood. I almost
cried with relief as a man climbed out of the front of an old Land
Rover and walked to where I stood.

"Are you OK?"
he asked.

"I'm fine," I
told him, realising with relief that it was true. I was stiff and
cold, but unhurt. It was a bit of a miracle, considering all the
horrible things that had happened around me today.

"Come with me,"
he said shortly and led the way back to the car. I followed him,
thanking the fates for my deliverance.

Which was a bit
premature, as it turns out.

He drove along
the track with practised ease. I glanced sideways at him a couple
of times, but in the dim light of the cab I made out very little
more than what I had briefly seen in the glow of the headlights
earlier. Shaggy blonde hair, curling slightly over his collar.
Strong chin, firm mouth, yellow eyes, although that could have been
a trick of the light. We pulled up outside a log cabin with steps
leading up to a deck out front, and a light burning in the windows.
The man climbed out of the car and led me up to the front door,
which he opened, revealing a snug sitting room with a log burner
and an old leather couch. A fire blazed energetically in the
burner, and the room was warm and inviting. I stepped inside, and
turned to ask the man if he lived here, but he was already back in
the Land Rover, and he started it up and drove away while I
watched, open mouthed.