Prey

There was a rustling noise behind him and Danny turned around. His heart almost stopped, and for a minute he felt as if he might pass out, as if all the blood in his head had drained to the bottom of his stomach, which had lodged somewhere near his throat. His mind had to work hard to process what he was seeing, because this was just wrong. Black bear, less than thirty yards away, lumbering straight at him. Huge black bear. He’d known there were bears here, but in all his trips he’d never been close to one.

For an instant he just stood there, blinking, as if somehow his eyes were playing tricks on him and all he had to do was blink fast enough to make the bear go away. No, it was still there, still coming at him. He blinked, wondering-hoping-if his eyes were playing tricks on him. For a wasted precious few seconds he was frozen, his gaze glued on the massive claws as he tried to remember all the tips he’d heard about confronting a bear in the wild.

Don’t look it in the eye.

Slowly back away.

Speak in a low, calm voice.

Really? Speak to it? Like it freakin’ understood English?

“Good bear.” His voice shook a little but he kept it as even and soothing as he could, just as he kept his retreat slow and easy. He didn’t dare look behind him, to watch where he was stepping. God, don’t let him fall, not now. “Nice, big bear.” His mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow; forming the words took incredible effort. “Where the hell did you come from?”

Good lord that thing was big. Slowly Danny reached down, taking care not to make any sudden, jerky movements that might alarm the monster. He fingered the canister of pepper spray in his pocket and wondered if using it would just make the bear angry, or if it would actually work. The pocket was buttoned, to prevent the canister from falling out as he climbed over rough terrain. He began fumbling with the button.

Bears were supposed to be wary of people. Everything he’d ever heard about them said that the animal should be going away from him, not steadily moving forward. Danny was careful not to make any threatening moves. He didn’t challenge the animal in any way. The bear should be retreating.

But it wasn’t. Each padding step forward meant he had to take at least two steps back to maintain the same distance between them. His instinct screamed at him to run, but he fought it down. He’d been told that was the number one rule: don’t run. A human had no chance of outrunning a bear, plus fleeing triggered the response to chase.

Water. That was it. The bear was heading for the creek, and he was between it and its objective. The best thing he could do was leave the trail at a diagonal, let the bear get past him, then put as much distance between himself and it as possible.

He risked a quick look around him, because leaving the path meant the going wouldn’t be as even, though in this case “even” was a relative term. He edged sideways, to his right, angling upward. To the left was the smoother way, but to the right was a rocky outcropping featuring some big boulders that would take him out of the bear’s line of sight, which seemed like a good thing, if he could just get to it without triggering a charge from the bear.

He used the walking stick to brace himself as he edged across the rough, steeply sloping ground. The stick… would it do him any good against a bear that big? How much did that thing weigh? Four, maybe five hundred pounds? It could snap the stick with a swat of one of those massive paws.

Finally he managed to get the pocket in his cargo pants unbuttoned-too much going on, trying to think of too many things at one time-and pulled out the canister of spray. It felt terrifyingly small in his hand. He needed more than this, he needed a big can… several big cans. Hell, if that thing came after him, he needed a gun. That was a jarring thought, because he didn’t believe in hunting. He never carried a weapon; he came up here to get closer to nature, to enjoy the solitude and beauty of the mountain.

Solitude wasn’t so hot at the moment, and Danny didn’t see beauty, he couldn’t see anything except a mass of matted fur, and teeth and claws, and feral dark eyes. He thought of Heather, and how maybe she was right about staying close to modern conveniences. He wished he’d stayed home instead of escaping to the mountain, and if he got out of this he might not stop taking his camping trips, but he’d definitely make sure his canister of pepper spray was bigger.

He stumbled, righted himself, held on to a bush to steady himself as he navigated a particularly steep section.

The bear left the path, coming straight toward him.

Oh God. Not water, then. The bear wanted him.

This was wrong. This wasn’t the way bears were supposed to act. He didn’t have any food on him. This wasn’t a female protecting its cubs, and the bear didn’t seem to be wounded or sick, which were supposed to be the only reasons a black bear would attack a human. A grizzly, yeah, they were more aggressive, but a black bear was supposed to be timid.

Maybe it was just curious. He didn’t care. All he wanted was for the thing not to get any closer to him. “Go away,” Danny said, trying to sound authoritative, but his voice wavered and squeaked like a little kid’s.

The bear lowered its head and swung it back and forth, a deep, coughing growl rumbling in its throat. Danny fumbled the safety off the pepper spray and held it out at arms’ length. The wind… which way was the wind blowing? He didn’t want to get a facefull of pepper spray. The left; he could feel the wind on the left side of his face, so he should spray to the left of the bear. What was the distance? The instructions on the can said it would spray thirty feet, or something like that. Not yet, then; the bear wasn’t close enough.

God, he was supposed to let the thing get closer?

Just then the bear charged, roaring, claws digging into the ground.

It happened so fast he had almost no time to react. He began spraying as he took several quick steps back, but his aim was off, too high, and the bear was coming at him under the yellow cloud of spray. The footing was too treacherous; his feet slipped out from under him and he went down hard on his back, pulled there by the weight of his backpack, as helpless as a turtle. Then the bear was on him, hitting him like an avalanche, just as powerful and overwhelming. The sound was deafening, the smell hot and fetid, fur greasy and matted; he caught a fast glimpse of those dark feral eyes, something mean and disturbingly intelligent in them.

There was still some spray in the canister and he managed to hit the release and got the bear in the face, but it was too close, the pepper got him, too, and he lost his breath, his sight. Blindly he swung his walking stick up, frantically trying to get it between himself and the bear as if he could pry the bear away, hold those hundreds of pounds off him with what was effectively a toothpick.

The bear snorted, shook its head. Danny tried to scoot away but one massive paw flashed out and caught his scalp, peeling skin and hair down over his face. He heard agonized screaming, deep and raw, but the sound was at a distance. He didn’t feel any pain so he couldn’t be the one making the noise, maybe someone was nearby who could help him, someone who could-

Then the bear bit down on his head.

For a brief flash of time, he could hear the screams blending with the coughing grunts of the bear, discordant and harsh, and then there was nothing.

Chapter Four

The next day, Angie got up at the crack of dawn and started work. The day before leaving on a guide trip was the most work-intensive, every time. Her dad had built three small guest cabins, just big enough for private sleeping and bath areas, and today was the day she had to clean the two cabins that would be used, put on fresh sheets, lay out fresh towels, etc. When her dad had been alive, and for the first year she’d been back, there had been enough money to hire a local woman to do that work, but since then Angie had been doing it all herself.

On top of getting the cabins ready, with Harlan coming to take pictures for the website, she did some major damage control in the main house, too. Living alone as she did, sometimes she’d let little things slide, and before she knew it there were a ton of little things that threatened to become an avalanche of junk.

Her clients were due in late that afternoon. They were renting a vehicle in Butte and driving in. Rather than go through the hassle of bringing their rifles through the airport, they’d shipped them in; the boxes had arrived four days ago. She had all the permits in order, they had their licenses, and all of that was good to go. Tonight she’d