by R. R. Irvine
But when it came to conspiratorial arguments, it was no contest. The mayor emerged a fast victor. “All right, that’s settled. But the sheriff thinks we’d better hurry before it starts snowing.”
Graham peered at the sky. What he’d taken earlier for morning mist had turned out to be a solid cover of storm clouds.
******
They were halfway down into the gorge when the snow began to fall. At first, the illusion was that the devil was adding substance to his breath, a deadly substance because the footing immediately became treacherous.
Graham, back with the burros as always, lost his balance and might have become Lucifer’s first victim if it hadn’t been for Katie’s tail, which he grabbed just as he was about to plunge into the canyon. She brayed a complaint but remained as surefooted as ever.
“Thanks,” he gasped. “I owe you one.”
It was then that he realized that no one else had even been aware of his near-accident.
“Hold up,” he called. “It’s getting slippery.”
“The best thing to do is keep going,” the sheriff replied.
“Hell, yes,” said Keene. “If we don’t hurry, the snow will cover up my grizzly’s tracks.”
They didn’t rest until they reached the floor of the narrow canyon. From there, looking up, nothing was visible but swirling whiteness.
Huddling together in the lee of a monolithic slab of stone, they had to shout to make themselves heard above the roar of The Devil’s Breath.
Graham’s nonexistent hand was again making itself felt, each finger transmitting painful lies. On top of that, Katie found his hook irresistible and was constantly trying to nibble it. Better her than the devil, he decided.
After ten minutes, they began their ascent. By then, a blanket of snow covered everything.
“We can probably pick up the bear’s blood spoor,” Graham heard the mayor reassure Keene. “After all, the snow’s not coming down that fast.”
“I thought you said that bear was dead?” Graham called from his place with the burros.
For a moment he thought no one heard him over the rumble of The Devil’s Breath. Then Benyon responded. “No doubt he is. But just in case he isn’t, it won’t take long for us to catch up with him.”
Graham swore, then saved his breath for the climb, which seemed less hazardous than the descent. Even so, he kept a tight hold on Katie.
His right hand had just decided that it was a metal hook after all and therefore impervious to cold when he heard it, a terrifying sound.
29
SHERIFF FISK, leading the way, was in the act of negotiating the last remaining obstacle, a bulge of granite, when he heard the tearing sound, as if a taut cloth had been ripped apart.
A warm breath of air touched his face.
He craned his neck but saw nothing except a swirl of snow.
Cautiously, taking no chances at this final stage of the climb, he kept a solid handhold as he swung a leg around the blister of rock. Then he held his breath and listened. Nothing. No sound other than the wind from The Devil’s Breath. It must have been the rushing of his own blood that he’d heard, a sure sign that he wasn’t getting any younger.
A man his age had no business climbing around like a mountain goat. The cold wasn’t doing him any good either. What he needed was a warm bed, shared with Harry, please God. Then he could die happy.
He was smiling wickedly when he heard it again, this time much closer. A second breath of warm air enveloped him as he surged onto the plateau.
And that was when he saw it—not a bear, but a huge straight razor glinting as it rent the air. The final slash seemed to happen in slow motion, elongating his terror and the scream that erupted from his lungs as the blade sliced into his crotch.
The impact of emasculation sent him shrieking over the precipice.
******
“That goddamn grizzly was waiting for us,” Keene said, his voice timorous. “Jesus God, it was looking right at me all the time.” His head twitched. “It didn’t act like a wild animal. I had the feeling it was enjoying itself.”
“You sure it was our bear?” Mayor Benyon asked.
“Yes,” Keene replied. “There was blood on its shoulder. It was the same one I shot, all right.”
Keene paused to wet his lips. “My God, and to think I wanted to go first.” He shivered.
Graham was careful to avoid staring at the sleeping bag into which Fisk’s remains had been zipped.
The mayor, who looked as green as Graham felt, said, “Does anyone have a cigarette?”
No one responded.
Benyon peered from face to face. His red eyes looked as if he’d spent a lifetime searching for something to smoke. “Wounded animals do strange things,” he said finally. “Still, it shouldn’t have waited for us like that.”
Yeba Kah, who’d been released from his handcuffs during the climb, announced: “You were warned.”
“That’s enough of that,” said the mayor, and handcuffed him again, only this time with his hands in front of him.
The Indian smiled down at his manacles. “From now on, Koshari is the hunter and you are the hunted.”
“You’re crazy,” Keene shouted, his voice shrill.
Yeba Kah took a deep breath, then shook his head and pressed his lips together, making a white line in his dark, weather-beaten face.
“It’s your fault he’s dead,” Keene cried and lunged at the Indian.
Graham and Benyon intercepted him, while Jarman, Norris, and the girl looked on. Either they were too stunned to act, or unwilling to oppose Keene on any level.
“Don’t be a fool,” Graham said. “You saw what happened. It was nobody’s fault.” More than anything, he wanted to believe his own words.
“He’s right,” the mayor put in. “The Indian is trying to frighten us, that’s all.”
