“Ah . . .” I’m looking for the phonebook.
“What’s her damn phone number?”
“I’m looking! I’m looking!”
Her breathing is getting heavier as I find the book and frantically search for the Ss. “Just a second.” My finger is out of control as it bounces about the page looking for the correct combination of letters. I don’t see it. “She’s not listed,” I say.
“I’ll get online and find it! Get your ass back up there and get her out of there! Kidnap her if you have to! You hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t care what you have to do.” Her voice becomes firm and level. “I don’t want her in those mountains where those animals are. Do you God damn hear me?”
“Yes! I hear you! I’ll do my best.”
“Don’t do your best, Zack. Just do it!”
“OKAY!” I yell back, but she has already hung up. I lay the phone down gently and then tighten and release every muscle in my body until most of my anger has fizzled out. I’m still shaking when I get in the shower.
Fifteen minutes later I’m turning out of the parking lot, heading north on Highway 93. I know I have to get back up to Highway 40 in order to get through Columbia Falls to pick up Highway 2. I hardly get through Kalispell when I spot Highway 2. I should get out the map and see if there is a shorter way to get where I’m going. I don’t. Instead I turn right onto Highway 2 figuring it’ll get me there, however, Highway 2 runs east and west, not north and south. Brian said to go south. What the hell? I keep going. Not long after that, I’m lost.
Chapter 23
Reba
“Holy Shit!”
I’m following close on Matt when I hear the words explode from his mouth. At the same time he stops dead and I nearly plow into him. We haven’t gone more than fifty yards from the tracks we saw in the dirt. I look around him and any words I think to say are stuck in my throat. Slowly stepping onto the path a hundred feet in front of us is the largest fur-bearing animal I have ever seen, even larger than I had imagined he would be. It’s Smilodon. He straddles the trail and lowers his head. His saber teeth are as long as my arm. All I can see are teeth, eyes, and this huge furry body.
“Turn around,” Matt says calmly.
I try to say, “What?” not understanding why he wants me to turn my back to this huge cat; an invitation to attack is what I’m thinking. Only “Wha . . .wha . . . wha” comes out, and I’m barely holding on to my bladder.
“Turn around and look for the other one,” he says more forcibly, more like an order, his words clear and distinct.
“Other one!” I manage to blubber out.
“They hunt in pairs.”
I turn around and see nothing, but words to tell him so are frozen in my throat.
“What do you see?” His voice is demanding but not full of the fear I can’t seem to shake off of myself.
“Na . . . nothing,” I say.
“Look everywhere. He’s there somewhere.”
I take a deep breath and feel my senses come back. “I don’t see nothing.”
“I don’t like being out in the open like this. Let’s get up to those rocks . . . where you saw the elk.”
“Okay.”
“Walk slowly and I’ll stay right with you. I have to keep my eye on this guy. You just keep watching for others.”
“What if he attacks?”
“He’s just standing there. He won’t.”
I start walking.
“I hope,” he adds.
I keep moving, looking everywhere. He bumps hard against my backpack and I stumble. The toe of my boot hooks onto something, and my body pitches forward and down. I try to catch myself but it happens too fast. Suddenly I’m face down in the path looking at a pile of deer marbles, and struggling to catch my breath. I suck in weed pollen and, I’m sure, the dust of wild animal shit. I try to get to my hands and knees, but don’t get far because Matt steps on my ankle.
“Stop!” I yell, but it’s a second too late. If I suck in any harmful pollutants from the little round deer dropping, they are instantly blown out again when Matt’s full weight slams down on top of me and drives me flat to the ground once more. He immediately uses me as a launch platform and rockets back to his feet. My brain screams, “DON’T BREATHE” even as my lungs automatically suck in as much oxygen as they can get, not caring that it is ninety percent dried up animal shit. I roll to my side spitting anything and everything I can, wishing I could throw up again, thinking if I do I’ll make sure it is on him.
“Get up!” Matt yells.
I’m trying to wipe the shit from my face and out of my eyes, spitting and blinking like crazy.
“Get up!” he yells again. He grabs my arm and drags me to my feet.
“Stop!” I scream back. “I can’t see! I’ve got deer shit in my eyes.”
“What? Turn around! I still don’t see the other one. We’re damned lucky. This one hasn’t moved yet. We’ve got to get up to those rocks.”
I turn around and face the direction I think we’re supposed to be moving. The poop in my eyes is driving me nuts.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yells.
“I can’t see!” I scream back. “You pushed me and knocked me down.”
“I didn’t push you!”
“Shit to hell you didn’t! And then you stepped on me and fell on me and pushed my face into a pile of deer shit! I’m lucky something’s not broken!”
“We’re going to be dead if you don’t get to hell moving!”
Through my watering eyes I can make out the trail and the rocks I’m heading for. What I need right now is to stand under a waterfall with my eyes wide open. I put one foot forward and then another. As I walk, limping on the ankle he stepped on, and hoping there are no sabre-toothed cats in front of me that I cannot see, I reach back to my pack for my water bottle. I battle with the strap, my mind thinking ass-backwards for a few seconds. Finally the bottle frees into my hand. I pull the stopper up and then squirt the lukewarm fluid into my right eye. It helps and I do the same with the left, which totally clears. There is something still lodged in the corner of the right. I leave it and focus upon the task of getting us to the shelter of the rocks.
