The Right Side of Wrong (2 page)

Chapter Two

Cold.

Cody swam through an incredibly chilling fog and struggled awake. He'd never felt anything so numbing in his entire life, not even the time he almost froze to death while elk hunting one clear, Christmas morning as the sun peeked over the Colorado Rockies.

The bedroom was frigid as that high mountain morning. Cody fought to wake up and tell Norma Faye to put another quilt on the bed, or to turn up the heat in their little frame house. He was always after her to turn up the space heaters. For some reason, his wife didn't feel intense cold as much as her husband.

Still
cold.

Surely she must be uncomfortable by now
.

He stretched out a foot to nudge his wife awake. At least he
tried
to extend his left foot, but it must have gone to sleep on him, because his muscles refused to cooperate.

“Norma Faye.”

It came out a softly mumbled, “Naaaafayyy…”

Cody wanted to turn his head so the pillow wouldn't muffle his voice. Fighting unusual grogginess, he slowly realized something was seriously wrong.

He wasn't resting on a nice soft pillow in his house just north of Chisum. A hard and smooth object pressed sharply into the right side of his head. Even worse, he couldn't move to alleviate the pressure.

Surprise jolted Cody fully awake. He blinked to clear his vision and squinted at the nearest barely lit object that didn't belong in their house.

He was looking at an open car door.

He blinked again.

It didn't change.

I must be dreaming.

Now why was there a car door in his bedroom? His eyes took in the broken window, frosty pieces of shattered glass on the arm rest, and a tree limb protruding through the door's interior fabric.

That ain't right.

He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting to clear his mind. When he cracked them again, the strange world within view was startling. No
wonder
he was cold. Snow was everywhere.

Cody picked up sensations.

He moved his eyes. At first, the right one didn't focus properly. Everything was
sideways
. His brain finally adjusted for the light and the strange angle. Cody longed to straighten up and find out what was happening.

Light? Where was light coming from? Good Lord. That's a headlight reflecting off the snow and I'm looking out of Norma Faye's Plymouth!

Because the door was open, the much dimmer dome light was also on, spilling onto the ground, reflecting enough for him to see the nearest drift was disturbed, scarred with debris and clots of black dirt.

Something violent had occurred.

Maybe an explosion.

Maybe a car wreck. He was in the wreckage of Norma's car.

I'm not in bed. I've had an accident!

Then he remembered and once again tried to sit up. “Norma Faye?”

When his feeble whisper barely reached his own ears, Cody knew he was in serious trouble. He couldn't move.

Paralyzed
!
Oh my god, I've broken my neck!

Only his eyes blinked. Nothing else responded.

The cold penetrated deep into his bones as contradictory sensations sharpened his mind.

Wait a minute.
He knew one thing for sure.
People with broken necks can't feel anything at all.

All right, then.

Fighting to organize his thoughts, Cody closed his eyes and desperately concentrated on being calm. He couldn't lose it. To panic now signaled the beginning of the end. Stay clear and rational to survive.

Think!

Well, if I panic, at least I can't run screaming through the woods and get lost and die.

He opened his eyes again to take stock of the objects in his limited field of vision.

Help!

He noticed his breath as it created a temporary fog.

Think or die!

All right, thinking, or trying to think with that stinkin' radio still going.
The music was unrecognizable through a wall of static.
Why didn't I turn it off?

Wait! Someone shot at me.

He recalled the skid, the window rolling down on the other car, the shot, the final loss of control, the car flipping like a carnival ride gone wrong.

The wreck didn't kill me, so what about the guys with the gun? Maybe they didn't hit me, but that window blowing up in my face likely convinced them that I'm dead, or so near dead that it wasn't worth the trouble to finish the job.

Breathing through his mouth, Cody probed with his tongue to see if any teeth were missing. He almost laughed. It didn't matter if all his teeth were scattered like Chiclets on the dashboard. He couldn't
move
!

A high, piercing resonance filled his ears.

What's that?

He listened, and realized the sound originated from his own throat. It was the sound of a wounded animal. He'd heard it before, from men in Vietnam who thought they were dying.

Calm down and think! Take stock. What do you know?

Well, most likely his nose was broken since he was breathing through his mouth.

Blink.

Both eyes were functioning normally once again.

Blink.

The wind soughing through the creaking trees and the muffled sound of chuckling water told him the car had nearly landed in the creek. He'd fallen a long way. It might take hours for a passing vehicle to notice the tracks where he skidded off the road and hours more for help to arrive, if ever. A rescue party would probably find his rock-hard body frozen behind the steering wheel.

I need to move.

He was paralyzed! How
could
he do anything?

Oh sure, I can think warm thoughts.

Think!

Okay. Hypothermia wasn't an immediate concern. He was dressed for the weather. Because the car was so cold when he left the house, he was still wearing his coat and gloves.

His forehead throbbed from cracking against the steering wheel sometime during the carnival ride through the woods. Luckily it wasn't bleeding too much. Or maybe it had stopped.

Cody thought about that.

Bleeding out from several different places was a distinct possibility, but since he was paralyzed he'd never know until it was too late.

Could he bleed to death before freezing?

No, not when it's so cold.
He recalled stories about people who avoided death in the wintertime because blood froze over a wound, sealing it as effectively as if it were cauterized. His own Great-Uncle Melvin survived grievous wounds during the Battle of the Bulge that same way in the intense Belgium cold.

So, I won't bleed out. I still have to worry about freezing, though. Maybe they'll find my tracks soon.

He moved his eyes. There was his shoulder, and his left arm dangling by his side. His right hand lay in his lap, limp and empty. Both legs appeared to be unbroken, but that was a guess and nothing more.

