by Will Collins
He'd heard the screams, and ran out in time to fire two shots that drove the huge bear, the biggest goddamned bear anyone had ever seen, away from the bleeding thing that had once been Ada Rogers.
And that poor boy. His leg torn off above the knee, his back and chest like mince meat. Corwin's stomach churned just thinking about it now.
Allison had helped him to his room. She wanted to stay with him but he was ashamed, and wouldn't let her.
He wanted to die himself.
The television people were furious that they weren't allowed to photograph the victims.
Kelly Gordon faced them, like an avenging warrior, and yelled, "The first bastard who points a camera at those people is going to eat it!"
The ambulance's arrival only increased the agitation of the reporters.
One, holding a cassette recorder, pushed his way up to Kelly and said, "Who the hell are you to shut us out? The people have a right to know what's going on."
"They'll know," Kelly said. "They'll know the whole damned story. But you're not going to photograph that hurt boy and what's left of his mother. That's final."
Avery Kittredge arrived. He brushed aside questions by the reporters and made his way to Kelly, who looked at him coldly.
"Here's the Park Supervisor now," he said loudly. "I believe Mr. Kittredge has come to announce that as of this moment, the park is closed. Isn't that so, Mr. Kittredge?"
Trapped, the supervisor nodded. "In the interests of public safety," he said. "Untill the situation is under control."
One reporter said, "It seems to me this place should have been shut down long before now. You're having a massacre up here."
"Mister," said Kelly, "we're closing our gates to everybody, and that includes the press. So why don't you move along?"
"This isn't park property," said the reporter.
"No," said Allison Corwin. "It belongs to my father. And what Kelly said goes. Move it. All of you."
"The big carnival's over," said Kelly. He turned away.
"What about our story?" asked another reporter.
"You'll get it. You'll get one you don't expect. Bears aren't the only dangerous critters in these woods. Stupidity and greed—they're pretty nasty beasts too, aren't they, Kittredge."
Kittredge ignored him. "There'Il be a press conference in my office at noon," he told the reporters.
"Don't miss it," Kelly told them sarcastically. "After all, you're collaborators in this circus."
"What are you talking about?" asked one of the newsmen.
"You're as much responsible as that bear up there. You spread the word about all the nice excitement available in the woods for the small price of admission to the park. You made it seem like fun, a chance to find some safe adventure."
The newsman said, "We just told it like it was."
"No," Kelly said. The ambulance attendants were loading the boy into the back of the vehicle. He nodded toward the small form on the stretcher. "Only little Robert can tell it like it was. If he lives, maybe he will."
One of the reporters, Iooking through field glasses at the ambulance, choked. "My God," he said. "What's that they're putting in there with him?"
Without looking, Kelly said, "That's Robert's left leg. We got a tourniquet on him in time to save his life. But I wonder if he'll ever feel like thanking us."
Allison said, "At least he's still alive."
Kelly said, "Part of him is, the poor little son of a bitch."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kelly had found the note from Arthur Scott in his office. It read, "Make sure your boys know what they're shooting at, because I'm going to be up there and I'll probably be wearing my deer skins. When I get him, I'll radio in and let you know where to pick him up."
Twice, Kelly had Barney try to contact Scott, but the naturalist either wasn't answering, or had his radio turned off.
He left instructions with the duty ranger, "Keep trying him. Tell him Don and I will be up there in the chopper, and to signal us if we get in his area."
Although Kittredge had closed the park, he had flatly refused to let Kelly call in the National Guard. However, he had relented to the point of letting Kelly borrow some armament from the local Guard unit, and now Kelly and Don were loading it into the back of the Hughes helicopter.
The biggest piece of gear was a one-man flame thrower. Its tank bore a white star and the stenciled legend, "409th Nat. Guard Batt."
And there was a grenade launcher, which fitted on the muzzle of a rifle, a box of grenades, and two high-powered rifles. Don asked, "Which one do you want?"
"Neither. I'll handle the controls. You're a better shot than me."
Don said, "You can't keep sliding past it, Kell. It's no different to order a killing than it is to pull the trigger yourself."
"I know," Kelly said. "Where are the flares?"
"In this bag." Don paused. "I thought it might happen in Nam, that you'd get yourself backed into a corner where you had to kill or else. But it didn't. You and me, we brought out a lot of bleeding bodies. But you never made any of them bleed. All you did was put your ass on the firing line seven days a week to patch up the damage somebody else had done."
"You were right there, too."
"Yeah, but I was shooting back."
"I remember. Good thing you were, or I might not be here now."
"Sooner or later, you've got to shoot back, Kell. And I think this is the time."
"Maybe. Do we have everything?"
Don put two boxes of silvertip expanding bullets in beside the rifles.
"We've got enough to start a war," he said. "If we see that bastard, he's dead."
"But be careful. Scottie's out there somewhere."
"He's a certified fruitcake," Don said.
"So you told him."
"Kell, that goddamned bear'll take that pellet gun of his and chew it up like popcorn."
"Scott's a good man. He may do what he said he'd do."
"I hope so. Or we'll be digging another grave."
