Grizzly (15 page)

Behind the trees that fringed the yard, something large moved. Sam saw it, but Robert did not.

Sam the rabbit was no fool. He didn't like the shape of that thing in the trees.

He leaped out of Robert's arms and headed for the fence.

It was of tight-mesh chicken wire, specifically designed to keep Sam from straying. But like all rabbits, Sam had found a soft spot where he could burrow under the wire, and in the past week, he had enlarged the hole in anticipation of just such a moment as this, when he would once again be a free and wild creature.

Sam scooted under the fence.

Then, in the bushes, he stopped.

There was the odor of danger all around him.

Sam began to wonder if it was such a great idea to be free and wild.

Robert had run after him, saw him go under the fence. The boy climbed up the wire and let himself down on the other side. He was trying not to cry. He had kept wild animals before, and he was sure that Sam was gone forever now.

But, to his surprise, Sam was waiting for him under one of the chokeberry shrubs.

Robert caught the rabbit up in his arms and hugged it.

"Don't you run away no more," he scolded. "You're a bad bunny."

He moved back toward the fence.

Behind him, a dark shape followed.

The boy scrambled up over the fence again, holding the rabbit carefully so that it couldn't get away this time.

Inside the house, Ada Rogers went to the television set and switched on the "Today" program. She liked to listen to Barbara Waiters.

Robert stood with his back to the fence, stroking Sam. The rabbit endured it. Stroking meant food was coming soon, and nothing was more important than food.

Behind the boy, the fence was suddenly ripped apart, and the air seemed shattered by a roaring noise. He started to turn, bewildered, and the first thing his eyes caught, high up in the air above him, was the face of a huge bear, the biggest he had ever seen. The black, rubbery nose was thrust forward. The nostrils flared and the mouth, filled with huge white teeth, foamed.

The boy, stunned, was unable to run or to utter a sound.

The rabbit dropped from his numbed hands.

The grizzly came through the fence as if it weren't there, and his huge claws whipped out and raked the boy.

Inside the house, his mother heard the roar of the beast, and the shrill cry that followed. She ran to the window and was horrified by what she saw.

Her child had been hurled against a tree by the huge bear, and his bright blood seemed to be everywhere.

There wasn't a gun anywhere in the house. Ada grabbed the nearest weapon she could find, a poker for the fireplace, and ran out into the back yard.

She screamed as she ran. "Get away, you! Shoo!"

The bear turned toward her.

When she was close enough, she hit him with the poker.

He dropped the boy and reached for her. She slipped away and hit him again, this time on the snout. He whimpered with pain. For a moment, he seemed ready to turn and retreat.

But he made one more stab at her with his claws, and this time they raked away the front of her dress and half of her breast. She did not feel the pain, and kept flailing at him with the poker, but he knew he had won, and with another lunge, caught her in both paws and drew her close where his huge teeth could finish the job.

Sam, the rabbit, was splashed with some of the blood. His pink tongue licked out, retreated.

He didn't like the taste of this kind of food.

Walter Corwin thought that he might have had a heart attack. He was weak and sweating. He lay on his bed, trembling.

Kelly had asked him to close up. But the money had been more important. Money! It was disgusting.

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."

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.