Hostile Territory

by Paul Greci

  I keep kicking, then I feel a tug on one of my flippers, and I’m jerked backward. A sharp pain travels up my shin as I twist my body toward the tug.

  Water streams off the man’s head as he surfaces. With both hands, I shove his head down and hold it. He lets go of my flipper, and I kick away from him. I have the advantage with the dry suit and the flippers, but the man comes at me again and this time grabs my lower leg and pulls. My fingertips find the green canoe, and I use it as leverage and kick backward with my free foot.

  “We’re all going to die if you don’t let go,” I shout. I kick again with my free foot and catch his jaw. He lets go of my leg and goes under.

  All I want to do is kick away from him and take his canoe with me, but I can’t let him drown. I dive down, throw my arms around him, and lift.

  Dead weight, I think. I must’ve knocked him out. I kick toward shore until my feet touch bottom. I keep kicking, and now I’m dragging him through the shallows. Get him to shore, I think. Then leave him.

  I’ve got his whole body above the shoreline, and I lay him down. I can’t stay with him, so I turn toward the water, and that’s when I’m grabbed around the neck and dragged farther from shore. My legs with the flippers on my feet are useless. I’m flailing, my hands gripping the forearm that’s choking me.

  Then I hear a loud whack, and suddenly I’m free. I turn and see Brooke standing there with a large stick in her hand. Next to her the man is hunched over, his hands covering the side of his head.

  “Just stay here,” Brooke says to the man. Then she takes off into the woods.

  I scramble back to the shore and swim out to the green canoe. I see the red canoe in the distance and kick toward it, pushing the green canoe in front of me.

  When I catch up to Derrick, I say, “That was crazy, but we made it.”

  “We’re not in the clear yet,” Derrick says. “I saw movement on the shore where we left the kayaks.”

  CHAPTER 83

  “WE NEED TO SINK THE canoes,” Derrick says as he and I swim side by side, pushing the canoes along.

  “Let’s wait,” I respond, “until we see if the kayaks are okay.”

  Derrick isn’t sure what he saw prowling around the area where we hid the kayaks, but he’s sure he saw something. Holding on to the canoe and kicking is easier than swimming, but it’s still a long haul to get across the lake.

  I wonder what the two guys we took the canoes from are doing. I hope they’re okay, but I also hope they stay put. I wish I could’ve tried to explain why they needed to stay, and trusted them to keep their canoes, but the stakes are just too high.

  My feet brush the lake bottom, and I keep kicking until I’m standing in waist-deep water.

  “Whoever I saw must know we’re here.” Derrick points to the canoe in front of him. “This thing isn’t exactly invisible.”

  We quietly guide the canoes until they’re snug against the shore and tie them off on a couple of spindly spruce trees. I sit in the ankle-deep water and work the flippers off my neoprene booties, and Derrick is next to me doing the same.

  The kayaks should be set back about fifty feet from the shore, but where exactly they are in relation to where we are, I’m not so sure. Did we cross the lake to the same spot we started from? When things got crazy on shore with the two guys, we could’ve gotten turned around. I was so focused on getting the kayaks hidden, and then swimming across the lake, that I didn’t stop to consider having a point of reference.

  “Do you recognize anything?” I ask Derrick. “I mean, do you think we’re in the right place?”

  “We’re close,” Derrick responds. “Right after we entered the water, I looked for a landmark. There’s a big birch tree”—Derrick points to the left—“that’s leaning into the lake close to where we stashed the kayaks. Once we were free of those guys, I searched for the tree and headed toward it. I didn’t want to go right to it because I saw movement around it.”

  “You were always out in front, so I guess I just followed you.” I think about not having my own landmark. How would I have ever found the kayaks without extensive searching if something had happened to Derrick? Even though my mistake is costing us nothing, I can’t make any more like that.

  I set my flippers down by the canoes and follow Derrick as we creep along the shore toward the big birch tree hanging over the water. I just want to get the kayaks and go, but even if we find them, we need to sink the canoes before we take off. I thought about just leaving the canoes tied off on this side of the lake, but if I were one of those guys, I’d hike around the lake to get my canoe back. We need to sink them.

