by Hunt, Jack
Her eyes became heavy and she drifted to sleep, but she was awoken by the snap of a branch, and footsteps close to her. Her hand slipped into her pocket and retrieved the Leatherman. She flipped out the knife with her thumb and with her eyes slit, she saw a looming figure moving closer.
In an instant, she stuck the knife out in a defense posture, her adrenaline pumping, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness and the faint glow of a fire that was nearly out.
“Whoa, it’s okay, it’s me,” Frank said, holding one hand out, in the other was his large, sharpened stick. “I heard something.”
As they remained still in the darkness, listening, it was quiet, and then suddenly they heard the familiar woof and snort followed by a guttural sound.
Kara’s chest snapped upright, her eyes widened in horror as her pulse sped up. She tensed, her vision clearing at the sight of a huge mound ambling through the trees. It wasn’t a wolf, it was far worse.
A grizzly.
23
The crescendo of the gushing falls had masked its approach. There was no time to back away, clatter sticks together, or climb a tree this time. The fire was almost out but through the glow, she could see its silhouette, a dark looming mass of hair, its head swaying. Moving ever so slowly she crept toward a stack of branches and sticks they had piled beside the fire to be thrown on throughout the night. She lifted a handful while grasping her Leatherman so tight, her knuckles went white. She set the sticks on the fire and blew into it, breathing life into the flames.
By now, Callaway was awake but Frank had his hand clamped over his mouth and was whispering in his ear, no doubt telling him to not make a sound. Her father was awake and staring into the darkness as if preparing to meet the grim reaper. Taking her walking stick, Kara wrapped some of the extra T-shirt she’d torn for Callaway’s leg and tied it quickly around the top using some of the plane wire. She leaned the end up against the rocks and did the same again on another branch, all the while not taking her eyes off the beast as it roamed through the trees, either unaware of them or preparing to charge.
Pushing the tips of the branches into the fire and letting them burst into flames, Kara handed one to Callaway who was lying beside her father. They would need a way to keep the bear back while she used the other. Frank had his sharpened stick, ready to stab the damn thing if it got too close.
On one hand, she didn’t want to make a sound; on the other, she wondered if yelling would make it turn tail or send it into a rage. She was certain it could hear her labored breathing, sense her hands shaking as she slipped the knife back into her pocket and held on to the branch with both hands.
Kara wasn’t sure if the rock face behind them would be their saving grace or their undoing. Trapped, cornered, a rushing falls to the right, and nothing but forest arcing around them, she swallowed her fear even as her hands shook.
The flame held by Callaway flickered as he trembled.
It couldn’t have been more than sixty feet in front of them, moving forward on all fours, snout up, sniffing their air. Like a ferocious monster rising out of the bowels of hell, it seemed to get larger as it closed the distance.
“Listen to me, Frank,” she said. “We need to get more fire around us and fast. While I try to keep it back, light up some branches, and toss them out ahead of us.” Her neck began to ache as her muscles tensed, and acidity roiled in her stomach. No bear mace, no rifle, no flare, this was the closest they could get to what it must have been like for their ancestors or for natives who encountered them.
Burnt pieces of T-shirt dropped thick and black to the ground, curling up as the embers went out. The flame wouldn’t last long. The grizzly got closer, clearly fixated upon its next meal. Kara steadied her voice, remaining calm and ready to speak in a firm but low voice. She averted her eyes from its face but made sure she could see it at all times. It was hard to miss, eight feet long from nose to tail and approximately nine hundred pounds. It was larger than the last one, easily — which made her think it was male. She frowned. There were no cubs with it, at least that she could see or hear, and besides berries, they had no food in the camp, which made her believe it was a different one. It was known that male black bears had silently stalked their prey for hours before attacking, but a grizzly? Did it see them as prey, as a food source?
“Those rocks,” she said in a low voice to Callaway. “Be ready to throw them.”
