Chapter 336

The Prison Planet

Morales woke with the dawn as usual, but with a crick in his neck from having slept propped against the wall. "Shit," he mumbled as he rubbed his neck, then as he moved to sit up fully, he hissed in a breath. "Oh, fuck, my side is a lot more sore this morning."

After struggling to his knees, his hand clamped hard against his side to give the wound support, he stood, at first humped over a little, but eventually erect. "Fuck. Oh, well, maybe some of the soreness will go away after I move around a while." He intended to check his side for infection and change the bandage, but nature's call would not be put off any longer.

With his knife, he slit the plastic on one of the packages of toilet paper, watching as the sudden loss of vacuum allowed the compressed tissue to expand to many times its original size. Donning his belt and quiver, he grabbed up his crossbow, shovel and a pack of the tissue. The wolf raised its head and stared at him, but otherwise didn't make any effort to stand. "Be back in a minute, Lobo." After pulling three of the bars out of the wall enough to give him room to go through, he limped his way on out of the cave, cautious as always.

Back a few minutes later, he put a pot of coffee on to perk before getting his saw and going back outside. It didn't take long to find a sapling the size he wanted. After cutting it down, he shortened it to about five feet in length and stripped the limbs from it. Now I have something that will make it a little easier to get up and down, and... he thought as he swung the heavy stick experimentally, it makes a decent club, too.

Back in the cave, he put the bars up as he always did. After cutting a chunk of panther meat the size of his fist, he put the water bucket and pan near the wolf.

"Your eyes have been following me ever since I got up. Hungry, Boy?" he asked as if the animal could understand him. It didn't make any sound, but continued to stare at the meat in Morales' hand. He sank to his knees in front of the wolf, the stick making the descent a lot easier, then cut a piece of meat off and held it near the wolf's muzzle. It looked up at him for a second, then snapped the piece out of the human's hand, before looking back at him.

Morales cut more pieces. In short order, the chunk was gone. Pouring the pan half full of water, he slid it near the animal. It struggled to its feet, and after taking a step, thirstily lapped the pan dry.

"Well, well. Looks like you're a lot stronger this morning."

Laboriously, it walked over to the bars, stopped and looked back at the human. Morales shook his head. "You're not strong enough to survive out there, yet. I'll let you go when you are, but..." Then it dawned on him. Shit. Surely it isn't that smart, but if I let it go outside as weak as it is, and it won't come back in here, something will kill it. But if it just has to piss...

He took down three of the bars, but even before he had the last one down, the wolf was trying to push past him. Staggering, weak, it went on out the passage, then barely clear of the bushes raised a leg to piss – or tried to. Too weak, it swayed and almost fell. Squatting a little, it pissed for a long time.

"Damn, Boy. You really had to go," Morales said with a chuckle.

Again astounding the man, the wolf turned and just as laboriously made its way back inside to collapse in the same place, obviously exhausted. It closed its eyes and, as far as Morales could tell, was almost instantly asleep.

"Damn," he muttered. "You're one smart son-of-a-bitch."

The percolator made its distinctive sound as it finished its cycle. After pouring a cup of coffee, he put it on the floor by the rock he used for a seat and retrieved his first aid kit. After taking his shirt off, he washed his hands and sat, dreading pulling the bandage from the wound, knowing the material would be stuck to the wound.

Cautiously, inch by inch, he pulled the bandage free in one slow, but continuous motion, hissing in a breath at the sting. With a scrap of hide soaked in water, he wiped the caked blood from the area, being careful to always wipe away from the wound itself. The flesh was puckered from his amateurish stitching, and the cut itself was swollen and red, but there was no bleeding or pus as far as he could determine. After applying antibacterial ointment, he rebandaged the wound, then carried out the same process on his toe.

Finishing his coffee, he struggled back to his feet using his stick before limping over to the wolf, the toe sorer this morning after the abuse he had put it through the previous day. Lobo opened his eyes, turned his head and stared up at the human.

"I need to look at that wound and put some more ointment on it. You gonna let me?" The wolf just looked at him with its dark eyes.

"Damn, I wish you could understand me. Oh well, here goes nothing."

Putting the first aid kit down, he eased to his knees and laid his stick beside him. After petting the wolf, hoping that would show his good intentions, he moved closer to its right side. It turned its head more to watch him, and when he touched the bandage, it growled at him. Morales pulled his hand back, then petted the animal again. "Easy, Lobo. I have to do this if you're going to heal."

Again as he touched the bandage, it growled at him. "Dammit," he snarled at the wolf. "How in the hell am I supposed to help you if you won't let me. Now make up your mind if you want to live or not, because I need to change your bandage and put on more of this antibacterial stuff."

Pissed, he reached over to pull the tape loose from the thick fur. He could hear the rumble of the wolf's growl deep inside his chest, but it wasn't as loud this time and the animal didn't make a move toward him. "You know I'm scared shitless, right?" he said in conversational tones as he wiped away the caked blood, rinsed the piece of hide and wiped around the wound a second time, all the while refusing to look toward the wolf's head. He didn't want to even think about that mouthful of teeth.

"Hard to tell with all this fur, even though I did trim the area some, but I think your wound looks okay under the circumstances. At least you haven't torn out any of the stitches, and there's no bleeding or pus. Looks like both of us are starting to heal. Maybe wounds don't get infected as easily on this world. But what the fuck do I know?"

The wolf didn't answer, growl or attack, so Morales figured he was ahead in the situation.