  Derrick puts his hand up, so I stop. He motions me forward, and I cover the few yards separating us, and now we’re standing side by side. I follow Derrick’s arm as he points toward the birch tree, which is about thirty yards away. Under the tree, I can just make out the light brown fur of a grizzly bear. How are we going to get the kayaks now? Derrick and I talk softly for a minute or so, and then we turn back toward the canoes—because we need them for the plan we just came up with.

  CHAPTER 84

  “I WISH THERE WERE PADDLES with the canoes,” Derrick says.

  I nod. “If the bear comes toward us, we’ll just have to hang on to the canoe and kick like hell to get away from it.”

  We’ve got both canoes untied, and we’ve put our flippers back on. Derrick has the green canoe—our getaway canoe if need be—and I’ve got the red one.

  I push off from the lake bottom with my flippers and kick. I keep the red canoe in front of me. Derrick is next to me but in deeper water a little farther away from shore, guiding the green canoe. We don’t talk because we both know the plan. Under normal circumstances, like if we weren’t trying to get our nuclear missiles back from the Russians before they decided to use them on us, this would be the absolute craziest, dumbest plan ever.

  The canoe is about fifteen feet long, so I figure I’ll have that distance for protection, that much of a head start to get to Derrick and the green canoe.

  We pass the spot where we first spotted the bear, and a shiver runs up my spine as I see its brown fur under the birch tree. Is it sleeping? Whatever happened to the idea, let a sleeping bear lie? If we let this one lie and it woke up when we were getting the kayaks, then it’d be between us and the water.

  Wake the bear up first. Try to scare it off before going for the kayaks, which are somewhere behind it. That’s our goal.

  I’m kicking as quietly as I can with my flippers. Is there a better way? I think. And then I take a breath and try to erase that thought from my mind. Focus on the plan. Focus on the goal, I tell myself. You have to go all in, I remember Theo saying, when we talked about doing new things and taking risks. We’d been talking about bold running strategies, like sprinting uphill in a race to open up a lead, something we’d both done with success.

  But this plan with the canoe and the bear, it’s different, because if it fails I could die, Derrick could die, Alaska could get nuked. The stakes are high for every decision we make.

  Now I’m even with the grizzly. It’s lying down right on the shoreline beneath the tree, and it still hasn’t moved. I glance toward Derrick. He’s got both hands on the stern of the green canoe and is treading water. He raises his eyebrows in a what are you waiting for gesture.

  I nod and take a breath. Then I slowly turn the canoe so the bow is pointing toward the shore—toward the grizzly bear. I start kicking with my flippers, driving the red canoe straight toward the bear, aiming for its nose.

  CHAPTER 85

  THE FRONT OF THE CANOE scrapes against the bottom of the lake, but I just keep muscling it forward. The more momentum I have when I ram the bear, the more chance the bear will be persuaded to run.

  I keep my legs straight back and just keep kicking.

  Can a canoe scare a bear? I hope so.

  I see the wall of fur begin to move as I close the final distance. I hear a snort and then a splash. I feel resistance as the bow o
f the canoe slams into the bear.

  Run bear run, my mind screams.

  I hear more splashes, and all of a sudden the canoe moves sideways, like it’s been shoved by a giant. I leap backward, as if I’m doing a backflip, and twist my body so I land on my belly, and then I’m swimming for my life, kicking with my flippers and pulling with my arms.

  Then I feel pressure on my left foot, like something has clamped on to it, so I twist and pull. Something gives, my knee snaps toward my chest, and I keep swimming and reach for the green of Derrick’s canoe. Now we’re both kicking while we hold on to the stern of the canoe, moving farther away from shore. I don’t know if the bear is still behind us and don’t want to stop to find out.

  My left foot feels funny, like it takes more kicks than my right foot to keep my pace steady.