It was insane, she knew it. Rocks, sticks, these primitive defensive tools against such a giant that could shred them to pieces. There was no guarantee that even the fire would keep it at bay but it was all they had and if this was where she breathed her last, she wasn’t going down without a fight.
The alarm bells rang in her mind.
Keeping the long, flaming branch out in front of her, she wondered why the bear hadn’t charged. Was it waiting for the fire to go out? Biding its time? Expecting them to run? She wanted to run, climb even, but there was no time.
Inwardly, she cursed, every swear word under the sun.
Don’t come any closer, she thought.
Her hands shook, the flame dancing on the end of the stick growing smaller with every passing minute. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw more of the T-shirt. There was no way she could add it, not now, not as the bear gazed at her, wide-eyed and committed. Attacks on large groups were uncommon but there were only four of them. Perhaps it could smell weakness? Sense fear?
There was no warning this time, no roar showing its intent to charge.
It lurched forward, slapping the ground with its huge paw and doing a bluff charge.
She could tell why. Frank had collected a branch and dipped it into the fire, catching the end alight. He tossed it ahead of them and it landed, sending smoke into the air. A small blaze crackled before them. It wouldn’t last long but it was something, anything to deter the bear. “No. Back away!” she said in a firm tone, holding her ground with the flame out.
Each time as Frank reached for another thick branch, ones they had collected earlier that evening, the grizzly launched forward, taking even more steps, letting out a growl. Frank dumped another branch, this time farther out to prevent it from coming around and trying to snag her father. Each time it took short, powerful steps, she stabbed her fiery branch toward it, firmly telling it, “Go away. Move it, bear.”
Slowly but surely Frank managed to engulf six different branches in fire and toss them out ahead of them, creating a fiery arc that offered a false sense of security. They knew full well if it wanted to get them it could charge in and bulldoze them all like bowling pins.
The determined grizzly strolled, its eyes piercing the night, giving them a clear view of its huge form as if to let them know that this was his kingdom and they had made a bad mistake waltzing in.
With the fire blazing and hers almost out, Kara dipped down and took the remaining T-shirt, wound it around the end of her stick, and secured it before plunging it into the inferno. She lifted it ahead of her and waited.
Come on. Either go or attack.
The waiting was brutal.
“What’s it doing? Why isn’t it leaving?” Callaway said.
“Would you?” Kara asked. “We’re an easy meal.”
“It’s probably thinking of how it can get at you,” Frank said with a chuckle.
“Fuck you, Frank!”
“I don’t know, it’s eyeing you.”
The fear was palpable. Kara didn’t want to just stand there watching. She shifted slowly to her left, stepping over Callaway and her father, hoping to collect some more branches but her movement only infuriated the beast. It let out loud grunts and growls, its jaw popped. “Get out of here! Bear. Go!” she said.
“Slowly,” her father said as the bear turned its attention on her and bounded forward, bursting through the gap of fire. Kara’s eyes bulged as she jammed the fiery end of the stick at its snout, causing it to rise on its hind legs. In a flash, Frank lunged forward, jamming his sharpened stick into the bear just be
neath a front leg, but the impact did little more than piss it off. It swatted, knocking him away.
By now Callaway was screaming, jabbing his flaming stick at the bear, but it might as well have been a lit match as the grizzly ignored it then backed up, slipping into the darkness. “Where did it go? Where has it gone?” he said.
Kara didn’t wait to find out, she moved sideways, stepping into her original position and checking on Frank. “You okay?” she asked as she dipped her stick in the fire and set it ablaze again.
He nodded but clearly he wasn’t.
She couldn’t see if he’d been clawed or pounded with its mammoth paw. She looked out, scanning the inky black night. No movement. Nothing. No mass. Where are you? Her mind was in full flight-or-fight mode as she weighed her options, of which there were few. She snagged up another branch and lit it, then tossed it between the gap that the bear had entered. It wasn’t wide, which meant the fire wasn’t much of a deterrent.
