The Fallen by Dennis Stein

Blackness became light, the cloud began to lift gradually, and the pain came hot and bright. Denise knew that she had been badly injured in the fall.

  One of her hiking boots was twisted to an unusual, jutting angle, and her knees were on fire. Blood was visible in several places on her sweatpants. It was hard to breathe, and Denise pulled her hand back from where it hurt reflexively from the sharp pain. She must have broken a few ribs as well. Mopping at liquid on the side of her face, her fingers came away with streaks of crimson, half-dried blood on them. Her head throbbed dully, and she could feel a small gash in her scalp, just above the hairline. Fortunately, the bleeding seemed to have stopped mostly, a patch of her hair matted and sticky with congealing blood around the shallow wound.

  Attempts at moving her legs were met with howling pain, and she screamed briefly, trying her best to remain as still as possible. She passed out twice over the next hour, each time returning to consciousness only to discover that her situation remained unchanged.

  Fully awake again, Denise groaned. She looked around, relieved to find that her neck wasn't damaged, and that moving her head caused little to no pain, despite her aching head.

  Her backpack lay beside her amid a jumble of rocks and dead wood. She remembered taking it off to look for something inside just before the fall, otherwise she would likely be lying on top of it, and her stainless steel drink bottle and extra camera lenses might have conspired together as she tumbled down into the ravine to break her back as well. She was relatively certain that her spine was intact, and she wasn't paralysed, based on the searing pain in her knees and legs.

  She looked down at the lower leg that was horribly twisted, and for a moment, felt as though she might vomit. Getting her stomach under control by taking breaths as deep as she dared, Denise looked with terrified fascination at white bone, jagged and sharp, protruding from a hole ripped in the bloodied fabric of the lower leg of her pants.

  No sir, she would not be running any marathons in the near future. The humorous thought was ended by hot, agonizing pain and Denise fought to remain conscious. The cloud and the darkness threatened to engulf her again, and she focused all of her attention on her breathing.

  The air was cool and fresh. It was late October, and above her the trees bore only a few remaining leaves, the rest covering the ground at the bottom of the ravine in a thick blanket of red, orange, brown, and yellow. There was the stink of decaying foliage and raw earth in every breath she took.

  Steep rock walls rose most of the way around her, their pink granite flesh dull in the mist.

  Denise had no idea what time of day it was now, or how long she had lain there. The sky above was lead-grey and somber, hiding the position of the sun. 'At least it's still light out', she thought.

  She reached gingerly for the backpack, trying to keep the rest of her body as still as possible. Tugging it upright, she did her best with one hand to make the zipper open. It was a slow task, but she didn't want to risk moving her other arm, keeping it clamped against the side of her body as if to hold her broken ribs together. If she moved it, Denise knew that it would undoubtedly shift the other side of her torso, and those ribs would be ready to sing with excruciating pain.

  She managed to get it open, and fumbled about inside for her cell phone. It would be her salvation. One call would bring help. And she needed it, as quickly as possible.

  Any optimistic thoughts she had quickly plummeted into outright despair as she pulled it out, her gaze tracing across the phone's shattered screen and bent body.

  Denise threw it in anger, and her ribs and shattered legs came alive with white hot, searing pain. She screamed, both in anger and in agony. A moment later, darkness consumed her once again.

  When she finally emerged from the cloud, it was much darker out than before. Dusk had come. It was noticeably cooler out as well, and Denise shivered slightly. Her ribs reminded her that this was not a good thing to do.

  Thoughts raced and swirled. How would anyone find her here? She hadn't really told anyone she was going hiking this weekend, and it was only Saturday, Yes, Saturday, her tired mind registered. The earliest anyone would realize she was missing would be Monday morning when she failed to show up for work. Even then, her co-workers might assume she was sick and hadn't come in.

  Denise fought against the rising panic. Water. She was well and truly thirsty. She reached gently for the backpack again, rummaging single-handedly for the stainless water bottle. She drank greedily, the idea of conserving leaving her mind as soon as it entered.

  "Probably going to die right here," she said to no one in particular.

  It was then that she heard the snap of a twig, and looked hopefully up onto a rise in front of her where the sound had originated.

  Standing on a large table of rock twenty or so feet away was a very large wolf. Its grey and black fur was thick, and it had paws that were simply massive. The creature stared at Denise with round, pale yellow eyes that looked so deeply into her, that it felt as though her very soul was visible to the huge animal.

  It licked its lips as it watched her, exposing large white teeth. It had been drawn by the smell of blood in the air. Denise's blood.

  Her breath froze in her throat as she lay motionless, watching the beast in front her. She could feel panic rising, and forced herself to remain calm as the wolf sniffed the air, those yellow eyes boring into her. The thick cords of muscle of his chest and forelegs tensed as though ready to launch at the human in front of it.

