Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Survival Boot Camp



            This article was originally written for this blog and intended, obviously, to be posted at the beginning of the hunting season. Well, life intervened, as it often does and the article was shuffled to the back burner, until now.
             Even though it was originally intended to open the hunting season, after reviewing it again, I see no reason why it isn't as timely now as it was then. Preparedness calls for a certain level of awareness of your surroundings and a reliable survival kit is appropriate any time of the year.
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            Survival boot camp sounds impressive but the plain fact is it’s just another way to say “intensive survival basics.” You see, the time of year to be aware of the basics of survival is coming around again. That’s right; if you’re a thinking individual it’s about time to get out your shot gun, smoke pole or bow and start tuning it up. Clean and treat those boots before lacing them up and going out on a pre-season scouting expedition, oops, I’m sorry, taking the dog for a walk. Yes dear, I do need the binocular, how else am I going to find the dog if he wanders off?
            I’ve always taught my children that survival begins in the mind, mental preparation. It doesn’t have to be anything more complicated than reviewing what you know about what you’ll be hunting, and what you know about any hazards that might be in the area. If you’ve hunted the area in previous years it shouldn’t take longer than a daydream over a cup of coffee. A really concerted effort might involve a look at the DNR website for the state you hunt to see what the latest word is about hunting conditions. You might even dig out the almanac and see what the forecast is expected to be for opening day.
            O.K., that’s the easy part, you shouldn’t have even spent enough time on it to upset your wife. If you did, Giant Eagle usually has a real good price on rose bouquets. Now comes the tough part, assembling a survival kit.
            Don’t roll your eyes, groan, or even sigh a little bit. It truly isn’t that difficult; if you spend any amount of time outdoors you probably already have everything you need, just not in one spot.
            First we’re going to have a quick review of the basics. A gentleman whom I greatly respect summed it up in this manner, your best chance to stay alive depends on following the “Sacred Order.”
            Now, a quick explanation of the term, the “Sacred Order” isn’t sacred because someone got it while on a mountain top, carrying it down graven on two stone tablets. It isn’t even sacred because someone had some sort of vision.
            It is sacred, quite simply, because it offers the best chance to stay alive and we (Native Americans) view pretty much all life as sacred.
            That having been said, the Sacred Order is: Shelter, Fire, Water, and Food. There is one more thing that isn’t mentioned. If, like me, the years haven’t been especially kind to you and you require medications within a twenty four hour period, make certain that you have at least two days worth of it, with you. An inside pocket of your jacket is usually a good place to keep it.
            Shelter, one of the most common questions I field is “Why is shelter first?” Well, it’s first because most Americans can survive for at least thirty days without food. No water? You can probably last about three days, I once made it for four, but I wouldn’t want to repeat the experience any time soon. Fire is a subject all in its own right and will be addressed separately. Shelter? It’s first because with the right combination of wind, precipitation and temperature you could die within a matter of hours.
            And guess what, one of the times you have the greatest chance of seeing that combination is hunting season.
            So what do we put into our survival kit to help with that, a good knife, my personal choices are the Buck model 110, folding hunter or the Mora 4” fixed blade, high carbon model with the synthetic grip. The determining factor for me is which one is close to hand when I’m heading out. Both are reliable, sturdy knives that haven’t failed me yet. I also pack some sturdy twine or rope; either the heavy grade hemp cordage that craft stores carry, or 550 paracord.
            Over the years I’ve found that being overly finicky about your equipment can lead to its own problems. These days I just try to make certain that I’ve used the item previously, under semi-controlled conditions and that it has served its purpose well. Any equipment that fails is summarily pitched with nary a look back. By the way, giving defective equipment away is a big no-no. Not even to in-laws.
            The last item for shelter is an extra large, contractor grade garbage bag, like all my equipment it has multiple uses. Just don’t make any jokes about using it as a body bag if you mess up, doesn’t go over real well with spouses. Forget about it and use that joke? See my previous observation about the roses, might want to throw some chocolates in too; particularly if your wife doesn’t even crack a smile about it.
            Fire is no problem if you smoke, just don’t take any sort of butane lighter with you as a primary means of making fire. I’ve seen a lot of those fail at crucial moments. Didn’t make much difference to my children and I but most people never seem to realize that even a dead lighter has a viable flint and steel located in it. Zippos are pretty good. Mine has worked down to about minus twenty but it was in an interior pocket. More reliable are matches that have been waterproofed or the British style life boat matches. I back those up with a Swedish fire steel.
            On a personal note, you may have noticed that I mention backups, my truly crucial equipment always has some sort of backup and none of the backups are carried in the same location as my primary gear. Most of the backup gear fits into a small belt bag that cost me all of six dollars at the local big mart. Primary gear pretty much all fits into a field jacket pocket. The Mora goes around my neck and the Buck, if selected, goes on my belt.
            Water, the magical elixir that can give or take life. It makes up fifty five to seventy eight percent of our body weight and we lose about a quart of it, per day, as insensible sweat, and that is the magical number, one quart per day. We learned in the jungles that carrying two quarts with you, however you may decide to carry it, is probably a good idea. Water purification tablets and knowledge of how to obtain more is also good, but if you need rescued, most searches in Ohio will have you back home, complaining, in about twenty four hours.
            Food is a matter of personal taste, literally, I know minimalist campers who only carry a couple of energy bars in their survival gear. Others I’ve seen carry MRE’s (never thought I’d see something I like less than C-rat’s) or some other dehydrated, over processed “food.” My preference is for food that I can recognize as such. So I tend to carry some home made jerky, a bit of corn meal or bread mix and supplement it by foraging.
            Now, as you’ve been reading this article I can almost hear you asking how to use this, what do I do with that and so on and so on. I know this because the twins are reading over my shoulder as I type this and asking those same questions (pre-teen children help keep you honest). What this article is about is the most basic part of survival, equipment selection. For the particulars on what you do with all the gear I listed, well, you aren’t stupid or you wouldn’t be reading this. Go out to your backyard and see what you can come up with.
            Either that or wait for the next article I happen to feel like publishing.


