Jonathan Michael Bennett (jon_bennett) wrote in immunebackstory, @ 2012-06-16 17:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | jon |
Even a Pure Man, Deep in His Heart Can...
Who: Jon
What: The closest to being a superhero Jon ever got.
Where: Forked Lake Campsite, New York
When: 26 September 2017
Rating: There will be blood! Getting mauled by a wolf kind of does that.
Status: Solo.
Jon loved camping out at Forked Lake. Sure, it was a bit of a drive, but he really had nothing better to do. Jon's social life had pretty much died since Lixue walked out of it. She was probably the only reason he'd had one to begin with. Jon's life nowadays revolved around his teaching. He really didn't have time for people, and being the introvert that he was, he didn't really feel like he needed a whole lot of people in his life.
When he needed to socialize, he had siblings. They were his best friends. They were his companions. They were his family. That was enough for Jon.
He'd been at the lake the better part of a week when the Campbells set up their two tents in the site next to his. The Campbells consisted of Roger, his wife Melinda, and their two children, Max and Susie.
Jon usually preferred his solitude when he was camping, but he'd changed his mind about moving campsites when Max decided that Jon was the coolest person ever and took up near permanent residence at his site. Kids had that particular effect on Jon, he had a hard time telling them no. His only stipulation to Max hanging out was that the kid was to return to his own tent when it was time to go to sleep. And there was that whole safety in numbers thing. It was a sort of unspoken agreement amongst the adults.
Roger had invited Jon out fishing while they were there. Melinda had cooked him breakfast once or twice. Susie hadn't quite figured out what to do with their new acquaintance. And Max loved Jon. Jon talked about baseball. Max absolutely loved baseball.
Then September 26th came along. It was a Tuesday. Early morning. Really early morning. The sun was no where near gracing the eastern seaboard with it's presence. Jon had woken from a dead sleep to a shuffling noise.
What's that? Initial thoughts. Wake up a bit more. Logic sets in. Probably just a squirrel. Shufflers make different noises. Turn over. Get adjusted. Start to fall back to sleep.
More shuffling. A bit of a snarl. Sleep wasn't going to happen. Something was off about the noise he was hearing. He sat up as his stomach flopped over on itself. Something was wrong.
He pulled himself out of his sleeping bag, and grabbed the flashlight that lay nearby. It was nothing special, good for nothing more than providing luminescence. After that night, he'd only carry a maglite if given a choice. You could take something out with a damned maglite. Wiping what sleep was left from his eyes, he stood and made his way to open his tent.
Something was digging around in the Campbells' campsite. Maybe Melinda had forgotten to put the food up a tree before they went to sleep? She didn't seem that careless, but shit happens, right? I'll just scare it off and secure whatever it got into. It was when the light of the flashlight hit the shadowed animal that Jon's heart fell into his stomach.
It was a wolf. And a wolf in and of itself wouldn't have been scary, really. There were black bears out in this area, a wolf would have been the least of his worries. Wolves normally avoided humans. Why was this one here?
That was the moment he realized it was infected. And hungry. It had stopped munching on whatever it had been feasting on to sniff the air. Jon took that moment to react, closing the few yards between him and the wolf in a manner of seconds. The flashlight had tumbled to the brush below. He didn't think as he pulled the mangy beast off of it's midnight snack. To his horror he realized that it had been feasting on whatever was left of Melinda Campbell. Roger's half eaten corpse lay right next to her formerly sleeping body.
He didn't have time to be sick. Had the adrenaline not been in his system, he'd have tossed his cookies right then and there. He could hunt, he could fish, and he could skin his kills and clean his catch. But this was different. These were half eaten humans. This wasn't something he could have ever been prepared for.
A knot of pure fear took up residence just below his diaphragm. Where are the children? He didn't see their half eaten remains, or bones. Their sleeping bags were empty. Had they been dragged off? Had they run off? Were they okay?
As the panicked thoughts reeled through his head, the wolf snarled and lunged at him, latching onto the right side of his neck with it's blood soaked teeth. Thankfully it didn't bite deep enough to hit his jugular vein. Jon could have been dead in that moment.
He could feel the claws on his back as the wolf tried to get enough force to bring him to the ground. He couldn't let it get the best of him. He had to find the children. He had to make sure that they were okay. Somewhere amongst the snarls coming from his aggressor, Jon made out the fearful gasps and cries of Max and Susie. He turned toward the sounds, but didn't see either of them. Panic fueled him. He could feel the adrenaline in his veins.