Nausea welled. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he lost consciousness.

***

When Cody came back, his nose was numb and his ears had lost all sensation. His field of vision hadn't changed while he was out. The door and the trees in the background remained the same, but something was different.

Darker.

Heavier clouds.

Snowing again, covering his tire tracks. They might never find him! Panic rose, but he fought back.

A single tear leaked out and coursed down his cheek.

Think positive.

All right. The headlight is still on. So is the dome light. Maybe someone will see me down here as they pass.

The lights flickered as something shorted out inside the dash. They blinked several more times. When they steadied, the radio static that had been a steady background noise was silenced.

Snow fell once again, a repeat of the near white-out storm that met him that morning. With the radio dead, Cody heard the hiss of heavy snowflakes landing on the trees, the car, and the existing snowpack. He hoped someone had already found the tracks, or maybe saw the accident occur, and were even now organizing a rescue.

Time passed. A dim glow across the creek began to define the snow-laden limbs. Dawn that cloudy morning was only minutes away.

He heard a sound. Not a tree creaking in the wind. It was different…
alive!

Someone is out there.

“Here!” Cody's attempted shout barely came out a whisper.

Soft footsteps moved around the opposite side of the car. Cody desperately wished to turn his head, move a finger, anything. He most likely appeared dead, and that might cause his rescuer to move even more slowly. “Help,” Cody whispered. “Can you hear me?”

The sound stopped.

Listening.

Then it resumed, coming around the front of the car. Cody waited for the person to step into view. A strange snuffling noise reached his frozen ears. He raised his eyes as far as possible to glimpse a frightened, unkempt dog. It was one of those unfortunate animals abandoned in the country by owners who didn't have the guts to put the unwanted dog down, or the sense to know that throwing him out near a farmhouse was a slow death sentence.

With a rush of horror, he realized the huge pit bull had been attracted by the smell of blood. The gaunt animal survived by eating whatever it found.

“Go away. Get out of here!” He barely breathed the words.

The scent of fresh blood drove the starving dog mad. The only thing keeping the dog from immediately attacking was the puzzling and unsettling moans coming from the man, even though he hadn't moved, and that worried it also. Though it sensed he was injured, the man might still be a danger if he wanted to hit, or use the stick that made noise.

It whined and shuffled uncertainly in the snow. The worried animal sensed security in the car. There was familiar warmth in there, too, and shelter from the wet snow.

It crept forward, raising its nose again to sniff past Cody, and then reached toward the gloved hand that was dangling out of his sight.

Cody heard the dog lick tentatively at his bloody fingers. He knew what was coming. “No!” he gasped again, but there was no force behind it.

The dog licked again, reveling in the taste of fresh blood. The rich, life-giving liquid had dripped into the snow. The dog sniffed at the red stain and eagerly lapped at the frozen blood. It bit at the icy clots, cracking them in his teeth like dry dog food.

It wasn't enough. Food!

Bolder now, the desperate animal became more aggressive.

Cody tried to scream away this unimaginable horror.

The result was still another weak utterance not much more than a sigh.

Belly rumbling, the dog took Cody's glove in his mouth and tugged.

No no no no no no…

Shrieking soundlessly, Cody watched his unfeeling left arm pull away and then drop again to his side. Bolder still, the dog bit again and yanked, trying to remove the hand.

The dog hadn't been comfortable in weeks and the thought of a full stomach was nearly driving it crazy. It planted its feet and jerked. Cody's weight shifted and gravity slowly took over.

This can't be happening!

At the sudden movement, the dog tucked its tail and fled a short distance. It whirled in a flurry of snow and watched the man fall heavily into the snow.

Cody landed hard on his left side with his feet still inside the Plymouth, legs tilted upward at an odd angle. His head bounced when it slammed sharply onto a half-buried log in the snow. Sparks flashed before his eyes.

His field of vision was suddenly reduced by more than half. The left side of his face was buried in the icy fluff. Only his right eye revealed his surroundings, the opposite bank of the stream, and the left front tire buried in black loam and dirty snow.

Now that thing has me out of the car! Oh god oh god oh god!
My eye's fixin' to freeze harder'n a marble
.

The dog approached from behind. Cody closed his eyes, and hoped his weakened system would kill him soon. His mind raced. Wild animals always went for the softer parts first.

Oh Jesus please please don't let me see him chewing I couldn't stand it if I saw it with
anything
in its mouth oh please please please I wish I were deaf, too.

But the dog didn't immediately tear into him.

The one-time pet walked forward on stiff legs, ready to run again. It smelled life in the man that made mewling sounds even though, curiously, he hadn't moved.

Drawn by something as powerful as hunger, the dog crept slowly to the car, stretched carefully over the still body, and lifted its front feet onto the doorsill.

It sniffed.

Quivering, it squatted, moved its back feet nervously on the ground to gain a secure foothold, and jumped into the front seat. The dog moaned in relief as its cold feet touched the still-warm cloth and shivered with delight, soaking up Cody's residual body heat.

What is that thing doing?

For the first time since he was a boy, Cody cried.

Through his terror and silent sobs Cody heard the dog growl, low and menacing.

Muffled swishes more sensed than heard flowed over Cody's prone body. The musty smell of wild animals enveloped him. A pack of wild dogs, once pets themselves, had also scented the blood and wanted it all for themselves. Feet and legs swarmed over Cody and they attacked the first dog.

Suddenly, the world exploded.

Well positioned, First dog fought with determination. The snarling dogs climbed over Cody, but First dog fought back.

Blood flew.

Cody squeezed his eyes shut and desperately willed himself to move, to crawl away, but his damaged body refused to respond.