"There isn't one of us that doesn't want to be someplace else. But this is what we do, who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something, your call." 
                                                                                 John Rambo

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Current Events

        First of all, I'd like to apologize to those of you who were waiting for my next post. Life being what it is, nothing is simple, lack of work, then work and finally, too much work. Both of the volunteer and compensated variety. But there is also another work going on .... somehow, someway, a lot of the information living in my head clicked and I got the inspiration for a story.
         Well, that story has taken on a life of it's own and seems intent on becoming a book. This is a teaser of what seems to be coming down the pike. I don't know how long it's going to be or even if its going to be a single shot or a series. We're just going to have to see what my characters want to find that out.
        The working title is The Ani'waya, the Wolf Society or People of the Wolf. That may change and if it does, I'll be noting that here later. In the meantime, if the demands on me as a writer and editor (for someone very special) should change enough to allow the time, I'll be returning with an article about shelter, and a couple of really dumb things I managed to do before working THAT mess out.

        The spacing is a little off, for some reason Blogspot and Word 2007 don't seem to work or play well together. My apologies in advance .....
 
            It’s around midnight; I stare out at the road in front of me and wonder just exactly what’s happened to me; where did what I was cross the line and become what I am? On the run again for the first time in decades; with no real idea where I should run to and with the only real thing known is what I’m running from. But I know sooner or later I’ll have to stop running and face it, all of it.
            The white lines fade off into the distance; I look at the woman sleeping on the bench seat beside me to keep from giving in to their hypnotic dance. She’s not incredibly beautiful but she radiates a strength and vitality that shines even while she sleeps. Lissa is more sensual than beautiful … yeah, I know, it sounds strange but what makes her attractive is a lot more than just appearance. The moonlight playing across her features softens the hardness you’d see if she woke and accentuates the blackness of her long hair. Lissa will never admit how attractive she really is; she’s always downplaying it, but it’s evident more so now than ever. Scarcely two months pregnant but looking as if she just finished her second trimester. The mid-wives who were taking care of her weren’t even the slightest bit surprised as they’d been handling cases similar to this one for some centuries. Hell, a couple of them had even been there at the start of the society and remembered how things used to be before they had joined the Nations.
            Yeah, that’s right, they’d been members of the society for hundreds of years.
            All of this took a lot of getting used to … the longevity they enjoy which is now also mine; the health, the relatively youthful appearance, the body that is nearly indestructible and the phenomenal level of strength. God! Some people would say I’d become a freaking super hero. Others would say that I’m cursed of God.
            Good thing I’m not Christian or there’d probably be some pretty severe issues with what I’ve become.
            I’m a werewolf.
            Well, kind of, but not in the way that Hollyweird likes to portray them.
            I don’t slobber all over the place, nor am I overcome by massive urges to hunt and devour people. There does exist a certain amount of happiness in nipping “special” people in the ass, but it’s all in good fun.
            Relax, OK? I was just kidding. If anyone was nipped, without killing them, then about thirty days later they’d also turn and this isn’t exactly recommended as a lifestyle for most people. Occasionally one does get turned who shouldn’t be; it’s usually by accident but it does happen. We’ll talk about that later though.
            Like I was saying, Hollyweird likes to call what I am a “werewolf.” What my people call me is an asga’ya-ge, a ‘shape shifter,’ shifting doesn’t make me lose my humanity but because what I shift to is a wolf,  it does mean that when I’m a wolf that I sometimes have a little shorter fuse than I, as a human, would normally have. At no point though does it relieve me of the responsibility for keeping myself under control. If I can’t control myself and my gift is used as an excuse then that also has a consequence.
           
The change doesn’t happen unless wanted and I can also hold form at any point of the metamorphosis I might care to … the moon doesn’t have a thing to do with it and it’s all very controllable. I usually only hold at demi-wolf because that phase has certain advantages. That form has the senses of a wolf but keeps humanoid hands and feet, clawed but humanoid; in addition to being able to talk, well, kind of, anyway.
Full wolf is good for some types of combat, scouting and survival but since most people don’t handle large dogs being around (in full change I’m bigger than a dire wolf) very well, there are definite liabilities. Imagine a two hundred fifty pound, six foot four lap dog. Yeah, that big.
            So what are we doing here? How the hell did we get to this point? Driving across the highways for hours on end trying to stay ahead of an enemy that can be smelled but not seen except for glimpses and flashes through the underbrush. Well, not exactly true, I guess, there were the ones we’ve killed so far … ugly brutes, every one of them and their mistress Alpha, was probably the ugliest of them all. Still, I’m driving through the night when I should be holed up somewhere with this woman who’s eventually going to give birth to my children. My children, the twins … god that still sounds weird … then again, there’s only been a couple of months to get used to the idea. More time, and it might even sound like we both participated in the decision that led to their impending birth. Yep, another advantage, Lissa already knows it’s going to be a boy and girl. 
            Enough bitching … let me tell you how all this mess got started.
            It was a really sweet run down the center of the Boundary, the home lands of the Eastern Band Cherokee, my bike was howling enjoyment and I was venting a little noise myself. I wasn’t drunk, not on alcohol anyway. The sound and speed were enough to attract the attention of the local police and they were trying, again, to catch the mystery rider on the black 900cc Kawi’ police interceptor. The cops kind of, mostly knew who the speed demon was but since I hadn’t managed to kill myself or do more than annoy the citizens they just chased me around for a while then gave up on it as a bad job. “We’ll get him when he dumps that thing and spreads his brains across the highway” is what they told the Council once.
            This particular day there was the problem of getting the joker behind me to give up. Despite all the dirty tricks I’d pulled, despite his radio being jammed (NO, I am NOT going to tell you how it’s done!) the little prick continued trying to chase me down. So I did the only thing I could do and geared down; then dropped back for a little glimpse at the ‘wanna be’ nemesis. My helmet was sealed so he sure the hell wasn’t going to see my face.
            The engine roaring its objections at being told to settle down, I dropped a gear and hit the brakes, this brought the cruiser shooting up beside me in no time; I looked in the window. Holy shit! It was the rookie!
            Andy Bellamy had been the bane of my existence since he was in junior high and I was trying to date his sister, I was a freshman in high school and she was a sophomore. She had tighter curves than the stretch of highway going down the mountain! It was a case of pure unadulterated lust, she had a body built for sin and I wanted to teach her how to use it. Little brother Andy had other ideas, like keeping the juvenile delinquents at bay so his sister could graduate high school. We had short lived periods of conflict where he inevitably lost, largely because his sister wanted the lessons as badly as I wanted to give them. He just didn’t have sense enough to understand he wasn’t going to win, no matter what he tried.

