Before We Die Alone

by Ike Hamill

  I look over the shoulder of a girl. Her sign says, “Ego = Valor.”

  I also see, “Stop the MACHINE,” on several signs. They’re pretty, but useless as far as I’m concerned. Since I have no idea what they want me to do, I consider them ineffective. I figure a good protest sign has to leave me with a firm message and a call to action. These have neither.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  Nobody looks up.

  “Excuse me, have any of you been hissing about a bear?”

  I would like to have another conversation with that bear. He said something about voting for me. The more I think about it, the more I would like to know just what he meant.

  One young woman looks up from coloring in her M. She says three words, “Bart is dead.”

  A guy next to her turns. “No way, that was police propaganda. He’s still alive.”

  “I’m not talking about when they first said they killed him, I’m talking about this morning. They gunned him down this morning,” she says.

  Another girl joins the conversation. “I heard that too, but it wasn’t true.”

  I interject, but it’s like they can’t even hear me. “Can you just tell me the last place anyone saw him?” My voice must be on a frequency that their ears don’t even pick up.

  A guy joins the argument. “I heard that he got picked up by a helicopter and taken to a special sanctuary. It’s like Noah’s Ark or something.”

  “That’s disturbed,” one of the women says.

  “Look,” another guy says. “Five seconds ago—bear cuddling.” He turns his phone for the others to see. The dark shape in the window may or may not be a bear. I recognize the building. It’s a hotel up the street. I leave the kids to their signs and their argument.

  It’s a short walk. Jog across the street and find the door to the hotel unattended. There’s nobody behind the desk either. I think I want the third floor. I get my bearings and ride the elevator up. If I’m correct, the room will be the last one on the right. I knock.

  From behind the door, “Yeah?”

  I don’t recognize the voice, but would I?

  I knock again.

  The voice is less inviting this time and more gruff. “Yeah.”

  Someone wheels a cart around the corner. It’s stacked with toilet paper and bottled water. He fumbles with his card and then shoves the whole thing through the door. He gives me a look before he shuts the door behind himself. I imagine him in there, stacking all the toilet paper up in the bathroom and lining up the bottles of water on the bureau. Is that his plan? Why are people even bothering to act if that’s the best plan they can come up with?

  I try the handle. I’m surprised when it turns.

  I poke my head in. After all, this could just be another toilet paper and water hoarder.

  I see the paws hanging off the end of the bed. This is another strange turn in the most bizarre day of my life. I’ve tracked down a bear to a hotel room based on the rumors hissed between college students. I push in.

  It’s not the same bear. I’m startled stiff. This bear is way bigger, and he’s reddish-brown. Is he a grizzly? A brown bear? That’s a thing, right? His head is propped up against the headboard with a stack of pillows. He has a sheet draped across his midsection.

  “Come in if you’re coming in. Don’t just stand there,” he says.

  I squeeze past the door and press my back against it. Damn, what a strange day.

  “What do you want?”

  “Sorry. I was actually looking for a different…” I can’t even finish the sentence. It’s too absurd.

  His lower lip hangs down a little, but the slack-jawed look doesn’t make him look stupid. His eyes regard me for a second, and then he returns his gaze to the television set. It’s showing a river, where salmon are leaping up over a waterfall in slow motion. The sound is muted.

  “You have the mark,” he says.

  “Huh?”

  He doesn’t look at me, but one paw comes up, pointing its claws in my direction. “You have the mark on your chest. Who got you?”

  I look down. Right—the blood.

  “Who?”

  “You don’t have much time left, buddy. Are you sure you want to spend it being confused by everything?”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh boy,” he says, using one paw to scratch his chest. He glances back over at me again. “Listen, buddy, I’m trying to relax here. Could you shut the door on your way out?”

  I reach back for the handle. Letting myself out seems like a good idea. Even though he’s just lying there, this bear is much bigger and much more intimidating than the one I’m looking for. There’s an inherent power in his reclining form. Maybe it’s a deep instinct to run from a bigger predator, or maybe he is simply too charismatic to face. I can’t decide which. When I was a kid, I met Christopher Reeve right after Superman came out. I was dumbstruck then the same way I am now.

  Still, I came here looking for answers, and there has to be a connection between this talking bear and the one I’m looking for.

  I blurt out a question. “How do I find that other bear? The black one?”

  He uses his arms to push himself more upright and looks at me. Now, the instinct to run is impossible to resist. His eyes are locked on me and my muscles seem to operate on their own. I jerk the door open and squeeze through the gap. I hear a roar as the door clicks shut and I’m running down the hall. I make it to the corner, but his footfalls are like thunder behind me. The whole building seems to shake with his approach.

  A giant paw sweeps out my legs and I go down in a sliding heap, skidding across the carpet until I hit the wall. His enormous head takes up my whole field of view.

  “What black bear?”

  ---- * ----

  A set of eyes appear in the crack of a doorway before it slams shut again.

  A quick sequence of thoughts run through my brain. This bear can kill me. But, even if this bear doesn’t kill me, I would be dead in week anyway. But, I really don’t want to die by being eaten by a bear. My chest hurts.

