Alec
Pausing mid-hum while sanitizing the exam room, I stop to listen. The clinic closed a little over half an hour ago but it sounds like someone is here. "Hello?" I call out. "Did you need something?"
Leaving behind the cleaning supplies I step out into the empty lobby. No car is in the parking lot and the bell above the door is still. I swear someone called for me just now.
I glance past the reception desk and the hallway. The door in the back is large enough to accommodate farmstock animals, leading directly to the surgery unit. I haven't had to use it, I've headed out to the farmers that call and work on site instead.
Better be sure. I make my way down the hall and step out to the backside of the clinic. A short, flat grassy area with twin dirt paths leading back around to the parking lot. The sun is practically behind the trees, the grassy field shadowed and waving in the breeze.
Since moving here, I've enjoyed this view a lot. I thought it would creep me out, being here at first. Just the field and trees, one lone road to the highway. Instead, it is sort of peaceful. Especially when watching that night with Christopher, the tall grass waving in the starlight.
The differences to my familiar scene were obvious. The birds, usually active and darting this time of day, were silent and missing. The chirping of bugs was muted. The sway of the grass was bent and stilled at one point in the field.
Shit, an animal? I took one step before common sense broke through. This is a rural area, it's possible that there is a hunter nearby. But what would they be hunting? It's too early in the year.
Foxes? Wolves? I know that farmers are more likely to kill a wild predator that comes near its farm and pay the fine, cheaper than losing livestock. Looking around, there is no one as far as I can see. Surely, a farmer wouldn't follow something out this far?
"Hello!" I yell out, moving closer to the edge of the grass, looking this way and that. "I'm the vet here, I'm going out into the field." I almost feel like an idiot but don't want to get shot accidentally. The tingling of unease and worry won't let up and keeps the embarrassment at bay.
With mindful steps, I head into the taller, more congested grass of the field. The thin stalks bend gently under my feet, leaving behind a staggered path of tracks.
As I see the large swell of dark fur ahead I think I may have made a mistake. Just seeing the size and fur of the animal a few more feet ahead and I know. Maybe the eeriness isn't because of a hunter out there? Maybe I just came across the 'hunter'?
My limbs stop and refuse to move. The thick beat of my heart pounds through my constricted chest. First, let's move back.
Slowly, I manage to slide one foot back. Then the other. Then I hear the harsh, shuddering sound of the wolf's breathing. Jagged and wheezing, the intake of air is slow and painful. Loud in the overly quiet air.
Stopping again, I wait. It takes too long, the weaker, panting exhale. Sharpening my gaze on the visible fur, I watch as the wolf's body barely stirs with the sharp and ragged breathing. Not feeling as confident the first time, I do begin to move again towards the wolf. Staying in the tall grass as if it offers any kind of protection, I circle around as I close in. Its back was to me before, but as I near the edge of the bent and mangled grass surrounding the wolf's front I can see now the sharp, wet tinge of blood surrounding the animal.
That's a lot of blood.
One large step brings me up close to the large body of a wolf. It outweighs me with long limbs and paws as large as my outstretched hand. It lays sprawled on the darkly wetted ground. Thick, fresh blood is brimming out his chest. It slides through the already wet, matted fur to pool in the already muddied ground beneath the wolf. The prominent shaft of an arrow buried deep within the wound.
Do they hunt with arrows around here?
An arrow on a wolf this big is a slow and painful death if death is the intention. Anger curls inside me at the thought that this isn't the work of a protective farmer but could be for something worse, like sport.
I need to do something! I've helped with wild animal rescues in the past. Only at a larger facility. And not alone. The closest animal rehabilitation that I know of is almost two hours away from here. There might be larger, closer vet offices that can help, too but looking at the wolf's condition and the amount of blood it still might not be in time.
If I don't do something this wolf will die anyway.
Going with this impulsive decision, the first step is my safety. Thankfully, I wore a belt today. Taking it off, I start a loop and slide it over the wolf's muzzle. If the wolf weren't injured it could snap a belt off like it was taffy but it will at least give me a head start.
It takes a little bit, my hands shake with fear. Getting it in place I tighten it carefully. As I'm closing the buckle, I hear a sickening growl sound. I can feel the vibration rise against my finger, but the wolf doesn't even open his eyes and the growl ends on a slight whimper.
I take a deep breath and steady myself, trying to make a plan. Standing up, I search my pockets, praying I have my phone on me. Yes! I pull it out and tap in the contact. The line seems to ring and ring before going to Christopher's voicemail. Fuck!
I tried once more before texting.
Are you there?
I need your help now!
Calling one more time, this time I leave a quick message as I begin to hurry back along my tracks to the clinic. "Chris, dammit, I need your help! Call me back right now!" This is going to be a lot harder without muscles. Running now, I burst through the back door. Running to the storage, I grab whatever I think I'll need and head to the surgical room.
Equipped more for livestock than wild life, it will have to do. I leave what I won't need right now and run back outside. The grass pulls at my feet now, thicker than before. The sun is darker, covering itself behind the trees before I am ready.
