Laid Bear 2: The Kodiak Clan (6 page)

Jogging through the damp streets of downtown Kodiak, Max watched as fishermen trudged toward the harbor with buckets of gear, wearing bright orange rubber pants and dark green slickers. Little kids splashed in puddles, tromping around in Sitka Sneakers, the brown rubber boots everyone up here wore. Even ladies hustling between stores wore them.

Architectural Digest
wouldn’t be sending a photographer any time soon to document the plain boxiness of most of the town’s buildings. During his research for this trip, Max discovered that an enormous tsunami hit the town in 1964, destroying much of the waterfront and killing 15 (only one of which was a werebear, according to the Council’s records). Still reeling from the devastation, the practical townspeople gave little to no thought to aesthetics, only to how quickly and safely the town could be rebuilt. He admired their resilience.

The overwhelming majority of the town’s 6,000 residents were human, but the local werebear clan held enough property and government positions to ensure its safety. According to the International Council, most of the clan lived in small, concentrated neighborhoods on the outskirts of town, though a handful of members had gained prominence in the larger community. They’d even had a werebear mayor for awhile in the ‘90s, not that most of the human residents had a clue.

It didn’t take long for Max to reach the edge of town, where he veered off the main highway — if you could call the pot-holed riddled two-lane road a highway — onto a smaller, less-traveled road. He could tell it didn’t get much traffic from the fine layer of moss that grew in the tire ruts.

His breath came out in white plumes, his feet crunched on the gravel and odd twig that littered the road. The sun would barely dip below the horizon around midnight during this time of year, but it was still a touch chilly. Summer was a beautiful time up here, but it never failed to surprise him how rainy it was. Until it snowed.

Rounding a bend, Max almost ran right into a massive grizzly standing in the middle of the road. He came to a quick stop about 20 feet away but only felt curiosity toward the animal. He knew instantly that this was no werebear, just as he knew that, as long as he didn’t overtly threaten the bear, it wouldn’t take an interest in him.
 

Contrary to popular belief, bears — regular and
were
— have eyesight that’s comparable to humans. But their sense of smell is off the charts. So when the grizzly lifted its snout and chuffed at him, Max knew it was just trying to figure him out. It took all of five seconds for the beast to recognize him as another bear — granted, a funny-looking one — and lumber his way to the other side of the road.
 

“Why did the bear cross the road?” Max asked the misty air as the bear’s enormous hind end disappeared in the dense undergrowth. “To shit in the woods. Yuk yuk yuk.”

The animal’s strong odor filled his nose as he turned to head back to the hotel. He wanted to get back and, he wasn’t ashamed to admit, try calling Bethany again.

Standing directly in his path was another big bear, but this one was of the
were
variety. His inner bear hackled and itched to be released, but Max restrained it.
 

Down boy
, he scolded.
We’re here to help their clan, remember?
Grudgingly, his bear retreated but was on high alert, just in case this encounter went sideways. Something was off and they both sensed it.

Max nodded at the bear, keeping his mouth shut. He stood his ground, but focused on not taking a defensive — or even worse, an offensive — stance. He was an invited guest but this was still their territory and he had to be respectful of that.
 

The bear just stood there, assessing him. When it began moving toward him, Max continued to stand perfectly still, never breaking eye contact with the strange
were.
He swore he saw something, maybe a warning, flash in the bear’s eyes as it passed him and ambled into the forest, never looking back.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
That was weird
, he thought. He’d been in plenty of altercations with other werebears but there was usually a reason for a fight. Never had he heard of one
were
attacking another unprovoked. And certainly not when one of them was in human form. Not that this one had attacked, but it was definitely trying to let him know who was boss.
 

Did it know who he was or was it just asserting its position? He had no idea but he hoped that
were
, and any others like it, didn’t underestimate him. He’d hate to hurt anyone from the clan he’d been brought here to assist but he wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself.