  I do the only thing I can think to do. I raise my hand and push away his giant snout. “Do you mind? You’re breathing right in my face.”

  He closes his mouth and it looks like he’s frowning for an instant.

  “Come with me,” he says. He gets up and begins lumbering back towards his room.

  I glance at the elevator and consider running. I’m not sure what convinces me to follow that giant form down the hall. Curiosity?

  He barely fits through the door. His backside seems to rub both sides of the frame. I’m not sure how the bed supports his weight—maybe it’s reinforced. He leans back and gestures me towards a chair. The remote control for the TV has extra big buttons. With a claw, he shuts it off.

  “Why are you looking for a black bear?” he asks.

  I sit down on the edge of the chair. My nerves are still jittery with extra adrenaline. To look him in the eyes, I have to look right up the length of his body.

  He rolls his eyes. With dexterous claws, he picks the sheet from the floor and drapes it over himself.

  “The black bear?” he prompts again.

  “Right,” I say. “Yeah, when I first met him, he was in the zoo. But when I saw him on the street earlier today and he said something about how I’m going to die in a week, and how he voted against it. Then, I found out about the asteroid, and I wanted to track him down again. I want to see what the hell he meant by that. What did he vote on?”

  “Huh!” the bear says. The sound is halfway between a bark and a laugh. “He can’t vote.”

  “Vote on what?”

  “He’s a damn felon. Why do you think he was in the zoo? For fuck’s sake.”

  “I just want to find out what he was talking about.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  “Just down the street,” I say. I point in roughly the right direction. “He was hiding next to a townhouse. I think he might have been going through the garbage.�
�

  The giant bear shakes his head. “Figures. Okay, you need to show me where you saw him last.” He flips the sheet off and rolls to the edge of the bed. With a twist, he’s back on all fours. The room just barely accommodates him when he’s not on the bed.

  “No,” I say.

  He sighs. “No?” He raises a paw. “One hit and I’ll snap your spine. You understand that?”

  “Good luck on getting me to show you anything after you snap my spine. Besides, I have every reason to believe I’ll be dead in week anyway. You give me some information and I’ll show you where I saw the black bear.”

  He expels another frustrated breath through his nose.

  “Go on. I’ll answer questions on the way.”

  I nod.

  ---- * ----

  He directs me towards the freight elevator. He hits the green button after I close the gate.

  “People are going to freak out if you walk down the street,” I say.

  “They’re preoccupied with their own shit,” he says. “This is the one week I can pretty much do whatever the hell I want.”

  “Why are you looking for the black bear?”

  “I told you—he’s a felon. He escaped a few days ago.”

  “What was his crime?”

  “That’s a long story.” The elevator clanks to the ground floor and the bear gives the gate a shove. It rattles open and he steps off.

  “Why did he tell me I was going to die, and what’s this vote he was talking about?” I ask.

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “You said he couldn’t vote. Vote on what?”

  I keep pace with the bear as he rises up and pushes through the double-doors to the side street. There are a few people moving around, but he’s right, they’re caught up in their own drama. I see a couple of people packing things into already overstuffed cars. Across the street, I see several people running from the door of a restaurant. I can only imagine what just happened inside.

  The bear waits for me to lead the way. I take him back towards my house, since the neighborhood we’re looking for is on the other side.

  “We have votes on different things. It could be any one of a number of votes.”

  “But it pertained to my fate,” I say. “He said that I was going to run for my life, but he voted for me. What would he vote on that would pertain to me running for my life?”

  “I told you—he can’t vote.”

  “But if he could?”

  The bear lumbers a few steps down the sidewalk before he answers. A few people glance at him, but they really don’t seem to care. Some switch has been flipped with these people, and they’re only dealing with what is directly in front of them. Maybe their brains are running triage and the threat of impending doom blinds them to a giant animal walking down the street. Maybe he’s just not as scary as I thought. I could be walking next to a big dog and get more response.

  “I suppose he was referring to the vote on the asteroid,” he says. “But I can’t stress this enough—he’s not allowed to vote.”

  “Fine,” I say. “What was the vote on the asteroid?”

  “Whether to redirect it,” he says.

  “What?” I ask. I pause and the bear stops too. He’s looking at me.

  A man trots up from a doorway. He glances at the bear, but then turns his full attention to me.

  “Give me your money,” he says.

  “What? No!” I say. I look at the bear. I can believe that someone would try to rob me, but I’m standing next to a thousand-pound bear. Who would even attempt such a thing?

  The man doesn’t pause for an explanation, and he doesn’t give me a second chance. His hand darts out. It’s not until I’m dodging backwards that I realize he’s holding a knife. It’s not some switchblade, either. This is a long hunting knife and its tip pierces my shirt just below the bloodstain. My back is curved as I try to pull my midsection away.

  “Bear!” I yell.

  The man takes a swipe at me with his knife. Again, I narrowly escape getting slashed.

  “What?” the bear asks.

  I jump to my right, attempting to get the bear between me an my attacker.

  “If this guy murders me,” I say, jerking back my hand. “I can’t lead you anywhere.”

