Fight or Flight

A man fights for survival in the Alaskan wilderness

A branch snapped loudly in the night, followed immediately by a frenzy of uncensored cursing that would cause any grandmother to faint in shock.  The sounds caused by Officer Travis Mitchell seemed to echo throughout the wooded valley.  Every creature of the night listened quietly as Travis marched onward, flashlight in hand, toward the hunting lodge at the base of the valley.  Panting, he stopped for a rest, sitting on an old pine stump.  He then aimed his light on his wrist, illuminating an old watch.

“Two-thirty in the morning and I’m looking for some dead poacher in the woods,” Travis said to himself, exhausted, “I can’t f*****g believe this.”

Earlier that morning, Travis had received a call from Seattle.  Some rich housewife was worried sick over her husband, who had decided to go big game hunting illegally near the small Alaskan town of Paxson.  He’d been missing for a few days.  Travis wasn’t the only one to receive the call of course, but he was the only wildlife officer around for over one hundred miles.  Every other officer in the region was grounded due to an onslaught of freezing rain, and so it was up to Travis alone to find and apprehend the poacher, if he was still alive.

Normally Travis would wait for reinforcements before undertaking a mission of this nature, especially during such dangerous weather.  However, Travis had to prove his worth to the Alaskan DNR after he had been in a bar fight the week before.  The DNR was considering letting him go, as they wanted a clean record for all of their officers.  Travis wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he was fired, after all, he’d only taken the job after his family was killed in a car crash back in Denver.  The job was his way of forgetting the past.

Travis turned off his flashlight for a moment, listening closely to the forest around him.  An owl’s hoot sent an icy shiver down his spine.  He hated the woods at night, every shadow seemed to be a pack of wolves, a hungry bear, or a fiery wolverine.  Clutching the revolver on his hip, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, and continued onward.

Heading downhill, Travis found a deer trail to walk in, making his trek much easier.  The frozen rain had begun to melt, filling the tracks of the deer with shallow, muddy pools.  Travis barely noticed the water at his feet however, his thick hiking boots keeping the moisture at bay from his socks.  The rest of his clothes were not so lucky, the damp cool air and his constant sweating had taken their toll.  Travis, shivering, worried that he might become hypothermic if he couldn’t get dry soon.

As he was lost in his thoughts, he stepped in a particularly deep track that caught his foot.  Travis fell face first into the soupy mud, smashing his radio.  He laid still, and contemplated giving up and heading back to his truck.  He realized that such an act would likely mean getting fired, but he no longer cared.  Travis sat up, and looked back towards the direction he came.  Sighing, he realized that it would be much harder to go back uphill for miles than it would be to just continue to the lodge.  “Besides,” he said aloud to himself, “now I really do need to get dry.”

He stood up and scraped off all the mud he could.  His flashlight was flickering now, and threatened to go out soon.  Travis sighed, knowing that this night wasn’t going to get any better.  Then, a single curious thought entered Travis’s mind:  “What had he tripped on?”  He doubled back a few steps and searched the trail.  He followed the markings of his boot dragging in the mud, and then, he saw it.

A single track with five clawed toes, nearly a foot across.  Travis quietly muttered “Jesus…not again...” under his breath.  He recognized the track instantly, he had once hoped it was a sight he would never see again.  Travis slowly put his hand to his left cheek, feeling a long, deep scar he had earned years ago.  He felt the print and noticed it was nearly dry, crumbling at his touch.  This track was made after the freezing rain had thawed, it was an hour old at most.

It was then when his light finally went out.  Travis stood frozen in the woods, petrified in fear.  Shaking, he drew his pistol, sure that the beast would charge out of the brushes at any second.  He felt like he was in mortal danger.  Just then, a deep growl cut through the woods.  The sound was all too familiar to Travis.  His mind racing, Travis thought he had two options, run or fight.  He chose to run.

He took off like a startled rabbit, all rational thought absent from his mind.  All that was left was an overwhelming panic.  As Travis sprinted, he swore he could feel hot breath against his neck.  He weaved through the trees, searching for a way to escape.  His heart raced, his legs throbbed in pain, he grew exhausted, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop.