“Is it gone?” Callaway asked.
She said nothing.
“Kara, is it gone?”
No grunts, growls, woofing, or any noise. Maybe it had retreated, decided they weren’t worth the effort. Her senses sharpened, her eyes scoped the night, readying for the next wave.
“Why did it back up?” he asked.
Callaway wanted answers, answers they couldn’t give him.
There was no rhyme or reason to how animals thought. Sure, they’d learned from experience but that could change in a heartbeat, and it did.
Without even a snap of a twig, nine hundred pounds of fury burst out of the dark, galloping toward them at an alarming rate. “It’s not stopping, it’s not…” Like the hound of hell, it tore into the camp. Its pounding paws stepped on a flaming branch, putting it out like a wet finger against a match. The earth trembled with each stride as it hurtled forward and in one smooth motion bit down on Callaway’s leg, then tossed him into the air. His scream was unlike anything she’d heard before.
No sooner had he hit the ground with a sickening, bone-crushing thud than the mask of fur and snarling teeth pounced on him, clamping its jaw over his thigh even as she stuck fire in its face and she felt its reverberating growls go through her.
“Help!” he howled.
On all fours it moved back, dragging him out undeterred by their attempts to get it to drop him. It was like they didn’t exist at all. Kara jammed the fiery end into its face, and for a second it let go, only to roar so loud, she nearly lost her footing. It whipped its paw at her, knocking the stick away, then charged forward like a rocket with its head down, nothing more than a blur before they collided, knocking her off her feet and back against the wall. It was like being hit with a truck. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly blacked out. On the ground, she looked Callaway directly in the eye. He’d rolled onto his stomach, spread his legs, and clamped his hands over his neck.
He’d done everything right but it wasn’t enough.
The grizzly clamped its jaw down between his legs, Callaway’s head jerked up, mouth wide, but not even a scream escaped, it was trapped in the excruciating agony of a death grip as the grizzly dragged him back into the darkness.
Frank dropped beside Kara immediately as she tried to catch her breath.
“We need to go now.”
Horrendous screams, the kind from nightmares, filled the air. Callaway’s final pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as the beast tore him apart.
Part III
24
Grizzlies were like dogs, in that they had a chase reflex that was triggered by running. But yet that was exactly what she wanted to do. Had it not been for her father’s lack of mobility, and that glaring fact, she was certain her flight instincts might have overpowered logic and they would have bolted like Olympic sprinters.
Still, pure fear pulsated through her like gasoline, fueling her escape as her thighs screamed in protest. She was still winded from the knock and aching from hitting the wall, but adrenaline had blocked out the pain.
The sheet metal of his stretcher clattered loudly over the rocky terrain, as they moved at a steady pace and dragged him to safety — knowing at any moment, it could be their last.
Only when they were out of sight of the bear did they pick up their pace.
How could this have happened? She understood the attack at the crash site, it was defensive, a mother looking to protect her young. That was common. A natural response. Realistic. But this, there were no young, at least that she could see or hear.
It was a lone male bear.
Predatory attacks were very rare but with hibernation on the horizon, anything was possible. Whether it had attacked because they were in its space, or they had made camp near its food source — the stream — who would know? Campers set up close to lakes, streams, and rivers all the time. They figured they were far enough away from the main river that an encounter would be unlikely.
They were wrong.
As soon as Callaway was dragged into the darkness, howling, they were up, heading for the safety of the ridge to avoid another attack. Heading downhill at the clip they were moving would have likely seen one of them tumble and her father overturn.
No, they would go higher.
As hard as it was to hear his death screams, there was nothing that could be done. They were already at a disadvantage. No gun. No bear spray. It would have been insanity to stay and try to fight. She’d seen the way that bear had barreled through that thin wall of fire like it was nothing. The way it swatted her like she was a fly on its shoulder. After killing Callaway, who was to say it wouldn’t have returned to finish them?
