Agent out of Time (The Agents for Good) (17 page)

Another theory was that the direct competition and fight for survival against the super predators that were alive during the Ice Age had done much to slow down the migration of man. Caves seemed essential to the early settler’s success at surviving the harsh elements, but even there they had met with competition. Cave bears, saber tooth tigers and perhaps worst of all, the cave hyenas, all claimed the caves the settlers needed to survive.

There was a lot of evidence that the fight for these caves had gone back and forth like a game of tug-of-war with different species and mankind trading off the same caves over and over through the years, with man eventually becoming the dominant factor.

While gray wolves such as those stalking us right now had existed in their current form during that time they would of been a mild foe in comparison with their larger cousins the Dare Wolf. On average the Dare Wolf had been at least 25 percent larger than the largest gray wolf. They had been built with stronger stockier frames and their jaw walls were much more powerful than a gray wolves’. It was thought that they had roamed in packs of sixty or more at a time.

You would’ve needed a cartridge belt fed machine gun to taking out a pack of those beasts, if they were on your trail. One had to wonder how man had survived at all faced with such challenges and yet we had and now mankind had virtually mastered every force of nature, save for weather and acts of God. If my ancestors could survive against the monsters the way they had, with stone tipped spears, then I was going to survive against a pack of gray wolves, if only as a matter of principle.

I saw what I had been looking for up ahead. There was a deadfall tree with plenty of dry wood to be had.

“We’ll camp beside that tree.”

Deshavi looked back puzzled at me, as it was but late afternoon and we typically traveled until just before dark. At that same moment a wolf howled nearby letting loose it’s awful lilting melody that had struck fear into the hearts of man for countless generations. It had no less impact on Deshavi.

She froze in place, as even more howls erupted around us and further out in the distance. They were calling in the pack. I urged Deshavi along and we were soon at the tree. I made three fires that formed a triangle of which we were in the middle of and as it got darker we worked hard to pile up extra firewood; in order to make the fires last through the night.

As darkness fell so did the inhibitions of the wolf pack in attacking humans. They came in at us on darting forays trying to grab a hold of one of us and pull us out beyond the heat of the flames. We beat them off with torches. It was a long and sleepless night. That night was followed by two more just like it.

By day they shadow stalked along beside us and at night they were our living nightmares. It didn’t take long to see why my ancestors had needed caves so critically, as a point of survival. Not only had they been a source of shelter from the elements, but if attacked they only had to defend the mouth of the cave and not there back and sides to.

A wolf’s persistence, in a hunt, was usually what paid out for them, but I had a plan to disrupt that strategy. I had diverted our course more to the southwest at the first appearance of the wolves and on the morning of the fourth day it paid off. I watched, as two wolves ranging out in front of us a ways suddenly stopped with their noses held up to the breeze. Excited activity followed among the pack, as a whole, and then they were gone.

Trent looked around at me, “What spooked them off?” He asked with bloodshot eyes.

“Must’ve been something they smelled.”

“Another wolf pack’s territory?” He asked.

“No another predator.”

Deshavi spoke up, “But what other predators are there here besides wolves unless you mean….!” Her voice trailed off, as her eyes got big.

“Tigers?” She squeaked out.

“Yep, we are now officially in tiger country. Last home of the mega-cats.”

They both looked at me, as if I was crazy, but they didn’t say anything as my strategy had gotten rid of the wolves. It was a curious thing the relationship between the wolves and the giant tigers of this land. No one had ever documented an instance of tigers hunting down wolves for prey or eliminating them as a competing predator, but wolf packs avoided tiger territory, as if it had the plague. Rarely, were wolves ever seen, in an area frequented by tigers. They respected the great cats, as did I.

Both Trent and Deshavi were regarding the surrounding landscape more indepthly than they had, when we were being hounded by wolves and I couldn’t resist a little jabbing humor, “What’s the matter? Scared of the big bad tiger?”

They both gave me dark looks and I chuckled.

“Don’t you think coming here is about like jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, grandpa?”