Then, like an angel sent from heaven, Travis spotted the hunting lodge through the trees.  He gathered one last herculean effort, and sprinted towards the lodge’s open door.  He flew through the entry and slammed the door behind him.  He collapsed at the foot of the door and waited, sure that his pursuer would crash the door down at any second.  Travis held his breath for what seemed like an hour, but the collision never came.  He stood up and timidly looked out the lodge’s single window, and saw nothing but the woods shrouded in moonlight.  He couldn’t believe it, he had let his impulses get the better of him, he wasn’t being chased.

Travis turned and noted the condition of the lodge in what little light there was.  He could barely see, but could tell that the door was very loose and only hung by a single hinge.  The whole place smelt of animal musk, obviously he wasn’t the only creature to take refuge in the building from time to time.  The only furniture was a simple nightstand and an old bed, but it was good enough for Travis.  He stripped naked, shedding his wet clothes, and stepped in a puddle with his bare feet.  “The ceiling must leak...” he said, “Of course the ceiling leaks.”  Exhausted, he got into the relatively warm bed and waited for the sun to rise, not daring to fall asleep.

When the sunrise finally began to beam through the window, Travis stirred after long hours of lying motionless.  He threw the bedsheet off and noticed his feet were caked in dried blood.   Worried that he had cut himself accidently, he examined his feet thoroughly, but couldn’t find a single wound.  Then it dawned on him; and he peered over the side of the bed.  The puddle he had stepped in earlier wasn’t water, but instead a thick crimson pool of blood, dried now.  “Oh god…” Travis exclaimed.  He quickly got dressed and looked closely at the blood.  It went all the way to the door, like a body had been dragged.  Travis shivered violently at the thought, muttering “Well, I guess I found the poacher…”

Travis sat on the bed, trying to gather his thoughts.  He needed a plan, or else he wouldn't make it out of the valley.  He was in a bad spot, the beast was obviously a man-eater, and he was sitting right where the last kill had taken place.  Travis chuckled to himself, thinking he might as well be served up on a silver platter.  He thought of running again, to get away before it was too late.  But then he felt his scar once again, and closed his eyes.  Travis decided then and there to never flee again, he was done running.

He knew it was only a matter of time before fate came knocking.  He cleaned every speck of mud off of his revolver, ensuring that his gun wouldn’t jam.  He wasn’t about to die because his gun wouldn’t fire.  While Travis was terrified, he couldn’t help but smile.  He wouldn’t want to go out any other way.  He didn’t have his family to come home to, so he thought he might as well go out in a fight.  Just maybe, when the battle was over, he’d see them again.  He kneeled at the foot of the bed and said a short prayer.   

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Travis saw movement by the window.  A large shadowy figure reared up onto it’s hind legs and breathed heavily onto the glass, fogging the entirety of the window.  Travis unsheathed a large hunting knife and held it in his left hand, while he pulled back the hammer of the revolver with his right.  Adrenaline coursed through his veins; at this moment, near certain death, Travis felt alive.  He wasn’t going to run away this time.  The creature outside the window roared, and Travis responded with a battlecry of his own, yelling “Back to finish the job you filthy piece of s**t?  Well come on then!”  As the beast crashed through the door, Travis knew only one of them would leave the lodge alive.

Author's Note

A simple story I wrote for my Creative Writing class, I hope you all like it and all reviews are welcome!

Reviews

[Morena Chancellor]

Hi, Kraken!

I was extremely impressed with this story! You found the perfect balance between wonderful description and moving along the story. I found that I sympathized with Travis within the very first paragraph. As the story went on, I couldn't help but fall in love with his character. Which is quite a feat, as I don't normally sympathize with characters that quickly. That would already be impressive, but this story is also the type of length where an attachment from the audience to the characters would be hard to achieve! I loved the backstory behind Travis. THe reason he is so devoted to his job, and yet so unsettled in his life without his family. I know I've already said this, but he's just such a well-established character, I can't help but go on about it. And this mystery beast! The imagery that you wrote about being chased in the forest, about Travis feeling its hot breath on his neck? Amazing! Also, when he realized the puddle was blood and not water... that made my blood run cold. Really, an excellent story.

Keep writing! I'll keep an eye out for your work!

[Author Dcain]

This was really good! I thought that I was in the dark in the woods as well.

[Kraken]

Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.