Wolf Totem: A Novel (66 page)

Old Liu screamed, “Those are damned smart wolves. Why did they have to run to a place like this?”

Staff Officer Xu said coldly, “Get a grip on yourself. This isn’t a drill, this is war!”

The mad chase went on for seven or eight more
li,
closing the distance to the lowland, which was strewn with stumplike weeds. But they had drawn to within range. “Swing around!” Xu shouted. Liu swung the vehicle around like a battleship, its big guns trained to the side. Xu had the wolves where he wanted them. Bang! The biggest wolf fell, shot in the head. The pack scattered, but another shot brought down a second wolf.

Almost at the same time, the remaining wolves reached the dry weeds, out of range. They ran toward the border and disappeared in the grass. Guns to the northwest fell silent as their vehicle came to a stop at the place where the slope met the lowland.

Mopping his sweaty brow, Xu said, “Those wolves are too smart. I should have been able to take down a few more.”

Bao gave him two thumbs up. “That was fantastic! Four wolves in less than thirty minutes. I’ve been doing this for six months and have yet to kill a single one.”

Xu, still on a high, said, “The topography is too complex here, a good place for the wolves’ guerrilla warfare. No wonder they can’t be eliminated.”

The vehicle moved slowly toward the dead wolves. The second had been shot in the chest, its blood soaking the grass around it. Bao and Liu carried the heavy carcass around behind the vehicle. Old Liu kicked the wolf. “There’s enough meat on this one for ten people.” He opened the trunk, took out a canvas bag, and laid it on the backseat. Then he took out two large burlap sacks and stuffed a wolf into each before loading the sacks into the trunk. He left the tailgate down, intending to use it to carry the other two carcasses.

Chen wanted to open up one of the wolves’ bellies to show what it held, but the soldiers had no interest in skinning them there. “Do you really plan to eat wolf meat?” he asked. “It’s sour. The herdsmen never eat it.”

“Nonsense,” said Old Liu. “Wolf meat isn’t sour; it’s like dog meat. I’ve eaten it back home. It’s better than dog meat if you know how to cook it. See how fat this one is? Cooking wolf isn’t much different from cooking dog. You put it in cold water for a day to get rid of the gamey smell, then add garlic and chili pepper and stew it for several hours. It smells wonderful. Back home, the whole village would show up to ask for some if you stewed a pot of it. Everyone says wolf meat gives you courage.”

“The herdsmen out here practice a form of sky burial,” Chen said, somewhat maliciously. “When someone dies, the family carries the body to a burial ground to feed the wolves. Are you really prepared to eat wolves that have eaten human flesh?”

Liu didn’t care. “I know all about that. It’s okay as long as you don’t eat the stomach or intestines. Dogs eat human excrement, but have you heard anyone say dog meat is dirty? We use night soil to fertilize vegetables. Do you consider them filthy? We Chinese love to eat dog meat and vegetables. The corps sent down so many people that lamb has been rationed. Everyone’s going crazy just thinking about meat. These wolves won’t be enough to feed them all. But there are more sheep in the world than wolves.” Liu thought he was being funny.

Staff Officer Xu laughed. “The division bosses placed an order for wolf meat with me before I came out here. I’ll have to take these to them tonight. Some say wolf can cure bronchitis, and a few sufferers have signed up. I’m like a doctor. Killing wolves is wonderful work; first, you get rid of the scourge for the people; second, you get yourself a pelt; third, you help the sick; and fourth, you cure people who hunger for meat. You see, four birds with one stone. Four in one!”

Chen realized he’d never be able to dampen their wolf-killing spirit even if he managed to show them a belly full of dead mice.

Liu drove back to where the first wolf had fallen. The head was shattered, for the bullet had entered from the back, sending gray matter and blood oozing to the ground. He was relieved to see there was no white stripe on the neck and chest. This was not the White Wolf King. He was sure it was an alpha male that had led a few fast wolves to lure the enemy away from the pack. But it had been unprepared for something like the vehicle and for sharpshooters and their weapons.

After wiping off the blood and gray matter with clumps of grass, Liu and Bao happily bagged the wolf, carried it over to the tailgate, and tied it down. “This wolf’s head is almost the size of a two-year-old bull,” Liu commented. They got into the jeep to drive over to Staff Officer Batel.

