Page 9 of Marked By the Mountain Man
Standing slowly, her voice barely a breath, she says, “My dad used to say… late bears mean restless spirits. We shouldn’t go far. Something is here with us.”
I glance at her like she’s crazy. “Honey, we’ve got a massive man-eating animal a hundred yards from us. We move, or webecomethe restless spirits.”
She glances toward the bear sobering toward us then back toward me, her eyes wide now, the bravado gone. “Okay. Let’s move.”
I don’t wait for her to gather her gear. I grab her small, warm, trembling hand and start backing us toward the ridge. We need to move slowly, keep our eyes on the bear. If we run, he’ll charge. If we turn our backs, he’ll charge.
The wind shifts, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Juniper glances up at me. “He’s huge.”
“He’s already filled his food storage. I don’t know why he’s out here,” I say, backing toward the truck that’s parked to the west of the creek.
The bear lumbers closer, slow but deliberate, like it’s sizing us up.
Juniper’s breath hitches, and her fingers tighten around mine.
I keep my voice low as I say, “Eyes on him. No sudden moves.”
She nods, but her gaze flicks past the bear and toward the trees behind it.
“There’s something else,” she whispers. “I feel it. Like the bear’s not alone.”
I don’t look, not yet, becausethe bear is real.
We reach the edge of the ridge, the truck still forty yards out. We’re too far, it’s too open, and there’s nothing to put between us and the massive animal now sniffing the air. I have my gun, but I’ve shot at this bear before. It only entices him, like he’s looking to prove himself better than some bullet.
The bear stops, sniffs the air again, then turns its massive head toward the woods.
I scan the terrain. No boulders. No trees thick enough to climb. The open ground I’d been so happy to own is now a game trail for this bear, and our truck salvation is out of reach.
The bear takes another slow, heavy step forward.
Juniper whispers, “He’s not hunting.”
I glance at her. “What does that mean?”
She swallows hard. “It means something’s using him.”
“What?Using him?We need to focus.”
The sky churns above us, low and gray, clouds dragging like wet wool. A gust cuts through the clearing, sharp and cold, rattling the leaves and kicking dust. The bear takes another slow, heavy step forward, its muscles rippling beneath a coat matted with rain and dirt.
“I am,” Juniper whispers. “I think there’s a spirit using the bear. He’s trying to warn us of something. It’s just like my dad said… late bears mean restless spirits.”
Her voice is barely audible over the wind that’s picked up
“I knew your dad for most of my life. If he said that, he meant something else by it. He wasn’t a spiritual guy.”
I stare at the bear, its massive frame shifting just beyond the tree line.
Juniper’s eyes don’t leave the animal. “He’s not here to kill us. He’s here to deliver a message.”
I shake my head, my heart pounding. “Yeah? Is the messageget the fuck away from my creek,‘cause he’s delivering it pretty well.”
She steps closer to me, her tiny hand still lost in mine. “Something is coming. Believe me!” The EMF reader in her pocket starts to whine, and almost simultaneously the bear snorts, turns its head toward the creek, then lumbers into the forest like nothing happened.
I take the opportunity to get us back to the truck in one piece. Juniper doesn’t speak, but I feel her pulse racing through her palm.
The EMF reader keeps grumbling louder now, like it’s protesting our retreat. Apparently, it picks up onelectromagnetic energy. I don’t want to tell her that the spikes are probably the old mining equipment buried out here.