God, why had Frank given her father the responsibility of the preflight check?
No level-headed pilot heading into the backcountry would do that knowingly. Neither would they venture into the wild without a gun or bear spray in their kit, but Frank said those items were there when they arrived. Had Paul Ross removed them as a way to get back at her father for firing him? No. Had her father forgotten? Overlooked what wasn’t there in their rush to get going that morning? Frank believed so. Her father couldn’t be sure and neither could she.
Fear drove them, pushing their legs through hours of the night until Callaway’s cries were nothing more than a terrible memory. Higher up, the trees had thinned out, nothing more than rock and earth now. Kara shivered, stopping only for a moment to blow into her hands to keep herself warm. Exhausted, unable to go on any further, she dropped the rope and sank behind a boulder to stay out of the wind. “I can’t take another step. I’ve got to sleep.”
Her father was already out.
“No, just a little farther. We need to keep moving. There’s no telling if that bear is stalking us,” Frank said, urging her on.
She waved him off. “It’s not.”
“It did. All the way from the plane.”
“That wasn’t the same one,” she said.
“How do you know?”
She looked at him and offered an expression that made it clear that he should know the answer. “I found tracks the morning after. That grizzly was female, smaller. It was protecting cubs. The one we just saw was a lone male, larger, more dominant.”
“Are you sure?”
“Frank, my mother, and father taught me enough about them growing up. Predatory bears are very rare. It’s the stuff of movies. Sure, black bears have been known to stalk for hours before attacking but most of the time when an attack occurs, it’s later discovered that there was garbage or food in the camp or cubs nearby.”
“We didn’t have any food.”
“I know that,” she said, bringing up her knees, wrapping her arms around them, and resting her forehead against them. “That’s what is so strange about this. Perhaps we bedded down too close to a food source, spooked it.” She yawned and rubbed her tired eyes. “Please. Just an hour. You must be tired?”
He blew out his cheeks and nodded. “I guess I could use a rest.” He looked into the darkness before taking a seat be
side her. In October the sun would rise by around eight-thirty. It was still dark. She was so tired that she didn’t have the strength to light a fire. Instead, they huddled together, pressing into a boulder as the wind whipped at their clothes.
When Kara awoke hours later, faint strains of fiery orange were breaking over the horizon. It was day two of the journey. Her muscles felt tense, cold, almost frozen. She noticed a thin layer of white covering her pants and arms. The weather had shifted, dropped in temperature, and the sky was gray as it emptied thick snowflakes, dusting the landscape and trees in a powdery white. She twisted to see her father, bundled up, eyes closed. Frank was gone.
“Frank?” Kara said in a low voice as she sat up and began rubbing her arms. “Frank!?” Her mouth was dry. She reached into the stretcher and took out the bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and took a few gulps. Next, she placed a hand on her father’s head to check if he had a temperature as he was coughing every few seconds. “Here,” she said, lifting the water to his lips, then she went to offer him some painkillers that were in the small medkit buried under blankets at the foot of the stretcher.
That’s when she noticed it.
With the wind blowing hard it was faint.
As Kara leaned over to get the kit, she caught the aroma of something pungent. Kara sniffed. It had a particularly strong odor, with a slight hint of the river. She wondered if it was her father’s wound if it had gotten an infection. She checked his one leg that originally had the gash but it looked as if it was healing up well. No, it was lower. Moving on, she grimaced at the sight of his broken lower leg. It looked as bad as ever, and discolored, a swollen mess.
But that wasn’t where the odor came from. It was farther down.
She moved to his boots, pulled away at the blanket covering him, and brought it up to her face. She grimaced at the smell. “Ooohh!” That’s when she got a full whiff and felt an oily residue on the blanket. It was as if someone had soaked his blanket in fish oil or left a fish there to rot. But there was nothing there. But something had been there. She ran a hand across the end of the stretcher, noting how wet it was. She brought her fingers up to her nose. Fish. It was smeared with fish.
