Darwin Expedition (5 page)

The bear looks down as if it's embarrassed we spotted it. A load of bear poo plops out its rear.

“Stay still,” Tej hisses. “It wants to get to the grass at the other side of the gully.”

I glance across. Along the scree trail, grass grows in a tall swath.

More rock skitters down from the bear's paw.

I say, “If that thing steps onto the scree, it'll slide down and end up in our laps.”

Tej shakes his head. “It'll clear the gully in one stride.”

“So why isn't it?”

Just then, the grass on the other side of the gully starts to thrash. A massive brown hump appears above the grass. Then a set of ears. Big ears. Really big ears. Mama bear ears.

She's the mother bear, and we're between her and her cub.

“Damn.”

The big bear rolls her head and looks right at us. Her head is as wide across as my chest and as big as a medicine ball. Her big black nose works the air, her nostrils flaring as she tries to catch our scent. She was chewing on something, grass maybe, but she's stopped chewing as she looks at us.

“Tej, we have to move.”

Tej's jaw hangs open.

The female bear drops her head. Her jowls puff out and she huffs, a sound that's so deep in her chest it's more like a growl. The yearling bawls.

I'm on my feet in a low crouch, but Tej seems frozen in his boots.

The mother bear thrusts her head through the grass and pops her jaw, wide. Suddenly we have a view of all her teeth. She lets out a rumble that sounds like a truck.

I grab Tej by his pack and hoist him to his feet. “Go!” I point him downhill and shove him onto the slope.

The sow bear takes a leap toward me that makes the ground shudder. The yearling hightails it up the scree slope, its back legs windmilling in the rock for traction. The young bear slips back a bit and then digs hard to make its way up the slope. Rocks fly off its back paws and careen down the slope. One zings past my left ear and I duck.

The mother bear lunges again. For an instant, I think about the sheep Tej's dad
videotaped. I wonder if the sheep knew the bear was going to get it. I wonder if the sheep felt anything just before the bear sunk its claws into it and yanked it to its death.

Without even looking, I jump out into the scree.

My right foot lands and immediately I start sailing down the slope. It's is steeper than anything I've boarded on. I lean back to keep my balance and take another bounding leap into the loose rock.

In any other time and place, this could be fun. I glance over my shoulder to see the large butt of the mother bear disappearing above me. Below me, I can just see Tej's head. Rocks blow past me and I call out to Tej, “Rocks!”

Each time I land, I traverse for as long as I can in order to stay up and try to check my speed. I reach back with one hand, using it like a rudder. The rocks shred my gloves. The other hand I extend out for some ballast.

My heels slip out from under me and I land on my butt. I struggle to regain my footing. My boot dislodges a good-sized rock and it takes on speed, rolling in front of me and spinning into the air.

“Tej!”

He is totally in the wrong place. We should be close together so the rocks I kick up won't build such speed. I'm back on my feet, leaping almost straight down the mountain. I'm gaining on Tej. I can see the rocks bouncing past him. One catches him in the shoulder. He ducks another, and then he takes a big one in the back of the leg. He cries out. His legs buckle and he sinks onto the rocks.

“Stay up, man!”

I see him fighting to get his balance, but rocks are screaming by him and he
ducks his head. His shoulder catches and as quick as I can scream his name, he's airborne.

He rotates once, slowly, and hits the rocks. I hear the air slam out of his lungs. He bounces, spinning now, his arms flailing at his sides. I see his hands scrambling on the rocks, trying to get a hold, trying to slow down.

“Tej!” I throw my arms forward with each leap, trying to make up the distance between us.

Tej is tumbling now, rolling on the rocks, ricocheting into the air, hitting the rocks again.

My feet feel hot from friction. My gloves are hanging in pieces.

Tej spills out of the gully onto a fan of scree as the slope flattens into the valley. I hit this too and it feels like sudden slow motion. Tej is sliding on his back. He's jabbing his feet into the rocks, trying to keep from rolling again.

“Hang on!” Rock dust coats my tongue and throat. My eyes are streaming from
the air rushing by. I reach out and grab the collar of Tej's jacket.

Finally, we stop. I collapse beside him. “Are you okay?”

