“If you’re right,” Eve said. “It’s been a while since the Inuit believed in bear gods. If any of these skeletons were left here in the last few days, the snow would be covered in blood. There hasn’t been a fresh snow in a month. If there ever was a bear here it’s probably long gone now, or it starved to death, waiting for its next meal.”
“This is all interesting,” Paul said, as he walked toward a mound of ice heaves, “but nature is calling.” He disappeared behind the wall of ice.
“Yeah, enough about the stupid bears,” Steve said, growing bored. “Let’s get a move on.”
Eve laughed. “You won’t think they’re stupid if you see one.”
Steve crossed his arms. “I don’t need a lecture.”
“Polar bears are the largest land predators on the planet,” Eve said.
Steve rolled his eyes. “Here comes the lecture.”
Eve continued. “They’re stronger than lions, as fast as a jaguar and larger than the Siberian tiger. They can weigh up to fifteen hundred pounds.”
“That’s like all of us combined,” Steve said, starting to look impressed.
“What’s most impressive is that studies have shown that they are nearly as smart, if not as smart as apes; meaning they use tools and have a significant memory.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, don’t slap one in the face only to go back a year later and expect to shake hands. It’ll remember you.”
“How the heck do you know so much about polar bears, anyway?” Steve said.
“Evolution, my dear. Studying animals that disappear also means studying animals that have become something new. Some species don’t die out completely, some become specialized. They change.”
“Like fish growing legs?”
“Yes, or like brown bears growing in size, developing webbed feet, and adapting white fur during the last ice age.”
“Like people evolving from Neanderthals.”
“Exactly.”
“Only our evolution has been altered by an outside force,” Eddy said. “Who’s to say what we would have become without the Ferox?”
“Maybe we’d still be running around in loin cloths,” Steve added.
Eddy felt a knot twisting in his stomach. Artuke had told them that every despicable act on Earth had been performed by the Ferox or under the direct influence of the Ferox. But that would include technological advances. If the Ferox made men evil, then they also made mankind technologically advanced. It was true, that the more advanced humans became, the greater evils they dealt each other. The atom bomb. Chemical and biological warfare. Even planes had been flown into buildings. But if ridding the world of the Ferox slowed development, hindered wars and weakened nations, would humanity be so glad to see them go? At this stage of development, would humanity be better off without the Ferox?
Eddy remembered Artuke’s promise that the Aeros would return to Earth, that they would weed out the Ferox influence. He felt comforted knowing a greater intelligence would aid in their recovery from evil influence. But what would the human race become? What was the future of their planet? Eddy’s thoughts were interrupted by Steve.
“Where’s Paul? He’s been gone longer than it takes to drain the lizard.”
Eddy scanned the area, his view blocked by massive skeletons and tall towers of ice. He vaguely remembered which way Paul had gone, but couldn’t place it exactly. One thing Eddy did know was that Steve was right. Paul had been gone too long, and in the Arctic, that was never a good thing. It usually meant you were dead.
18
THE BEAR
The maze of ice heaves closed in around Paul. He looked in every direction, scouring for a view of the crew or Sno-Cat. He relaxed when he didn’t see them. Feeling safe and secluded, Paul began to undo his layers of pants and long johns. After many years of living with a large Italian family who never knocked on the bathroom door, Paul had become a very private bathroom user. His other family members saw no problem taking showers, brushing teeth and urinating simultaneously while talking with each other about the Yankees.
After getting a paper route and earning some money, Paul bought and installed a new doorknob on the bathroom door—one with a lock. It was the first thing he had used a screwdriver on and since that day, he’d been hooked on fixing things. No one had ever walked in on him again. Installing the door lock started Paul on the road that led him to become proficient at fixing everything from game systems to airplanes. And in all the years since his childhood, his penchant for privacy had not waned.