“Good!” Matt says. “Keep moving. Any sign of his partner yet?”
I look toward the rocks which are just coming into view on my left, and then up the trail. “No.” I look across to the other side of the trail. “Yes!” Standing in the shadow of several trees is another one, larger than the first. “Yes! There he is!”
“Where?”
“In the trees, just to the right of the trail. Oh shit! He’s moving out—onto the trail.”
“Keep moving!”
I have deer poop in my eyes, my ankle hurts like hell, there’s a giant man-eating kitty cat with drool-dripping saber teeth standing in my way, and there is a warm fluid running down my legs. “Maybe we ought to change positions,” I growl at him.
“Damn it Reba! We can’t stand here all day! Move your ass!”
I want to tell him what he can stick up his ass. “He’s coming out! He’s blocking the trail!”
“He’ll move.”
“I know that in my head, but my legs aren’t buying it. Isn’t staring at them a sign of aggression?”
“That’s grizzly bears. Don’t ever look them in the eye. Not sure about these guys. I do know they don’t like the human face. As long as they can see your face, they won’t come near you.”
“How do you know that?”
“My dad told me.”
“How does he know?”
“Your dad told him the night he saved his life.”
“Who saved whose life?”
“Your dad saved my dad’s life.”
I stop and Matt pushes against me. I’m ready this time and push back.
“What’re you doing?” he demands.
“He ain’t moving,” I whine. Matt might as well be asking me to step off a cliff edge into a vo
lcano. My legs are petrified against any further forward advance, even if my brain is willing to attempt convincing my legs otherwise, which it isn’t.
“He will.”
“What makes you so damn sure that your dad . . . or my dad is right? You’re betting our lives on it.”
“Because they haven’t already attacked us. That’s good enough proof for me.”
I try to force another step. “I can’t!”
“All right! Let’s switch.”
That, my legs are willing to do. In a matter of two seconds I’m looking down the trail instead of up, or would be if I could see past the beast with elephant tusks for teeth. My legs are now also willing to move, to retreat from the sight in front of me, even knowing that this one’s daddy is behind me, not totally out of sight and out of mind but reduced in importance enough that I’m able to find the muscles in the lower half of my body. I back up a few steps and run into Matt. He’s not moving. “Are you going or what?”
“Yeah,” he says softly, so softly that it scares me. The roles are reversed and he can’t walk toward one any easier than I could.
“Matt!” I scream. “Let’s go!”
“Okay.” There’s no conviction in his voice, and there’s no release against my pressure. I might as well be shoving against a Mac truck.
“Shit! I hate this!” He’s lost it worse than I did and now I’ve got to take charge. I don’t want to take charge. I inhale, set my resolve and blurt, “Let’s switch back.”
No response.
“Matt!” I scream.
“What?” he replies as though we’re doing nothing more than having a coke together at Burger King.
“Let’s switch, Damn it! Turn around!” I’m screaming at the top of my lungs now, but there is no answer from him, either in voice or physical movement. What to do? What to do? Change tactics. “Matt,” I say in a conversational tone.
“What?”
“Why don’t I take the lead for a while. You can keep an eye on this guy back here.”
“Okay,” he replies without argument.
“Switch now,” I calmly say and then like a tag team we rotate 180 degrees. “Holy shit!” is all I can say as I see the reason he was unable to move, and wonder why he didn’t just go into full cardiac arrest. My heart is racing in that direction, I’m sure. On each side of the animal I earlier watched step from the woods, is another just like it. Three sabre-toothed cats are challenging our existence in their forest, plus of course the one that Matt is again facing. Once again my legs are locked in place, but unlike before, I understand that I am our only way out—if there is such a thing—because Matt has gone into full-blown petrifaction. All they have to do is wait until one of us passes out, and then the game is over.
“How are you doing, Matt?”
“Just peachy. How about you?”
“Just like Disney World. Just making sure you aren’t going to sleep on me back there.”
There’s a long silence and then he says, “I’m okay now, except . . .”
“Except what?”
His voice becomes very calm. “I don’t know what happened to me. I froze.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“I don’t think we’re going to get out of this. It was crazy to think we could escape with two against two. Now it’s four against two, and maybe more we can’t see.” His voice is very shaky. So is mine for that matter.
“We’re not giving up,” I say sternly. “We’re going to those rocks, just like we planned.” I hope my words can convince my brain to over-ride my rooted-to-the-ground legs.
“If you can get there, I’ll stay with you.” He’s got control of himself again.
“Promise?”
“Promise. I just can’t . . .”
Lead, is what he doesn’t say, while facing three of these guys.
“Let’s go.” I push one foot forward. Then I move the other. “Are you with me?”
“I’m with you.”
“I’m cutting up toward the rocks now. Be careful. This is rough walking, but the cats are blocking the other way. You’ve got the tough part, moving backwards. I’ll warn you about things you could trip on or get tangled in.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay with you.”
