Snap.
Definitely a branch. There are few forest creatures big enough to split a branch. I clench my eyes shut and remind myself that I once thought a squirrel on top of my trailer was a man with a hook for a hand, opening the roof like a tin can.
Snuffle, snuffle.
I start to run. Behind me are definite steps. Grumbles. This is why I’m afraid of the dark. I feel for the radio. “Bear, bear,” I squeak. My throat tight with fear.
“My bear!” Crystal shouts back.
“I don’ . . . care . . . whose . . . bear . . .”
“Don’t run. We are coming. Try to shoot it.”
There’s no running from a bear. I force myself to stop as I watch the dark shape thirty feet back along the trail. That grizzly should be chewing on me.
“Shoot it!” Crystal says at the same time as Charlie shouts, “No!”
Bears are fast. You’re not supposed to run. You’re not supposed to climb trees; bears can climb faster. Even a grizzly might shimmy after you up a tree. If this one’s been stalking me, that means this isn’t a defensive attack, it’s predatory. It means to eat me. A .22 is not a high-caliber bullet; it’s enough to seriously piss off a bear in the wrong spot. Kill it in the perfect one. What the rifle doesn’t have is stopping power. But right now it’s all I’ve got.
I lift my arms and make myself big.
“Hey there! Hey you! Go away!”
It stands. I bring the rifle to my shoulder. This isn’t the first time I’ve fired a gun, and I don’t mean in a video game. My sister and I used to knock cans off posts as targets. Sometimes during the late fall and early spring there really isn’t much else to do in the evenings. So I’m a decent shot. I can hit this black shadow.
But something’s not quite right. There’s no eye shine. No yellow-orange reflection of the dim moonlight. My finger hovers over the trigger. The bear’s too small. This isn’t the bear that hugged Grandma.
“It’s Dalen,” the radio crackles with Charlie’s warning. “The bear’s Dalen.”
“Dalen?” I ask.
The sudden light of his headlamp shines out of the darkness, and I swing the barrel away.
“You were going to shoot me?” Dalen asks.
“You were a bear.”
“I’m not,” he gasps.
“Why didn’t you say anything, I was calling, and . . . wait . . .” I squint at him. He’s dressed in black, a heavy sweater and pants. Good army-style boots, and he’s wearing a pack that’s full. “Why did Charlie know you weren’t a bear?”
He starts toward me.
“No, stop,” I say, backing up a few steps. “What is this?”
“You faced your greatest fear,” he says.
“It was a trick,” I whisper. I’m cold, hungry, and tired. Now add angry. “I think I’m going to kill you anyways.”
Chapter 44
“Too many people let fear stop them from achieving their dreams,” Dalen says.
“Who said that?” I ask, “Jesus? Martin Luther King? Winston Churchill? No, I’ve got it. It’s an ancient Chinese proverb, isn’t it?” This pushes Dalen into silence. “Seriously, I bet I could program you into an Instagram profile, every hour a new missive from the past.”
I heave with deep breaths. I quake with cold and spent fear.
“What ideas are mine?” Dalen asks. “It’s a fair question, not the best timed, but fair. There’s a good answer, though, and that is if I see farther than others, it’s only because I stand on the shoulders of those wiser than myself. There’s nothing wrong with that. No teacher relies on what they figure out themselves. Wisdom is wisdom. Second-hand wisdom is like second-hand gold. It holds whatever value is ascribed by its holder.”
I turn away and start hiking back toward Sunny Days. The rhetoric all sounds the same—fool’s gold. There’s a dark shape ahead, darker than the rest of the night, and I’m surprised that Crystal and Charlie made it back so quickly.
“Ray, did you conquer your fear of the dark tonight?”
I keep walking; the light from his headlamp has ruined my night vision, so that I zigzag over the trail from swamp to swamp.
“We’re on our way back,” Crystal says in the radio. “I didn’t know.”
I peer into the darkness again, searching for the shape, but I can’t make anything out now that I’ve left the area lit by Dalen’s headlamp.
“If you get to camp early, Charlie,” I respond to the radio, “you can start packing up.”