  “I think we’re in the clear,” Derrick shouts.

  I stop kicking and twist around so I can see the shore. The red canoe sits on its side in the shallows. I scan the water between us and the canoe and then along the shore and don’t see the bear. I know it could still be close by, but maybe we’ll be able to get to our kayaks and get out of here and meet up with Brooke and Shannon down where the creek flows out of the lake.

  We point the green canoe toward the red one and kick our way toward it. My left foot feels cooler than my right foot, and I’m still not getting as much kick from it either. The canoe starts to ground out, and Derrick and I stand up and scan the shore. We look at each other.

  Derrick shrugs. “Seems like it’s gone.”

  I nod. “Let’s get the kayaks, sink the canoes, and get out of here so we can meet up with Brooke and Shannon.”

  “Sounds good.” Derrick walks backward a couple of steps and sits down in the shallows to pull his flippers off.

  I follow his lead and do the same, but when I bend my knee and reach for my left flipper I discover why I wasn’t getting much kick from it. I remember feeling a tug and having to kick extra hard.

  I take the flipper off, swallow the lump in my throat, and hold it up so Derrick can see.

  “That bear took a huge bite out of it,” he says. “One more inch, and it would’ve severed your toes.”

  I nod. Then I think about the blood and flesh the bear would’ve tasted instead of just yucky plastic and rubber. If it had tasted blood, it probably would’ve kept coming after me.

  CHAPTER 86

  I DIP MY KAYAK PADDLE into the lake and pull. Derrick and I are hugging the shore, so if we need to take cover we’ll be able to quickly. The kayak feels sluggish, but the water is flat—without a current—and I’m towing Brooke’s kayak, which has her pack in it. We sank the canoes as best we could, tipped them sideways and filled them with water. But they must have some built-in flotation because they didn’t sink to the bottom, so we dragged them offshore a couple hundred feet and left them partially submerged. It’d be tough to get them without dry suits. You’d have to be in the water a long time, and it’s cold.

  Between fighting off the campers we stole the canoes from and almost getting my foot munched by a bear, for a little while I forgot that the Russians invaded Alaska and that our real challenge is to blow the bridge so Sam will have a better chance of taking back the missiles at Fort Greely.

  Derrick’s words cut into my thoughts. “I think I see the bear.” He points with his paddle.

  Down the shore a hundred yards, a brown clump of fur walks on all four legs. Is it the same bear? Maybe. Probably.

  I remember the mess its mouth made of my flipper. “We should move away from the shoreline.” I dig my right paddle into the water, and my kayak moves to the left, away from shore, and Derrick does the same.

  We put about a hundred feet between us and the shore and then keep going. The bear keeps moving in the same direction we’re paddling but doesn’t show much interest in us. I feel exposed being this far from shore. Too visible from the air. But we don’t have much of a choice.

  The lakeshore is curving, and up ahead I think I see where the creek flows out. “Derrick,” I say, “do you think that’s the creek?” I point with my paddle toward a break in the shoreline.

  Derrick nods. “I hope so.”

  “Should we head straight for the break?” I ask. “I mean, we’re already exposed because of the bear. If we cut this corner off the lake, we’d save time.”

  “Let’s do it.” Derrick takes a couple of paddle strokes on the right side of his kayak so it points at the break.

  We’re paddling side by side, and we’ve picked up the pace, wanting to be exposed for as little time as possible. It’s hard to tell distances on the water, but my guess is that we’re about a half mile from where the creek pours out of the lake.

  “Birds,” Derrick says. “Straight ahead.”

  A sprinkling of white lifts off the water, and I hear the distant caws of gulls. “Something must’ve disturbed them. And they were sitting right where we’re going.”

  “Could be the girls?” Derrick offers.

  He keeps paddling, and I match his pace. The kayak I’m towing creates a little bit of drag, but it’s tracking well, staying in line behind my boat.

  The gulls resettle farther away from the start of the creek.

  “I think I see them,” I say. “Right where we’re heading.” On the shore next to what I think is the start of the creek are two gray bumps. “That has to be them.”