             Kind of like now …..
            
             I like that in a person … mostly
             
             Throttling down further I dropped behind him and drifted over toward the shoulder before shifting and opening up the throttle completely. The engine screamed in full fury as the bike jumped out from behind the patrol car; my front wheel heeling up a few inches before settling in.
He tried to swerve into my path but it was too little, too late and my bike eased on past him without effort. Passing the front doors I flipped him off just long enough to make sure he saw it before hitting the nitrous and taking off like the proverbial bat. I wondered if he got the subliminal message he was being sent,
“I can ride circles around you and you can’t do anything about it …”
The patrol car slowly gained more speed, yep, he got the message.
I was hitting my stride but he was beginning to get some front end shimmy, he was pushing the patrol car way past where he could safely manage it. The situation now needed a way to bring things to a close before he hurt himself. Other officers would have long since quit; flipping me off themselves before going back to Gramma Annie’s for a coffee and a slice of her pumpkin pie. Andy just wasn’t the kind of guy to do something like that, as previously mentioned, he isn’t a quitter.
            Ahead of me was a curve with a switchback and a service station lay on the straightaway just past it. If I could gain enough time on the curves, I could really give his chain one last yank before I vanished again.
            Powering through the curves wasn’t a problem, my body and bike were well used to drifting these turns so that I didn’t have to throttle down much. Tires screeched a protest but they followed through the curves without hesitation. Just as the service station came into view I got the distance I needed.
            Close the throttle, stand on the brakes and drift again, this time deliberately losing speed and turning. The sensation of power and control was better than any drug you could imagine. Who needs drugs when you have the hottest bike in the Smokie Mountains? Power sliding through a full 180 I sat there looking up the road I had just burned through. In the corner of my eye I noticed a young woman leaving the station’s office. She was blonde …. damn she looked good! She had what they call a “dancer’s body,” compact, muscular and shaped like a dream. Not a wasted ounce on her! A quick look back up the road, he wasn’t in sight yet but I could hear the patrol car bitching about what Andy was trying to do even through the helmet. The woman, walking like she did she couldn’t possibly be a girl, looked up the road also, then took a couple steps towards the garage and opened the overhead door.  She stood there, leaning against the side of the garage; waiting to see what I was going to do. It didn’t take long to formulate a plan.
            As soon as the patrol car came into view I began a burn, locking down the front brake while I opened up the throttle just enough to throw gravel and dirt everywhere, creating a small tornado of debris and dust. Just before he got to the station I let him catch a glimpse of me taking off down the highway again before the dust storm enveloped me. As soon as the patrol car in my rear view mirror was obscured, I hit the brakes; ran the bike through another 180 and killed the engine to roll quietly back up into the open bay. I could hear the patrol car behind me as it sped down the highway, siren screaming. The bay door closed as I brought the bike to a full stop.
            She came in through the side door while I pulled my helmet off, standing in the doorway a moment, almost like she knew I’d want a good look at her silhouette … damn she was a joy to see! Both for what she did and what I wanted her to do!
            She sauntered up to the bike, grinning, “How long will it take Deputy Dawg to figure out he’s been had?”
            Brushing my hair loose from the mess the helmet had made of it I looked her up and down, my eyes stopping everywhere I found interesting, “Well, the last time he made it all the way to Asheville before they got him to turn around,” I took my jacket off and laid it across the tank so I could cool off, “he’s nothing if not persistent.”
            “That’s over thirty some miles, isn’t it?”
            “I guess, I never paid much attention to it until I got down there, they’re more serious about the speed laws.”
I looked around the garage, there were two bays and everything was in pretty good shape, clean; the shop was well kept, “Who’s the wrench here?” She tossed her head and smiled a wicked little grin, “Who do you think?”  “I’m not sure, but it sure would be nice to know how they are with bikes, most people around here wouldn’t know the difference between tuning the suspension and tuning the engine.”
“I’m pretty good with the engines, so so with the nitrous and don’t even have a clue about motorcycle suspensions,” she canted her head appraisingly, “but I’m told I’m a quick study.”
“What else are you a quick study at?”
She shifted her gaze to the ceiling, smiling, then gave me another long, sideways look, “Ooooo, doesn’t sound like you waste much time, any particular reason you’re in such a hurry?” She took a couple more steps towards me, “Are there more badges hurrying down the road to find you?” She smiled, how the hell does a woman manage to look evil and desirable all at the same time? I don’t know, but I know that I like it! “Not as far as I know, most of the rest of them won’t chase me this far.”
“I know, I usually listen to them on the scanner, funny thing is though, I can never hear them after they start chasing you, only just before, and after they stop,” another step closer, god did I ever want to grab her and pull her the rest of the way to me … note to self, rape is illegal.
“Why is it that I can’t hear them after they start after you?”
I stretched, working some of the kinks out of my back, now it was her turn to look. She didn’t seem to mind what she saw, “Sorry darlin’, but that’s a trade secret, told only to the closest of friends.”

“How close?”