“What do you fear, Ray?” Dalen asks to my back. “What are you hiding from?”
“You’re a circus act.”
Our boots make sucking sounds as we trod in silence for a bit. Every time I think I hear something in the swamp, Dalen speaks, covering the sound.
“I have been a circus act,” Dalen agrees. “Yesterday, for instance. Today, I’m not. I’m choosing today. What are you choosing? Why are you hiding from yourself?”
“Look at me,” I scoff. Bugs swarm my ears. It’s as if their angry buzz has entered my brain, and they distract me from what could be in the woods. “My journey’s starting with each step. And . . . and . . . I know where I’m going, so I know how to get there.” My words are bitter. In my tone, I hear my mother at her worst.
“You can fire me. But you are not the first person I have tried to help. You do not like all of my methods, but consider it all together. I invite you to have faith that I have something to offer, help that is worth having.”
“Fine. Hundred thousand dollar man, you have the walk to camp,” I say.
He seems to consider this. He’s behind me, and he wrestles with a sapling I purposefully let swing back in his face.
“Okay, answer my questions, though. I asked you a question, Ray. Have you faced your fear of the dark?”
“Yeah, now I’m just afraid of bears.” I start hiking faster.
“What’s changed at the park? Be honest with yourself,” he says.
I don’t say anything. All I can think is that Tina had liked me and now she doesn’t. How I’d thought I wanted to be a pro gamer, but the way followers keep leaving me . . .
“Let’s start with something I noticed yesterday. How about the shadow-puppet man. He’s now friends with his neighbor.”
“Hardly big,” I say.
“Friendship? Not big?” He hustles to catch up. “Fine though, the little girl hasn’t asked about the pool lately, has she?”
“Given up.”
“No, she doesn’t need it. The pool was a distraction from what she was missing. She needs a community and she has that now.”
“I’m still going to clean it,” I say.
“Your mother has taken ownership of the park. She’s moving out from under your grandma’s wing. She’s realized her meaning.”
I can’t argue with that one. “It’s not her park yet.”
“What about Jamie? He believes in Grandma’s Unicorn Farts.” The only way Dalen could know these things is if Charlie’s been in contact with Dalen all day. My mood darkens. “And Obelix?”
He’s pretty happy. There it goes again. The sucking sounds of slow steps in swamp water.
“What about your sister? Anything change for her?” I shrug, half-listening. “What are the happiest moments of this week?”
I picture Tina pulling off her helmet. That was the best one, but there were others. Penny and the berg. Uncle’s magic. My mom smiling at me. Really smiling.
Dalen must see it on my face because he says, “You did this.”
“No.”
“You did. You created the environment for it. By helping others find their meaning, your life will have meaning too. When you mix things up, stuff happens. You have to learn to trust in that, to step out and just see what happens. Fear of change is often the biggest cliff to leap from. Tonight, you conquered fear.”
“I faced down an old insane man, that’s all.” I stop as a cold chill runs over me. It prickles like the thawing of skin after diving into the icy p
ool. Things may have changed. Dalen may be right. But I don’t see the formula. My family and other campers may be happier, but most of it happened just because. I didn’t do it on purpose. Tina was the only one I intended to make happy, and since I’ve been working with Dalen she’s become more miserable. “I’m not going to find the meaning of life in time, am I?”
“It sounds to me like ever since you started this quest, everything’s changed. You say you’re not any closer to finding meaning, but everyone else is. So why not you?”
I stop and hang my head. “Tina, she hates me.”
His hand grips my shoulder. I listen to crickets and the rustling of the dark. Heavy rustling.
“I honestly don’t know what passed between you. Whatever it is is too painful to discuss. I am sorry it did.” The sincerity makes my chest ache. “Sometimes when people are wrong it’s hard to hear it from someone close to them. Grief is a difficult emotion.”
“Gandhi?” I ask.
“All me. And here’s another one. Apologize—it clears closets.”
“What if I don’t know what I’m apologizing for?”