Every step is like walking on eggs. I take each one slow and deliberate, afraid that if I go too fast, I’ll lose Matt or he’ll trip and fall, or if I go too slow he’ll knock me down again. But I am moving. One of the cats suddenly drops his head and then backs up a couple of steps. I pause for a second and then take the next step. The other two hold their ground. I don’t understand why an animal that outweighs me by more than 500 pounds doesn’t just pounce, especially when there are four of them. We could be mincemeat in seconds. Whatever the reason, they’re letting us go; or maybe they think they can trap us in the rocks and then pick us off during the night after we fall asleep. Are the rocks all that great an idea? I consider that thought with each step but come to the conclusion that there are no other alternatives. What will we do when it turns dark?
Fire!
“Matt!”
“What?”
“When we get to the rocks, we need to prepare for a fire in case we spend the night.” There’s no confirmation from him. “You hear me Matt?”
“Yeah.”
“We need to collect wood.”
“Now?”
“Unless you want to go out wood gathering after we get there.”
There’s a very long silence. We’re halfway to the rocks and I’ve stopped next to a log that looks like it has been rotting for a couple of decades. “We can’t collect enough wood for the entire night,” he says.
“I think I remember seeing some in there. We should still grab as much as we can. There’s a dead tree on your right. Grab what you can carry and then I’ll do the same thing.”
“Okay.” He shifts to do so.
“Wait!”
“What now?”
“They’re doing something. Oh, shit! They’re spreading out.”
“Mine just left. He ran up into the trees.”
“Hell with the wood. We need to move faster or one of them is going to block us.” I want those rocks and I want them badly, and I don’t like this sudden change in their tactics. “Come on. Keep up with me.” I can’t believe myself. Ten minutes ago I was peeing my pants. I make what I imagine is an ugly face and take three quick aggressive steps forward. The cat who was heading to block us off, stops. Matt’s pack bumps against mine and I take three more quick steps, rotating my head between the two cats still in my view while glancing to the trees where the first one might be appearing. My theory is that he left his post with Matt to come around on my left, possibly to assist in the blocking. Several more aggressive-like steps and the blocking cat retreats a couple of feet again. I quickly look over my shoulder to be sure that Matt is still with me. I also see that one of my cats is now his, keeping his distance and following slowly, just as the first. “How are you doing, Matt?”
“Nothing like a good adventure to tell our grandkids?”
“Our grandkids? Ain’t this a little quick? We just met.”
He laughs.
I take three more steps forward. My camera bounces against my ribs. The blocking cat moves back another step. I still don’t see the one in the trees. I turn the camera on. “I’m going to get some pictures for the grandkids.”
“Or when they find our mangled, half-eaten bodies, there’ll be evidence that it wasn’t a grizzly.”
“Our sacrifice for the common good.” I don’t raise the camera to my face. Instead I point in the general direction of the sabre-toothed cats and start pushing the shudder release.
“What exactly is the common good here?”
“I have no idea. It just seemed something worth saying. Make a face at them.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I’ve been making faces at them. It seems to work.”
“I don’t want to make them mad.”
“Mad? I think I’m scaring this guy.” I continue forward, shooting pictures. “You staying with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Any sign of the guy who went into the trees?”
“No. I just have this one right now, and he’s still keeping his distance.”
“I’m worried about that one in the trees,” I say. “I’d feel better if we could see all of them. They’re planning something.”
“What do you mean planning? They’re just moving around, waiting for the right opportunity.”
“They’re talking to each other.” I turn the camera off and push it back under my arm.
“What do you mean?”
I think about my being able to read peoples’ minds, or whatever it is I do. If humans can do it, why can’t animals? It’s probably even more refined with these guys, not being polluted by evolution and human influences, and having eight years to work on it. “I mean just that. They have some kind of mental communications. Since they hunt in pairs, why are there now four? It’s because the first pair was having problems so they called in reinforcements. Now with four, they still can’t figure out how to get past our faces. They’re now changing their tactics. Notice how the one on my right has backed off a distance and is doing nothing.”
“I’m not going to turn my head away to look, but I believe you.”
“This is now a group effort and he has taken on the role as the General. I’ll call him Ike, after General Eisenhower. He’s sitting back and looking at the big picture, giving orders to the others. He’s making it appear to us that all we have is two again—the one facing you and the one trying to block me. The one in the trees somewhere is Butch. This is like a chess game and Butch is a bishop who we’re not supposed to pay any attention to. To Ike, he’s the final move for the checkmate.” I keep moving while I talk. The blocking cat continues to open up my approach to the rocks. We are less than forty feet away now. “The other two—mine is Joey and yours is Billy—are the pawns. Their jobs are to keep us in line and make us go where Ike wants us.”
“This is crazy,” Matt says. “The rocks are our protection. Why would they let us get there?”
“Butch is out of sight and Ike expects that by the time we make it to the rocks we’ll have forgotten about him. At first I thought Butch’s job was to assist Joey in blocking the rocks from us, but Joey gave it up too easily. He was backing away long before we got close enough. A good chess tactic is to first deny the ground where you want your opponent to go and then give it up to draw them into it. It’s a trap.”
Sabre-Toothed Cat Trilogy Page 52