Woods of Madness

IV

I don't know about Charles, but I didn't get much sleep. We were in opposite sides of the camp, and at 5am, morning exercise was mandatory. We lined up, and I heard everyone talking about the awful noise last night. No one knew how the wolves could have started off as vicious predators, only to be seemingly slaughtered like it was nothing. The noise gave a sign that it was deep in the woods where no one went that far, and there were still no animals coming to our camp. Many wondered what exactly happened last night, though there were some like Captain Connely who brushed it off as simply animals being animals, and maybe he was right. As we lined up, I noticed that the line was shorter than previously, and the captain saw it too.

"Those damn deserters, unbelievable," he muttered while smoking a very thick cigar. The one thing he hated the most were deserters, and there were several men that have gone missing. Our group lost the most at 8, and with the others, a total of 20 soldiers left. We haven't done too much these last few days, so they must've just been counting the minutes when a high-ranking officer would turn their back.

 Nevertheless, our training resumed as normal and likewise, it was regular. The captain spared no mercy and yelled at us and called us names non-stop, though he too did partake in the exercises, and I must admire him for at least doing that much. Most high-ranking soldiers would never do this, but Captain James Connely always wanted to be right where the action was. Afterwards came breakfast, which is always either eggs and bacon or beans. They were both made poorly, but at least the eggs and bacon were bearable. The beans were not, and unfortunately, today's dish is the one I like the least. I found Charles and sat next to him. He ate up the beans, having gotten used to the food, while I still struggled.

"You know Shaun, it dawned on me... there are no wolves in France." My spoon almost fell, and my mouth was wide open. I was almost choked.

"What do you mean?" I asked, totally confused.

"Yeah, in all that excitement last night and later fright, I forgot that wolves have been eradicated in France since 1937." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had to stop and think for a second.

"But... what we heard last night was definitely a wolf pack. Maybe there are some wolves here undocumented," I wondered.

"Well, a pack consists of 2-12 or even 30-40, but that noise last night was so loud, it must've been more. And I think that someone would've already seen a pack that large way earlier," Charles explained to me carefully and precisely. I was deeply impressed. He said it all like a well-educated college professor. I assume that this is his true self, and that his usually jolly, almost childish self is a facade. Perhaps he's insecure about talking about stuff like this, for it makes him nerdy. But he trusted me enough to share them with me.

"Even if we were to pretend that was real, still, what could've just killed off a wolf pack so easily? I mean the lynx is the top predator, and they are very solitary. They will never attack a wolf, much less a pack," he wondered deeply.

"Almost everyone heard it, even the captain has, so we didn't imagine it. What if... oh no," I realized it, and my heartbeat raced fast. I struggled to swallow out of my worry.

"What is it?" Charles looked at me very concerned.

"What if the Nazis are using loud microphones to deceive us?"

"No, it can't be," Charles told me, not wanting to believe it. "I mean, we've kicked them off this far. We're in the safe zone. We liberated this part. There couldn't be any Nazis behind here."

"But there can be. It is possible some of them got stuck here, and of course, the damn bastards plan an attack here. I mean, this place had everything. It is not out of the realm of possibility that it had microphones and sound recordings. They took it and now are watching us and playing mind games," I told him. While this was a theory, it still needed to be said. "We should report it to the captain just in case. We have to think about all the possibilities." Charles looked at me, not like I was a patient in an asylum as I thought he would, but looked at me like I was genuinely someone who was onto something. He agreed by nodding, and we went to the captain's tent.

 We entered his place, which smelled like cigarette smoke and whisky. It was dirty and filled with every gun you could think of, including an stG 44, the best gun in the world. It was nicely clean and sat on a table on top of a warm piece of cloth. It hasn't been fired yet. Clearly, the captain has been  saving it for a special occasion. Finally, we met up with him. I was extremely nervous to present my theory, especially since we were interrupting his schedule, which at this hour includes excessive drinking.

"Out with it," he said, completely uninterested, with a cigar in one hand and a shot of whiskey in the other. I took out a handkerchief and wiped off the sweat that had built on my forehead. I explained my theory to him. After I finished, I expected him to insult me and tell me to leave. However, he was frozen still and then dropped his glass of whiskey, puffing his cigar several times before standing up. He said, "In one of the rooms, we found some microphones and recordings of various animal sounds. But it looked like there was more, and someone took it in a hurry since we saw some dropped tapes that weren't picked up."

It appeared that I was right, but it didn't feel good at all since now I know that we are being stalked. Captain James Connely quickly ordered increased patrols at night. As soon as night fell, we were out patrolling. I was with Charles, thankfully, as this was going to be a long one. It was raining heavily, and the wind was mighty.