  Derrick lifts his paddle and waves in their direction, and we see the gray bumps move. I lift my paddle and wave, too.

  The shore they’ve traveled has several small points jutting out into the lake, creating some bays. They probably didn’t follow the shore the whole time because staying inland would save the time it would’ve taken to round all those points. As long as you could keep the water in sight, you’d be fine.

  I dip my paddle into the water and dig. We’re still exposed, and just because we’ve seen the girls doesn’t mean that a Russian helicopter or jet won’t suddenly appear over the horizon and attack us.

  “Movement,” Derrick says. “Off to the left on the shore.”

  I stop paddling and study the shoreline, and sure enough I can see two people working their way along the shore. “The canoe people,” I say. “We’ve got to get to the girls before they do.”

  CHAPTER 87

  I PICK UP THE PACE and pull ahead of Derrick, but having to tow a kayak is a literal drag and turns my attempted sprint to Shannon and Brooke into more of a controlled slog. At the same time, the guys on shore are running, making way better time than Derrick and me. I keep my eye on them for a few paddle strokes and know there’s no way we’ll beat them to the girls. We may tie them if we’re lucky, but no way will we get there first.

  Just focus on the girls, I think as I turn my head back toward the creek opening. But now I don’t see Shannon or Brooke on shore. They must’ve seen the canoe people coming and realized, like I did, that we wouldn’t make it in time. I must’ve slowed a little or else Derrick has sped up because now he’s even with me and says, “Keep it in high gear, Josh.”

  When I refocus on the creek opening, I see Shannon and Brooke standing on the opposite side of the creek. They must’ve swum across, and Derrick must’ve seen them do it while I was focused on the canoe people. They don’t have dry suits on, so they have to be soaked, but now there’s a barrier between them and the canoe people.

  I alter my course slightly, aiming for the side of the creek that Shannon and Brooke are on, and that’s when I notice the bear still making its way down the shoreline toward the creek opening—toward Shannon and Brooke. And it’s even closer to them than the canoe people.

  CHAPTER 88

  I’M PADDLING LIKE A WINDMILL in a tornado and Derrick is right next to me doing the same. My forearms are burning, and my neck is tight from leaning forward. Do they see the bear? And what will they do if the bear gets to them before we do?

  The canoe people have rounded the final point, and now they’re running a straight stretch of co
astline toward the creek. If I knew they were going to pursue us, I’d have injured them more. Bear spray. That’s what I would’ve used. And that makes me think about what we have for using on the bear, too. Derrick and Brooke still have full canisters while mine and Shannon’s are mostly empty.

  But the bear spray is probably inside their packs. I mean, I didn’t see Derrick take his out. We were so focused on sinking the canoes and then paddling the kayaks that I didn’t even think about protection.

  We’re about a hundred yards offshore, and the bear is bounding forward, covering ground twice as fast as it was a minute ago.

  “Swim,” I yell. “Swim to us. Now!”

  I keep paddling.

  Shannon and Brooke wade into the water and then dive and start crawl stroking toward us. At the same time the bear splashes into the water and starts swimming toward them.

  Derrick is pulling a little ahead of me on my right, and I double down on my effort to keep even with him.

  Fifty yards separates us from the girls, but the bear is still chasing them. Come on, I think. Swim faster. Then I remember that both of them said that swimming isn’t one of their strengths, so I just keep paddling.

  Derrick pulls ahead of me. Then he stops paddling and reaches toward his pack. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I blow by him, knowing that the main thing that will keep Shannon and Brooke from getting munched is getting to them before the bear does. Maybe we can scare it away if all of us are together.

  Derrick pulls up next to me again, and I just keep paddling and we stay even. We’ve got fifteen yards to go to get to them, but so does the bear, which is coming at an angle from the right, closer to Derrick than to me.

  “I’m going for the bear,” Derrick shouts. “You get the girls.”

  He must’ve gotten his bear spray out of his pack, I think.