Page 17 of Stolen By The Beast
While there were many things about my past I couldn’t remember, I could say with confidence I hadn’t been an Olympic runner. My muscles had zero memories of running anywhere.
As I ran, I began to have serious concerns that my wheezing lungs would cause my death before the bear had the chance to pounce.
Those concerns were short-lived.
Sharp claws tore through my skin like hot knives through butter. Searing pain exploded in my mind, stealing away every thought. The force of the blow sent me flying through the air several feet before I crashed to the ground with a bone-shattering thud.
I knew I needed to get up and run, but my mind was still struggling from the shock of agony and couldn’t give the orders needed to get my various limbs moving.
Even if I’d been able to scramble to my feet, I doubt I would have gotten far. The bear was on top of me before I’d managed to drag in a single breath.
His massive paw pressed hard on my back, pressing me into the ground. Jagged claws dug into the skin on the right side of my spine, while the large pad of his paw threatened to crack my ribs beneath his enormous weight.
Lowering his snout, the bear sniffed at my neck and hair. His hot breath smelled of decaying fish and rotten vegetation. Bile rose in my throat, choking me. Would this disgusting scent be the last thing I smelled before I bit the dust?
What was I supposed to do? Fight? Play-dead?
If it’s black, fight back,drifted through the pain-filled fog in my skull.
I wasn’t sure how much fighting I could do while pinned under a bear that weighed a gazillion pounds, but I’d give it my best shot.
Summoning every ounce of courage I possessed, I let loose with a war cry.
Fine.It was more of a war wheeze, but it was unexpected, and caused the bear to take a step back. His head tilted, studying me.
Freed from his weight pinning me to the ground, I shoved to my feet. Using the burning pain and fear to fuel me, I growled at the bear.
It was the equivalent of a chihuahua growling at a mastiff, but the bear paused.
Maybe my bravado was working…
The bear released a roar that shook the forest and charged.
Knowing I couldn’t outrun him, I had a split second to snatch a sharp stick from the ground before the black-furred beast slammed into me.
My back collided with the dirt in a crater-creating impact. I didn’t even get a chance to scream before the bear’s sharp canines bit down into my shoulder. The scrape of teeth against bone and the tearing of skin sent a fresh wave of white-hot agony surging through my body.
This time, I refused to lose focus. I had to fight. Nausea roiled in the pit of my stomach, and for a brief moment, a memory flickered in the depths of my mind.
The scent of the forest and sweat filled my mouth and lungs.
Terror and adrenaline filled my body.
Every fiber of my being screamed at me to fight back.
Had I fought a bear before? No, that didn’t seem quite right…
Now wasn’t the time to probe that dark part of my mind, not if I wanted to prevent myself from becoming future bear poop.
Clutching the stick with both hands, I jammed it as hard as I could into the side of the bear’s face. Pinned beneath the bear, I couldn’t aim very well, but I hoped I hit something soft.
The stick sank into the bear’s skin several inches, and I barely had time to yank my makeshift weapon free before the bear reared back his head and released a howl.
I’d hit something tender.
When the bear locked eyes with me, I didn’t have to speak his language to understand the murderous rage shining in his gaze. Saliva dripped from his open mouth as he lowered his head to snap at my face.
Gripping my stick-shiv, I gathered my strength and aimed for the bear’s fleshy upper palate.