“Very”

She moved closer another half step, “Aand, how close would someone have to be in order to find out this amazing secret?”
I looked down at her, she wore a pink sleeveless tee under her denim jacket, very, very low cut and the view was astounding! She smiled, cupped my chin with her hand and raised my point of aim, “Hey, conversation is up here, remember?” I smiled, “So how close would they have to be?”
“Closer than you are right now.”
She edged closer; I could feel and smell nothing but her and her breathing, “This close maybe?” I was having trouble concentrating, “Ummm, closer,” I knew I was asking for trouble but I didn’t want her to stop, I wanted to know how far she was going to take it. She sidled closer, now I could feel all five feet of her against my five nine, her voice came out a lot softer, “This close?”
“Almost there”
Her hands drifted up from where they’d been resting, on my arms and circled around my neck, gently, never losing contact with my body, it felt like fire everywhere she was touching me as she leaned into me and kissed me, hard, soft and nothing but woman all the way through. She took her time, making sure I knew I’d just been kissed and guaranteeing that I’d never forget it was her who’d kissed me. After a long, delicious moment she drew back slightly and asked, almost whispered, “This close?”
“Yeah”
“What’s your name?”
“Aaron”
“I like that name …”
“Cops radios won’t work …” She shut me up with a kiss, “Tell me after …” 
Things got even more interesting after that. I was just glad that I didn’t have anywhere else to be, I never would have got there in time.
CoriAnne had spent most of her life in those mountains, she’d even gone to the same school as I had, but she’d been about three years behind me. She’d literally been the snotty little kid who followed along at the edge of the crowd. I’d never noticed because I’d been obsessed with Linda Bellamy. But Linda had decided she could do better than some mountain trash and moved to Fayetteville, just outside Ft. Bragg. The last time I’d heard from her she’d hooked up with some captain, or something and was about to marry him. Then there was a major, then a lieutenant colonel and then a whatever … you get the idea.
Cori’s father hadn’t wanted her to get any bright ideas so he sent her off to a boarding school, girls only thank you, just as soon as she started to get interesting. From there she’d gone on to prep school where she majored in physics, but everything fell apart as soon as her father got sick, bad sick with cancer. A little souvenir of the time he’d spent in SE Asia. He had wanted her to keep going and at least get her bachelor’s degree, so that she would have the chance to do something more than he had but she wasn’t having anything to do with that. As soon as she found out he was sick she came back to help and wouldn’t leave until he either got better or died. The VA doctors he’d been to had managed to buy him some time but they weren’t holding out any great amounts of hope.
Burt, that’s her dad’s name, he let a few people know he needed help and why. Those few contacted a couple of others, who spoke to some friends, who knew people familiar with these matters and late one night he got a visit from someone who’d spent most of their life out of contact with the outside world, the world of the Anyi’ unega. He was starting to look better and they weren’t making any promises either, but their efforts seemed to lead to the beginning of a full remission.
It had been a few months of progress now; Burt was looking almost as good as new and he was looking to hold Cori to her promise to get back to school as soon as he was clear of the danger. She wasn’t so sure that she wanted to go back but she didn’t want to disappoint him either, each of them was the only family that the other had.
The wrinkle that entered the picture was me, professional bad boy and the asshole who’d been the target of her budding sexual urges. She hadn’t been interested in “boys” since she’d seen me and had spent the time away from home pretty much celibate. All those years, all that time; all those fantasies and sexual frustration came completely unglued that day in the garage. Neither of us had been disappointed that day, or the rest of the time we’d had together. It was only just starting to get interesting when everything went completely to hell.
We’d had almost a full year together, Burt was looking better and Cori was making some overtures to colleges in the area so that she could at least be home on weekends. Burt had come to the realization that I wasn’t going away and that we both wanted only the best for Cori. Although she still did most of the mechanical work I pretty much ran the garage. Their steady customers still looked at me like they suspected that this might be up to some new form of mischief but some of the elders were warming to the idea that I might actually be settling down. They’d even, presumably without my having found out, made inquiries of Burt as to whether it was going to be a traditional or Christian wedding ceremony.

Personally, I didn’t care as long as it was Cori I was marrying.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine a life without her.

