WOLVES DON'T TALK

Chapter 22. SAFE

I woke up when a ton of water came crashing down on me. The smoke became thicker with the deluge. I started coughing and coughing, trying hard to breathe. Not knowing what else to do, I ripped a piece of cloth from my shirt and dabbed it in a pool of nearby water and covered my nose and mouth with the muddy mess. I did the same for the wolf. He barely stirred when I laid the wet fabric across his sharp nose.

A heavy wind came next and the earth started to shake. I held tight to the ground beneath me and clung to the half dead animal, trying to survive the madness surrounding us. Then I passed out, leaving the insane situation for a warmer, safer feeling of unexplained bliss.

I awoke sometime later. I don't know how much later, but it couldn't have been very long. A firefighter dressed in a long yellow coat and a black helmet held me in his arms. He heaved a great sigh of relief when I opened my eyes.

"You must be Carmen," he said. "We've been looking everywhere for you kids."

I nodded weakly in agreement.

"Yes," I said. "I'm Carmen."

He clutched me tightly to his chest.

"Thank god," he said as he handed me off to another man standing in the door of a big green helicopter with a huge red cross painted on its side. Its rotors were spinning rapidly, creating a horrific wind and way too much noise.

"You're going to be all right," the new man said reassuringly as he cradled me in his arms.

He smiled at me as he spoke and I grinned stupidly back, recognizing the forest ranger who'd originally warned me about staying away from the chemical dump on the side of the mountain.

"I'm going home," I mumbled, too tired and worn out for any show of enthusiasm.

Then I remembered the wolf.

"My friend!" I screamed and twisted in the rangers arms, determined to free myself from his grasp and get back to the wolf.

But he wasn't having any of my panic. He held tight to my scrawny body and spoke softly.

"He's here. He"s right here. You're both safe now," he said as he placed me gently on a stretcher on the craft's floor.

And it was true. Mac Richards rested ever so quietly on another stretcher right next to mine. Blotches of dried blood covered his face and neck. His chest rose and collapsed tenuously as he tried to suck in and release air. The three men from the clearing also occupied similar cots on the floor; all alive but looking battered from their experiences with the fire and the smoke and the red rabbit.

I reached for Macs hand.

"Are you alright?" I whispered to his closed eyes.

Even though I spoke very softly, he heard me. His lids fluttered, then opened and a pair of bright orange eyeballs stared and stared at me, fading and fading as they did so until they dimmed to a yellowish green color.

"I'm okay," he finally whispered back, rolling on his side in order to reach out one of his blood covered hands and grab one of mine.

He twisted his head as he moved and I flinched at the sight of the punctures on his neck but didn't resist his grasp.

"You won't tell?" he asked; his eyes once more flickering orange as he spoke.

"Tell?" I replied, evading the question, extending his misery because I needed more than just a request for secrecy from him; I needed answers. "Vietnam, did your grandfather fight in that war?" I asked.

Mac nodded weakly.

"So, your brother and you..," I started to demand an explanation but stopped when I looked at the blood seeping from my best friend's neck, realizing I already knew the answer.

"You won't tell," he repeated. "You know," he added; his poor pale yellow-green eyes glaring at me ever so anxiously, forcing me to give in.

"No such thing as a talking wolf," I replied. "No such thing as any kind of wolf at all in this forest."

He nodded and gave my hand a weak squeeze.

"Go to sleep, little boy," I advised as I watched him grin with relief and then drift off to a dream in a different world.

The helicopter tilted wildly for a minute and then rose slowly into the sky. The loading door remained open and I could see a couple of other helicopters dropping huge pots of water onto the forest fire raging beneath us.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the immense wonder of the machine's power. We were going home, returning to the safety of our families. Somewhere below us a very strange herd of animals raced away from the flames, looking for a new world to make their home. I wished all of them well, even the stupid white rabbit, but maybe not that wretched fox.

I promised myself as we flew away, heading back to the regular world, that I'd return some day to the forest and look them all up to see what I could learn about what had happened there. And, maybe, Mac would go with me. Why not? After all, we both knew how to ask questions, get the facts and figure things out.