King of the Bears

by Dwight O. Krauss

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

The bear lurched off his seat and hit the base of the tree like Brian Urlacher hitting the line. The birch shook and almost dislodged me and he reared back and hit it again. And again. The tree canted and I heard a splintering from the base and it was either going to fall over or snap under this treatment. If it snapped, I landed at the bear’s feet and he and his friends would have barbecue night.

Falling, it went through the trees, which was my only chance. I swung around and put all my weight on the forest side as the bear hit the tree again and it toppled through the lodgepole and aspen, the branches beating me half to death. I fell hard and my right shoulder went numb and I knew it was dislocated.

No time. No time.

I jumped up and ran for the sharp berm that marked the dirt road that wound the ridge. I scrambled up it, screaming at the pain in my shoulder but spurred by the sound of trees snapping and giant paws digging into the dirt behind. I reached the top and did not break stride but cut right and hurtled down the road, back towards the trailhead and the Rangers, the only chance I had. Trees fell over beside me as the bear kept pace below the berm, even gaining a lead, as I held my shoulder together with my left hand, crying, praying that a Ranger was tooling about making rounds. Please, God...

A glint in the distance. Sunlight off a windshield. Holy Jesus and all His Angels. I ran, Jesse Owens ran, the hounds-of-hell-on-my-heels ran, and the crashing trees down the berm fell behind.

The Ranger must have seen me coming because he was standing at the front tire, the door open, his arms akimbo, in complete astonishment. “What in Sam Hill happened to you?” he called in hailing distance.

I did look a mess: half naked, welts and blood crisscrossing my body, my shoulder at an impossible angle. “Bear!” I screamed as I raced towards him. I was close enough to see his puzzled look.

“What bear?” he called.

I stopped. I turned. The road behind me was empty. The berm beside me was still. I shook my head in amazement and headed towards the Ranger. “I’m telling you, there was a bear. Satan’s bear.”

“Now are you sure you just didn’t fall off the ridge up there?” the Ranger was amused, pointing up the other side of the road where the ridge continued its climb towards the Divide.

“No. Bear.” I said, getting closer, gasping, thinking that I had made it. I was going to get out of this...

The bear came flying off the upper ridge where the Ranger had just pointed, bellowing in rage, and slammed into the side of the Jeep. It flipped, rolling over the Ranger, who barely had time to look at the commotion before the truck flattened him and continued over the berm, crashing into the trees below.

The bear swiped the Ranger’s head clean off, shooting it past my ear like a cannon shot, the trailing line of blood slamming into my eyes and almost blinding me. The bear stood full upright and then dropped down, pulling the Ranger’s chest apart with his claws, reaching in and yanking the Ranger’s heart into the air. He caught it in his jaws on the fall and swallowed it in one gulp.

Blood poured down the bear’s face and all over his chest. He stood back up, thrust his muzzle heavenward, opened his maw and just roared. Roared. Triumph, lust, battle, a roar a million years old, heard a million times in places far more primitive, before the moon coalesced and new stars settled, before the two-legged smart animal figured out fire and how to sharpen a stick.

There were answering roars from the lower berm.

On the upper ridge was a trail starting at the road’s shoulder, and if I remembered this right...I bolted for it. The bear dropped his head and watched me, unconcerned, the Ranger’s blood already drying on his fur. He picked up the Ranger and hurled him off the side of the road to his waiting mates, went to all fours, and began a slow lope after me. I stood, waiting. I wanted him after me. But he had to come much faster and madder, if this was going to work.

“You fucking bastard!” I yelled from the slope of the trail, reached down with my good hand and heaved a good-sized rock at him, crying out from the pain. It cracked him in the nose, lucky shot, and the bear sat back, blinked, stood upright, bent himself double at the waist and gave me the most savage, hate-filled roar it could muster.

Good.

I scrambled up the trail, watching as the bear actually took about four steps before it dropped, roared its hate at me again, and then charged. I dug in, screaming at what this was doing to my shoulder and raced up the slope to where it peaked in the trees. There was a very sharp drop here, the Divide, and my momentum carried me into the scree that cascaded down the slope to a cliff overlooking a thirty-foot fall onto another ridge, first in a series all the way to the river below.

I slipped, upended by the loose soil, and began a tumbling slide to the edge. I could not gain control and I desperately scrambled about seeking purchase, ripping my already ripped shoulder almost completely out, almost fainting from the pain.

The bear came over the ridge way too fast and he knew it, digging backwards and trying to set his paws but he had too much weight and too much momentum. He was a one-creature landslide, rocks and dirt riding with him and he almost fell backwards in a frantic effort to stop. All he did was gain speed. Gain on me. He was going to carry me with him if I didn’t get out of the way.

At the edge of the cliff was a tangle of ivy and thorn and I turned in my slide and slipped my destroyed arm underneath it as I cleared the edge and hurtled into space. I yanked at the tangle, pain be damned, and it jerked me to the side as the bear rushed over. Our eyes met as the tangle swung me away from him and he swiped a great paw that removed half my other shoulder as he fell past, teeth bared and frothing in rage and frustration.

I gasped from the blow, but it was heavy and so fast I didn’t really feel it. The tangle arced me hard into a rock outcropping and I felt my leg break below the knee. I was hurting too much for that to make much difference, though, as the tangle pendulumed back to its origin. My grip slipped and there was a shower of dirt and the tangle might come loose and drop me on the rocks and that would be all she wrote; but, no, no, it held.

The bear bounced hard, taking on angles he shouldn’t have, and rolled, thrown from rock to rock, great gouts of blood exploding from his mouth, raging but helpless, and was carried to the next cliff and went over, lost to sight. But not sound. He roared. Defiance, heartbreak, defeat, a sound loud and echoing and tracing his fall to the other side of the country.

I was so numb that climbing was not a problem. I sat on the edge of the scree, exhausted, panting, stunned by the silence more than anything, then set my head back and made my own roar. Triumph, lust, battle, a roar a million years old, heard a million times in places far more primitive.

In agony, I turned. The other bears were arranged at the top of the scree in a semi-circle, sitting, quiet. Browns, blacks, maybe a Kodiak, I couldn’t be sure. I worked up to my good leg, watching them. There was nothing I could do. They’d be on me, no matter where I turned, and I was too torn up to run or fight. I braced. But they just sat. Eventually, one nudged a branch down the slope and, cautiously, fearfully, I grasped it as it slid past. The bears, one by one, stood, regarded me for a moment, then lumbered over the ridge.

I used the branch as a crutch and made my way back to camp. The ambulance is here now. They have shot me up with something, but I can still see clearly. Movement in the woods.

My court.

They will follow and, at night, they will stalk the circle of my home, a vague shadow in an alley, a blur in a distant parking lot, a homeless person here and there disappearing and an offering on my porch in the morning. A challenger will arise. We will meet on this ridge next year and we will battle.

I will remain king. Or I will not.

to Challenge 408...