  The bear bounces off his front feet and rises up to his full height. The man darts around the bear and takes one more stab at me. The tip of the knife catches my torso, just below the bandages. The bear swings with deadly speed. The man grunts when the paw impacts him, and then he crumples to the sidewalk. The knife clatters away.

  I’m staring down at my own belly. Through the hole in my shirt. I can see that my skin has opened up in a little oval with tapered edges. Below the bloodstain in the shape of an eye, I have an eye-shaped hole in my flesh.

  Great.

  I look up at my assailant and a little smile plays at the corner of my lips. I got cut, but he sure got his. Serves him right for trying to stab me. Hell, trying? He succeeded in stabbing me.

  “We gotta go,” the bear says. He drops back down to all fours. I look between the crumpled man and the bear, not understanding. The threat is gone.

  “Listen,” he says, “a street bear is one thing. A killer bear is another. We can’t be here.”

  “I’ve been cut,” I say. But even as I say it, I look back to the man again. It didn’t occur to me that he was mortally injured until the bear said, “killer bear.” Now that I see it, I can’t look away. Sure, that man was robbing me at knife-point, but did he deserve to die? My insides feel like they’re dissolving into a cold ball down in my pelvis.

  “Come on,” the bear says. He gallops off and around a corner.

  Across the street a woman screams. I look up to see that she’s pointing towards me and the dead man.

  I run.

  I have to grip my new wound. It’s funny, having a brand new cut makes my stitches feel inconsequential. I’m not worried about them at all as I feel my skin start to get greasy from the fresh blood. When I round the corner, I see the bear’s rear-end disappearing about half a block down. He has darted down an alley that runs behind the stores. He’s much faster than I am, but I run after, hoping to catch up. I run down the alley.

  A painful stitch develops in my right side. That’s exactly what I need—I have a real wound on my left, and some kind of exercise cramp on my right. I slow down and turn at the sound of pounding feet. There’s a mob passing by the end of the alley. How did they already form a mob? The bear was right to run.

  “Are they gone?” a voice asks. He was hidden there, behind a dumpster.

  “I don’t know. A bunch of people just ran by.”

  He pokes his head around the corner of the dumpster.

  “This is why I don’t hang out in the city,” he says. “I figured I could get away with it, just this once. What a pain in the ass.” He glances back towards the street and then climbs up on the dumpster. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he has reached up to the overhang of the metal roof that covers the loading dock. I wouldn’t have even thought it would hold his weight, but he pulls himself up.

  “Come on,” he calls down.

  “I can’t do that,” I say. I’m still pressing my hand to my side, it’s not bleeding much—the cut is only skin deep—but my hand is stuck there with the clotting blood.

  He points to my left. There’s a ladder bolted to the cinderblock wall. It’s the kind that has a cylindrical cage wrapped around it for safety. It’s a good thing, too. With only one hand to pull, it’s a whole lot easier if I lean back while I’m raising my arm. I think we were about to lose the mob, but when the bear climbs up, people spot him again. I’m only to the top of the ladder when there’s an angry yell from below.

  “It went up there,” some guy shouts. “Who has a gun?”

  They’re serious and they’ve mobilized quickly. If I had to guess, I would say these people were already worked up about the asteroid, and now they’ve jumped on the chance to f
ix a problem that they can get their hands on. I’m just standing there, frozen, looking at the guy climbing up much the same way that I just did. He’s only using one hand to climb because the other is holding a rifle.

  “Buddy, if that’s your bear up there, he’s about to get shot,” the guy yells.

  I point a finger to myself. “My bear?” Who has a bear?

  I turn around and look behind me. I’m not actually sure where the bear has gone. The roof is mostly flat, but there’s a little structure in the middle. Maybe it holds appliances for the building, or maybe it’s the top of some staircase? Whatever the purpose for the thing, I’m guessing the bear is hiding behind that.

  I back up a step as the guy comes over the edge. He immediately puts the rifle butt against his shoulder and begins sighting down the barrel. He sweeps the end of the gun back and forth. I duck whenever he sweeps it by me. I still have my hand pressed to my wound, but I’m angling my body away, hoping he won’t see it.

  “Did you get it?” a woman asks. She’s the next one to the top of the ladder.

  “Haven’t found it,” the guy with the gun says. “It might have gone over the side.”

  “You ought to let that guy kill it,” she says, pointing a finger at me. “He took a swipe at that guy. You see? He’s bleeding.”

  I begin to object, but I stop myself. She has just presented a much better narrative than I would have. Now I’m the victim, instead of a possible accomplice. While I was watching the conversation bounce back and forth, two more people have come over the side. There’s another head appearing. In my entire life, I’ve never rushed so quickly into the face of danger as these people. I don’t know what they’re thinking. The world is possibly ending and killer bears roam the streets. Why aren’t they simply hiding in their closets, like a reasonable person would? Of course, my answer is right in front of me. Some of these people don’t look like they’re the proud owners of closets. They look like maybe they live out of the back of a car, or perhaps a cardboard box. Who am I too judge? I’m almost as dirty and twice as bloody as any of them.