Chapter 7: Pack Tactics
The wolf-creature tensed, hackles rising along its spine. For a suspended moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable clash.
Then, in the stillness, another sound—the soft click of claws on stone, coming from behind Mike.
He spun just in time to see a second wolf emerge from between two buildings. Smaller than the first but still larger than any Earth wolf, it shared the same six legs and triangular eye arrangement. Two more appeared to his left, and a fourth to his right. In seconds, Mike found himself surrounded, the pack forming a rough pentagon with him at the center.
"Shit," Mike breathed, back-stepping toward the only remaining open direction. His boot scraped against loose pebbles. "They hunt in packs. Of course they do."
The smaller wolves looked to the larger one—clearly the alpha—as if awaiting instruction. A short, gruff bark from the leader set them in motion. They began circling, moving with coordinated precision that spoke of practiced hunting tactics. The alpha remained in place, three eyes unblinking as it watched.
Mike kept turning, trying to keep all five predators in view, hammers at the ready. His mind raced through limited options. Running was futile—they'd catch him easily. His shelter was too far. The well might offer temporary refuge, but he'd be trapped. Fighting five at once was suicide.
The first attack came without warning. One of the smaller wolves lunged from Mike's right, jaws snapping for his leg. Pure instinct saved him. He pivoted, bringing the ancient hammer down in a desperate arc. The weapon connected with a sickening crunch against the creature's skull, driving it to the ground where it twitched once, then lay still.
"Four left," Mike panted, immediately backing away as the remaining wolves adjusted their formation.
The alpha growled, the sound containing what might have been displeasure. It had misjudged its prey. The remaining three smaller wolves spread wider, more cautious now, but still advancing. They weren't retreating, just changing tactics.
Mike felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead despite the cool air. These weren't mindless predators—they were adapting their strategy, communicating without sound. The way they moved reminded him of military units he'd seen in documentaries, each member understanding their role in the greater plan. The thought sent a chill up his spine worse than the fear of their teeth and claws.
Mike's momentary advantage evaporated as the wolves attacked simultaneously from three directions. He managed to dodge one, kicked at another, but the third clamped its jaws around his calf. Pain exploded through his leg as dagger-like teeth pierced fabric and flesh. His pant leg darkened with blood.
Shouting in pain and rage, Mike brought his modern hammer down on the wolf's back. The blow wasn't fatal, but it caused the creature to release its grip with a yelp. Before it could recover, Mike slammed the ancient hammer into its skull. The second wolf dropped, but the damage was done—Mike's leg throbbed, blood soaking his torn pant leg. Each heartbeat sent a fresh pulse of warmth down his ankle.
The warm wetness spreading across his lower leg told him the wound was deep. Mike had suffered enough construction injuries to know when something was serious—and this was serious. The teeth had torn through muscle; he could feel the different quality of pain when he tried to put weight on it. Not just skin damage, but something that would cripple him if he couldn't find a way to treat it soon.
The remaining two smaller wolves circled more cautiously, while the alpha still hadn't moved from its position, watching, assessing.
"They're smart," Mike realized, limping backward toward his shelter. If he could reach it, the narrow doorway might neutralize their numerical advantage.
His injury slowed him critically. With each limping step toward safety, the wolves adjusted their positions to cut off his retreat. The alpha finally moved, trotting at an angle that would intercept Mike well before he reached the building. There was a deliberate quality to its movement—unhurried, confident, like a chess player who sees checkmate three moves ahead.
Mike glanced over his shoulder, gauging the distance to his shelter. Still too far. He wouldn't make it before they closed in. The blood trail he was leaving would make him easy to track even if he somehow broke free of their encirclement. The iron tang of his own blood filled his nostrils, mixing with the dust kicked up by his desperate movements.
"New plan," Mike muttered, changing direction toward a cluster of fallen columns.
The wolves pressed closer. One darted in, teeth snapping at Mike's injured leg. He swung wildly, connecting with enough force to send the creature skittering back but not enough to disable it. The second followed immediately, aiming higher, jaws closing on Mike's forearm as he raised it defensively.
Pain lanced up his arm. The wolf shook its head violently, trying to unbalance him. The teeth sank deeper with each shake, grinding against bone. Mike slammed his other elbow into the creature's throat, then brought his knee up into its chest. The wolf released his arm, but immediately circled back for another attack.
Blood flowed freely from the new wound, soaking his sleeve and dripping from his fingertips. The bite had narrowly missed his tendons—small mercy, as he could still grip his hammer. His arm throbbed in counterpoint to his leg, twin sources of agony that threatened to overwhelm his focus.
