SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

Glancing over the protective rubble, his squad had maneuvered close to the enemy hill. The ancient city loomed large behind them. All remained quiet, but the Palestinians had not called it off. He could hear them chattering nervously in the distance.

Simmons suspected they had sent a younger fighter to scout the rubble. The night was eerily still. A slight chill crept over the desert, bringing with it a sense of dread that caused him to shiver.

A scream.

Loud and fearful. Agonized.

And nearby.

The screaming was accompanied by growling and the macabre sound of… ripping; it was a terrifying noise – shredding clothing and tearing meat. Anxiety turned his stomach.

The growling seemed to multiply. The screams faded to a loathsome wailing. Then pitiful moans. Then ceased altogether. The tearing and chewing continued. The snap of bone pierced through the ruins. Something was feasting upon a soldier in the debris.

The carnage was occurring close to his position, just beyond a massive bank of rubble. The frenzy seemed to be winding down...

A shudder ran through him. I’m being watched. The rest of the squad was behind him. He glanced ahead at the top of the heap. A menacing set of yellow eyes stared directly at him. In the moonlight, the creature resembled a timber wolf: covered in thick fur, with a long snout and pointed ears, but larger than any wolf he’d ever seen. The neck was muscled and its torso extended into long hind legs, almost… humanlike. But that can’t be.

On all fours, massive hand-like claws crimped the rubble. The wolf snarled. Long fangs dripped with saliva. And blood. This was the creature who’d been feasting. A surreal apparition having no place on a battlefield, the ominous wolf seemed wrought from hell. Despite the M-16 in his hands, Simmons was horrified by the beast. Panic raced through him.

The wolf tensed, muscles rippling, ready to pounce but it snapped its focus to something down to the left.

A yell. Rifle fire. The unmistakable sound of M-16s. Corporal Anderson’s team had engaged the enemy. The muzzle flashes didn’t seem directed at the hillside. Firing was erratic. The wolf let out a long, bellowing howl that filled Simmons with dread.

The beast scurried down the rubble, rushing toward the fray. It was joining its pack, and Simmons needed to do the same.

He broke toward the melee. Glancing at the opposing hillside, he expected to see an outbreak of gunfire, but nothing came from the enemy position. The Palestinians were retreating to the desolate city.

Weaving through the rubble, he realized the fifty cal was quiet. The Amtrack crew probably didn’t want to risk hitting the marines with friendly fire. This conflict was small arms versus... beasts. Could the M-16s could take down the wolves, like a .30-06 drops a deer?

Entering the gauntlet, carnage greeted Simmons. His pulse quickened. Adrenalin pumped up his spine. It wouldn’t be that easy. A marine lay torn to shreds. Blood and gunpowder tainted the air. Another marine was firing his rifle directly at a charging wolf. Two more wolves had another marine pinned to the ground, clawing his flak vest and tearing at his neck – the marine was toast.

Rounds zinged about the narrow passageway, ricocheting off the debris. Simmons rushed toward the marine firing at the charging wolf. The creature took direct hits but didn’t slow. It closed the distance. Fast. When it was about ten feet away, the marine switched to full auto.

The magazine emptied into the creature. A yelp and it dropped to the ground, squirming. A stray bullet skimmed through Simmons’ cammies grazing a thigh as his comrade tried frantically to reload. Another wolf pounced. Knocked to the ground, the marine wrestled viciously with the beast.

Dropping to a knee, Simmons took aim and fired. The round had little impact. The fallen marine pulled his fighting knife and drove it into the creature’s belly. Simmons squeezed off two more rounds. The animal pulled away then scampered off.

Yet another wolf stalked towards a fourth marine whose rifle appeared to be empty. The marine pulled his sidearm – Anderson.

The wolf sprang at the fire-team leader. Anderson fired, stepping aside to avoid the lunging wolf.

Simmons rushed into the fracas and took aim, adding fire to the wolf attacking Anderson.  The marine’s forty-five elicited a yelp from the animal. It turned and swiftly climbed the broken blocks of a decimated building. Simmons fired two rounds into its side, but the wolf leapt nimbly into the darkness.

The scene stilled.  From the sounds Simmons heard during the first attack, he’d anticipated two or three wolves, but now it was apparent a pack was roving the ruins of the ancient city. Most of them were a little smaller than the one he’d initially spotted.

The alpha wolf hadn’t been among those wounded in the fray.