“If we were in India dealing with Bengal Tigers I would agree with your analogy, but we’re not. Siberian Tigers rarely attack people and usually they have good reason to, when they do. There are only a handful of recorded incidents of them attacking anyone and usually it was, because something was wrong with the tiger physically. So perhaps, unlike you two, I at least am going to sleep well tonight.”

Neither of them looked convinced though of the safety of our travel arrangements. The area we were entering now was more mountainous and I really hoped that all the reports I’d heard about its striped denizens were true. I might have to sleep with one eye open anyway.

We made slower time in the up-and-down terrain and I was unable to augment our food supply like I had wanted to. We saw red deer on several occasions and the overwhelming desire to use the rifles was a sharp urge to overcome. We might go hungry some, but if we were able to get out of here by being so careful to not alert others to our presence and get home, we could eat then to our hearts content.

We got a break with a small mountain stream we came across that had a good supply of fish in it. We stayed there by the stream for a day resting and fishing and then we moved on.

It snowed several times, but nothing that made the way impassible to us. It was still early in the season for serious winter weather, but I could feel it coming like a slowly squeezing menace in the back of my head.

Our progress over several weeks of travel was truly astounding and we were doing what few had ever done since the beginning of the Soviet era, escape from Siberia. Another two weeks of travel should see us far enough south and towards the seacoast to arrange an air pick up.

The next day my burgeoning hopes were crushed. Looking back I saw an endless wall of turbulent dark clouds massing along the horizon. True winter was coming. This wasn’t going to be an early snow followed by a partial melt as before.

Nature was cruel in how it could crush one’s hopes, thankfully I didn’t pray to the fickelties of nature for guidance, but rather I prayed to God, who had both created and set nature in its order. Somehow we would get through. It was just going to take longer that was all. What we needed to do now was find shelter from the storm that was coming and I said as much to the others.

The next morning the snow began to fall heavily, with an awful certainty to it. It was hard to see far, because of the thickly falling flakes, which were piling up fast. I wasn’t sure what time of day it was even. We were going to be in a world of hurt soon, if we didn’t find shelter.

Deshavi tripped over something and fell sprawling into the snow. As Trent helped her up I kicked around in the snow curious to see what had tripped her. I found it and reaching down into the snow I felt at it and felt a glimmer of hope rise up in me, as my fingers traced the edges of where an axe had chopped off roughly an eight inch diameter tree.

Out here in the middle of nowhere to find such an occurrence meant someone had to be living close by. We were on a slight rise traveling along a forest edge. To our left was a dip. If someone was living out here they would most likely be located on the lower more sheltered ground. Carrying the cut wood downhill made sense to.

“Come on!” I said and the other two followed me blindly into the semi darkness of the falling snow.

It wasn’t really that hard to find the cabin or better put hillside dugout, even in the poor light. Cautiously I approached it. There was no light inside the dugout, but that didn’t mean no one was home.

The door handle was a simple lever and rope latch design and I tripped it open. Kicking the door slightly it creaked open with enough protest to suggest that it hadn’t been opened in a long time. Gun muzzle up I stepped inside and surveyed what I could see of the dark interior, which wasn’t much. The atmosphere of the place was cold and lifeless.

I clicked on a small flashlight, whose batteries I had been saving, for just such a moment. The room was simple enough. There was a door at either end of it. I went to the one and peered inside. There was a single cot in the sparse room and on it was a skeleton. I guess that answered one question about the place.

Cautiously I studied the remains on the cot. It had been a few years and there was little left, but bone and tattered clothing fragments. The lower left leg bone was broken and two slat boards and some rope still lay in close proximity to the leg.

Out here by himself he’d broken his leg and tried to fix it himself. Weakened likely by infection he’d come in here and this is where he lay. It was a common enough story for people living alone in wild country. I left the room and went to the other side room. It really wasn’t a room, but rather a mineshaft opening. That answered what he’d been doing here in this lonely place. He had likely been a summertime miner come to tap Siberia’s rich mineral wealth, before the winter could set in. It hadn’t worked out so well for him, but for us this place was a godsend. I went to the door and gestured Trent and Deshavi inside. There was no food, but there was firewood and a small stove. That was enough for now.