“It’s never all your fault. We all make mistakes. Admit your part in them and move on. Here’s the secret. You say, ‘I’m sorry.’ It may feel like your share in the fault is small and it’s much greater for the other person. But you can’t accurately measure fault; luckily apologies don’t care who did what, and they cost nothing. That’s all mine too. Or maybe it’s not. Who knows? But, speaking of me, I’ve decided to go back to my roots.”
“Book tour?” I joke.
“Something like that.” He chuckles. “So, do you still think I’m just spouting proverbs and quotes—” The word quotes comes out strangled with emotion, and I’m touched that my opinion means so much to him.
I turn to face Dalen, but his eyes are wide and glaring over my shoulder. Something snorts. “There’s a bear, isn’t there?” I ask. His nod’s barely perceptible. “Close?”
“Here.”
Hot breath rolls over my neck.
Chapter 45
“Don’t run,” I whimper.
I hear the pop of the bear’s jaw and then blowing and snorting. I cringe. But there’s no playing dead with a bear this close. Not one that’s trailed us. Crystal taught me that. The only hope is to fight. But it’s a bear. A grizzly. And it’s so dark.
Dalen’s wrong. I didn’t conquer my fear. When I’d thought he was the bear, my first reaction had been to run. If he had been a bear, I would have been dead. Dalen’s words haven’t changed anything for me, but they have given me a spark of desire.
Into my mind comes Tina, our banter, her drive to be more, her wild smile. I need to see her. I have to make things right. But there’s this grizzly in my way.
I turn and the bear lifts on barrel legs. Yellow jaws roar at the sky. There isn’t even room to swing the rifle. I-can-not-run. A long string of drool dangles from the bear’s muzzle and catches me across the cheek. It reeks of garbage and carrion, its last meal. Me—its next.
I raise my arms and bellow, the snarl burning my throat.
But Dalen runs.
It’s a mistake. There’s no escape. I manage to give the bear a glancing blow on the thick furred neck with the rifle butt, but it’s nothing. It swats at me with a paw, a rake of claws that catches my hip and flings me into the swamp. As I fly through the air, all I can do is struggle to keep the gun out of the water.
I land against a felled tree trunk. The pain sends glowing spots into my vision. I don’t know how injured I am. My mind’s numb and blank. My thigh feels hot as the rest of me cools. Dalen’s light jogs about fifty yards off. It illuminates the pawing grizzly, claws swinging at something up in a tree that hollers. I worm out of the swamp, keeping the gun out of the muck, and climb to unsteady feet.
Now I can run. But I know I can’t. Old-Ray might have panicked and scrambled in the opposite direction, but Better-Ray stays. I lift the rifle to my shoulder.
With the bear sighted, I fire. The short recoil nudges me back. I jerked the trigger, pulling up on the barrel and missing the bear, which has begun to test its weight on the trunk. The tree whipsaws.
Dalen screams. “You shot me! I’ve been shot! You shot me!”
“Sorry!” I fumble in my pocket for another round. It’s a bolt-action rifle and only takes one shot at a time. I find a round, knock out the spent casing and slip this one in, easing closer to the bear.
Dalen keeps shouting, which I take to mean he’s not dying straight away.
I take aim. Draw a deep, slow breath the way my mother and Crystal showed me. I squeeze the trigger.
This time the rifle shot cracks thunderously. It’s as if the bear’s been stung. It swats at its head, topples to the side, and kicks twice before lying still.
“Always trying to take what’s mine,” Crystal says from behind me.
I turn and see her lower her gun.
“Sorry, I had to,” I say.
“Sorry for what?”
“Killing the bear.”
“Check your weapon, bro,” she says.
I do. The bullet is still in the chamber. Crystal got her bear.
From above comes cracking and the sound of branches giving. Dalen falls out of the tree. He lands with a whump on top of the grizzly, screeches, and rolls away.
“Dalen!” Charlie sprints for him, falling to her knees.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say as I run forward and take the opposite side. Dalen’s eyes are clenched tight. “I don’t think you’re a fraud, I don’t, I don’t, I’m just an idiot. I’ll answer your questions. I will. What do I fear? What do I fear? I fear I’ll make the wrong choices. I fear I’ve wasted all this time doing nothing, avoiding doing something. I’m afraid that if I admit that, all that time goes up in smoke, like paff.”