Nothing.

I pull myself onto my knees. His eyes are open, but he's not looking at me. Then his eyes roll to white.

I bend close to Tej's mouth. His breath rasps in my ear.

“You're alive.” My throat closes on a lump. Then my empty stomach lurches and I retch a wad of green onto the rocks. His face is laced with cuts. A gash over his forehead hangs in a bloody flap. I rip off my gloves and feel the back of his neck. I've never felt a broken neck, so I don't know what I'm looking for, but I run my
hand down his spine as far as I can reach.

He murmurs, and then he groans. He lifts one knee and lets it drop. His eyes focus on me. His voice croaks, “Of course I'm alive, you idiot.”

I hoot and high-five him. He returns it weakly and groans. “My leg.” He motions to his right foot.

His right boot is on his leg sideways. My stomach drops again and I swallow bile. I say, “You've broken it, Tej. We'll get you fixed up.”

I slip a finger into the top of his boot and feel for blood. I know not to take the boot off. It seems to be about all that's holding his foot on. There's no blood, and I breathe with relief.

I have to brace his foot somehow so it doesn't move. I reach for Tej's pack and slip it off his shoulders. His wild ride ripped open the covering on the outside, but the padded interior frame is still intact. I tip the pack upside down to empty it, but there is not much left in it. Stuff must have fallen out.

“I'm going to have to straighten your foot.” My stomach flip-flops.

He says, “You? No way.”

“You can't do it yourself.” I look at his foot. It's grotesque the way it hangs off his lower leg. “You have a better idea, Einstein?”

He eyes his mangled foot and shakes his head. No.

I set my hands on each side of his ankle. He winces. I say, “Don't be such a wuss. On the count of three.”

He sighs. “One,” he counts. “Two.”

I close my eyes and pull.

He screams. I scream. When I open my eyes, I see the foot is more or less where it's supposed to be.

He swears and wipes tears from his face.

I slip the empty pack over his foot. The toe of his boot sticks out through the rip in the outside fabric. I fold the pack around his leg, using the internal frame as a brace. Then I crisscross the straps of the pack across his leg and pull them tight.

He holds his hand out, like he wants me to help him up.

I say, “You can't walk on that.”

He gives me the “you're an idiot” look.

“Fine,” I say and haul him to his feet.

He gasps, and the color drains out of his face. He grabs my shoulders to balance himself as he takes the weight off his broken ankle.

Between clenched teeth, he says, “Sit me down.”

I ease him to the ground. He's panting, and sweat beads on his forehead. He swears, spits and swears again. “You'll have to carry me.”

I could, but for how long? I'm not sure I'm strong enough to make it myself, never mind carrying Tej too.

I say, “I can't carry you. It will be faster if I go alone.”

I look at the blood drying on his face and the pathetic job I did bracing his ankle. He's as good as dead, and anything dead is food for a bear.

As if he can read my mind, Tej says, “What if the bears come?”

I hope my voice sounds more sure than I feel. “We'll build a fire. They won't come near a fire.”

He brushes away more tears. “You'll get lost.”

Probably. I swallow down on my fear. “No, I won't.”

He is pale and shivering. He holds his ankle and I can see the pain shooting across his face. He says, “Then the bears will get you.”

I kneel down in front of him. “I have to leave you. I'll run. I'll be back before it gets dark, I promise.”

He turns his head away from me. He doesn't believe me. Why should he? I look up at the sky. It's late, only a couple of hours of daylight left. And dark clouds line the horizon. What if I can't find the quarry?

What if the bears come after me?

I rummage through the spilled contents of Tej's pack.

“If you're looking for matches,” he points to the scree slope, “they're probably somewhere up there under nine feet of rocks.”

But I find the matches. I open the packet—there are two left.

He snorts. “Two matches? Good luck.”

I say, “We can die together, right here, tonight, or I can try to get us out. But this time we have to do it my way, Tej.”

He puts his head down between his knees. He looks so small sitting there. Maybe I should carry him. At least we'd be together.

He speaks without lifting his head. “Build me a fire. Then get the hell out of here.”