After reapplying the ointment, he bandaged the wound, closed the case and struggled to his feet. As he put everything away, the tension gradually dissipated while he was completing the mundane tasks. Only then did he realize how much he had been sweating from the tension.

After offering the wolf more water, which it lapped up after struggling up enough to drink, Morales poured himself another cup of coffee before walking over to check out the line of unopened cases that had come from the resupply case.

"Now, which one do I open today?" he said aloud. "Hmmm, how about this one."

After the hiss of escaping gas, he pulled the top open to begin removing bags of freeze-dried foods. There were three that really caught his attention when he realized they each bore a picture of bright yellow scrambled eggs. He found himself chuckling. "Well, that's half of it. Now if I just had some way to keep pork, I could have bacon and eggs for breakfast. Oh, well, eggs and jerky are better than just jerky and jerky any day. Shit, I'm already tired of eating jerky and I've only been here a few days. Hmmm. I've got potatoes, though. If I had some onions, I could fry up some potatoes and onions to go with the scrambled eggs. Fuck, since there are wild potatoes, maybe there will be some wild onions, too. I've been focusing on meat, but I need to keep my eyes open for other sources of food as well."

He peeled a couple of large potatoes, thin-sliced them, salted and peppered them, and with a little fat from the buffalo, put the potatoes in his skillet and on the fire. After a few minutes, the wolf raised its head and sniffed. "Like the smell, Lobo?"

The wolf made no sound, but looked at him, then back at the skillet. "Okay. Okay," Morales said, laughing. "You get the first batch, then I'll fry some more for me." As he peeled two more potatoes, he read the instructions on the freeze-dried eggs. "Can't be any easier than that. Just add water to reconstitute the eggs, and cook," he said with a chuckle.

When the potatoes were done, he slid them off onto the board he had smoothed, and put it in front of the wolf. "They're still pretty hot, so be careful," he cautioned the wolf as if it could understand.

Never having eaten anything that was hot before, and obviously sensing the heat, it tentatively reached out for a nibble, then with a couple of gobbles, the potatoes were gone. "Shit, I thought you would never get done," Morales joked, laughing. "Like those, huh?"

The wolf looked at him and whined. "Sorry, Partner, but these are mine," he said as he put the skillet back on the fire.

When the potatoes were done, he put them on his plate, prepared the eggs and put them on to cook. When they were ready, he started to slide them onto his plate when he saw the wolf watching. "Look, I can't..." he started, but sighed and gave the wolf half.

By the time Morales sat to eat, the wolf had gulped the eggs and licked the board until it shone with saliva. Looking over at the human, it whined again.

"Nope. Those eggs are gonna be a special treat, but I guess I'll share when I do have them." When he finished his eggs and jerky, he looked over at Lobo. "Want some more of the pussycat?"

This time Morales didn't bother to slice the meat into small pieces, just cut a chunk and handed it to the wolf. In seconds, the meat was gone. As he stood looking down at the beast, he said, "Well, you let me change your bandage and even went outside to piss, but I don't know what that mind of yours is thinking behind those big, dark eyes. Are you gonna eat me if food gets scarce this winter?"

With his second cup of coffee of the morning in hand, Morales stood looking at the row of freeze-dried foods now on one of his shelves. "What the fuck am I going to do with powdered milk? It's not as if I need warm milk to sleep better at night," he tried to joke. "I just need more hours in the day to get things done, not to mention that fucking saber-tooth dead so I can sleep without worrying about that big bastard.

"Hmmm, those scientists that the resupply case was bound for must have used the powdered milk for cooking, I suppose, but I don't have anything to cook that needs milk, powdered or not. Wonder how long it took them to get another case after this one was lost. Oh, well. I'll gladly use their stuff, even the powdered milk, if ... I can figure out a use for it. I tried drinking it once when Mom had some. Once was enough for me."

Taking another sip of the hot coffee, he thought, I need to scrape the panther hide and start processing it, but before that, I think I'll do the tendons. I hate how much time it will take, but I'm not going to let all that sinew go to waste. I might use it one of these days.

"I need to borrow your plate, Lobo," he said as he retrieved his board, then the tendons. After washing the board free of the wolf's saliva, and having freshened his coffee, he sat to convert the tendons into sinew.

When the process was finally finished and the sinew was stored on his shelves, he went over to where he had strewn the straw to dry. After kicking his feet through it, he decided it was ready to use for his potatoes. "Gonna be gone for a while, Lobo," he said to the animal. "Gotta get a place ready for my potatoes. If I manage to store them properly, we'll both be glad come winter."

With his shovel, pick and lantern, he limped to where he had left the potatoes in total darkness. In an area where there was a big depression close to one of the walls, he squared up the sides with his tools, and dug the floor down a few inches more, his side screaming at him from time to time as he stressed it while digging. Thankful that the depression was already there and he hadn't had to do much digging, he stood back to check out his work. The finished hole was roughly four feet wide by six feet long and about three feet deep.

Amazingly, his side wasn't as sore as it had been when he awakened, but the toe had forced him to use the other foot whenever he pushed the shovel into the soft dirt.

Several trips later, he had deposited a layer of straw, then carefully placed a layer of potatoes followed by yet another thin layer of straw. "Shit," he said aloud. "I don't know whether this will work or not, but it's one of the methods the articles described. I have no idea if the temperature will be right during the winter, or if the moisture is correct. All I can do is the best I can, but I need to dig more potatoes, sore side or not. If I can find more and if this works, I'll have potatoes to add to our diet for most of the winter."