Shadow Days
Page 16
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Fourteen
Why HAdn’t i listened to them? I’d had my share of adventure in the eighteen years I’d spent on this mortal coil, but I never thought I’d meet my maker facing off with a bear. The grizzly stared at me, the sharp hazel of its eyes catching the autumn sunlight as though a fire kindled within. If I’d seen this beast on television, its bulk and hot breath safely separated from me by a web of fiber optic cables or satellite-beamed images, I might have thought it beautiful, or at least breathtaking.
But here, alone on this path that I’d started to believe was only a game trail, the massive brown bear was nothing short of terrifying.
The grizzly reared up, its head blocking out the sun when it reached full height. Twice my size, if not more.
Its roar vibrated through my limbs, shaking them out of their frozen state. I backed up a few steps, hoping the bellow was a warning and not a sign of impending attack. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my lucky day.
The bear dropped to all fours, snuffling the ground casually but all the while keeping watch. frothy drool dripped from its snout. It loped steadily forward, closing the distance. I knew it was about to charge. Something instinctual roiled through my blood, screaming at me that these were my last few minutes on earth.
I pushed my pack off my shoulders and tossed it on the ground in front of me, hoping the trail mix within would distract it.
No interest.
I took two steps backward before the bear barreled at me like the force of nature it was.
Air fled my chest when the bear hit me, laying me flat out on the ground. I rolled onto my side, trying to remember what I was supposed to do.
Curl into a ball. Protect your head.
My muscles didn’t want to move. I reached for my legs, trying to pull them up to my chest. My hands touched warm liquid. Though I didn’t feel pain, I knew it was my blood. The lack of pain meant I was in shock, which was very, very bad.
Strange flashes raced through my mind. A sting of guilt when I’d seen the NO TRESPASSING sign at the trailhead. The burnished autumn day, perfectly balanced between warm sunlight and chilled breezes, carrying me up the mountain slope. The solitude and silence of the towering pine trees. A low snuffle turning my head, alerting me to the approaching bear. Shock, followed by denial: there are no bears in this part of the Rockies. Only ghost grizzlies—sightings that no one believed were real. I’d read the guides. I knew this terrain.
Disbelief had locked my knees, holding me in place. Denial gave way to hollow fear as the grizzly sighted me, its snuffling becoming growls, its gait lumbering but aggressive.
My choices. My mistakes. The wrong turns I’d made. I’d let obsession drive me here.
A final thought raced through my mind: I wish I’d never moved to Vail.
Why HAdn’t i listened to them? I’d had my share of adventure in the eighteen years I’d spent on this mortal coil, but I never thought I’d meet my maker facing off with a bear. The grizzly stared at me, the sharp hazel of its eyes catching the autumn sunlight as though a fire kindled within. If I’d seen this beast on television, its bulk and hot breath safely separated from me by a web of fiber optic cables or satellite-beamed images, I might have thought it beautiful, or at least breathtaking.
But here, alone on this path that I’d started to believe was only a game trail, the massive brown bear was nothing short of terrifying.
The grizzly reared up, its head blocking out the sun when it reached full height. Twice my size, if not more.
Its roar vibrated through my limbs, shaking them out of their frozen state. I backed up a few steps, hoping the bellow was a warning and not a sign of impending attack. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my lucky day.
The bear dropped to all fours, snuffling the ground casually but all the while keeping watch. frothy drool dripped from its snout. It loped steadily forward, closing the distance. I knew it was about to charge. Something instinctual roiled through my blood, screaming at me that these were my last few minutes on earth.
I pushed my pack off my shoulders and tossed it on the ground in front of me, hoping the trail mix within would distract it.
No interest.
I took two steps backward before the bear barreled at me like the force of nature it was.
Air fled my chest when the bear hit me, laying me flat out on the ground. I rolled onto my side, trying to remember what I was supposed to do.
Curl into a ball. Protect your head.
My muscles didn’t want to move. I reached for my legs, trying to pull them up to my chest. My hands touched warm liquid. Though I didn’t feel pain, I knew it was my blood. The lack of pain meant I was in shock, which was very, very bad.
Strange flashes raced through my mind. A sting of guilt when I’d seen the NO TRESPASSING sign at the trailhead. The burnished autumn day, perfectly balanced between warm sunlight and chilled breezes, carrying me up the mountain slope. The solitude and silence of the towering pine trees. A low snuffle turning my head, alerting me to the approaching bear. Shock, followed by denial: there are no bears in this part of the Rockies. Only ghost grizzlies—sightings that no one believed were real. I’d read the guides. I knew this terrain.
Disbelief had locked my knees, holding me in place. Denial gave way to hollow fear as the grizzly sighted me, its snuffling becoming growls, its gait lumbering but aggressive.
My choices. My mistakes. The wrong turns I’d made. I’d let obsession drive me here.
A final thought raced through my mind: I wish I’d never moved to Vail.