My bad

We’d planned a hunting trip up onto the mountain; my gear was packed and set next to the door. This trip the plan was to use my muzzleloader, a .50 caliber monster that had brought a lot of meat into my house. Cori and Burt were just going to enjoy their last weekend before she started back to school. I had originally planned on staying too, but we needed the meat to make it through the winter. The shop did OK but we sure the hell weren’t going to get rich from it. So it was up to me to make certain we had enough meat, that way, we could divert money to other, equally necessary things. Cori had been teasing me about being the “mighty hunter” or “Kanati” all week. Burt just shook his head and went on about his business.
One of the things I’d packed was my CB radio, I didn’t figure on having any problems but Cori wanted me to have a way to call for help if something happened, or if I found someone with a difficulty. I thought it was kind of silly, we’re all a pretty self sufficient bunch up here but the radio was packed anyway; it made her feel better.
I told her I’d have it on each night, just in case she wanted to give me a call and talk a little before she went to bed. We both knew that a deer wasn’t just going to wander off the path and stand in my camp for me to shoot. Between scouting and stalking a deer it was going to take a few days.
The day I left for the lowlands she gave me a long hug and a kiss that almost made me call the whole thing off. I asked her if that’s what she wanted; she smiled, told me not to be silly because we needed the food and hugged me again. I held her close, not wanting for it to end. Burt was sitting on the porch swing looking up the mountain. He didn’t say anything at first, but after a couple of minutes he quietly asked, “You two waitin’ for that deer to drop over dead from old age?”
We all laughed
The first night went pretty much the way we thought it would, I’d spent the day searching out a good spot for a base camp and found one that was only about a mile in from the road. I was able to save myself a lot of sweat because there was a Forestry Service road that ran down the border between the state and federal land; that meant that I could ease our jeep down the track and park it at my camp. This gave me a few more options, like being able to run my CB off it and save the batteries for when I was hunting. It also meant that I wouldn’t have to pack the meat as far to get it to the jeep. Things were looking pretty good, maybe Kanati was watching his grandson, and smiling.
I talked to Cori that night, just after darkfall,  telling her of our good luck and that I’d even found a few heavily traveled deer trails about a quarter mile farther into the bush. I might even be coming back before the weekend was over. She sounded happy to hear that, I wish I could remember more of what we talked about, I wish I could remember better how her voice sounded. I wish a lot of things, mostly that she was still here with me.
It still won’t change what happened next though.
It was just after daybreak, I’d just finished my coffee and I was glassing the forest looking for any sort of movement that might give me a clue where to start my hunt. I had just decided to move up the mountain then move down the trail that crossed onto the Federal lands; if I was quick enough I could get my first deer without alerting the park rangers. Before I could pick up my hunting kit Burt’s voice came over the radio, “E’ya’ni, you out there?” I picked up the radio, “Right here, what do you need E’do’da?”
“Is Cori down there with you?”
“No”
“You sure she’s not there?”
“Are my bike and the Mustang both there?”
“Yeah, both still in the garage”
“Then how the hell could she get up here? What’s going on Burt?”
“I don’t know, but she wasn’t home when I got up this morning, I was hoping that she might be down there with you.”
This wasn’t at all like her, she’d never even gone down to the store without letting Burt know where she was, “I’m on my way back, start calling her friends and see what they know.”
My hunting kit got tossed onto the front seat of the jeep and the rest of my gear in the back, I could always repack it later, right now I just needed to make time.
I don’t know how, but I made it down that fire road and back up the mountain in record time and without killing myself. Although there was that trucker who nearly got sideswiped in my hurry to get on the main road. That air horn was still giving voice to his indignation as I rounded that first bend on my way back home. The sun was just glancing out from the horizon but for the first time in about a year I didn’t find any joy in it, just worry.
When I got there Burt was standing out front talking with the sheriff and a couple of the local cops. Awww shit, Andy was one of them … I sure the hell didn’t need any grief from him today. I was walking up to them when Burt saw me, excused himself and came over, worry, fear and worse were on his face as he fought to maintain his composure, “Do you know anywhere she might have gone?” he asked, “Is there anyone she might have gone to help or something?” He grasped my arm, a drowning man searching for a ray of hope, his voice barely a whisper, “Where’s my little girl?”
“I don’t know E’do’da, what do the cops think?”
“They’re looking around, trying to find a hint, a clue ….”
I was just as lost as him, both of us trying to comprehend what was happening, we had a common cause but were equally at a loss for an answer. We were looking at each other; looking around and trying to fathom what to do next, how could we help Cori.
Most of all … the question loomed … where do we begin?
Andy kind of solved that question for us, seeing me he came over and I readied myself for some accusations or finger pointing. Instead, he grasped my elbow and said, quietly, “Aaron, could you come with me for a minute?” I glanced over to Burt, he waved us on and we walked around to the back of the house.
“I’m sorry to have to see you like this, under these circumstances …”
This was definitely not how I thought it was going to go.
“Thanks Andy, how can I help?”
“First, I want you to know that the elders have been speaking well of you, since you got together with Cori, some of them had even said they thought the two of you would make a good couple”
“I’m glad to hear that” Where was this going?
“They also tell me you’re a good hunter”
“I do OK”  
We’d gotten around to the back of the house, under Cori’s room, I looked up at the window and noticed that the screen was pulled away from the frame. It hadn’t been like that before I left … I’d just finished weatherproofing the house and it had all been ready for the coming winter. The screen had only been left in her window because she liked the night air while she slept. I turned and began scanning the mountainside. Andy put his hand on my shoulder, “Aaron, look at this and tell me what you think of it …” he pointed down at the ground beside the house, directly under Cori’s window, “There, what do you think that’s from?”
I glanced at the ground wondering what the point to all this was and that’s when I saw the tracks. Dropping down to one knee I studied them, running my fingers over their surface, letting the knowledge inherent in the tracks make its way to my mind directly.
Four toes, front and rear, claws showing but the heel pad was elongated, odd looking, where the tracks were directly under the window. They were also a hell of a lot deeper in the toes than the other tracks, something had jumped up here. Looking up at the window again I could see that where the screen was hanging from one side; the other three sides looked as though they’d been cut. Looking around I saw more tracks, both leading to and from the same area that Andy had first shown me. The tracks coming in weren’t as deep … a chill ran down my spine … this shouldn’t be, it wasn’t making sense but I knew that the tracks couldn’t lie.
I looked at Andy.
            “Something’s wrong here, these tracks aren’t making any sense”
            “What do you see?”
Pointing at the tracks I taught him to see what I saw, “Here, the track looks like someone pasted together the track of a human and some sort of dog, or something like a dog, the pads don’t look right for dog but I don’t know what else they could be … it sure the hell isn’t wolf or anything else I’ve ever seen. The real problem is that the track has to be phony as a three dollar bill, but there isn’t a seam in it anywhere and they feel alive, like whatever made them is real and breathing.” I glanced over the other tracks and followed them back to the tree line, “Look at this, as the trail goes back further the heel gets shorter until the track looks the way I’d expect them to look” I looked at Andy again, “There’s just no way you’re going to convince me that some animal had it’s heel pad lengthen, no animal I’ve ever seen can grow or change itself like that.”
            Andy was looking at the tracks, not saying anything.
            “Hey!” Andy looked up, “What’s the fucking joke? What the hell does this have to do with Cori?”
            “I don’t know” Great, a cop who doesn’t know what’s happening, what a surprise.
            “Aaron, the real problem is that these same sort of tracks have been seen at two or three other disappearances over the past month and we don’t know what they mean” Andy took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket; he offered me one but I waved him off, not a vice I’d ever been interested in. He took one from the pack and lit it before continuing, “We’ve had some biologists take a look at photos and castings of these tracks and they agree with you that the out of character tracks have to be fake, but they can’t prove they’re fake either” he pointed at one of the tracks near the tree line, “but they all agree that the ‘normal’ tracks are hyena tracks.”