Paul took advantage of the walls provided by the ice heaves and massive skeletons to work his way back into a private area. Even if the crew came looking, it would take them ten minutes to find him—easily enough time to take a leak. Paul lowered his shoulders, rolled his head from side to side and began to relieve himself. He laughed as he began to write his name in the snow, steam rising with each letter—only there was something wrong with the “l.” The snow wasn’t melting. Paul squinted at the white snow, wondering how it was resisting the heat of his urine.
Then the snow moved.
Paul gasped, stepped back and put his pants together too quickly, soaking the front. The snow continued to move, spinning, growing taller. A single black object, the size of a clenched fist, caught Paul’s attention. It was hard to see, as snow fell from the rising object. He saw two round black objects floating above the first and they disappeared momentarily, returning to a full circle a moment later—they blinked. Paul realized then that he was staring into the eyes of a beast.
The polar bear stood over nine feet tall, but its frame was thin, almost emaciated. It hadn’t eaten in some time and had no compunction about eating human flesh. It slammed down onto its front paws and snorted as it began to charge.
Before thought could enter Paul’s mind, his body reacted on instinct. He turned and ran, fleeing from the bear, but in his confusion he ran left instead of right, deeper into the maze of ice and bone.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
Eddy stood at the ribcage of a blue whale and peered through, looking for any movement. He had ordered everyone to stay still. They couldn’t split up, not here. He called for Paul several times, but knew his voice wouldn’t carry far through the walls of frost and skulls. He put his hands in his pockets and felt something hard. He grasped the object and felt a flash of hope. Eddy held the GPS communicator up to his lips. Eddy had one, Steve had another and Paul had the last. “Paul, come in, can you hear me?”
Static.
Then a voice. “Paul, man, speak to us, buddy? Where the hell are you?” It was Steve.
Eddy thought Steve was doing an admirable job of covering his concerns, but he knew Steve was as worried as the rest of them.
Still static.
“I—don’t… where—you?” It was Paul, through breaks of static. He sounded winded, like he was running, like he was…
Eddy looked back to the Cat and locked eyes with Steve, who even from thirty feet looked terrified. Steve’s voice came over the communicator. “Say again, Paul. Where are you? Say again!”
Static. Almost thirty seconds of it. The waiting was excruciating. Then it was shattered. “Help me! Oh God, help me!” Paul’s voice was torn with sheer terror, but Eddy noticed something: the voice hadn’t come from the GPS communicator, it had shouted over the static, not through it.
Eddy searched in every direction with his eyes and his ears. His ears found Paul first: a shuffling of snow and ice, a desperate scramble. What the hell is happening? Eddy turned toward the sound and saw the top half of Paul, crawling out from behind an ice heave twenty feet away. He had only been twenty feet away! “Paul!” Eddy shouted, as he made a mad dash. He could hear the rest of the crew sprinting up behind him.
“Paul! Paul, man! This isn’t funny!” Steve was shouting. “Paul!”
Paul’s face contorted with pain for an instant and his body fell slack. Eddy slowed; something was not right. An instant later, Paul’s body was
pulled out of view. Something had just pulled a full grown man across the ice as effortlessly as a child yanking the sheets off a bed. Eddy stopped running and held out his hands for the rest to stop.
Everyone, save Steve, slowed to a stop. Eddy had to tackle him to the ice.
“Let me go, man!” Steve screamed, as he struggled to get free. “Paul’s in trouble!”
“Paul’s gone!” Eddy shouted, surprised that he had said it. But he knew there were only two things that could have done that to Paul. “Think about it! What could have done that?”
Steve looked into Eddy’s eyes, afraid to answer.
“That was either one of the Ferox,” Eddy said.
“Or a bear,” Steve finished.
“Oh God,” Eve said. “The bear is still here.”
The sound of cracking bones and tearing flesh froze everyone colder than the ten degree air. All eyes locked on the edge of the ice wall where their friend, where Paul, had been dragged and was now being torn to pieces. Tears streamed down Steve’s face and he began to whimper, but even his heaving chest stopped moving as a large, blood-covered muzzle appeared from behind the ice.