His hands scrambled for a grip on the wolf's mouth. He had to get it's vice-like grip unhinged if he was going to get it off of him and keep his neck in tact. The damned thing was at such an awkward angle for him. He was lacking complete dexterity and strength needed to pull the wolf off of him.
Max and Susie were up a tree. High enough to keep them safe from anything that didn't climb. Upon turning to look over his shoulder, he had caught a glimpse of Susie's light blonde head of hair. They were okay. Good. Max's gaze was focused on Jon, a look of sheer terror permanently plastered across the young man's face. Poor kid wouldn't sleep well for a while. Jon was sure of that. Susie had her face buried in Max's chest. Jon could only hope she hadn't seen much of the scene below.
Jon was losing hope that he'd survive the attack. He was almost certain he'd end up dead and eaten along with Roger and Melinda. Good people. But this was not how he had pictured himself exiting this existance. He wanted to go in his sleep...and preferably not eaten by a zombie in the process. It was in that moment that he caught a glimpse of the hot dog skewers they'd used earlier in the evening. Melinda hadn't put them away because she was waiting for daylight so that she could see to wash them.
Slowly, he made his way toward them. One agonizing step after another. His back was on fire from the fury of claws that slashed away at him. His neck throbbed as the wolf's bite deepened. He needed to get the damned thing off of him.
It seemed like forever. The world had begun to haze, he'd lost enough blood now. Miraculously his foot had found the handle of one of the skewers. It slid, clattering slightly with the rest as it fell to the ground next to the now extinguished fire that crackled there hours before. He leaned over to reach for it. The wolf took that moment to try and gain a better position on Jon's back to take him down.
Through the grueling pain that had now moved from his lower back to his middle back as the wolf shifted, Jon managed to wrap the fingers of his left hand around the wooden handle. It only took a moment, and a well placed shove, and the wolf yelped and let go. As it fell to the ground, Jon turned to look. He'd impaled one of it's eyes. If it had a brain, he'd skewered it. It wouldn't be down for long though, and now he'd pissed it off.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his vision. There was nothing around to decapitate it with. The Campbells didn't carry many sharp things as they had younger children. Little Susie was especially accident prone, or so he'd been told. He hadn't witnessed anything to prove or disprove that.
He'd not aimed to go hunting on this trip, so his normal stash of hunting knives were back home. Damn it all to hell, they sure would have been useful to have.
His gaze fell to the blackened fire pit. He could burn it. It might take a little longer than decapitation might have, but it was the best option he had.
Taking a deep breath and letting it out, trying to block out the excruciating pain radiating down his back, he turned toward the children. He pointed at the terrified nine year old with his good hand. "Max! Whatever you do, do not come down from that tree until I tell you otherwise."
He didn't wait for the kid to nod. He was a good kid, and if he knew what was best for him, he'd listen. And that was that. Jon turned to the mangy, blood stained wolf corpse. It was gnarly. It had been infected for a while, or so he figured. The fur was caked in dried blood, and patches of hair had fallen off all over it's body. He shuddered to think that moments earlier that thing was on his back trying to eat him for dessert.
He rubbed his chin as he looked around. Firewood was around here somewhere. Where had they put it? Ah yes. He made his way around the tent and slowly piled wood at the pit. It took longer than he'd have liked because he could barely move his right arm. Once he'd moved all the wood, he knelt down and started a fire.
He was thankful that it hadn't decided to rain that night, and the temperature hadn't reached dewpoint. If the wood had been wet, he never would have gotten a fire that strong going as quickly as he did. Making his way over to the wolf corpse, he gritted his teeth and dragged it next to the fire. It took every ounce of strength left in him to heave the wolf onto the flames. He stood there for a moment, just watching it burn, waiting for a flaming corpse to lunge out at him and finish him off. At that moment, he would have been a dead man. He had nothing left in him to fight with. Maybe there was a God after all, and maybe he was actually looking out for Jon. Who knew for sure?
As the fire died down and the smell of death and burnt death filled the air, Jon motioned to Max and Susie. It was safe enough for them to come down. Safe enough for the three of them to abandon their bloodied campsite and head back to civilization. Civilization that would place them with their family, and him in quarantine.
The attack had made Jon lose the last bit of hope he had. He was sure he was dying and made the decision that he'd accept it. He'd lost Lixue. His father was dead. It was only a matter of time before his mother and siblings found graves of their own. Jon would greet Death with a smile and say "Take me home you hooded bastard."
But death didn't come. No matter how hard Jon wished for it.
He was immune.
Fuck.