The two vehicles met up. Batel pointed to the bulging hemp sack in the backseat and shouted, “We encountered nothing but willow-tree stumps and could hardly move. I had to fire three times to bring down a cub. This pack was all females and cubs, one big family.”

Xu said emotionally, “The wolves here are demonic. The males left the best retreat route for the females and their cubs.”

Bao shouted, “Another one! A victory. A great victory! This is the happiest day I’ve had since coming to the pasture. Finally, a chance to vent my anger. Let’s go pick up the other two dead ones. I brought food and drink, so we can celebrate.”

Chen jumped out to check out the cub. He untied the sack and saw that it looked like his cub but was bigger. He was surprised that his cub was smaller than the wild one even though he’d given him the best food he could manage. The wild cub was fully grown in less than a year and had learned to hunt and to feed itself. But it died at man’s hand just as its life had begun. Chen rubbed the dead cub’s head as if touching his own cub; this one died because he wanted to keep his.

They drove south. Chen felt miserable as he turned back to look at the border grassland. In less than an hour, the alpha male and lead wolf had been killed in a sort of attack they’d never encountered before. The rest had escaped across the border and might never return. But how could they survive without a strong leader? Bilgee once said, “A pack without its territory is worse than a dog that has lost its owner.”

They returned to where the first shot had been fired. The powerful wolves lay in their own blood, encircled by swarms of flies. Unable to bear the sight, Chen walked off by himself to sit on the grass and gaze at the distant sky across the border. What would Bilgee think if he knew that Chen had led men on a wolf hunt? He’d taught him so much about wolves, and now he’d used that knowledge to kill them. He didn’t know how he was going to face the old man. By nighttime, the wolves would come looking for their dead, and they’d find only bloodstains. The grassland would be filled with sad howls that night.

The two drivers carried the burlap sacks over to the second vehicle and laid them under the backseat.

On some large gunnysacks spread out on the grass they placed several bottles of grassland liquor, a large bag of spiced peanuts, a dozen cucumbers, two cans of braised beef, three jars of canned pork, and a basin of meat. Bao Shungui, liquor bottle in hand, and Staff Officer Xu went over to Chen and dragged him back to the picnic site. Bao patted him on the shoulder. “Little Chen,” he said, “you did well today, and did me a great favor. Without you, our hunters wouldn’t have had a chance to show off their skill.”

The four soldiers raised their cups to toast Chen Zhen. “Drink up,” said Xu. “This one’s for you. Thanks to your research on wolves, you took us right to where we needed to be. Director Bao took us around over a hundred
li,
and we never saw a single wolf. Come on, drink up. We owe you our thanks.”

Chen’s face was a ghostly white; he wanted to say something but held his tongue. Instead, he accepted the cup and emptied it, wishing he could find a place to have a good cry. Instinctively, he picked up a raw cucumber and began eating. The laborers’ private gardens were already producing cucumbers, which he hadn’t tasted in more than two years. Maybe all Han Chinese were born to be farmers. Otherwise, why had he picked out a cucumber, of all things? Its light succulence turned to bitter juice in his mouth.

Xu patted him on the back. “Don’t feel bad about the wolves we killed, Little Chen. I can tell you have emotional ties to them after raising one yourself, and you’ve been influenced by the old herdsmen. Granted, wolves make a contribution to the grassland by killing rabbits, mice, gazelles, and marmots. But that’s a primitive way to go about it. We live in an age when man-made satellites soar into space. We can protect the grassland with scientific methods. The corps will be sending crop dusters to eradicate the mice.”

That caught Chen off guard, but he immediately understood what Xu meant. “No, you can’t do that,” he said. “If the wolves, foxes, desert foxes, and hawks eat the dead mice, they’ll all die off.”

“What’s the use of having wolves if all the mice are dead?” Bao said.

“Wolves have lots of uses,” Chen argued. “I’m trying to make you understand that wolves can reduce the number of gazelles, rabbits, and marmots.”

Old Liu, his face red from the liquor, burst out laughing. “Gazelles, wild rabbits, and marmots are all famous game. There won’t be enough for our people when they come, and there definitely won’t be any left for the wolves.”

32

After they finished eating, Bao Shungui had a brief conversation with Staff Officer Xu, and then the two vehicles sped toward the northeast.

