The Night's Breath

Phoebe’s bloody hands gripped the wheel tightly. With her right foot on the peddle, she drummed the other on the floorboards of the Ford pickup. “Stay awake, Phoebe,” she whispered to herself. She could glimpse the first rays of the morning sun begin to creep up over the rolling hills.  As she looked over to see the blazing orange tendrils peering through the dense clouds she tried not to look at Blake, slumped next to her. He stared blankly at the horizon. She had been driving for hours without any sign of civilization. Blake's wound leaked crimson streaks down the interior of the vehicle as the sun rose and tore open the night sky with its scarlet fingers. As the glowing orbit rose higher Phoebe knew Blake’s time was running out. It only heightened her anxiety. She wondered when the twisting highway would ever come to an end. 

Blake let out a moan. Phoebe reached instinctively out to comfort her love. No words could she form. She dared a look at the shredded remains of Blake’s slate gray sweatpants. For a brief moment, so very brief, she dared think how unusual it was that he was wearing sweatpants.  

They had come out here to Glasgow, Montana for their honeymoon. Phoebe and Blake weren’t the type to have large social circles. There had been a quick ceremony with a Justice of the Peace, and Phoebe's mother and stepfather as witnesses. Blake was mostly estranged from his family, aside from his sister, Faith, who also attended. Phoebe remembered that day as she drove on. She wore a simple floral off the shoulder dress. Blake had worn black trousers, blue dress shirt and a floral tie to match the dress. She held a single red rose as her bouquet. Immediately, after the nuptials were over, they had set out into the remote wilderness. This is where they would spend the next several days hiking, snuggling around the campfire, and making love in the pop-up camper. They were as far away from other humans as possible. It was five hours till the next town. At the end of the camping season, but while the trees had their autumn display, the couple would be alone in a cold Montana campground. 

Phoebe's exhaustion and shock had her mind swirling with thoughts and memories. Irrational, ill timed thoughts. 

“Snap out of it,” Phoebe chastised herself. Blake was going to die if she didn't get him help soon. Phoebe was horrified to see the self made tourniquet had loosened. Blood flowed more freely from the wound in his lower leg. One couldn’t call it Blake’s calf, because there was no more tissue or muscle there where once a perfectly formed calf had been. There were, however, jagged remnants of some organic matter with bits of cotton material sticking to the areas that had begun to congeal and dry. A flap of flesh dangled from the horrid mass and swayed with every small bump that the truck encountered. Phoebe pulled over so she could adjust the belt she had placed above the knee. She hurried around the car and carefully opened the passenger door hoping not to cause any more damage to the limb that rested against it. She couldn’t help but keep looking over her shoulder. Outside the protection of the moving vehicle, Phoebe felt exposed, vulnerable. She forced herself to be gentle, all the while terrified that the same thing could happen to her. Surely that was impossible she thought, for they left that scene far behind them. Blake made no sound as she tightened the belt. Her concern grew. He had lost consciousness. She felt for a pulse and strangely enough his heart was racing. She had no medical experience but did not think this was a good sign. As an engineer Blake would probably have come up with a better life saving design, but she was on her own now. Phoebe also noticed that Blake’s skin was burning hot like the sun that was now directly above them. She pushed a strand of his light brown hair off his brow and noticed a few wisps of fairly new grey ones. She began to wonder how fast infection can set in with an animal bite.

There. She dared think it, but not say it allowed. She did not want to think of what had happened back in the camper or of what she had seen. She didn’t want to remember how Blake’s leg had come to be in such a condition. The wind picked up a little and as she was repositioning Blake she heard a guttural sound emanate between his lips. “Surely,” she thought, “it was just groans of agony.” 

Phoebe couldn’t admit to herself that the sound Blake made reminded her of last night. At first, upon waking. she had thought she was still in a dream. She had been dreaming about her childhood friend Emma, and her annoying Siberian Husky, named Luna. Phoebe had hated the smell of wet dog and the sound when Luna's nails clicked on the hardwood floors every time she would go to her house for a visit. 

There had been a squeaking of metal. Then, a TAP-CLICK-TAP-CLICK, of what? Her foggy mind knew that sound. She had heard it before. What was it? Half awake, eye’s fluttering against the darkness, she listened intently as the slow TAP-CLICK-TAP-CLICK seemed to draw closer. She thought, “Must be Blake got up to relieve himself.” Then there was an odor that jarred her to full consciousness, but also froze her in terror. It was Luna’s fetid dog breath, like she had been chewing on an old deer carcass. No, not Luna’s. Phoebe knew it was not Blake that stirred in the darkness. She felt his warm body next to her, sound asleep. How could he be asleep?! She nudged him with her elbow. He didn’t budge. CLICK-She nudged Blake harder-TAP. Blake stirred, but did not wake. CLICK-louder. TAP-closer. Then, a warm foul breath blew across Phoebe's face and she pinched, not nudged Blake this time. She instantly regretted the move.