The wolf doesn't even stir as I come this close again, this time now hesitation. The slow and uneven breathing is his only movement. I quickly spread out the tarp I carried out and opened the sterile cloth I brought. Coming up to the animal this large and dangerous is present in my mind, but I have to stabilize the arrow and try to control some blood flow.
The wolf's weight made my efforts clumsy and not as gentle as I'd like but I manage to crisscross the fabric around the wound at the base of the shaft and stretch it over the wolf's head and chest once. I carefully grasp the arrow close to the wound and snap off the feathered portion sticking up, trying to minimize what will catch on the arrow and cause more harm and pain as I move the wolf. The wood bites into my hand as the shaft bends before breaking off.
When I shifted the wolf, his breathing hitched and gurgled, increasing my urgency. It took a lot longer to get the wolf shifted entirely onto the top, his paws and back end still dragged a little in the grass. For a moment, I sit on my knees next to the tarp and catch my breath, wiping the sweat away from my forehead with my arms instead of my bloodied hands.
The path through the field was more visible and I could see the back of the clinic, but it sure looked far away. Looking down at the weakened wolf on the tarp, he seems so still. I reach my hand out and run it gently over his head, my fingers sliding through the coarse fur. "We can do this!" I tell him.
Getting back up, I take a stance at one end of the tarp and begin the hard trek back to the clinic, the wolf-laid tarp sliding bumpily over the ground and leaving a wide swath of bent and broken grass behind us. I pull and pull, the incline of the hill making my arms ache and my legs burn. But I made it. I don't know how, but I managed it and am pulling the wolf clumsily through the door of the clinic, sliding over the smooth floor now feels like a breeze.
The floor of the surgery is going to have to do. I'm worn out as it is and that wasn't even the hard part. I have to take another break and catch my breath, all the while watching the wound, breathing and pulse of the wolf. The blood seems to be coming slower, but it is thickly soaking through the cloth.
When I am able, I get to sanitizing the area the best I can, opening sanitized packs of tools and preparing everything I can within reach. I don't have enough hands to fully monitor the wolf's vitals, nor use anesthesia. The best I can do is attach a pulse oximeter and use localized anesthesia as I go. Not ideal for the wolf to be sure.
Unwrapping the cloth is tricky as it's matted into the west and dirtied fur now. The wolf lets out a few sharp whines in his unconsciousness. "I know. I know." I sooth gently and prep the area for surgery.
I let my training take over and work methodically, watching the wolf's face and listening to his pulse as I go. The depth of the arrow is harrowing. It went through the chest bone and, if I'm not mistaken from the amount of blood, has punctured the heart.
The worst moment so far, I had to crack the chest bone to dislodge the shaft of the arrow. The wolf's head jerks up, his eyes opening wide letting me see them rolled back in his head. His teeth bare themselves, stretching the leather around his mouth. It is the longest moment in between two beats of my heart, but the wolf's body slumps limp again from the pain. And I continue.
Getting the arrow out confirms that the heart was punctured, but only a shallow amount thankfully. The wolf can heal up if there are no complications. Blood comes swiftly now as I set the remainder of the arrow aside. I start the sutures now, trying to stem the blood as I go.
The blood does seem to be slowing now, the small puncture in the heart easier to see. And it's smaller, too, than before. The whole exposed area that I've been working in feels smaller. The edges of the cut chest bone start to rub into my hands as I work, the stitches seeming bigger and clumsier as I go.
Worried, I pause, but the wound still seems to grow smaller. Focused now, I can see it. The small movement of flesh and bone, moving back together, the puncture in the heart practically gone, my dissolvable stitches looking like garish markings across a healthy heart, until the bone grew before my eyes shielding the heart once again.
Dropping my tools, I feel the hard, cold floor bite through the nitrile gloves on my hands, my feet pedaling recklessly as I slide back on my bottom until my head hits the wall behind me. Shaking my head once, twice, the sight is the same. The wolf's wounds are closing on their own. The wolf's breathing is normalizing. Mesmerizingly the skin stretches over muscle and begins to taper together. I think even black fur started to fuzz where I had to shave for the surgery. But then all the fur was falling away, the wolf's bones and muscles were changing again.
The thud of the leather belt falling onto the tarp snapps my eyes away from the horror show on the wolf's chest, to the head. In a blur, happening too fast for my mind to process, the body of the wolf has now changed to the body of a man, blood and dirt still drying on his neck, chest and arms.
Something is wrong. I can feel my throat but I can't move it. And the rest of my body seems to have flown off without me. The wolf's- the man's- Christopher's eyes flutter open a couple of times. He shakes his head a little and slowly pushes himself to sit on the floor. He looks up and sees me. Am I still here? Am I alive? Am I awake?
"Alec?" The wolf calls my name.
Then Christopher is out of sight. I can feel my whole body again, hot and sweaty and tense. I try to push myself up, but only manage to release the contents of my stomach over the floor and my hands. It keeps coming up and burns through my body as my vision closes smaller and smaller just like the wolf's wound, before I only feel darkness.
A/N: Happy New Year, ya'll! Wishing you happiness and health this coming year.