"We’re heading the wrong way,” Chen Zhen said. "We’re better off retracing our steps.”

Bao said, “We’re a hundred and forty
li
from the brigade, and we have to make it worth our while for the long trip back.”

Staff Officer Xu said, “If we avoid the areas where the shots were fired, we might run into more wolves. If not wolves, maybe foxes, and that wouldn’t be too bad either. We must continue the glorious military tradition of keeping the fight going and accumulating victories.”

Soon they entered a vast winter pastureland where acres and acres of needle grass spread before Chen’s eyes. This was high-quality winter grass, with two-foot-long blades and tassels a yard long. The winter snows seldom if ever covered it completely; both the stalks and the tassels were fine livestock feed. The sheep could also get to leaves buried beneath the snow. During the seven months of winter, this pasture kept the livestock alive and thriving.

An autumn wind sent the grass rippling like waves spreading from the border all the way to the vehicles and submerging their wheels; they knifed through the grassy waves like fast ships. Chen breathed a sigh of relief. Even a telescope would be useless in finding wolves on a pasture with such tall, dense foliage. He felt renewed gratitude toward the grassland wolves and the horse herders. The seemingly pristine grassland was actually maintained through their efforts. Both labored hard at their tasks. Whenever Chen heard the herdsmen singing folk songs that echoed wolf sounds, he was happy, knowing that through their songs the herdsmen were acknowledging their debt to the wolves for their part in preserving the winter pasture.

The vehicles sped along, carrying the slightly drunken hunters, who scanned the landscape with binoculars in search of wolves. Chen was lost in his own thoughts, for this was the first time he’d had a chance to contemplate the primitive beauty of the winter pasture before the people and livestock arrived.

Not a single column of smoke, no horses, cows, or sheep. After six months of rest, the pasture looked bleaker than the spring-season birthing pasture, where there were many animal pens, storage sheds, well terraces, and other traces of human effort. In the winter pasture, people and livestock took water from the snow, eliminating the need for wells and terraces. The lambs and calves were fully grown, so instead of sheds and pens, the herders formed semicircle windbreaks for the sheep using wagons, mobile railings, and large pieces of felt.

The vehicles were now speeding along an ancient path. The soil was sandy and hard, but the grass was short and lush. Chen spotted three black dots in the grass not far to his right. He knew it was a large fox standing on its hind legs to keep an eye on the humans traveling through the pasture. The orange afternoon sun turned the fox’s white fur a soft yellow, making it indistinguishable from the grass tassels. The three black spots above its neck were its ears and nose.

When they went fox hunting, Bilgee always pointed out the three black spots to Chen, especially on snow-covered ground. Experienced hunters would aim at those spots. The cunning grassland fox could not deceive grassland hunters, but could turn the sharp-eyed hunters seated next to Chen into blind men. Chen kept quiet, wanting to see no more bloodshed. The beautiful, sly foxes were expert mice catchers. As the vehicles drew closer, the black spots slowly disappeared in the dense grass.

As they continued, a wild rabbit stood up in the grass to stare at them. Its color was close to that of the tassels, but its camouflage was ruined by its big ears. Chen whispered, “There’s a fat rabbit up ahead. They’re enemies of the grassland. Want to take it down?”

“Not now,” said Bao Shungui. “We’ll get the rabbits after we kill all the wolves.”

Unafraid of the vehicles, the rabbit did not crouch down and disappear until they were only ten or fifteen yards away. The fragrance of the needle grass grew stronger. With the realization that they would not find any prey here, the hunters turned and headed for the hilly autumn pasture.

Here the grass was shorter, but the herdsmen made it their autumn pastureland because of the abundant grass seeds. In the fall, seeds of wild wheat, clover, and peas were rich in fat and protein. The sheep would fatten up by eating the seeds right off the plants. Outsiders, who did not understand this primitive technique, could not manage to fatten their sheep enough to survive the winter, and large numbers of lambs would die in the spring when the ewes could not produce enough milk.

Chen had learned almost everything about the grassland from Bilgee in the two years he’d stayed with him. He reached down and pulled up a handful of grass seed, which he rubbed between his palms. The seeds were ripening; it was almost time for the brigade to move to the autumn pasture.