  Denise's heart thumped hard, and she could feel blood pounding in her ears. She was suddenly lightheaded, and brilliant spots of light invaded her vision. She knew she was powerless to stop this apex predator from feasting on her, and also unable to flee from the deadly animal watching her every move.

  She dared not stir, and her eyes darted around, looking for something, anything she could use in her dire situation.

  The Rocks. She gazed at the pile of fist-sized shards of granite lying around the backpack, along with a half-dozen thick-looking sticks, remnants of a shattered tree limb.

  It was ironic. For all the technology and innovation of the human race, she had somehow entered a strange scenario that was one of the oldest in time: 'Survival of the fittest', and Denise was definitely not on the 'fit' end of the scale at the moment. It would come down to one of the most basic things as far as violence between lifeforms. Kill or be killed. Fight or Die. And all she had to defend herself with were sticks and stones.

  She grabbed for a rock, ignoring the terrible pain which sprang up from her ribcage, side-arming it through the air in one quick motion.

  The wolf easily avoided the missile, jumping to the ground beside the table of granite. Denise's rock bounced away harmlessly, hitting the spot where the wolf had stood with an echoing 'crack'.

  It growled deep and long. Denise reached desperately, closing her hand around the girth of a large stick. She fired it toward the monstrosity, and the wolf quickly retreated.

  "Sticks and stones might break my bones, but you will never freaking get me!!" she screamed at it.

  The wolf half-turned, but his pale yellow eyes remained fixed on the potential prey. Denise was now breathing heavily, despite her ribs, adrenaline dulling her pain.

  The wolf finally turned away, sauntering off at a casual gait. Perhaps it had decided that the human was not yet ripe for picking, still too dangerous to get near. Maybe it wasn't yet hungry enough in this autumn landscape, where winter's harsh cold and deep snows had not yet cut off the abundance of food.

  Denise didn't care either way, as long as it left her alone. For the moment it did, disappearing into the gathering gloom, mist enshrouding its departure.

  Denise went limp. She tried desperately to keep control, to prevent herself from descending into the shadows of her own mind, but the pain was dragging on her like an anchor.

  Her vision skewed slightly, and for a moment she was seeing things that she knew could not be there. She saw a strange mouse-like creature looking out from under a nearby bush. She looked skyward, and a glowing bird swept through the skeletal fingers of the deserted tree branches above. She was beginning to hallucinate. The realization came to her softly, as though she were floating through some sort of waking dream. Reality ebbed and flowed, the sights and sounds in front of her coming in ever-changing waves.

  She went out again. At least she thought she did. Visions swam before her, and pain kept yanking her free of her half-dozing slumber.

  The wolf had returned.

  She struggled for another stone, casting one after another at the dark canine apparition. It would retreat, disappear, only to return again a while later. Its eyes were constant. The pale yellow circles seemed to penetrate the darkness, glowing out of the night, ever watchful. The predator was waiting, patient, expectant of the perfect opportunity.

  Night descended on the ravine. It became a nightmare between fantasy in the waking world, and reality laced with detonations of pain. The wolf would come, and Denise would fend him off with another barrage of sticks and stones. It was a tug of war between their wills.

  Denise surfaced again, and the world seemed to brighten somewhat. The dawn approached. Her throat was parched by thirst, and hunger hollowed her out. A snap sounded somewhere nearby, and she reached instinctively for another hard, round weapon. She looked up, ready for the next engagement. She would put this rock right through her enemy's skull.

  What she saw was not the wolf, but a person. The dark shape silhouetted by the impending sunrise stood on two feet, not four. Denise blinked and then squinted, rubbing her eyes to ensure she was seeing straight.

  "Are you alright?" asked the person, stepping forward.

  "Yeah. I fell," replied Denise groggily, raising a hand to shield her eyes against the corona of light around the person now standing over her.

  "It will be OK. I am here to ease your pain and suffering."

  The apparition in front of her extended a hand toward her, offering, it seemed, to help her. The fact that she could not hope to move thanks to her shattered lower limbs aside, Denise cocked her head to the side, trying to get a closer look at this person. There was a warmth there in her mind, the frosted ground underneath her broken body forgotten. She felt as if her mass was weightless, levitating in some sort of space between worlds.

  "Come on, I'll help you," the visage in front of her prodded again.

  Denise lifted her hand, dropping the stone she had grabbed. Her hand met the warmth of the other that had been put forward to help her. She gazed up into the black silhouette over top of her, the sunlight behind now outlining it.

  She might finally be able to leave here, she thought. She might move on.

  Icy fingers wrapped themselves around her heart, and her breath began to come in quick, furious gasps as she fought back against the rush of fear flooding her mind suddenly. She tried to retrieve her hand from the embrace of the apparition above her, but was held fast.

  It was the eyes. They peered down at her, and in their depths, Denise saw no malice, no ill-intent. They regarded her with unwavering calm. Those pale yellow eyes drank her in, and all her sticks and stones could no longer save her.