Read James Lovegrove - The Age Of Odin for Free Online Page B

wolf buried its fangs in bony, sinewy wrist. The pain was excruciating, but all I could think was: It's only my wrist. As long as that's getting bitten, not my throat, I'll live . This was the kind of calculation I was reduced to making. The wolf could gnaw my hand off, but that was a survivable wound. If it kept me alive a little longer, okay by me. Any loss was acceptable, even part of a limb. That was how much I didn't want to die.
    The wolf's jaws bore down. Pressure mounted. I felt something splinter and crack in my wrist. Worse, heard it.
    Then: Abortion to the rescue. He appeared beside me and, without pausing, without hesitation, rammed a thumb into the wolf's eye. The eyeball burst wetly open. The wolf screeched and let go of my arm. Half blinded, the beast danced away, rubbing at the empty socket with a frantic forepaw.
    "Reckon that makes us even," Abortion said with a grin -
    - and then a wolf pounced onto his back and buried its fangs in the side of his face, while another sneaked between his legs at the same time and bit upwards.
    Abortion didn't even have a chance to scream.
    The wolf on his back peeled half his face away with a single, twisting wrench of its head. The other yanked down, tearing off the crotch of his trousers and much of what lay within. His blood sprayed me like rain. He stood there twitching spastically, one cheek and ear gone, his groin a ragged ruin. His eyes rolled upwards. He let out a zombie-like moan, a tragic, pointless sound.
    Then other wolves were on him, six, seven of them. He crumpled under their weight, collapsing like a demolished factory chimney. The rest of the pack dived in. There were ghastly moist noises of crunching and feasting. Abortion's booted feet juddered, then lay still.
    I watched, dazed, appalled. Then self-preservation kicked in and I rolled onto my belly and started crawling away, hauling myself through the snow by elbows and knees. With the wolves preoccupied with their kill, if I could get to the trees... maybe find a broken-off branch to defend myself with... or else find somewhere to hole up where the wolves wouldn't be able to reach me...
    The alpha male planted himself in my way.
    He was wilier than the others. He wouldn't be distracted by the presence of an easy meal. Nor was he about to let the pack's second victim escape scot-free.
    His eyes were full of nothing but cold greed as he stalked towards me.
    I struggled up onto my haunches to greet him. My hand was hanging off the end of my arm at an ugly angle, and blood was pouring from deep teeth marks. My ribcage was like a corset of fire. My skull throbbed. This would all be over very soon, I knew. Big old Mister Wolf here wasn't one to muck about. I was as done as a Christmas turkey.
    A thread of drool twinkled in the moonlight.
    I thought about Gen, and about Cody. Mostly about Cody.
    Cody - the only thing in my life I was genuinely, unambiguously proud of. The only thing I hadn't messed up. At least, not as badly as I'd messed everything else up.
    I wished he could know how sorry his old man was. How much I would have loved to be a dad worthy of him. How great I thought he was.
    "Come on then, you furry wanker," I told the wolf. "Get this over with. Just make it quick."
    The alpha male tensed. I could see him eyeing up which part of me to go for. All set for the kill.
    Then his head cocked. His eyebrows arched quizzically. He glanced to the side.
    A moment later, I heard what he'd heard.
    A mechanical buzzing.
    Like a chainsaw, but lower, deeper.
    Coming from the depths of the forest, but growing in volume rapidly.
    All of a sudden a patch of snow at the alpha male's heels erupted, with the crack of a gunshot. The wolf leapt to one side, alarmed.
    Someone rode into the glade on a snowmobile. In the blaze of its headlight I caught a silhouetted glimpse of the rider: goggles, fur-trimmed parka hood, long hair trailing from beneath a helmet. And a hunting rifle, held one-handed. The snowmobile slewed to