The bear emerged, starving, but still massive. At nine hundred pounds it was half its former weight—a gargantuan creature, raised on an endless supply of whale meat. But now this king of the north was starving and one human would not satiate his appetite. The bear roared and charged.
Eddy lept to his feet and pulled Steve up with him. “Back to the Cat!” Eddy commanded. “Everyone!”
The group ran for the Cat, pounding the snow as fast as they could, but Eddy remained standing. He knew the bear could outrun them, and at least one of them, if not two, would never make it to the Cat. This bear needed to be distracted.
“Eddy! What are you doing?” Eve screamed, her voice tormented.
“Get to the Cat!” Eddy shouted, furious at her for stopping. “Now, damn it!”
Eve continued forward and Eddy ran for the ice maze. His legs burned from the cold and exposure, but Eddy knew his only chance of escape lay in the ninety degree turns of the maze—not that it had helped Paul. Eddy glanced over his shoulder but didn’t feel the presence of the hulking bear. He stopped and turned around.
The bear had pursued the others! This bear was unlike other predators. It was indeed smart. Eddy surmised that the bear realized how much food it would need, so instead of taking the easy prey, the lone prey, it was going for the big kill, the herd. It wasn’t trying to kill a single meal. It was trying to survive the winter—and that meant more meat than Eddy and Paul combined.
Eddy grasped a large chunk of ice as the bear came within ten feet of Eve.
Why did you stop?
He took aim.
Five feet.
Please, God, let this work!
Eddy’s arm surged forward and released the chunk of ice. It spun through the air and shattered on impact with the bear’s skull. The beast grunted and slid to a stop, turning toward Eddy. However, the blunt impact was only enough to cause a momentary distraction. Eddy smiled. It was enough. The doors to the Sno-Cat slammed shut as Eve dove inside, pulling the bear’s attention back to the group. The bear inspected the Cat and realized its prey had escaped.
Swirling emotions unlike any he had felt before consumed Eddy, as the bear turned to face him. Forty feet separated Eddy from the bear and twenty feet from the wall. He knew the bear could run twice as fast as he could, and maybe even faster in the snow. Eddy had half the distance to run, but even if the bear only doubled Eddy’s speed, it would catch him at the entrance to the maze. Eddy decided that a head start was a wise choice. He broke into a flat out run, straight for a portion of ice and bone that was open and wrapped around to the right. He hoped that it didn’t wrap around to a dead end, or it would become one, literally—Eddy’s dead end.
The grunting breath of the running bear was loud behind Eddy and it pushed him faster. From the moment Eddy started running, he knew the bear would catch him in an all-out race. He began unzipping his jacket. As he took it off, ten feet from the maze entrance, the cold hit his chest and took what little breath he had away. Eddy looked back and saw a moving hulk of white. The bear was upon him.
The jacket flew over Eddy’s head and the polar bear pounced on it a second later, shredding it with its claws. The beast must have realized the jacket held no value, because it pounded forward. Eddy had gained a second from the ploy.
But it was enough. He reached the vertical bars of whale ribs and grasped the nearest one, taking the ninety degree turn at full speed. The bear, however, was not so agile. Its formidable mass, while convenient for killing, was a hindrance when it came to maneuvering…and stopping. The bear dug into the snow with its claws, but the effort was useless. It slid forward and crashed into a wall of ice. The impact shook the bear but it regained its composure and scrambled into the maze, growling.
The bear came to a crossroads created by a spine the size of a telephone pole, a twelve foot skull and towering spires of ice. It looked in either direction and sniffed the air with its crimson-stained snout. The bear looked left, narrowed its eyes and headed deeper into the maze, moving with confidence.
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
The sound of boots crushing snow was barely audible as Eddy’s heart surged blood past his ears. His chest rose and fell like the waves of an incoming tide, sucking in oxygen and freezing air. He felt his body growing cold, his muscles growing weary. But the knowledge he possessed pushed him forward. If he stopped moving for long, stopped fighting, he would become a meal for the monstrous polar bear.