“He’s doing a good job of it,” Jarman added. “But the truth is, Jimmy, you’re as much to blame as anyone. You’re the one who insisted on crossing The Devil’s Breath. The sheriff was against it. You and the mayor forced him into it.”
Keene glanced briefly at the sleeping bag. When he spoke, his voice rose as if he wanted to make certain that the sheriff could hear every word. “I had my hands full. My rifle was slung over my shoulder. There was no way I could have gotten off a shot at that bear.”
Graham nodded. In rugged country like this, it took two hands to climb. Without the burros to hold on to, he would have been in trouble.
“Everything happened so quickly,” Keene continued. “One minute I was looking up with nothing to see but the rocky trail, and the next instant, there was the grizzly, waiting for us.”
The TV star took a long drink from his canteen.
“I’ll never forget it . . . the way that bear looked. I swear to God I heard the whistle of its claws.”
What Graham had heard was more like a wacking sound, the wack of amputation.
“What do you mean?” Benyon asked Keene. The mayor was chewing on the stem of his pipe for all he was worth.
“You know, the kind of sound a sword makes when it slashes through the air. Sort of a swish. Jesus. I’ve never seen claws so long and sharp. It reached right out and . . .”
The mayor pulled the pipe from his mouth and hurled it onto the canyon floor, where they now stood, in the very center of The Devil’s Breath.
Keene’s head shook. “God, the way he screamed.”
“No bear could have done that much damage,” the mayor said with a quick nod at the sleeping bag. “It must have happened during the fall.”
“The grizzly didn’t knock him over the edge,” Keene said. “He jumped.”
Keene didn’t have time to duck. The mayor’s fist caught him flush on the jaw. The man’s knees wobbled, then he collapsed altogether.
“He wouldn’t have killed himself,” the mayor shouted.
To Graham’s surprise, Keene sounded as aggressive as ever. “I’m telling you what I saw.”
>
“I don’t believe it,” the mayor said, but the fight had gone out of him. He bent down and began searching the blood-spattered snow for his pipe.
Graham swallowed hard. He hoped that Benyon was right, that Fisk’s wound was a result of the fall.
Graham backed away from the sleeping bag.
At his retreat, Marilyn said, “I want to leave this place.” In the confines of the narrow canyon, her voice sounded small.
“That’s a good idea,” Keene agreed, getting to his feet. He rubbed his jaw and added, “It’s no Shangri-la down here, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t say that,” Marilyn implored. “Maybe it is. Maybe none of us can leave. Maybe . . .” She cast a furtive look at the cliffs above them. “Maybe the bear will see to that. Maybe the sheriff is the lucky one.”
The cameraman moved to her side, grabbed her shoulders, and shook her until her head rocked back and forth. “I’ll take care of you from now on, so stop worrying. We’ll get out of here. That’s a promise.”
“We have a hero in our midst,” Keene mocked. His fingers probed along the point of his chin.
“The girl’s right,” Benyon said without looking in Keene’s direction. “It’s time to leave.”
Jarman put an arm around her shoulders as she peered speculatively at Keene. Finally, she took a deep breath and snuggled against her newfound protector.
Keene shrugged. “Let’s get going then, before we all freeze to death.”
The mayor craned his neck to study the cliff face up which they had to return. “It’s a good thing the snow is letting up a little.”
“It looks the same to me,” Graham said as he remembered it was the sheriff who knew his way around the Hunting Ground. Graham stared at the mayor, looking for signs of panic. “Do you know the most direct route back to town?”
Instead of answering the question, Benyon said, “Let’s get the sheriff onto one of the burros.”
“That’s a big load,” Graham said. He owed Katie that much.
“We’ll just have to leave something behind.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Keene objected, sounding like his old self.
“We don’t have much choice,” Benyon said coldly. “Either we leave our food and sleeping bags behind or the camera equipment.”
Keene studied the faces around him, apparently seeking an ally. Jarman and the girl were of no help, and even Sid Norris failed to respond.
So much for the television debut of the Hunting Ground, Graham thought as he realized that the mayor of Moondance had some backbone after all.
“Fuck you all,” Keene said and refused to help with the partially frozen body.
Fifteen minutes later they began working their way up the side of The Devil’s Breath. The snow, a good six inches of it, made the going difficult. Even so, the others moved out quickly, throwing caution to the wind, although the mayor had told them that there was no way to reach Moondance until tomorrow afternoon. There just wasn’t enough daylight left.
As before, Graham and the three burros brought up the rear. And that was the way he preferred it. The animals were the only ones with good sense. Their pace was steady and plodding. Instinctively, they selected the easiest and safest route.
The result, however, was that Graham occasionally lost sight of the others.
Near the top of The Devil’s Breath, he was forced to call a halt. His lungs burned and he was gasping for breath.
Katie, who was carrying the sheriff, snorted and pawed at the snow. Alfie, loaded with food and cooking utensils, kept swinging his head from side to side. Clyde, who had the sleeping bags and extra water, looked wide-eyed while remaining unnaturally still.
Graham caught their nervousness and kept looking behind him. But all he saw was the swirling whiteness, which made him feel as if he’d been separated from reality. His only comfort was the touch of Katie beneath his left hand.
