Where the Hurricane Meets a Blizzard

Chapter 5

          “What do we do? Oh God, it’s coming toward us. We’re gonna die,” I whisper-hiss, terrorized as I stand frozen, most likely deforming Alaska’s hand with my own.

          “Calm down. Don’t make any sudden movements. And keep your voice low,” he whispers, his own voice infuriatingly calm despite the given circumstance. I’m jealous that he’s able to stay so composed and cool while I stand here in a panicked frenzy. Then again, he’s probably used to this kind of thing. He probably encounters bears like this every day.

          As it continues to stare at us, I want to cry or scream or do something. Standing around waiting is proving to be a challenge that I’m not so sure I can handle much longer.

          The world around us has gone silent, and the only beings alive are Alaska, the bear, and me. I guess when you take numbers into account, it’s two against one, which is definitely a plus. But that bear could rip both of our heads off faster than you can say ‘two dead teenagers’, so this is a case where numbers aren’t quite as beneficial. I look up high in the trees and silently wonder if the bear could catch us if we tried climbing one.

          Almost as if he can read my mind, Alaska shakes his head. “We need to slowly start backing up to show the bear we mean no harm. Hopefully it will realize that we’re harmless and leave,” he explains quietly under his breath, giving my hand a squeeze. Suddenly aware that I’m voluntarily holding hands with some Alaskan teenage boy who only minutes before seemed to have a little crush on me, I drop his hand and wipe my own on my pants, though it feels cold and empty now.

          We slowly start backing up, both cautious not to look the bear in the eye. It continues watching us, but it’s no longer creeping forward, which I take as a good sign. Beside me, Alaska pulls something out of his backpack, but I can’t tell what it is. Instead, I focus on my steps, glancing behind me to make sure I’m not about to walk into a tree or trip over something. The snow continues fluttering on and things slowly seem to look more and more promising. Maybe I’m going to get out of my first bear encounter alive, after all.

          Thank God. I haven’t even written my will yet, and I would absolutely hate for the wrong people to acquire the wrong stuff. Like Ellie, for example. I would come back to life long enough to die all over again if she got to keep all of my clothes or something. Those are way too expensive for her grubby hands to be touching.

          An odd tickling sensation prickles the inside of my nostrils, and it takes me a moment to realize what’s coming. I try to hold it in but it’s too late. “A-AAAA-ACHOOOOO!”

          The bear makes a loud noise before turning toward us once again, the angry look back in its eyes that were only just beginning to calm down. Before I can register what’s going on, it charges.

          “Alaska!” I cry, throwing myself at him (an event that he better relish, because it will never happen again as long as I live, assuming I even get out of this alive). “Do something!”

          When the bear is no more than forty or fifty feet away, he holds out an odd looking bottle and starts spraying some sort of mysterious substance into the air, which sufficiently catches the bear off guard. I watch in awe as the bear stops in its tracks, seemingly confused and temporarily blinded by whatever substance Alaska sprays at it.

          Whatever the stuff is, it seems to work. Quickly the bear retreats, pawing its face as though in pain. I almost feel bad for it, but the lingering prospect that I almost became its next meal burns fresh in my mind, and I’m too thankful that it’s turning in the other direction to stress over the matter too much.