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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Action & Adventure
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 04/16/2017
She took another step. Just one. Just like she had been doing since the bear attacked her and her husband. It seemed like it was hours ago, or maybe a lifetime, when terror came out of the bramble like a fur covered nightmare.
The bear made no attempt to frighten them off, or warn them. The bear just ripped her husband open like the flimsy film over a microwavable dinner; and with about the same amount of concern. His scream had no pitch, just the hiss of bubbling air passing through the torn throat and blood filled lungs of an already dead man. A dead man, caught in the process of dying. The look in her husbands eyes just before the bear buried him under its bulk to rip and bite his face off, screamed for him. It said: “Run Carol!”
She did. At first in blind panic. Then she ran a bit slower as her brain told her she needed a plan. She would run to their car. That’s it. She would get to the car and drive away for help. She knew there were both: Bear Spray and a Bear Horn, stashed in the trunk. She wouldn’t try for either of those- she saw that bear, the look in its eyes, the way it moved. Pepper and some noise were never going to stop that bear. She took another step. And another. Her brain had a goal, and her body, protesting with stitches in her side and deep painful slogs of air- swallowed in wet gulps- kept trying to do what the Brain said: “Get to the car!”
By some miracle, she did. Only to realize that the keys…were…in…Mark’s vest. If she had any strength left at all, she would have cried, or maybe laughed. Instead, she slid down the side of the car. Her chest heaving, white foam coming out instead of spit, and her legs finally giving in to the cramps that she had delayed for so long. Step. By step.
She could smell the bear before she saw it. She crawled under the car with barely enough room for her to squeeze under. When she felt the giant paw pierce her calf- what little room hope had was squeezed out of her too. She tried to grab any thing she could under the car, but the bear was to strong, and she was to weak. All her efforts did, was turn her body face up.
As the bear’s humid breath, horrid fetid smell, and hinged jaw clamped on her thin neck, she had only enough time to look away. The last thing she saw was a bumper sticker on the shiny chrome:
“Wild Alaska.”
Wild Alaska.(Kevin Hughes)
She took another step. Just one. Just like she had been doing since the bear attacked her and her husband. It seemed like it was hours ago, or maybe a lifetime, when terror came out of the bramble like a fur covered nightmare.
The bear made no attempt to frighten them off, or warn them. The bear just ripped her husband open like the flimsy film over a microwavable dinner; and with about the same amount of concern. His scream had no pitch, just the hiss of bubbling air passing through the torn throat and blood filled lungs of an already dead man. A dead man, caught in the process of dying. The look in her husbands eyes just before the bear buried him under its bulk to rip and bite his face off, screamed for him. It said: “Run Carol!”
She did. At first in blind panic. Then she ran a bit slower as her brain told her she needed a plan. She would run to their car. That’s it. She would get to the car and drive away for help. She knew there were both: Bear Spray and a Bear Horn, stashed in the trunk. She wouldn’t try for either of those- she saw that bear, the look in its eyes, the way it moved. Pepper and some noise were never going to stop that bear. She took another step. And another. Her brain had a goal, and her body, protesting with stitches in her side and deep painful slogs of air- swallowed in wet gulps- kept trying to do what the Brain said: “Get to the car!”
By some miracle, she did. Only to realize that the keys…were…in…Mark’s vest. If she had any strength left at all, she would have cried, or maybe laughed. Instead, she slid down the side of the car. Her chest heaving, white foam coming out instead of spit, and her legs finally giving in to the cramps that she had delayed for so long. Step. By step.
She could smell the bear before she saw it. She crawled under the car with barely enough room for her to squeeze under. When she felt the giant paw pierce her calf- what little room hope had was squeezed out of her too. She tried to grab any thing she could under the car, but the bear was to strong, and she was to weak. All her efforts did, was turn her body face up.
As the bear’s humid breath, horrid fetid smell, and hinged jaw clamped on her thin neck, she had only enough time to look away. The last thing she saw was a bumper sticker on the shiny chrome:
“Wild Alaska.”
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