And then, abruptly, the snow was gone. He squeezed shut his eyes, refusing to trust them. When he opened them again, he realized what was happening. The snow was being blown away from him by a steady gust from The Devil’s Breath.
He was standing in a pocket of clear air, from which he could see all the way to the opposite wall of the canyon.
Movement caught his eye. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. Madness would have been preferable to the sight before him, because there, poised on a rocky ledge, stood the grizzly.
Bigger than ever it was, blood-spattered and terrible. And the damned thing was staring at him, its mouth open expectantly.
Then, as Graham stood holding his breath, the creature rose up on its hind legs and pawed at the air as if trying to reach out for him.
Maybe it was his imagination, but Graham thought he saw fresh blood on its paws.
The grizzly roared. Then it dropped back to all fours and began loping down the ledge leading to the canyon floor.
At that moment, the snow began to swirl again. The bear was hidden by whiteness. But Graham had no doubt about its destination. It was coming after him, after all of them.
Just as the Indian had said, they were now the hunted.
30
AT FIRST they wouldn’t believe him. Or maybe they didn’t want to. Graham couldn’t blame them for that. Ignorance was on the side of sanity.
“Are you playing the Indian’s game now?” Keene asked, poking him with a finger.
“We’re wasting time,” Graham said. He wanted to shout. Didn’t they know the truth when they heard it?
The mayor tilted his head and eyed Graham critically. “His uncle and that Indian were pretty close. Thick as thieves, some say.”
“It’s the truth,” Graham cried. His own fear was causing him to shake. Couldn’t they recognize that at least? “I’m telling you, I saw that bear.”
The girl believed him. Jarman did too. Norris was so unresponsive he seemed in shock.
Yeba Kah held up his manacled hands. It was a theatrical gesture, but menacing just the same. He commanded their absolute attention. “I told you, young Graham. It’s already too late.”
The Indian spoke evenly, without emotion. “Whether they believe you or not, Koshari will come now. Nothing you can do will change that.” He paused to listen. “Even now he approaches.”
All heads snapped toward the sound of The Devil’s Breath, The snow had let up enough to allow them to see puffs of rising steam.
The Indian’s comment had turned the tide. Graham sensed that. They believed him now.
“Are you sure it was the same bear?” asked the mayor.
“He had blood on him. I could see it clearly.” As he spoke, Graham didn’t know if it was the truth or not.
The mayor nodded, but kept his eyes toward The Devil’s Breath. “We seem to have two choices. We can wait for him here, or we can run.”
“He was moving fast,” Graham said.
“If you’d seen him go after the sheriff,” Keene added, “you’d know we can’t outrun that son of a bitch.”
“Okay.” The mayor put away his pipe. “This is the best place then. We can ambush him when he comes up over the edge.”
“Like he did to the sheriff,” Keene said.
“Exactly. The two of us firing together ought to be more than enough.” The mayor led Keene back toward the lip of the canyon.
For the first time, Graham wished he had a rifle. But the sheriff’s .30-06 lay somewhere at the bottom of The Devil’s Breath. Yet even if Graham had retrieved the weapon, he doubted if he would have been able to manipulate it one-handed.
He was tempted to ask to borrow Marilyn’s pistol, but there was always the chance that she might need it herself.
The mayor and Keene took up cross-firing positions about fifteen yards back from the edge of the gorge, while Graham hurriedly led the burros back into the trees, well out of harm’s way, he hoped.
After tying them securely to a spruce, he trotted back to Jarman, who was trying to convince Marilyn to join the animals.
When finally she agreed, their good-bye kiss was surprisingly passionate. Their sudden, blooming love was as mysterious to Graham as the unexpected break in the snow that had allowed him to glimpse the bear.
Once the girl had gone, Graham, the cameraman, and Norris moved to positions behind the riflemen. It was four o’clock in the afternoon, leaving them less than an hour of good daylight before the massive Uintas screened off the sun for the night.
Snowfall was down to a few whispers of white.
Please, God, Graham prayed, let the weather hold.
Moments later, God seemed to have answered. The snow stopped falling altogether.
“Thank you,” Graham whispered.
“Quiet,” the mayor commanded.
Graham held his breath.
“You hear that?” asked the cameraman.
Graham heard nothing but the racing of his own heart. He was unwilling to speak now for fear of missing a telltale sound. Ever so slowly, he shook his head in answer to Jarman’s question.
“It’s coming,” the cameraman said loud enough so that Keene and Benyon could hear. “I’m sure I heard it.”
Graham swallowed convulsively and forced his eyes to stay wide open. How long he remained posed there, unblinking, he didn’t know. The first indication of the passage of time was the burning sensation in his eyes. But he dared not blink. The grizzly could be on them in a blink. Blink and die, his mind warned.
But God blinked. God or the devil. Or so it seemed, because one instant the air was clear of snow, and in the next, a white swirling cloud erupted from The Devil’s Breath.
Then something else emerged from the maw, a blurred shape. It had to be the grizzly. There was no other explanation.
“Shoot!” Graham shouted.
Or was it Jarman who yelled first?
Benyon and Keene fired, one explosion of sound.