Mike staggered between two fallen columns, blood dripping from his arm and leg. Each drop hitting the dusty ground seemed unnaturally loud in his ears. The narrow space provided momentary cover as he caught his breath. Both injuries burned like fire, but adrenaline kept him moving. The wolves paced outside his temporary refuge, seeking a way in.
He pressed his back against one column, chest heaving as he tried to think. The space between columns was barely wider than his shoulders—the wolves would have to come at him one at a time. But they could wait him out. Blood loss would weaken him until he couldn't stand, and then they'd have him. He needed to move, keep fighting, find better shelter.
"Can't stay here," Mike told himself, searching for an escape route.
Beyond the columns lay a partially collapsed building—not his shelter, but perhaps defensible. If he could reach it, gain higher ground...
The decision was made for him as one wolf leapt atop a column, preparing to pounce from above. The creature's six legs splayed for balance as it peered down at him, three eyes blinking in sequence. Mike bolted from his cover, sprinting as best he could toward the ruined structure. Pain shot through his injured leg with each step, but desperation lent him speed.
The impact of each footfall sent jolts of agony up his leg. His boot was filling with blood, making his footing slick and uncertain. Mike focused on the building ahead, blocking out everything but the goal—twenty yards, fifteen, ten. He heard the scrape of claws on stone behind him, the hot breath of pursuit.
He was halfway to the building when the alpha finally joined the chase. It moved with shocking speed, cutting him off with contemptuous ease. Mike skidded to a halt, nearly falling as his wounded leg threatened to buckle. Stones scattered beneath his boots, dust rising in small clouds as he fought to keep his balance.
Surrounded again, Mike backed against a low wall, giving himself at least one protected side. The three wolves spread out before him, the alpha in the center, flanked by its two remaining packmates. Their breath steamed in the cool air.
The alpha's three eyes fixed on Mike with cold intelligence. It made a series of low sounds—not quite barks, not quite growls—that seemed to direct its packmates. They moved in perfect coordination, spreading wider to prevent escape while maintaining the optimal distance for a coordinated rush. The metallic teeth in their jaws caught the fading light as they panted, muscles bunching beneath their mottled fur.
"Come on then," Mike growled, gripping both hammers so tightly his knuckles whitened. "Let's finish this."
The wolves attacked together, a coordinated assault designed to overwhelm. Mike met them with desperate fury. He swung both hammers in wide arcs, connecting with one smaller wolf's shoulder, sending it tumbling with a pained yelp. The alpha ducked under his swing, teeth closing on his already injured calf. Mike screamed as the pressure threatened to snap bone, but managed to bring the ancient hammer down on the creature's back.
The hammer struck with a sound like a bell being rung, the ancient metal connecting with the alpha's spine. The wolf released his leg with a snarling yelp, backing away momentarily. Fresh blood flowed down Mike's torn pant leg, adding to the warm wetness already soaking his boot.
The third wolf darted in from the side, but Mike was ready. Putting everything he had into the swing, he caught the creature squarely under the jaw with his modern hammer. The impact lifted the wolf clear off the ground, its neck snapping audibly. It crumpled in a heap, dead before it hit the ground.
The sound of the neck breaking reminded Mike of dry branches snapping, a sickening crack that cut through the chaos of the fight. The wolf lay motionless, its six legs splayed awkwardly, three eyes already glazing over. One down, two to go.
"Three down," Mike gasped, now bleeding from several wounds. "Two to go."
The remaining smaller wolf and the alpha circled more warily now. Mike had proven more dangerous than expected, taking down three of their pack. But he was weakening visibly, blood loss and exhaustion taking their toll. His leg quivered with the effort of standing, and his wounded arm moved sluggishly, the hammer in that hand dipping lower by the second.
The wolves communicated with subtle movements—the alpha flicking an ear, the smaller one adjusting its stance in response. They were coordinating another attack, waiting for Mike to show more weakness. They had time on their side, and they knew it.
Mike's chest heaved with the effort of drawing breath. His shirt clung to his back, soaked with sweat. The wounds throbbed in time with his racing heart, each beat pushing more blood from his body. He knew he couldn't last much longer in a direct confrontation.
As Mike began to back away again, an idea formed—desperate, probably stupid, but possibly his only chance. If he could reach the explosive sap trees at the settlement's edge...
He remembered the amber fluid's reaction to his lighter, the way it had ignited with such intensity. If he could lure the wolves into the sap, or somehow get it onto them, the resulting explosion might turn the tide. It was a long shot, but he was running out of options.
He began moving laterally, trying to work his way around the ruins toward the trees he'd discovered earlier. The wolves shadowed his movement, the alpha occasionally testing his defenses with quick lunges that forced Mike to expend precious energy defending himself.
