One Was Lost(25)

That stupid story of Madison’s flashes through my head. The bear dragging that girl’s arm to the edge of the woods. Oh God. I scan the dark tent, finding Emily and nothing else. My heart thuds painfully, every beat tapping at my collarbone, the hollow of my throat. I’m panicking. I’m definitely—

OK, stop. Think of Mr. Walker. What were the bear safety rules?

We don’t have any food. We haven’t cooked. I haven’t seen any poop or scat or whatever Mr. Walker called it.

We’re supposed to make noise if they attack. Is this an attack? I crawl out of my sleeping bag and cross the tent on my knees. Emily snores softly, and the growling comes again. Goose bumps erupt on my arms. My ears strain by the door, and my eyes follow the dark shapes moving somewhere beyond the front wall of our tent.

There’s no noise. Nothing.

Nothing.

Grunt, grunt, huff, huff, huff.

Something scrapes along the ground like it’s being dragged. My throat goes dry. Tight. Where’s Lucas? I can’t see anything. Everything is lost in dark smudges beyond the canvas. I push my palm into my chin, trying to hold my chattering teeth still.

I won’t be able to see unless I unzip the tent. Lucas is still out there. If he fell asleep out in the open, I don’t know what the bear will do. I shiver. I can’t think about what the bear will do. I just have to stop it. We’re supposed to make a racket, right?

I don’t want to though. It sounded good then, but now I don’t know what else is in these woods. If the bears are real, are the ghosts real too? I shake my head, trying to rattle some sense back into myself. I can’t dwell on stories; I need to focus. I hold my breath and listen again, catching no sound beyond my own heart, a bass drum trapped in the closet of my ribs.

Another grunt, huff, grunt. Farther away now. Past Jude’s tent, I think.

This is my chance. I pinch the zipper between my thumb and forefinger and hold my breath for one beat. Another. I hear nothing. Unzipping the tent is the loudest thing I’ve done in my life.

No way did that go unnoticed. Bears in other counties probably heard that zipper.

It’s done now though. I close my eyes and finish the job, then breathe in the cool air rushing into the tent through the gaping flap.

Huff, huff, huff. I freeze, scanning the camp through the crack. God, it’s so dark. I see flashes of movement that melt into blackness. It’s making other sounds. Somewhere on the other side of camp, behind the tents across from ours. Scraping, pushing, short bellows that send the hair up on the back of my neck.

Where is Lucas? He should be here. I step out, and a warm hand covers my mouth from behind. I bite and scream at the same time. Lucas yelps, and I whirl. There’s huffing again. Oh God, it’s close. So close I swear I can feel the heat of the bear’s breath.

It’s not the bear. It’s Lucas. He clamps his hands onto my arms and turns me, and I can finally see it. Not a shadow or a smear of darkness. A bear.

It’s across from us. Mr. Walker said black bears are small, but it’s not. Maybe for a bear, he’s right, but it’s not even thirty feet away from me, looking like a mass of fur and teeth that could tear me into bits and pieces like our pile of stuff.

I think of the vultures I saw earlier, the sinewy something in its beak. My mouth opens, a scream tearing its way up my throat. But then Lucas’s hands squeeze my biceps again, and I stuff it down deep.

“There are three of them,” he whispers.

“Three?” That’s why I’m hearing it everywhere.

“Mom and two cubs. Just stay still.” I try to duck my head, but he gives me a little shake. “Keep your eyes on her. Don’t look away.”

The bear snuffles. I see another splash of black, smaller than the first. And then another. They are scampering over in an area behind Mr. Walker’s tent now, noses rooting through the grass like we left something over there. But we didn’t. There wasn’t anything to leave.

“Go back inside the tent,” he says.

And sit there in the dark listening and wondering? Sure. I shake my head violently.

Lucas reaches down and zips my tent tight. It’s not much defense for Emily, but I’m glad he’s trying.

“Should we wake the others?” I ask.

“Not unless we have to.”

A barking grunt rips through the air, and I cringe. Mama bear raises up on her haunches, and my whole body quakes. She sees us. I’m sure she sees us.

“Don’t look away,” Lucas whispers. “Keep your eyes on her.”

My knees shake, but I do it, eyes open and bladder on the verge of total failure. She lifts her long brown nose high, testing the air around her. I clench my teeth and pray I don’t smell like food.

Finally, she’s down to all fours again. My shoulders droop.

“Do you think—”

Another growl cuts me off, this time near Mr. Walker’s tent. We step sideways around the camp to put distance between ourselves and the bear. Inside the tent, he groans. I turn, staring so hard at the tent, I half expect it to move an inch from the pressure of my eyes. There’s nothing. Quiet. Maybe I imagined it.

Then another very human groan. It sounds like Hello?

“Mr. Walker,” I whisper.

“No, Sera.”

A shrill cry comes from my right. One of the cubs is wandering our way. No, no, no.