            Hyena tracks? Aren’t hyenas supposed to be in Africa or something? What the hell is a hyena doing in North Carolina? These and a thousand other questions ran through my mind as I tried to make some sense out of what he was telling me. There were a lot of guys around here who’d have no end of laughs at the thought of having one upped me, but none of them, especially Andy, would stoop to trying something like that when it involved a life. I started casting around, trying to find more proof of what had happened, more evidence of who had stood beneath Cori’s window and what they had done. Focusing on the tracks gave my mind an out, something to do other than to dwell on the fact that Cori was missing.
            The tracks inbound to Cori’s window followed a deer path from about twenty or thirty feet inside the tree line; back there I found that there had been two other hyenas but they had broken off from the one who’d approached the window about and stayed just inside the tree line, waiting.
 Just at the edge of the clear cut, where we’d trimmed the grass down to what most folks would consider to be a normal length for a lawn, I could smell something a little odd. I let my nose lead me to the source of the smell, there was a scent tag on the tall grass. I dropped to a crouch and looked for the source. Just about at the level of my eyes the grass had a whitish, paste on it. That meant the animal had to be about three and a half feet at the shoulder … wait a minute, three and a half feet? I took the tape measure I generally carry; went back to the tracks and measured the stride … a body length of six feet?
            “How big do those things usually run?”
            “What?”
            “The hyenas, how big do they usually run?”
            “I don’t know … what’s that got to do with anything?”
            “You need to find out because whatever else you know about it, this thing is as big as most panthers and about big enough to challenge a blackie.”
Andy got on his radio and started talking to his dispatcher while I went back to the window and started tracking forward from there to see what happened. I found the impact point where whatever it was had landed after jumping down from the window. I couldn’t help but notice that the tracks were heavier going out than they’d been coming in, I had to force myself to concentrate on the tracks; not think about why they were so much heavier coming out.
            God ….. Cori, where the hell are you?
I was still looking at the tracks, making certain that even the smallest details were registered, narrow shoulders, broader hips … probably a female. With most mammals the male was larger than the female so if that were true, the male would be a fucking monster! I’d have to check with those biologists and see what they could tell me. Looking up I saw Andy directing a couple of his scientists to the scent markings I’d found, they carefully collected some samples, hell, I hadn’t even thought of that, I just wiped the crap off on my denims. Mental note to self, try not to do anything that might screw things up for the science guys again.
            Burt glanced around the corner, he wanted to come over but one of the cops had stopped him. I walked over to see if he’d found out anything from the phone calls he’d been making while I was out back.
            “Got anything?”
            “No, no one’s seen her since yesterday at the Quick Stop.”
We’d gone to the Stop to get a box of donuts, but that’d been almost seven o’ clock yesterday morning. I looked back at the tracks, they were still wet from last night’s dew and the extra dew that transferred from the hyena’s foot … that meant that they were made after  it was  cold enough for the dew so that was what? About three hours after nightfall … and Cori was one to go to bed early, especially since she knew I’d be moving out around sunrise. I know she wanted to talk with me before I hit the trail. I had planned on telling her where I was headed. So that meant … whatever happened, had happened sometime between eleven o’ clock last night and first light. Factor in that they were dealing with about a hundred and two pounds of dead weight.
            No, not ‘dead’ weight, it can’t be ‘dead’ weight … she’s still alive, I know she’s alive.
            One hundred and two pounds of unconscious victim
One hundred and two pounds of unconscious victim is going to slow them down some, it has to … 
            “Andy”
He looked up from his conversation with his scientists, “You got something?”
            “I think I have your time frame for you”
I explained what I found and how it told me when things had to have happened. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked real thoughtful. After a few moments he came to some inner decision, “There’s one more thing you need to see, I’m not supposed to do this but you’ve given us more to work with than we’ve gotten from any of the other scenes.” We went in through the back door where he had a quiet conversation with the officer watching the door. The guard protested until Andy pointed out that the Chief had made him the Lead Investigator and that I was a Subject Matter Expert he needed to assist in
interpreting the crime scene. The guard stood aside; letting us go up the stairs without any further comment, but the look on his face spoke volumes. The idiot was fully convinced I’d had something to do with her disappearance. I ignored the scowl and just ‘raised the blanket’ further; keeping myself stone faced as we left him behind.
            At the door to Cori’s room, the room I’d shared with her until that morning, Andy asked the technicians to leave the room for a couple of minutes, at least long enough for me to look around and tell him what I could read from what was there.
            It was weird … the whole room felt familiar but at the same time … well … different, like it belonged to someone else and I’d only been there a couple of times. Not much of anything looked disturbed; her clothes were draped across the chair next to her dresser … crossing over to the window I began running my hands over the sill lightly, careful not to do anything that could leave a fingerprint.
Just under the sill there were claw marks, eight of them, where they’d dug in hard; the wood of the window frame was pulled out slightly as if something heavy had been hung from there. Without a word I pointed them out to Andy and turned my attention to the room. Her diary lay on her desk, she’d invited me to look at it several times and I’d always refused. Even with the other people who’d been in there the tracks of her attacker were glaringly obvious. The floor was varnished and recently washed … the tracks shown as though someone was shining a spotlight on them and not just because the claws had left marks … there were oil marks too, the kind when you walk barefoot across that type of flooring. So, whatever else I could say about the thing it was definitely something alive.
            The path led from the window to the bed … there were signs of a struggle but it had been brief, Jesus … there was blood on the bed and a light trail of it from the bed to the window. My breath caught in my throat, I felt dizzy and desperately wanted to be ill but I didn’t have time for that, there was still a chance for her. I needed to pull myself together and see if there was a way to help her.
            “You OK?”
Andy, yeah, Andy was right there holding my elbow, steadying me, wanting to help but trying not to cross any lines.
            “I’m fine” pushing him back gently “Thanks, but I’m fine, I just need a minute.”
            “It’s all good, take your time”
Concentrate, think, what’s next, where’s the next track?
Nothing teaches you more than the first track that you can’t find
‘What’s this mean?’ Grandpa Hartsock, my maternal grandfather, his eternal question rang in my head, past the pounding in my temples and the heightened awareness of the blood singing in my ears ‘What’s this mean?’ My eyes searched the room, don’t think about it, just take it in and let the cues assemble themselves.
What’s this mean?
  Think
What’s this mean?
Think, what does this pattern mean? What does it … oh god … NO!
I bolted from the room, Andy following close behind, “Aaron, what is it?”
“No time, I have to get on the trail NOW!”
“Why?”
“She was alive when she was taken, unconscious but alive …”
“Aaron, what the hell are you saying? Make sense to me!”
I half turned toward him, “Most predators only take prey alive for one reason … that’s how they prefer to eat them!” I dashed out the door, jumping down the steps, “It hasn’t been that long and we’ve kept the pressure on them, they’ll need distance before they feel comfortable …”
Andy stopped, turning white as he thought about it before saying, “What do you need? What can we do?”
“Stay the fuck out of my way!”
Running to the jeep I grabbed the hunting gear that’d been dropped on the front seat; now it seemed that Kanati was truly smiling on me, he’d given me a chance to get back the woman I loved. Strapping on my hunting belt with my antique Bowie and throwing my shooting bag over my shoulder, rifle in hand and I was starting down the trail after them, who or what, ever they are I planned a deadly greeting for them when I found them. Whatever it took I wanted to make certain they knew that the Cherokee were nothing to trifle with, especially this Cherokee.
Pushing past the officers who were going about their assigned tasks I went running back to the rear of the house; Andy was out front shouting orders, I heard something about a helicopter but I was too busy with getting on the trail of my prey, yeah, they took my woman, my mate …. now they were my PREY!
Casting around from where the prints came back down from the room, it didn’t take me long; they left a disturbance trail that a blind Native could follow. They didn’t think there was anything around that was big enough to challenge them.
We’ll see about that …..
I started down the path the bitch had taken, it started out as just a deer trail and angled down the hill. Where the trail intersected a main game trail they turned right, to parallel the ridgeline, I stayed on them; moving as fast as possible. Behind me, I heard two blasts from a whistle, that must be Andy trying to catch up … I stopped long enough to blow the hunting horn I carry with me, the sound carries for miles. A brief pause and then an answering whistle blast, a single blast, good, he’s on the way then. 
 