Each feint by the alpha came closer to connecting, each defense by Mike a little slower than the last. The wolf was playing with him now, wearing him down. It was only a matter of time before he made a fatal mistake.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the ruins. Golden light caught the dust motes in the air, creating an almost beautiful backdrop to the life-or-death struggle. Mike's vision swam occasionally—blood loss taking its toll. He stumbled over debris, barely catching himself before falling. Each time he faltered, the wolves moved closer, sensing weakness.
His wounded leg dragged, leaving a smeared trail of blood on the stones. The bite wounds pulsed with heat, the beginnings of infection already setting in. Mike's mouth was dry with thirst and fear, his lips cracking in the cool evening air.
Still, step by painful step, he maneuvered toward the tree line. The wolves, focused on their injured prey, didn't seem to recognize his strategy. They were simply following, waiting for him to collapse.
The spout he'd cleared earlier that day seemed like a lifetime ago. Had it really been only hours since he'd discovered the explosive sap? Mike clung to the memory, using it to drive himself forward despite the growing weakness in his limbs. Just a little further. Just a few more yards.
When Mike finally glimpsed the distinctive bark of the sap trees thirty yards ahead, hope surged through him. The smaller wolf, growing impatient, rushed forward in another attack. This time, instead of merely defending, Mike set his feet and swung with everything he had left, both hammers connecting in a devastating combination. The creature went down and didn't rise.
The modern hammer caught it in the shoulder, disrupting its leap. As it stumbled, the ancient hammer followed, connecting with its skull with a sickening crunch. The wolf dropped instantly, its momentum carrying it forward to land in a heap at Mike's feet. Four down.
Now only the alpha remained—the largest, smartest, and most dangerous of the pack.
It stopped, three eyes blinking independently as it reassessed the situation. Four packmates dead, yet the prey still stood. The wolf's muzzle wrinkled in what might have been calculation or grudging respect.
For a moment, predator and prey regarded each other across ten yards of blood-stained ruins. The wolf's chest rose and fell steadily, showing no signs of exertion. Mike, by contrast, could barely stand, his breathing ragged, his clothing soaked with sweat and blood.
Mike used the momentary reprieve to close the remaining distance to the sap trees. His leg threatened to give out with every step, but determination kept him moving. The muscles in his thigh quivered with fatigue, his knee threatening to buckle. The blood loss was catching up to him—he could feel the lightheadedness that preceded collapse.
Reaching the tree where he'd earlier cleared the spout, Mike saw with relief that a substantial puddle of the amber sap had indeed formed at its base, just as he'd hoped. The sticky fluid glistened in the fading light, its surface tension creating a slightly domed appearance. It smelled sweet but with a chemical undertone, like maple syrup mixed with paint thinner.
Positioning himself with the tree at his back, Mike faced the alpha wolf. "Come on," he panted. "Just you and me now."
His voice sounded strange in his own ears—hoarse from exertion, tight with pain. He swallowed, tasting copper. The hammers felt unnaturally heavy in his hands, as if their weight had doubled during the fight.
The alpha approached slowly, no longer rushing. It sensed a trap but couldn't comprehend what form it might take. Step by cautious step, it advanced, muscles bunched beneath its mottled fur, metallic teeth gleaming in the fading light.
Its six legs moved in perfect synchronization, placing each paw with deliberate care. The three eyes never left Mike, tracking his smallest movement. There was an intelligence in those eyes that went beyond animal cunning—an assessment, a calculation.
Mike waited, conserving what little strength remained. His plan required timing and luck, neither of which felt particularly abundant at the moment. The Zippo lighter weighed heavy in his pocket—his final gambit. His fingers twitched, itching to reach for it, but not yet. The wolf needed to be in position first.
When the alpha was ten feet away, it paused, sniffing the air. Something about the tree's scent apparently registered as unusual. Its head tilted slightly, three eyes narrowing in suspicion.
The wolf's body language changed—a slight tension in its shoulders, a new alertness in its stance. It sensed something wrong, some danger it couldn't quite identify. One forepaw lifted, then settled back on the ground, as if testing the safety of its next step.
"Now or never," Mike decided.
He lunged forward as if to attack, a move so unexpected that even the cautious alpha was momentarily startled. It recovered quickly, leaping to meet his charge, powerful legs propelling it directly at Mike's chest.
The wolf's reaction was blindingly fast—six legs pushing off simultaneously, launching its body through the air. Mike saw the muscles ripple beneath its fur, saw the metallic teeth bare in anticipation, saw the three eyes widen with predatory focus.
Mike tried to sidestep at the last moment, but his injured leg slowed him. The wolf's shoulder clipped him hard, spinning him against the tree trunk. Pain exploded through his ribs as he slammed into the rough bark, the impact driving precious air from his lungs.
