Authors: Michael Slade
Tags: #Horror, #Suspense Fiction, #Suspense, #Canada, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Mystery & Detective, #Horror - General, #Fiction - Psychological Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Horror tales, #Psychological, #Thrillers
Deja Vu
Another cabin in the woods.
Another dead daughter?
Last time he had been too late.
Was he too late again?
The Northern Lights streamed like a ribbon ruffled by a fan, but as dawn broke beyond the eastern wall of peaks, the colors caused by solar particles bombarding the Earth's magnetic lines of force dissolved into this awakening day.
The cabin was like the cabins in books he had once read to Jane, fairy tales before bed to see her off to sleep. It stood on a flat just above the solid river, a snowed-in abode for winter witches and ogres and trolls to haunt. The forest around was a fairy land of gargoyle shapes carved by the wind. Mounds of snow weighed down trees hunched like old women draped with shawls. Stumps were toadstools. Snow off the roof of the cabin joined drifts up the buried walls.
Toward the open door shambled a living snowman. Like the Houses along the river at Gunanoot, stuck in the snow out front to greet him was a totem pole, an evil deed to the land with six stacked skulls.
Footprints ran around the cabin to flee farther up the valley.
Snowshoe marks followed.
Stalking Katt.
* * *
As in a nightmare, which surely this was, the land around conspired to slow her down, while every time she glanced over her shoulder, the archer had gained ground on her.
On seeing the knife in his hand when he came back from wherever he had gone, Katt was sure he was going to cut her throat. But instead he'd cut her bonds. The open door an invitation to run, and legs wobbling under her from being hogtied, she had made a break for it and wasn't stopped. Once outside in the bleak cold, she had run around the cabin to put it between her and the bow he'd used in
halait
.
Now Katt trudged for her life.
No doubt the snow was firmer and less deep on the frozen river, unobstructed winds having crusted it and blown some away, but that would be like floundering up an archery range. Here in the woods along the bank Katt had some protection, weaving through the maze to keep a tree or two at her back, but there were other pitfalls. Frost cracked under her to swallow a leg to the thigh, and when she planted her other foot to try to heave it out that leg sank, too.
Katt was literally wading through pools of snow as the archer snowshoed in.
As if to make the point, an arrow whistled through the branches beside her. Icicles fell like lances. Snow sifted down like flour. Ice splinters sprayed back from gaps ahead, for the arrow had struck a frozen waterfall blocking the bank, which filled a frozen pool before it angled right to continue flowing as the frozen valley V stream.
The only way out was up.
Katt climbed.
The tips of the peaks way up there glowed with the pale orange light of dawn, slowly edging down into the dark recesses of Headless Valley. The forty-five-degree uphill gave her a foothold and underbrush to grab onto. As Katt clawed her way up to the flats above, she found breathing an ordeal, the air so frigid big gulps burned her lungs, yet gulps of oxygen were crucial to fuel the machine.
Katt suffered.
And reached the flats.
Here was another snow field to wade across, open to the archer before the uphill rose again, but to her right was an ice cave sunk in an outcrop near the crest of the waterfall. Glancing left, she saw the archer as he closed in through the woods, obviously on a path cut for snowshoeing. Beside her loomed a pine with stripped lower branches, the Canada jays perched on it puffed up like feather balls to keep warm. The chickadees were so cold they refused to sing.
Katt snapped off a branch to use like a gondolier to help pole her through the snow.
She waded toward the cave.
Standing at the edge of the woods under snow-laden trees, Winterman Snow nocked a razor-head on the string, extended his bow arm toward the spine of the girl, drew back the nock to anchor the string at the corner of his mouth, and let loose the shot.
Shhhhewwww
. . .
The snow around him was unmarked by recent marten, mouse, and squirrel tracks, for the furred had settled into hollows and dens.
Dens like the cave beyond the fleeing girl.
A snowshoe hare had ventured out. As it hopped in front of Katt, she brought down the pole, jerking away at the last moment to keep from spearing it, and that's when the arrow ripped through her parka between her arm and her body.
The razor-head shot into the cave beyond.
The roar that came out was loud enough to shake snow from the trees.
Grizzly
Ursus arctos horribilis.
The Latin name says it all.
Ursus arctos horribilis.
The horrible northern bear.
To the Blackfoot of Alberta, it's "the real bear," a beast so sacred and powerful they won't say its name aloud, referring to it as "grandfather" instead. White explorers called it "the grizzly bear," a name derived from its grizzled fur, or the grisly fear it instilled. Until now Katt's name for it had been "teddy bear," for the stuffed animal other kids hugged was designed" from this monster.