Allison drove up. Her smile was wan. "Kelly . . . you're going up there after him?"
"Yes."
"I hope you find him." Her voice trembled. "I hope you make him suffer before he dies."
"Allie—"
"I know, he's only a dumb beast. I don't care. He's got it coming."
"Where's your camera?"
"Packed. Kelly, I'm leaving."
"What about your book?"
"The hell with my book. If it'd bring back any one of those people, or that boy's leg, I'd throw my camera and every negative I've ever shot right in the middle of Wolf Lake."
Gently, he said, "But it wouldn't bring back any of them. You know that."
Slowly, she nodded. "Yes, I suppose I do. But I'm sick of it. I can't commercialize on what's happened here. It'd be like robbing the dead."
"What will you do?"
"I'm taking Dad back to Ohio, to my Aunt's place. He's closed the lodge. He blames himself for the Rogers. He keeps saying that you asked him to close down and he didn't because he wanted the money more than the safety of people."
"That's nonsense. Nobody's to blame. The bear could just as easily have gone down the other slope, into High City."
"I know."
"How is he?"
"All right, but very low. At first we thought it was his heart, but Dr. Hallit says it was just shock and anxiety. But he agrees that it's a good idea to take Dad away from here."
"Well, tell him I said to get well fast, and maybe we'll have a new rug for his lobby when he opens up again."
"Don't get hurt trying to collect it," she said.
"I won't. You take care of Walter."
"Okay. And you take care of you."
She started to get in the car, turned. "You're not off the hook, Kelly," she said. "I'm coming back for you."
"I'll be here," he said.
She made a little frame with her thumbs and fingers.
"Click," she said.
There were armed men strung all along the side of the mountain. They were angry, and they were determined.
The beast sensed the danger he was in. He stayed well ahead of the invaders.
And his hunger was growing, without any way to appease it.
Scott had taken Tex, the horse Gail had ridden, and was well up into the high country.
He knew, from occasional monitoring sessions with his radio, that Kelly's rangers were moving along the lower slopes. Where it was safe, they had started controlled fires, to drive the beast into exposed areas where they might get a shot.
Well, he would beat them to it. Because the naturalist was convinced that he knew where the bear would appear next.
Don Stober indicated the thin line of rangers climbing the slope beneath the helicopter.
"There they are," he said. "No sign of our bear friend, though."
"They'll find him. Those boys are good hunters."
"Some of them. You used to be a hunter. Did you ever ask yourself why you did it?"
"I hunted for meat."
"Bull. For most hunters, it'd be cheaper to buy their meat from the best restaurant in town instead of spending all the money they do on gear and travel. That's not why they hunt, for the table. That's the justification they give themselves and their wives. The real reason they hunt is because they're part of a collective unconscious."
"A what?"
"A drive that's in all of us. You've studied psychology. Some of those eggheads say that we all relate back to our ancestors, the cavemen."
"And that's why we still hunt?"
"Right. We have this itch to deal with nature on a one to one basis. We're reaching back, trying to be what we once were."
"Don, you always amaze me. When this is over, I think I'll let you give a few of the women's club lectures.''
"Whoops," said Don. "I just lost all interest in psychology."
"Too late," Kelly laughed, breaking the tension. "Your big mouth just got you in a heap of trouble."
Don banked the chopper.
"See something?" Kelly asked.
"No. It's just a rock."
"Well, head up toward R-Four," said Kelly. "I've got an idea."
The hunters moved through the forest faster now.
The day was warming up, and their jackets were open.
Although they were careful about their targets, shots rang out now and then, booming back and forth between the surrounding hills. Most were fired at shadows, although one round brought down an unlucky black bear who had wandered down below the timber lille.
The forest telegraph worked overtime. Beavers slapped their tails on the cold water, warning of danger. Birds chirped and flew, fluttering their wings, to alert ihe forest's inhabitants that the most dangerous predator of all was approaching.
But, as the long day wore on, the beast stayed well ahead of his pursuers.
The pain in his jaw had begun to bother him again, and the bullet wound in his neck throbbed. He was angry, and frustrated, and above all, he was hungry.
Don had returned to base twice for fuel. Now, near sundown, this was his third run. Once again, Kelly instracted him to head for the high camp area.
"We haven't seen a trace of him up that way," Don said. "What makes you think he's going back into the high country?"
"Because he's a bear, and they like to establish a routine. They don't stray from it."
"This one managed to get all the way down to the lodge. I'd call that straying."
They flew through a cloud of smoke from one of the deliberately set fires.
Kelly said, "Yeah, but he ran into lots of trouble. I think Tom hit him. There was hair near the tower. And we've got a small army in the field. He knows it. His logical move is to head for someplace safe, because it's getting too hot and noisy down here."
As the chopper circled, rising slowly up the elevations of the mountain, Don said, "And you're going to help him make up his mind."
"That's what we're doing right now. Showing him that it's going to be mighty uncomfortable if he insists on staying down on the low slopes. He'll get the message.''
The beast ran, moving faster, through the underbrush. Twice some strange object in the sky had passed over him, making fluttering sounds. Both, times he had been near cover, and had melted into it, freezing until the creature, whatever it was, had passed over.
