SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

Inside a vacant building, he placed Grimes on the deck, and found an iron bar to brace the door shut. Simmons scanned the room; the place was vulnerable. Numerous broken windows and a bombed-out roof provided access. The place was anything but secure.

Maybe the fighting had whittled down the size of the pack and worn away its resolve, but the injured wolf could easily track them to their refuge. He had to prepare against an attack.

Simmons found a corner walled in by a concrete block and moved Grimes into the niche. Dragging an old iron engine block, discarded filing cabinets and a table, he fortified the marine’s position then sat with his back against the wall, his M-16 held tight, a new clip in the receiver. A stack of fully loaded magazines rested on the deck beside him.

The pistol lay ready as well. If they could hold out until daylight, they’d get through this. Moonlight shone through broken windows in the upper stories, cascading through bombed-out flooring that opened for three levels. If the wolves came that way, they’d be exposed, but a shot would be difficult. The creatures held the advantage.

Simmons thumbed his wedding band, thinking about his young wife. Marion. Their wedding had been back home in Vermont, outside on warm spring day. A full contingency of marines assembled along the aisle with crossed swords. He kept thoughts of Marion close as he hunkered inside the building for close to an hour. He hoped the worse was behind them.

A wolf howled from the ruins outside. Sounds like it’s summoning the others. Simmons feared a conflict. The wolves could easily access the building. He wanted to engage the enemy, close-with and destroy, but the creatures seemed impervious to their weapons. They seemed to be more than mere wolves. What were they doing here in Beirut? And what could they actually do to him? Waiting in the ruins for an almost certain demise, Simmons preferred the engagement of the earlier firefight.

Sitting in the shadows, his mind raced with dreadful thoughts. He’d witnessed wolves take fire and keep coming. They’d ruthlessly torn apart his comrades. The fight would be futile. These creatures weren’t ordinary animals. Some small part of him merely wanted to give up; but there wasn’t any other place to flee, and going outside again would mean certain death. We are marines, dammit! Have to protect Grimes. Simmons scanned the dilapidated dwelling; the lower floor had been a machine shop or garage. He was hunkered down in the old office, but the engine told of its utility. Taking stock, he found what was needed to pull the plan together. He would fight; he would have vengeance.

It was that part of him that began devising a plan.

* * *

Simmons reached for the K-bar strapped upside down to the shoulder of his flak vest. He withdrew the fighting knife then removed the clip from his Colt .45, 1911. He popped two rounds from the magazine then whittled the bullets down meticulously to fashion an effective weapon, Marion once again in this thoughts – he would make it home to her.

Reaching into the breast pocket of his utilities, he pulled out a cigar and his Zippo. The chrome lighter had been a gift from Marion; the Marine Corps emblem embossed on the front.

He bit off the end of the cigar and lit the damn thing. If this was going to be his reckoning, then Simmons was going out on his own terms, like a man, a marine. Puffing the stogie, he prepared himself mentally for the showdown.

The alpha wolf was the linchpin for the entire pack. Wounded and weary from battle, most of them would scamper if he could take their leader down.

He sipped from his canteen cup; thinking about his wife again… Simmons glanced at his wedding ring then removed the sterling-silver band. Perusing the ring, it was a reminder that Marion would be waiting for him whenever he returned from a deployment, whether walking the flight deck or in a pine box.

He wheeled an acetylene torch over to the iron engine block, praying the damn thing still worked. He quickly checked Grimes; the man was still out. Simmons breathed a sigh of relief when the torch lit, then heated the empty basin of a combustion chamber. Once the iron was hot, he kissed the silver ring then dropped it into the chamber with a metallic clang. The torch heated the iron quickly, but the ring sat there unchanged. Fuck! Just as Simmons began to doubt whether the plan would work, the unmistakable thud of a large four-legged creature landed on remnants of the top floor.

Moments later, two other sets of paws padded around the vestiges of the third floor. They must have crossed from an adjacent rooftop. Two sets of glowing yellow eyes peered through the aperture of the bombed-out flooring.

The wolves circled their perch, staring down, stalking their prey. The alpha was leading two others.