It was still snowing in the morning, but I did a little poking around outside. I found more wood stacked and dry, some tools, and oddly a ball. It was a big ball and rather heavy as it wasn’t filled with air, rather sand and some sort of shell that was encased on the outside by several layers of leather. I could only guess as to the ball’s purpose. I found several traps. Large traps at that, the kind used to catch tigers. Perhaps the miner had been part poacher too.

It snowed heavy for two more days, which saw us consume most of the rest of our food. Worse than that Deshavi was sick with a cold and would likely only get worse, if we re-exposed her to the cold extremes of the outside wilderness again. It didn’t look good either staying or going.

The snow broke on the third morning and I went out looking for food. There were a lot of small critters about in the dip and despite the snow I was able to take out two rabbits and a squirrel with a homemade slingshot. I’d taken the lead bullet tips of the useless pistol ammunition and smash them down to rough balls with the use of the miner’s tools. It had paid out and at least we would eat for another day.

I was headed back to the dugout, when I came across a heavy path through the snow. It was a bear’s track. A sizable one by the looks of it. The bear must not have decided it was done foraging for the year and ready for hibernation yet. Whatever the case was for its appearance I had to kill it, as it represented a golden chance for all three of our continued survivals.

Chances like this just didn’t come twice in Siberia. It wasn’t far to the dugout and I ran my way there kicking my way through the heavy snow. Trent had his rifle at the ready, but I waived him aside and told him what I needed. He got me one of the old tiger traps and I passed off the two snowhairs to him, but I kept the squirrel for bait. I left the dugout in a hurry, as a clogged up sounding Deshavi, called out for me to be careful.

I let myself sink back into my younger years, when I had been an avid hunter. Plotting a course I headed off, in what I hoped would be an intersecting route, with the bear’s foraging pathway. I was sweating and breathing heavily by the time I reached a likely spot. I skinned the squirrel out and baited the iron jawed trap with him, then I quickly retreated to a vantage point higher up on the slope downwind to wait and watch for the bear.

I waited and waited. Had I missed our golden opportunity at survival?

I was beginning to dread that I had, when I heard a snuffle down the ravine from me. I waited scarcely daring to breathe. I heard the bear rummaging in some bushes before I saw it appear. It was a mature brown bear male of about 600 pounds. More than enough meat to meet our needs. It had caught scent of the squirrel and anxiously I watched, as it approached the trap more warily than I had expected.

What was it doing? Tentatively it reached out a paw and pushed the trap itself around in the snow. It was apparent that it had seen traps in action before and it was wary of what they were capable of. It wanted the squirrel, but not enough. It made several tentative grabs at it, but nothing serious and then it started moving on. My hands tightened on my rifle.

I hadn’t wanted to risk a shot, but now I was going to have to. I brought the rifle up and took aim, as the bear approached a clump of boulders on its leeward side. My finger was squeezing down on the trigger when it happened. Out of the clump of boulders directly in front of the bear sprang the striped colors of a tiger.

The tiger was of a monstrous size and easily a match for the bear. The bear had reared up to its hind legs in its own shocked surprise at being attacked, and its intention to fight if need be. The tiger didn’t hesitate though, but sprung up to its own back legs and closed with the bear at close quarters. One massive clawed paw slammed into the bear’s left side, even as its left paw elevated and caught the side of the squalling bears face and shoved it off to the side. With a husky roar the tiger’s powerful canined mouth spread wide and closed over the bear’s unprotected throat like a vise.

The bear struggled ineffectively and together the two fell over, but the tiger didn’t let go and within moments the bear’s struggles were no more. My hands holding the rifle shook so bad I could hardly keep it aimed. I drew a bead on the tiger that was now ripping into the bear with savage gusto, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger, because I knew what had happened here in this snowy setting.