I resumed my chase following the trail as it kept just below the ridgeline.  Reaching a rocky outcrop I stopped, glassing the area; trying to steal a jump on the motherless pieces of shit who’d stolen my love.
Just before coming to a decision about which way to go, a helicopter swept in; keeping low to the ground. They paused long enough to make certain I saw them and I waved them down the trail I’d seen hoping that maybe they’d be able to direct me better. The helo wheeled off in the direction I’d pointed; swooping down along the valley floor. I began my run along the same trail. Andy would probably have wanted them to land and pick me up but the nearest clearing where they could do that was back at the garage, I was entirely on my own out here.
Same situation, different day
The helo followed the direction I’d pointed until it reached the creek that followed the floor of the ravine, once down there the pilot began to circle outwards. He kept low enough for him to be able to see what was on the ground but high enough that he still had a pretty wide field of view. I kept to the track I was following, unless he came up with something better I didn’t have much choice. No matter what else we had to keep the pressure on; not let the hyenas think that they could rest for even a minute.
Humans would kill their hostage with that much heat on them but hyenas were just animals; they’d either run themselves to death trying to retain their prey or drop it or run. They didn’t have any motivation to keep something that was going to cost them calories or get them unwanted attention, that was a human motivation, keeping something solely because you wanted possession of it. That took ego; generally speaking most predators don’t have that little wrinkle.
The helo had tracked over to my left about a hundred yards or so, where the ground had a small rise, possibly a lower level outcrop of rock, when it started circling. Then the deputy flying the helo hit his siren.
Bingo! They’d made visual contact with the group!
The pilot began circling, blasting his siren and flashing the ground with his spotlight. Every now and then he’d come in and let them have it with the prop wash … sending dirt and debris flying up onto the rock. I still couldn’t see the top of the rock because a part of the hill lay between me and my goal.
            As I topped the last rise before the outcrop the ground was high enough for me to see down into the ravine where the action was taking place. There were two hyenas trying to skulk away from the outcrop but they seemed pretty afraid of the helo. A larger one, it had to be that bitch, stood on top of the outcrop with something in front of it …. Cori?
            Across the ravine I could see Andy and two of the deputies coming down a clearing that abutted a fire road.
They were trail breaking with quad runners, moving slow but still faster than they could have been otherwise. Andy spotted the action and stopped to glass the scene. I saw him raise his rifle, then a flash from the muzzle. There was the characteristic noise of a ricochet as the round hit the bottom edge of the outcrop. That’s when the bitch lay down on the other side of Cori. What the hell? Why is it that nothing about this was making any sense? How could the bitch understand that Cori could act as a shield for even a little bit? I could see Andy and the other two officers trying to get an angle on her but laying flat like she was they didn’t have much of a chance to get her without hurting, or killing, Cori.
I was making time down the slope as fast as I could but it still didn’t feel fast enough. A trail lay about fifty feet below me and it’d allow me to make better time to the outcrop than I could otherwise have made. I half jumped, half ran until I hit the trail and began my run to the outcrop.  
Rounding the last bend I came on the two males. They were at a full run trying to get away from the trouble, Andy and the others had no reason to shoot them, they were leaving the scene. I had an issue with them though because they had helped that bitch take my Cori. The first one never even saw me. I didn’t slow down or stop as I took the barrel of the Colonel in both hands and swung for all I was worth. The impact snapped his head to the side and sent him rolling down the hillside. The second one slowed for a moment, then started some weird kind of high pitched laughing noise before charging toward me. I crouched, holding my ground; as he lunged toward me I slipped to the side, bringing my Bowie up and burying it between his ribs, all the way to the hilt. The wretched thing fell over almost instantly as the blade penetrated the heart and the lungs; then rolled lifelessly down into the ravine.
The bitch seemed to realize it was in trouble now. It skulked around to the other side of Cori, I could see her moving weakly, I don’t know if she was trying to wave at me or if she even knew I was there. I stood at the top of the rise, pulled my tomahawk from my belt and screamed at the thing, “Currahee!”
An old battle cry, Grandpa told me once that it meant ‘I stand alone’, I am the shield of my people, I am here and I will be your death. It meant all that and more and on this day it also meant, ‘You or me bitch, one of us is dying NOW!’
The Colonel in my right hand, my tomahawk in my left I raised both hands and screamed again, “Currahee!” The bitch moved and put Cori between me and her; at the same time keeping a wary eye towards the police on the other side of the ravine.
            “Watch me, you bitch! Watch me because I will kill you!”
I could hear Andy talking to his officers but I couldn’t make out what they were saying, it didn’t matter to me anyway, not right then. I was close to getting Cori back and couldn’t handle any distraction.
There was too much distance between us for me to charge her and the angle, uphill with that rocky outcrop was a bad situation to try a shot, even with a scoped rifle. Even if I could make the shot work, it was close enough for over penetration and ricochet to be a problem. I had to try drawing her out somehow.
            Off to my left I could hear movement, the male that I clubbed was starting to regain consciousness and was moving around; acting on a hunch I pointed down at it with my tomahawk, “Look there! Look!” I placed the tomahawk in my belt again, bringing the Colonel up in a cross body hold I’d used many times before, “You hurt her and I kill yours!”
What the hell was I thinking? I don’t know but at the time it felt like the right thing to do, it seemed to work because she stopped, crouching low among the rocks. The male stirred some more, looking around; not knowing what else to do I pointed the Colonel at him more directly and, with a quiet menace, told him to, “Stay.” For whatever reason … I seemed to see comprehension in the hyena’s eyes as it sat down where it was and watched the proceedings. I kept my rifle on it as I continued, speaking in a low growl.  
           