The run back to the hotel helped shake off some of the residual willies he had from the encounter. He’d noted the male bear’s scent so he would recognize its human form if they met again. He had no idea how, or even if, this bear would affect his mission here, but something was telling him to watch his back.

By the time he got back to the hotel, he was wet all the way through from the heavy mist that had been like running through a cloud. His feet were completely soaked. In other words, he was cold, wet and hungry, not to mention distracted by that damn werebear.

That explained why he didn’t notice anything amiss when he opened his door, why his inner bear smelled the intruder before Max realized what was happening, and why he let his bear take over the instant he saw a dark form hurtling at him. In the blink of an eye, the intruder lay in a heap at his feet and, just as quickly, he sank to his knees, a single word escaping his lips before a howl of grief shook the walls.

“Bethany…”

“T
he run’s pretty strong this year, Fred,” Jess said to his chocolate lab. The dog’s blotchy tongue sagged happily from his mouth as his big brown eyes watched his owner’s every move. “The bears are going to go into hibernation this fall with big fat bellies, my friend.”

Kneeling down, he stuffed his notebook in his backpack and took Fred’s head between his hands, digging deep behind the ears. One hind leg started thumping as the dog’s eyes rolled back into his head from sheer bliss.

“Well, we’d better get back to the cabin before those bears fill their bellies with us, dontchya think?” Fred barked and bounced in response as Jess grabbed his pack and rifle, and they made their way up the barely-there trail from the creek.

Normally Fred’s exuberance made Jess laugh but all he could muster today was a wan smile. It had been days since Veronica had shut him out, literally. He’d emailed a few times but she never responded. One day he saw on his contact list that she was online so he opened a chat window but she quickly logged off. No doubt she’d set her profile to private so no one could see when she was online after that. Either that or she’d suddenly lost her internet connection.

At first, he’d been worried. Even when she dodged his previous invitations to meet, she hadn’t cut off all communication with him. Horrible images of her in a car wreck flitted through his mind during the first couple days, but when she’d gone offline so quickly that day, he knew she was fine; just didn’t want to talk to him.

Fred was tearing up the trail and back, barking madly and generally making a fool of himself. He seemed to sense Jess’ moods and now he was trying to cheer up his human. Just that lifted a bit of the weight from Jess’ heart, but when the dog actually started doing crazy backflips and somersaults, he couldn’t help laughing. “What are you doing, you maniac? Come here, fella.”

The dog obediently trotted over to his owner, panting loudly, his mouth so wide it looked like he was grinning. Jess gave his head a rub and together they jogged up the trail to the clearing in front of his cabin.
 

A blacktail deer jerked her head up as they burst out of the brush and tore off in the opposite direction. Fred gave chase, but only half-heartedly, returning almost as soon as the deer was swallowed up by the forest.

“Good boy. Now let’s go scrounge you up some chow, huh? Whaddya say?” Fred barked in agreement and bounded into the cabin as soon as Jess opened the door.
 

After carefully putting the gun in the wall rack and setting down his backpack, he filled the food bowl to the top and watched in amazement as the dog wolfed down the entire contents in less than a minute. Licking his chops, he gazed up at Jess hopefully, his tail wagging so hard his backside swayed.
 

“That’s all you get, boy. Can’t have you getting fat and slow, now can we? How would you outrun the bears?”

Fred blinked, understanding that there was no more food forthcoming. Defeated, he wandered over to his bed and curled up, keeping one eye on Jess, no doubt in case he decided to take mercy on his poor, starving pooch.

Jess took out a single-serving-sized vacuum-packed piece of salmon from his freezer and set it in a bowl of water in the sink to thaw. He’d meant to pop it in the fridge that morning but he’d been anxious to get out on the trail to do his daily survey of the streams. It normally didn’t take all day, but he hadn’t got much sleep the night before, wondering what the hell was going on with Veronica, and he was determined to stay out of the cabin — and away from the computer, which he seemed to check incessantly.
 