“Paff? This is still all about you?” Crystal demands to know. “You shot him and you’re talking about you.” She’s got her gun trained on the bear; she’s smart like that.
Dalen’s grimacing, but I can tell it’s only partly due to the pain; the rest is all grin.
“You needed to shoot me to get to the truth? It’ll cost extra.” He chuckles and grips the side of his leg. His hand is oily red. “It’s not too bad, think I can walk.”
“That’s because you were just shot. In thirty minutes it’s going to hurt like hell. Unless you go into shock.” Crystal tosses me her pack. “First aid.” I look back at her. “I’m not saying take the bullet out, just take his pants off and bind his leg.”
I nod and help Dalen shimmy out of his pants.
“Shouldn’t have run, I guess,” Dalen says.
“Probably saved me,” I reply.
“You challenged the bear.” There’s real amazement in Dalen’s eyes. “Stood up to a monster in the dark. That’s not average, Better-Ray—I know.”
When we get his pants off, Charlie pours some hydrogen peroxide over it, cleansing the wound. Blood continues to trickle down his leg.
I bind it.
I can tell Crystal’s right; it hasn’t been thirty minutes, but the pain’s starting to settle into the creases on his face.
“Mom,” Crystal speaks into the radio. “We’ve a gunshot wound to the thigh, .22 at forty yards.”
“They’ll survive,” Mom replies, but her voice shakes. “That was dumb. Is it Ray?”
“Really?” I say.
“Dalen’s shot. Ray shot him. We’ll need an ambulance,” Crystal says.
“I was aiming for the bear,” I shout.
“Air?” my mom asks.
Crystal looks to Dalen. “You want an air lift? Costs a mint.”
“Yep,” Dalen says between clenched teeth.
“Air,” Crystal says. “They can’t land here, so send an ATV in to pick him up.”
There’s a double squelch in reply.
Crystal props up Dalen’s legs and removes a blanket from her bag to cover him. I see now that he’s shuddering despite the relative
ly warm night.
Charlie keeps waving mosquitoes off of Dalen’s pallid face with no concern for herself.
I wipe his blood on my jeans.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“You were shooting at the bear,” Charlie says.
“He’s usually a better shot,” Crystal replies.
There is a distant sound of the ATV. A steady faraway buzz, but it’ll be slow going with the swamp and the trees.
“I don’t want you to go, Dalen. I’m sorry.” His breathing’s shallow and tight and he holds as still as possible. “You’re not fired.”
“Ray, you’ve got this one,” he says through clenched teeth.
“But I don’t, I don’t know it.”
We all know what it is.
“Pretty sure you do, kid. You’re above average and all.”
I’m out of time and now that it’s gone, I feel as though I’ve wasted so much of it. The ATV’s lights rip along the strip of dry land, weaving around trees, and then it rumbles to a stop where Crystal’s flashing her headlamp. Uncle Jamie’s driving and he’s all business, helping to carry Dalen to the seat.
Charlie props him up in the ATV, sitting behind him, leaving me with my sister.
Crystal’s eyes are narrowed at me. She grips the long rifle by the barrel, its butt on her boot toe as we watch the ATV drive away.
I’m alone. There’s a dead bear, and Crystal has her gun, and Dalen just told us that I know the meaning of life. She probably thinks Sunny Days will be mine.
“You weren’t really going to shoot me, were you?” I ask. “When we first got the will, back at my trailer.”
All of a sudden she starts laughing. “No, brother, but sometimes I want to and pretending makes me feel better. Come on. You can meditate on that later.”
We hike a bit in silence.
“Can’t believe I shot Dalen,” I say. My thigh hurts, but I take that to be a good thing.
Crystal doesn’t respond. Keeps walking.
“You think you know it?” she asks as my thigh starts burning. I limp heavily.
“No, not in the way that’s going to get me the inheritance,” I reply.
Ray Vs the Meaning of Life Page 19