Exhausted, Eddy stopped and gripped a five inch thick bone projecting from the ice. He held his weight on the bone and attempted to slow his breathing, taking deeper, longer breaths in an attempt to clear the swirls of color that danced before his eyes. He scanned the area and found three choices. One, to the right, looked dangerous, filled with sharp spines of shattered bone, not to mention it headed away from the Sno-Cat—of course, that was his guess. Another, straight ahead, looked like smooth sailing; a straight path for fifty feet… A straight path would do no good. It would allow the bear to see him and give it room to pick up speed. That wouldn’t work, either.
Looking to the left, Eddy eyed the third path, a tangled web of ribs and vertebrae, like a ghastly obstacle course. It looked like the most physically challenging of the three choices, but it went in the correct direction—still a guess—and it would slow the bear down. Eddy lurched to the left and entered the congested path, squeezing between a pair of ribs. Not a second too soon.
A sound like knives scraping across a washboard sent Eddy falling back onto the ice. The bear had just swiped at him! He didn’t even hear it coming. It weighed as much as five men and could travel as silently as an ant on a sand dune. The bear had taken hold of the ribs and shook the cage, frustrated that its prey was just out of reach. Eddy pushed away, gasping for air.
He realized that exhaustion was making him careless, that he had taken too long to decide on a path. It had almost cost him his life. It was a mistake he could not afford to make again. Eddy dug his gloved hands into the snow and pulled up two handfuls, rubbing it onto his already cold face. The freezing cold stung his lips and shot pain into his eyeballs, but his mind cleared and his thoughts became sharp again.
Eddy slid over a spine and climbed through two massive eye sockets. He looked back. The bear paced, watching him. Eddy moved further down into the cluttered path, pulling himself along next to a spine, half frozen in the ice. He glanced back again, just in time to see the bear tear off down the straightaway that he had decided against. Eddy remembered Eve’s words about the bear. It was smart. It lived here. What did it know that he didn’t?
A wall of ice, frozen around a ribcage, floated a foot and a half off the icy ground like a miniature arch. Eddy tried to climb it, but its surface was slick and didn’t offer any stable handholds. He lay on his stomach and began sliding underneath the six foot, thousand pound block o
f ice, which hung precariously in the air. Eddy’s heart pounded as he slid through the small space. He felt the cold pressing on him from above and below. If the bear were to jump on top of the block, he would be crushed beneath.
Breathing harder, Eddy began to struggle through the enclosure; his hands and feet scrambled like a panicked salamander. Then he was free. His head slid out first, then reaching out with his arms, he dug into loose snow and pulled himself from under the block, onto an open path with compact snow. Eddy caught his breath and looked in either direction. The path was clear and stretched straight to the left and the right. Eddy looked down at the snow beneath his face and his vision focused on what he realized was a paw print. He took in the area around him. It was covered in paw prints. He realized that this path was so clean cut because the bear walked it often. If this bear was as smart at Eve suggested…
Oh, hell!
Eddy jumped to his feet and began running to the left, just as the bear rounded the corner to his right. He looked forward and saw twenty feet of straight away, which ended at a jagged chunk of ice. A dead end.
Glancing back, Eddy saw that the bear was not running at full steam. It knew he was cornered. It knew he was defenseless. It was taking its time. Eddy reached the frozen wall and looked up: eight feet of ice. Eddy looked at the bear. It was close enough now that he could see the stands of drool dripping from its jowls. Eddy reached up onto the wall, found a handhold and pulled up. It held.
To hell with you, Eddy thought, you might know these paths, but you’ve never chased prey with opposable thumbs! Eddy jumped up and pulled. He rose higher and dug his foot into the ice, pushing hard. He heard the bear grunt as it began running again. Eddy bent his knees, held on tight with his left hand, then leapt up with the force of all three appendages and grabbed on to the top of the ice. He pulled with his right arm, feeling the sinews of his muscles straining, but in seconds, he was sliding onto the top of the ice wall. Safe. For now.
Raising the Past Page 17