So he packed up a lunch and his camera before he left that morning, and had an enjoyable day photographing Fred, flowers, the fish, and even a grizzly he spotted upstream. He was downwind and the bear was busy catching easier prey than him, so he wasn’t worried, but he didn’t get any closer either. A healthy respect for the wildlife was required for this job.

While he was waiting for the salmon to thaw, he moved over to the small table he used as a desk and flipped on the computer. Disappointment had stopped flooding him every time he logged on to find no message from Veronica, and today was no different. Instead, his resignation just grew deeper. It was a feeling he didn’t care much for but he recognized it as essential for getting over her — it was the same as when he was recovering from his divorce.

The weather looked good for the next week or so, and his supervisor wanted him to report any unusual bear activity with his usual fish reports. “Wonder what they consider ‘unusual’? Eating fish?” Shaking his head, he got up to finish getting dinner ready.
 

Twilight wouldn’t arrive for several more hours, and then it would only last a handful of minutes before brightening again, but his stomach was telling him it was time to eat. A tiny deer-proofed garden near the back door provided fresh veggies, and he still had some bread left over from his shopping run in town. A giant zucchini — one of the side benefits of gardening in the land of the midnight sun — and a handful of greens would be a nice accompaniment to the fish. He snipped off some chives for a white wine-butter sauce and headed back in.

Just as he was stepping over the threshold, he heard a loud rustle from the dense forest surrounding his little clearing. Always on high alert when he was in the field, he whipped around but there was nothing to see.
 

He stood stock still for a moment, calculating how long it would take a charging bear to cover the distance from the trees to his door and estimating if he would have time to grab his rifle.
Not a chance
, he thought. At most, he’d be able to close the door, but he wasn’t entirely confident the simple latch could withstand an irate 1,000-pound bear.
 

When nothing else moved, he slowly backed into the cabin and shut the heavy door. Heart thumping, he turned to find Fred standing in the middle of the room, growling at the door, hackles raised. The hairs on Jess’ neck stood on end and another shot of adrenaline rushed through his veins. Something was out there. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching him.

The heebie-jeebies had a firm grip on him, so he did something he’d never felt the need for since he’d arrived at the cabin: he set the two-inch by six-inch piece of barricade wood into U-brackets on either side of the door. He repeated the process for the front door. The shutters for the windows had to be set up from the outside, and there was no way he was stepping out there right now. Besides, only a cub could fit through the cabin’s small windows. He and Fred were about as protected as they could be right now.

“Stand down, boy,” he said, scratching the dog’s neck to calm him. Slowly, the hackles smoothed out and Fred’s posture eased. His worried brown eyes gazed up at his master.
 

Kneeling down, Jess wrapped an arm around his companion and whispered, “It’ll be okay, bud. It’s just a bear wondering what a crazy dog and human are doing all alone out in the woods. C’mon, you want a treat?”

At the magic word, all anxiety left the dog who immediately rushed to the cabinet he knew held his beloved snacks. He sat at Jess’ command and did his best to wait patiently for his reward for being the best guard dog ever.
 

“Wait,” Jess instructed as he placed the treat on Fred’s snout. “Waiiit. Waiiit. Go!”

At the command, the dog’s head jerked and mouth snapped, the biscuit disappearing in a flash. “Damn, you’re fast!”

Jess gave the front door — and the window next to it — one more wary glance before returning to the kitchen to fix dinner. He normally ate at the table, which overlooked the clearing, but tonight he opted to eat at his small desk, which sat in the corner of the main room. No windows.

He surfed the net as he chewed, grateful that the government had set up the cabin with satellite internet. He didn’t spend much time on it, but it was nice to keep up with world news — as depressing as it was — while he was isolated during the summer.
 

He scraped his plate clean and set to work writing up his report. Remembering his new mandate to report any “unusual” bear activity, he made a note at the end about the Kodiak he’d spotted.

“Observed one Ursus arctos middendorffi feeding approximately 150 meters from my post. No unusual behavior noted.”

He paused briefly, wondering if he should make note of tonight’s incident. “What the hell…” he mumbled as he typed.