The beast was beginning to feel penned in. In every new direction he took, he sensed menace and although he feared no animal in claw-to-claw combat, he dreaded the invisible fang the two-legged ones had that could reach through the air and tear at hair and throat.
Occasionally, he found traces of the markings he had made to identify his range.
Perhaps within that territory things would be better.
Ponderously, he turned uphill.
"There!" Kelly yelled, pointing. "Right near the camp site."
He took over the controls as Don grabbed for one of the rifles.
"Hey," Don said. "That's not our bear. It's a deer."
"I know. Drop him."
Don hesitated. Shooting from a vehicle, even a chopper, is against every sporting rule hunters know. "It's a doe," he said.
"Shoot, damn it. We need bait!"
Kelly brought the helicopter in low and smoothly. Don chambered a bullet, brought the crosshairs to bear on the deer's neck, and squeezed off.
She went down, all four legs splayed out, as if a string had suddenly snatched her life away and left only a chunk of flesh bleeding in the forest.
Scott heard the shot, not too far away. But he paid it no mind.
"Damned silly hunters," he muttered. "Shooting at their own shadows."
With the chopper tied down securely in the clearing, in case of a sudden wind, Don and Kelly had made camp near it.
They'd dragged the deer to the edge of the clearing and gutted it out.
"If he's down-wind, he'll smell this," Kelly said, deliberately puncturing the intestines. The foul odor almost made him choke. But to a grizzly, it was perfume.
They had set up a blind near the chopper, with pine branches piled atop a boulder.
Don scowled at the rifle he held. "This is a regular army piece," he said. "We should have brought something with glass sights you can flip over, to shoot down the barrel in close work."
"It'll do," Kelly said. "Just put the first one between his eyes and you won't have to worry about any close work."
"I'm not so sure," Don said. "That big baby seems to lead a charmed life."
The beast nosed out the dead deer. But there was another odor mixed with its blood and the ripe scent of its torn intestines. The acrid, disgusting spoor of Man.
The grizzly moved carefully. There was danger here.
But, more importantly, there was food.
The two men talked quietly. They knew that they shouldn't, but the night was dark and lonely.
"What about Allison?" Don asked. "Are you two serious.
"I don't know," Kelly said.
"Well, take it from an expert. She is. So if you don't like the game, you'd better get out of it."
Kelly thought for a moment.
"No," he said finally. "I think I like the game."
"Good. You won't find many better than that girl."
"What about you?"
Don shrugged. "I get a little tail here and there. That's all they are to me, nooky. A quick score. I don't hurt anybody. The ones I pick, that's all they're after too."
"That's pretty temporary, isn't it?"
"Sure. But look who's talking. You've got four years on me, buddy. Wait until I'm your age, maybe I'll think about settling down too."
"It's a short life," Kelly said. "I'm starting to realize that I've wasted most of mine up until now."
"Different strokes for different folks. You used to be one kind of guy. Now you're becoming another. It happens."
"Why? Because of one girl?"
"Nope. She just came along at the right time. You're lucky. The t
wo of you are synchronized, just like the blades on that chopper of mine. Do you know what would happen to that bird if those blades came out of sync, and started doing their own thing out of step with each other? It'd tear apart in mid-air."
Thinking of the night in her cabin, Kelly nodded. "Yes," he said. "I know what you mean."
"Why don't you take twenty? I'il keep watch. If I get sleepy, I'lI wake you."
"All right," said Kelly. "But if you see that son of a bitch, shoot first and wake me later. We've got to put him down."
Almost gently, Don said, "We will, Kelly. Don't worry.
Scott pulled the horse up short. "Whoa, Tex," he said. "I think we've gone far enough for tonight."
He thought he had been on the trail of the beast, but now he was not so sure.
He picketed the horse near a trickle of water, where there was good grass, and made a wide circle.
Yes, something had moved through here. And it had
slept, or at least rested, among the spruces.
He felt the matted pine needles.
They seemed warm.
He went back and unsaddled Tex, then rubbed the horse down carefully.
"You stay right here and eat some of this nice grass," Scott said. "I'm going to make myself a bed up there." He nodded up into the trees. "But don't you worry, if our friend turns up, I'll keep him away from you."
Tex whinnied, and began to drink.
Although only a horse, somewhere in his thoughts was a question:
Where was the nice smelling one who used to ride him?
The beast moved cautiously toward the food. He made no sound as he crept through the forest. If he could, he would feed without the two-legged ones even knowing he had been there.
But if he had to, he would challenge them, despite his fear of their invisible fang.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kelly was half-dozing when the bear came.
The beast had approached down wind from the gutted-out deer.
He moved silently, carefully. His feet felt the forest floor and drew back from each dry twig before it had a chance to snap. No Indian could have moved more stealthily.
It was past midnight, and both rangers were dog-tired. Don Stober was sound asleep, breathing noisily through his mouth.
The night was cold, and both men were wrapped in their sleeping bags. The rifle lay against the boulder, with a high-powered flashlight beside it. There was a round in the chamber, but the safety was on.