“What the----,” Blake's words were cut off by a plethora of sounds. There were screams and growls. Dishes from a nearby cupboard clashed to the floor shattering to a million pieces. Phoebe felt thick coarse hair brush across her bare skin. She felt some kind of thick warm liquid spray her face. Something was ripping, tearing. Sheets? Curtains? Flesh? She fell to the floor in the struggle cutting her hands and knees on glass. In the struggle curtains fell from the window and the campfire light illuminated the camper. She saw the animal, the beast, the monster, whatever it was. A large grey wolf stood in their little camper. It’s eye’s met hers for a moment. There was something dripping with blood in it’s mouth. A piece of steak was all she could think. With a wet plop the wolf dropped the meat to the floor. Blake did not stir. She feared he was dead. Phoebe's brown eyes met with the wolf’s yellow glowing ones. The corners or its lips turned up revealing a deadly smile of sharp fangs. Phoebe braced herself for the attack, but just before the wolf lunged at her she felt a large shard of glass beneath her hand. The glass dug deep into her flesh but she held onto it. As the monster leaped off the bed where it had sunk it’s pearly dagger’s into Blake, Phoebe held up the pointed end of the glass. The grey monstrosity had intended to jump over her and attack from behind. Had it known of Phoebe’s split second decision, she would not have made it out of the camper alive. Instead, as the beast soared over her head Phoebe raised her arm with the glass chard. She held tightly and let the mere weight of this 200 lbs animal be its own death sentence. When glass met the soft underbelly of the predator, it sliced a perfect line from sternum to groin, spilling the contents within. She did not waste time, however, and went straight to Blake, finding him motionless. Part of his leg was missing. Phoebe reached for a flashlight that was held in the netting beside the bed. She saw that Blake was still bleeding. That was a good sign she remembered from a movie somewhere. It meant his heart was still beating. Blood was everywhere. The metallic smell in the room made her stomach turn. As she shone the flashlight along Blake’s body she saw the critical wound. She observed a long length of bone, where there should be muscle and skin. Blood oozed from the wound. Oozing and not spraying was good, she remembered. Thank God for health class. The skin at the edges of the wound was rigid, like ripped tissue paper and not a smooth cut. The sight was still sickening. Try as she might, Phoebe could not hold it in. She leaned over the bed to wretch into the already disturbing mess on the floor. Gripping fear paralyzed Phoebe for a second. Although blood still covered the walls and the floor, the carcass was….was…. Phoebe blinked, and blinked again. It was GONE! 

“Help me, Phoebe,” Blake pleaded

“I’m here Blake. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do. OH, Blake your leg! Your leg!.” Phoebe cried. Tears cleaned a path down her blood stain face.

“Get my belt under the bed in the suitcase and tie it off.” every word seemed like agony to form. 

Phoebe did as asked. She quickly, and as carefully as she could, pushed the belt under his thigh and up over the other side. At first she tried to loop it as if it were on a person’s waist, but there was no way to keep it tight. The holes of the belt only went so far. So, she tied it by it’s ends. She helped Blake sit up.

“Where did it go?” he heaved.

“I.. I .. I.. I don’t know. It.. I.. It couldn’t….Have...I .. I don’t... I don’t know,” Phoebe stuttered. “Can you walk with the other leg?” Phoebe helped Blake up onto the good leg. They had to get out of there and get help. When they had checked into the campground they were the only campers there. The park had been ready to close for the season, so Blake paid twice as much as the normal rate to be able to spend the week there. Together, they hobbled out of the camper. Blake slung one arm over Phoebe's shoulder. His injured leg, having barely any muscle to support it, dragged in the dirt and leaf debris. Every step was agony, and Blake whimpered along the way. The bloody duo got clumsily into the Ford pick up, constantly looking over their shoulders. In the distance a wolf howled.  

“The maps! Damn it the maps! Our phones with the GPS, everything is in the camper.” Phoebe remembered a bit too late. The wolf howled again. Phoebe couldn’t, she just couldn’t go back. I mean she had to come to a town somewhere if she just drove straight, right? So, she sped off into the night.

Now, here they were on some deserted highway hours later. This hunched over man next to her had stolen her simple country girl heart by coming daily to the restaurant she worked at, tipping generously. One day he left her a note asking her out like some teenager, but it only made her heart melt even more.

“BLAKE, LOOK!” Phoebe screeched. “A house! I see a house!” Phoebe could hardly contain her excitement. She glanced at Blake, his color was blanching. She could almost swear his skin had grown taut over his face. “Your dehydrated Blake baby. Hold on we are almost there.” Phoebe pushed down on the peddle and sped forward.