Between the sound of the water gurgling in the creek and the sound of my own breath panting in my ears, I can't hear anything else. I don't want to, actually. If that sow grizzly is hunting me down, I don't want to know. I'd rather die in blissful ignorance. Under my jacket, my shirt back is wet with sweat. I'm running in the creek because the tangle of undergrowth along the sides slows me down. My pant legs are soaked to the knees. My boots are like sieves after
the scree slope, and water squishes in and out as I run.

The creek climbs, and every mile feels like ten, but I've gone more than five miles, I know it. The clouds have dropped so low that if there is any smoke from the quarry, I can't see it in the cloud cover. The daylight is just about gone.

Did I leave him enough wood? If I take too long, Tej will run out of wood. If he runs out of wood, the fire will go out. If the fire goes out, he could freeze. Or the bears could come. I jam all thoughts from my head. Just run.

The rocks on the creek bed are slimy and my feet slip. It feels like I'm running with a hundred pounds hanging on each leg.

I crash through a willow tree overhanging the creek, and a flock of crows takes off from the branches. They swoop around my head, their crow voices screaming. One dive-bombs me and I feel its talon brush my shoulder. “Get away!” I swat at the birds. They take off in a clatter of cawing.

I think about the crows feeding on
the elk calf bones, their big black beaks breaking into the bones to get the marrow. I think about the crows peeling the skin back to eat the bits of fat. Then I think about them landing on Tej.

My foot slips on the rocks and I crash to my knees. A bolt of pain shoots through my kneecaps. Get up. Run. It's just a bit of pain compared to what Tej must be going through.

When we're fishing, we usually see old beer cans in the stream, and cigarette butts. But now I don't see any sign of people. I sure don't see any quarry. All I see are rocks and trees.

Maybe it wasn't smoke from a smokestack. Maybe we just imagined it. Maybe I'm running the wrong way. If Tej were here, he'd know. And if he didn't know, he'd make me feel like we'd be okay.

Fat drops of water hit my cheeks. I tell myself it is just water from the creek splashing up on my face. But it's rain. Raindrops pelt into the creek and down
my neck. It's raining, and now Tej won't be able to keep the fire going.

I fall to my knees, not bothering to lift my hood against the rain. I let it pour down on me. I should never have left Tej. When the bears are done with Tej, they'll come for me. We're not going to make it. I'm too slow and too stupid and now we are going to die.

The creek water is like ice. I let it numb my hands and knees. I let it soak into my pants and up my shirt until my teeth chatter. I haul myself to the bank of the creek.

Too slow. Too stupid. I am an idiot.

Still on my hands and knees, I crawl into the trees lining the creek. In the forest, the last of the light is already gone.

It is black, a night so dense that trees vanish in front of my face. I walk until I collapse. I sleep, a weird half-sleep with the sound of owls in my ears. But when I wake up, the forest is black and all I hear is pounding rain. Then I walk again.

My wet clothes rub my skin raw. I'm so cold that I can't close my fingers. I've stopped shivering. It's like I have nothing left to burn. Each time I fall down and close my eyes, I think, This is it. I'm not going to wake up.
But then I do. Part of me is glad. Part of me hates that I have to get up and walk in the black forest.

I could walk with my eyes closed and it wouldn't make a difference. My face is beaten by tree branches, my eyes jabbed so often that I imagine they run with blood, not tears. Maybe I do walk with my eyes closed. Maybe that's why the lights seem to appear out of nowhere.

Lights. It takes a second for my brain to register them.

Just two lights, like headlights, not too far away. Are the lights moving? Panic blocks my chest. Don't go. Don't leave me.

I blink and rub my eyes. No. The lights are not moving.

I thrash through the forest. As I move, the lights seem to disappear, but only because of trees blocking my vision

As I get closer, I see the lights are not headlights but what looks like a gatehouse. I claw my way through the trees. I keep my hands in front of me and tear the branches out of my way.

Closer now, and I can see a lone man leaning on the gatehouse under a metal awning, smoking. He's wearing a gray uniform with a crest on the shoulder. A night watchman, maybe. I call to him, but rain is pounding on the awning—he doesn't seem to hear.