Men of Winter

Chapter XIV

I thought –

Suddenly the buck bolted and at the same instant tree bark exploded into the air just at my shoulder. An arrow protruded from the trunk. My first crazy thought was that the tree had pushed the arrow out at me but I knew the arrow had come from out there, from among the trees. Also, my sense of hearing told me there had been multiple arrows – a half-second before the explosion of bark and a half-second after I heard them cutting the air ... and the light and the scent and the emptiness ... the arrows especially cut the emptiness.

My initial shock left me and I fell to the ground for cover. At some distance I saw a trio of phantoms moving through the trees. I crawled on my hands and knees to where the buck had stood, the reflex of some weird brotherly bond (not brothers of the forest, but brothers of the attack, brothers of the moment). There was blood bright on the snow. The lordly buck was hit, and the hunters were chasing him down. A shame, I thought. Then I had another thought, more or less synchronous with the whistling sound of arrows cutting the air again: I thought, here I am on all fours wearing my dark coat and beaver-fur hat, and the woods are lousy with bow hunters....

An arrow sliced through my hat and shoulder of my coat before lodging in the ground by my foot. A second arrow passed so close to my head I felt its wind on my cheek. A third stuck in the ground near my hand. I describe them in succession but they each hit their mark in the same second stroke of time.

I rolled to my left and emitted a little shriek – probably more animal sound than human. I just kept rolling and heard more arrows strike the ground behind me. My graceless escape was halted when I rolled into a fallen tree. I scrambled to the other side of the trunk for cover and lay panting on my back. An arrow lodged in the fallen tree; I heard the wood crack. I realized my right eye was crimsonly cloudy. I blinked and my lid and lash were sticky: I was bleeding. Instead of escalating my panic, the knowledge seemed to calm me, or focus me. I reminded myself that head wounds, even superficial ones, bleed profusely.

Another arrow zinged above me. I tried to suck in my belly, which protruded just beyond the trunk. I felt blood trickle warmly into my ear. What can I do to call off the attack? Then I remembered the red necktie in my pocket. I carefully unbuttoned the top of my coat and groped inside. The tie was folded with my notepad and letters of introduction. I pulled it out just as another arrow crashed into the fallen tree and bits of wood and bark hit my face. I spat a bit or two out of my gaping mouth.

I wrapped the red tie once around my hand then flopped the wide end over the tree trunk, where I made it dance jerkily. The tie was immediately pinned to the trunk by an arrow. "Fuck!" I began whipping wildly the narrow end of the tie in the air, and shouting, "Stop! ... Stop! ..."

A voice called from the wood: "Who's there?"

"A friend! A friend from the camp! From your camp!"

"Stand, and let's see you!"

I was somewhat dizzy but got to my feet. I held onto the tie, seemingly for support. I squinted into the woods and tried to clear my vision. "I am hurt," I said calmly. "One of your arrows." I felt myself swaying from side to side, as if blown by the wind, or intoxicated.

Figures materialized from the trees. They were soldiers, with P57s on their backs but home-made bows in their hands. One had a captain's insignia on his sleeve. He said, "You shouldn't be out here. Who are you?" He had smudged his face and his yellow-blond mustaches with mud.

"Hektr Pastrovich. I have reported to Commander Zlavik. I have papers." Blood was running down my cheek like tears, soaking my beard.

Instead of asking to see my papers, the captain removed my hat and examined me. "Just a scratch. You're lucky. Another inch or two." He did not have to finish his thought.