His vision darkened at the edges, stars dancing across his sight. Something cracked in his chest—a rib giving way. Each desperate gasp sent fresh spikes of agony through his torso. But through the pain, Mike saw that his plan had worked.
The alpha landed in the exact spot Mike had been standing—directly in the puddle of sap. Its paws slipped on the viscous fluid, temporarily throwing it off balance. As it struggled to regain its footing, more sap splashed onto its fur, coating its legs and underside.
The wolf snarled in confusion, trying to shake the sticky substance from its paws. It didn't understand the danger, couldn't comprehend what was about to happen. The sap clung to its fur, glistening in the fading light.
Gasping for breath, Mike fumbled in his pocket for the Zippo. Each movement sent fresh waves of pain through his injured ribs. His fingers closed around the metal case, slippery with his own blood. The wolf regained its balance, turning toward him with renewed fury. It gathered itself to pounce again, unaware of the deadly substance now coating its body.
"This is gonna hurt," Mike wheezed, flicking the lighter open. The familiar scrape of the wheel sounded unnaturally loud in his ears.
The flint struck, the wick caught, and a small flame danced to life. In that moment, time seemed to slow. Mike saw the reflection of the tiny fire in the wolf's three eyes, saw the muscles bunch for its final attack, saw his own death approaching in the form of this magnificent, terrible predator.
The alpha lunged just as the flame caught. Mike threw the lit Zippo directly at the wolf's chest, then hurled himself sideways, away from the tree.
He didn't get far enough.
The explosion was far more powerful than Mike had anticipated. The sap ignited with a sharp *WHOOMP*, instantly engulfing the wolf in blue-white flames. The creature's momentum carried its burning form into the tree trunk, where more sap ignited in a secondary explosion that shook the ground.
The initial fireball expanded with breathtaking speed, consuming oxygen and creating a pressure wave that preceded the actual flames. The air itself seemed to catch fire, the temperature rising from cool evening to furnace-heat in a fraction of a second.
Heat and pressure slammed into Mike, throwing him several yards across the clearing. He landed hard on what should have been solid ground, but instead felt something crack beneath him. The impact splintered ancient, rotted wood—a hatch or trapdoor that had been concealed by years of accumulated vines and debris.
As the wood gave way, Mike experienced a moment of terrifying weightlessness. His stomach lurched as gravity reclaimed him, pulling him down into darkness. He tumbled through open space, unable to arrest his fall, helpless against the pull of the earth.
Mike plummeted into darkness, tumbling down into some hidden space beneath the ruins. His descent ended with a bone-jarring impact that sent fresh waves of agony through his already battered body.
He struck the ground flat on his back, the force driving what little air remained from his lungs. Something in his shoulder gave way with a sickening pop—joint separating from socket. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, a white-hot lance that cut through the general fog of agony that enveloped him.
Through a haze of pain, Mike stared up at the fading square of light above him. The alpha wolf lay motionless at the edge of the broken hatch, its body still burning with intense flame, illuminating what appeared to be the top of a stairwell or shaft he'd fallen through.
The flames cast writhing shadows on the walls around him, creating the illusion of movement in the otherwise still darkness. The stench of burning fur and flesh reached him even at this depth, mingling with the musty smell of long-undisturbed earth and stone.
"That," Mike croaked, "was more boom than I expected."
His voice sounded alien in the enclosed space—weak, broken, barely recognizable as his own. The simple act of speaking sent fresh spikes of pain through his cracked ribs, each breath a shallow, carefully measured sip of air to minimize the agony.
He tried to move but found his body uncooperative. His right arm wouldn't respond properly—the dislocated shoulder rendering it useless. His legs felt leaden, refusing to obey the increasingly desperate commands from his brain. The world tilted and spun around him, darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision. Blood soaked his clothing from multiple wounds, and each breath brought stabbing pain from what were almost certainly broken ribs.
Mike fought against the encroaching darkness, struggling to remain conscious. He knew, with the clarity that sometimes comes in moments of extreme danger, that if he passed out here, alone and injured in this unknown space, he might never wake up. Blood loss, infection, predators—any of these could claim him while he slept.
But his body had reached its limits. Despite his determination, despite his will to survive, the cumulative trauma was too much. The darkness gathered at the edges of his vision, advancing inexorably toward the center, shrinking his world to a single point of fading light above.
As consciousness began to slip away, a notification appeared—different from any he'd seen before. Larger, more ornate, with pulsing golden light around its borders. Strange symbols swirled and twisted, never settling long enough to make sense. They shifted and rearranged themselves in patterns that seemed almost to pulsate with meaning just beyond his grasp. In the center, a single transformation occurred—swirling shapes that might have been a 4 briefly stabilized before morphing into something resembling a 5.
The meaning floated just beyond comprehension as darkness claimed him completely.