To her amazement, when Phoebe reached the building there was a small sign that read, “ Robert Brown, M.D.” She could not believe her eyes. Finally, there was hope. Phoebe pulled into the small driveway and ran to the door. She banged and pounded with all her might. When there was no immediate response she began racing around the building peering in windows and hammering on them as well. Phoebe was ready to break in for first aid supplies if she needed to. Finally, a tall middle aged man, in normal attire, came and opened the door. His brow was furrowed and he scowled “What in the hell is going on?” Despite his towering frame, and the obvious upset, his voice was soft.

“My husband was bit by a wild animal hours ago. We were camping, and this is the first place I saw. Please help us doctor. It's bad, it's really bad.” Phoebe half led, half dragged the barefooted man to the truck. 

Dr. Brown immediately saw the dire need his new patient was in. With Phoebe's help, he got Blake inside. Upon entering the building, Phoebe realized this country doctor was operating out of his own home. Past the entryway, to the right, was a patient room. This is where they placed Blake on an examination table. The doctor got right to work. “Ma’am go into my office and call 911. This man needs more help than I can give.” Phoebe left to do as she was told.

“They are on their way, '' she said, returning to the patient room. She saw the doctor give Blake a saline solution and clean the wound. He also gave Blake something by mouth, for pain she supposed. “They said they were an hour away. I hate being out here in the middle of nowhere. How is he? Is he okay? Please don’t let him die, doctor. Please. I love him. I need him.” Phoebe pleaded.

“I'm going to finish bandaging him up. Then, we will let him rest till the emergency squad gets here. Why don’t you use the restroom down the hall, and get yourself a drink from the kitchen? If you’d like there are some chairs out on the back porch you can rest in.

“I can't leave Blake,” She protested.

“He is stable for now. He is going to need some more medical treatment, but he isn’t going anywhere. I promise.” the doctor reassured her. “You did a stunning job with that tourniquet by the way. You saved his life Ma’am.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly and headed out to follow his directions. In the bathroom the woman that stared back at her was unrecognizable. Blood had caked in her short blond hair, and it stuck out in various directions. Tears had washed paths down her cheeks, clearing away blood and dirt. There was a small cut in her upper lip. “How had that happened?” she wondered. Her white blouse was a tattered, blood stained mess. Bruises had begun to form in several places. She tried cleaning up as best she could. The warm water from the faucet stung her cuts, especially the large one she got from the glass weapon she had wielded. After she finished washing her face and hands, she continued to the kitchen. She found bottled water in the refrigerator. She gulped down one then grabbed another and headed out on the porch. She still felt a bit uneasy out in the country air, but she forced herself to believe she was safe. Dr. Brown’s porch overlooked a beautiful lake. There was a clearing around it but then trees as far as the eye could see. The dark shadow of the mountains rose behind the lake. She wasn’t alone. Blake was going to be okay. Phoebe leaned back in the rocking chair and closed her eyes.

“Ma’am, I'm sorry to wake you.” The doctor looked concerned. “Ma’am, I left him only for a moment. I swear.” The doctor seemed perplexed. “He….is….gone”. The last word was a croak. Somewhere sirens wailed. 

“I thought you said he was okay!” getting to her feet Phoebe pushed passed the doctor and into the room where she had left Blake. She couldn’t piece together what she saw. An empty table with a spot of blood was before her. “Where is he?” She screamed at the doctor.

“He’s gone...just gone. I don’t understand. He couldn’t have walked off on his own,” the doctor seemed to be talking to no one in particular. His eyes stared at the floor. 

Then Phoebe realized what he actually said. Blake didn't pass away; he was just gone. Gone? Like the wolf? No, she must be having a mental breakdown. She felt the room start to spin and the next thing she knew Phoebe was laying on a couch in the doctor’s living room. There were police and paramedics all around. Dr. Brown brought her a drink and the next several hours were a blur of questions and doubting looks. The police reassured her they would find Blake, and the doctor offered her clean clothes and a place to stay for the night.

Phoebe was drained after the commotion and headed out for some fresh air. She was surprised to see it was night again. “Oh Blake, have I gone insane?'' she asked the night sky. “None of this is real. I need you. Please don’t leave me.” The moon, full and bright, shinned down on the lake casting an eerie reflection across the surface. In the darkness, Phoebe could swear she saw movement in that reflection. Then she heard the sound CLICK-TAP-CLICK. She smelled wet dog and then felt a hot breath on the back of her neck. Slowly she turned, ever so slowly as sweat beaded on her forehead. Her own breath quickened against her will. Slowly. inch by excruciating inch, she turned to see the bringer of that rancid hot breath. Her eyes met with his right before he pounced.

“Blake?”