Scratch Bear, too.
There came a ferocious snarl and the cracking of trampled bones, the terrifying combination of which was magnified by and echoed within the dark confines of the cave. First to emerge from the black hole were the jaws of the beast, forty-two teeth so powerful they can grip the neck of six hundred pounds and shake so hard the feet leave the ground and its prey hangs in the air. The snout was higher at the tip than between the eyes, which gave the bear its characteristic "dish-faced" look. So sharp its sense of smell can detect scents miles away, it's said if a grizzly gets a whiff of you, it can tell the color of your granny's wedding dress.
The nose guiding these fangs was locked on Katt.
Fresh meat.
Bears are the largest and strongest meat eaters on Earth. A grizzly eats all but granite, hunters say. The role of man eater comes easily, and no other carnivore in North America rivals its first- or even its second-strike capability. A grizzly is as dangerous as a hand grenade. Slow moving one moment, lightning and fury the next, it has the brute strength to kill a man with one swipe of its paw, and the vindictiveness to maul him as long as he's alive. Hate for humans lies just below the surface, and it takes little to enrage a grizzly bear. Short-tempered and unpredictable, they bag more hunters and campers than any other beast. Man is never safe in grizzly country. The humpback relishes feeding on human meat.
This bear was hungry.
And this bear was enraged.
The grizzly that burst from the mouth of the cave weighed eight hundred pounds, and could stand nine feet tall on its hind paws. Low-slung, thick-set, and muscular; with legs short, stout, and strong beyond belief; its heavy head supported by a burly neck thicker than its massive skull; the hump on its shoulders bunched muscles powering front paws armed with four-inch rakelike claws that moved independently like human fingers; dark brown fur with stiff guard hairs "frosted" silver at the tips grizzling its back and shoulders; the high forehead and concave snout likening the face to that of an overgrown dog ... the impression burned into Katt's mind was one of raw, brutal power.
Killer in front.
Killer behind.
Katt froze in her tracks.
When it comes to behavior, bears are as unique as people. Solitary predators, they live in a hierarchy of dominance. Dominance is maintained by ritualized threat displays that occur when one grizzly moves too close to another, or when two bears compete for a choice feeding spot, or when two strangers meet for the first time. A bear's reaction to facing a human is influenced by the same factors. The outcome depends on how you fit into the dominance hierarchy. How big is your body and how many are with you? What's the bear's sex, age, size, reproductive status, and prior experience with humans? There are no rules to predict how you will measure up, but whatever you do, don't
provoke
a grizzly. Sudden movement may cause the bear to charge. Encroaching into "individual space" is foolish. And aggressive acts will spur immediate attack.
The bear's reaction tells you if you're going to live or die.
Like Katt's fate.
If you're lucky, the bear will flee. Fleeing isn't an option open to you. The grizzly can run at speeds in: excess of thirty-five mph, and you need a fast horse to stay in front. Contrary to myth, it can dash downhill and turn on a dime.
If you're lucky, the bear will threat-display. It will rear up on hind legs to sniff your scent, swinging itsi head from side to side. It will huff, pant, hiss, and
whuff
at you. It will turn sideways to display its bulk. Front legs stiff, it will advance shit-your-pants close, then veer to one side. It will slap its paws on the ground. Or, lower lip extended, it will repeatedly; gnash jaws to "pop" its fangs.
If you're lucky, the bear will let you subordinate by slowly backing away.
If you're unlucky, the bear will charge.
Katt was unlucky.
The arrow saw to that.
October or November sees grizzlies den alone. Some hole up in caves used for thousands of years. Some dig their own. Bears don't eat, defecate, or urinate during hibernation. How long—five to seven months—depends on climate. The colder, the longer. The winter sleep of grizzlies differs from that of other mammals, for body temperature drops just a few degrees, ensuring they are capable of rapid arousal.
Owing to predation by wolves and other bears, sleeping grizzlies will jerk awake to protect themselves. The arrow stabbed into its gut had aroused this horror.
Literally exploding from the mouth of its den, the grizzly came for Katt in a kill-or-be-killed charge. No
whuff-whuff
of warning in its bawling roar, just rage from rising on the wrong side of the bed. It plowed the snow as it stormed at Katt, billows of white blowing in its wake, paws pounding the ice pack as it came bearing down.
Adrenaline squeezed Katt's stomach into knots.
Adrenaline sent blood screaming along her arteries and veins.
Bearanoia seized her mind as Katt stood paralyzed.
Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
In facing death, they say life passes before your eyes.
Death passed before Katt's instead.
Her imagination got ahead of her. . . .
You have two responses to a grizzly charge, if you can't retreat to safety. The hope being aggression will frighten and dominate the bear, your only response if it is coming to devour you is to fight back with every means available.
This bear was hungry.
It hadn't eaten for months.
So Plan A saw Katt jumping up and down, yelling as loud as she could and waving her arms in the air, then raising her jacket to make herself seem bigger than she was.
This bear was riled, an arrow in its gut.
No song and dance would scare it off.
The second half of Plan A called for hitting and kicking and screaming after the grizzly grabbed hold of her, but that seemed worse to Katt than Plan B, so she watched herself drop to play dead. Playing dead doesn't work if the bear craves you as food.
Katt's catch-22.
It seemed like she was falling for a long time, a slow-mo tumble that lasted forever; then she sank into the snow amid a puff of powder. The ravenous, pissed-off bear loomed above. In fatal attacks a grizzly usually mauls by crushing chomps to the base of the skull and disembowelment. To protect her head, neck, and belly as best she could, Katt curled up in a ball onf her side, vital organs safeguarded by drawing her legs! up to her chest, face buried between her knees. Elbows together, she clasped her hands behind her neck to lock her head in her arms. Her crown was exposed, but chewing there slides off the top of the skull. Better to be scalped than decapitated.
What could be more terrifying than being seized in the jaws of a grizzly intent on devouring you?
The next thing Katt knew the bear had her by the foot. It' pulled her through the snow like a toy doll, then sank its teeth deep into her thigh, shaking Katt and tearing the hell out of her leg. She screamed, but screaming had no effect on the bear, for prey always screamed and howled as it was torn apart. Thanks to shock, Katt suffered no immediate blast of pain. She caught the sickening sound of flesh ripping as bones crushed. The bear dragged her back, then jerked her from the ground as fangs bit into her side just below the ribs. A whoosh of air expelled from a punctured lung.
MY GOD, I'M BEING EATEN ALIVE!
The bear dropped her on the ground and chewed into her back. Katt knew she was a goner if it got hold of her neck. She clamped her hands so tightly, her knuckles turned white. Instinct told her playing dead meant bite after bite. Instinct told her resisting would intensify the attack. Katt heard blood spurting out of her into the snow. It went
pssst pssst
like a cut hose. Had to be a severed artery.
The grizzly straddled her, feeding on Katt Bones cracked like wishbones with each hungry bite. She tried to protect her stomach, but couldn't move. She knew she was a goner if the grizzly gutted her. The bear tore Katt open from her waist to her shoulder, yanking out a rib while stripping meat from her spine. Then it seized Katt's head.
The jaws closed around her temples like a vise. As teeth slipped off her skull and peeled away her scalp, taking part of one ear along, Katt unclasped her hands and forced them between the fangs, inviting the bear to chew on her arms instead. Katt could feel its fur on her skin and smell its rank breath, a terrible stench foul from its last meal of carrion.
The grizzly cocked its foreleg and sideswiped her head.
The entire right half of Katt's face from the eye across to the nose and down to the chin was torn away. Her right eye was ripped from its socket, and she could barely distinguish anything with her left. Her nose was shorn off and cartilage stuck out of the crater. Katt's right cheek and part of her left were gone, her mouth so mangled that she couldn't make a sound except with her throat. Three teeth were left in her jaw while the rest dangled loose. All the flesh and skin torn off her face hung down beneath her chin like a bloody, gruesome bib. The pain in her mauled, half-skull head was beyond bearing . . .
That was how death passed before Katt's eyes.
Her imagination screened it in her mind as a slow-motion horror film.
Now, as the bear neared, reality was catching up to fantasy, and in a moment imagination would play out as fact.
Bearing this bad dream in mind, Katt gripped tight hold of the branch she had used to pole through drifts of snow, and as the shaggy male grizzly closed to smash into her and knock her to the ground, she dodged to one side and swung it like a baseball bat hard as she could at its muzzle.
Craaaack!
A home run for sure.
Had the bat not snapped in two and spun from her hands.
The grizzly reared up on hind legs and roared with more rage than before.
It caught the pinwheeling end of the broken bat in its gnashing jaws, spraying splinters of spiked wood in all directions.
Reared nine feet high over her, the grizzly seemed almost human to Katt.
Dawn rippled across its silver-tipped pelt as the maddened monster cocked a paw and growled at Katt, then swung its hump-powered claws down to rip her head from her body.