“What do we do with him?” the other asked, quieter this time. “Don’t know yet,” the first replied, shrugging. “Depends how long it takes the others to get here.” The way he said it chilled Caleb more than the cold. Not if—they were only deciding when.
What if the others came before help arrived? What if they moved the animals? What if they silenced him and disappeared into the ice before anyone could stop them? He looked at the calf again. It was watching him. Just like the adult had, earlier. As if waiting for him to do something.
Caleb’s mind raced. Every part of him wanted to run, to scream, to fight—but there was nowhere to go. The two men paced nearby, talking about when the others would arrive. One joked about finding a forklift for the adult walrus.
The net twitched again. The trapped bull let out a deep groan and tried to roll. The poachers didn’t seem worried. They were used to this. They knew exactly how to wait things out. Caleb’s gaze drifted to the sky.