“Get away from her right now and we all live”
I motioned at the male with the Colonel, “anything else, I start with big boy here and finish …” I swung the rifle slightly in her direction, “… with you.”
            About then I saw Cori roll over onto her side; she looked up, trying to locate me.
 I motioned for her to stay down … she closed her eyes while her hands went to her throat, briefly and then she lay back with both of them extended in front of her. I took a step forward being careful to keep the barrel on the male to my left.
“C’mon, it’s over … let her go and we all go home …”
The bitch placed her right foreleg on Cori’s side, if it had been a human I would have said that she was trying to be possessive about it but that was impossible, hyenas don’t have the same motivations as a human. It’s only an animal for crying out loud!
The helo continued to orbit, I was too close in now and the pilot couldn’t do anything more, but he was staying close, just in case he saw an opening I guess.
Cori opened her eyes again and the bitch growled softly, Cori kept her eyes focused on me while she thought … I could see her debating something and I could only hope she wasn’t going to decide something crazy. When she came to a decision I could see the fires start to burn in her eyes, she smiled evilly, Oh god, Cori, please don’t do this thing … looking at me she said, “Gv-ge-yu-hi”, softly; then she looked back down at the bitch and said, “Gv-ge-yu-hi!” louder. The bitch looked down at her, not comprehending anything at this point. Cori looked at me one last time, all blood and fury, before shouting, “Ka- li-wo-hi Tsalagi!” The bitch drew its head back slightly, growling, and Cori screamed, “Ka-li-wo-hi Tsalagi!”
All hell broke loose at that point as Cori slashed at the bitch with a neckknife I’d made for her, carbon steel plated with silver and a paracord wrapped handle.
Her slash raked across the bitch’s chest and throat with the six inches of razor sharp blade cutting through the fur and hide as if it wasn’t even there, blood spraying from an artery. At the same time Cori rolled over onto her stomach, trying to jump up and away to freedom. There were shouts from the other side of the ravine just before the bullets started to fly. The shots were measured and careful but they still weren’t able to target the bitch real well … they tried to buy Cori room though, tried to make the bitch give it up as a bad idea.
            Even so, she didn’t make it
The bitch caught her just as she started to make her jump; she was on Cori before she’d even gotten a full body length away from her. Caught her by the neck and just bit down, severing my love’s neck in a single bite.
At the same time I pulled the Colonel’s trigger, I’d warned her and now I finished the job … placing a bullet squarely in the center of the male’s head. Spraying blood and brain out the back of it as the .50 caliber ball passed through like it wasn’t even there.
I threw the Colonel to the ground, pulling out my tomahawk as I ran toward the bitch, screaming fury every inch of the way. “God damn you, you whore!” I wasn’t fast enough … she jumped down the other side of the outcrop and made a run for the treeline at the end of the ravine. The helo followed, trying to keep her in sight and went with her over the ridge.
I walked up to Cori, laying there with blood pouring from her severed neck, I stroked her hair, I don’t know what I was thinking, hell, I don’t even know that I was thinking. I just wanted to groom her, make her pretty. I didn’t want Burt or anyone else to see her like that. She always wanted to look good and no amount of assurance on my part could ever convince her that she didn’t need to look like a Barbie doll all the time.
I took my hunting coat off and laid it across her, covering her as if she were cold; covering the horrific mess that had been her neck. I was running on automatic, memories of Cori running through my mind.

        As Andy and the other officers made their way to us, I just sat there beside her, crying, afraid to move her and wanting to hold her more than anything.












There isn't one of us that doesn't want to be someplace else. But this is what we do, who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something. Your call. John Rambo