Dalton and the Bear: A Reagan's Ashes Story by Jim Heskett

Author:Jim Heskett [Heskett, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Royal Arch Books
Published: 2016-04-25T16:00:00+00:00

8

Dalton raced back through the brush, frantically searching for his little brother. His foot caught on something and sent him toppling. The world spun as his face smacked into a mass of gnarled tree roots, making him dazed for a moment. When he got to his feet, he stumbled back a few steps.

“Charlie!”

Why had he left Charlie all alone? As much as the kid annoyed the piss out of him most of the time, the idea of his brother dying at the hands of that hairy freak sent Dalton into a panic. Especially since he’d promised Charlie he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

Something rustled up ahead, like bark tearing. “Dalton?”

Although he could barely see straight, Dalton lumbered toward that voice. He rounded a tree and there was Charlie, resting up against a tree trunk, totally fine, not dead, not in the clutches of that big motherfucker Bear.

“What the hell?” Dalton said. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Charlie shook his head vigorously and blinked a few times. “I think I fell asleep.”

Dalton wanted to hug and also to strangle his brother, and he couldn’t decide which to do first, so he did neither. “Okay, come on, let’s go.”

“But I’m so tired and I don’t think I can walk anymore. Can we stay at the campsite? Is everything okay over there?”

“He’s gone, but I don’t think we should stay there. Let’s get our sleeping bags, then we’ll find somewhere else to crash.”

Dalton, his head now clear, helped Charlie up and they entered the campsite. On a whim, Dalton checked Reagan’s pack. Her tent was missing. Maybe that was all that murderous asshole Bear wanted; to have a tent to sleep in. Seemed a bit extreme to stab a park ranger to death to get it, but this guy was clearly one twitchy Jenga block away from toppling over.

Charlie stood in the center of camp, clutching his sleeping bag. “Will we get rained on if we’re not in a tent?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Dalton took his sleeping bag from the tent and he pointed in a direction uphill from the clearing. Ideally, they would sleep somewhere with a view of the campsite, in case Bear decided to come back. Or, maybe another ranger might come by looking for the dead one, and then Dalton would have to decide what to do about that.

If no one came, they’d collect their gear in the morning and get back to hiking. Not on the trail, though, but maybe in the trees nearby. The trail would be too obvious if Bear was still lurking.

They huffed and puffed their way up the hill until Dalton discovered a small shelf made from the top of a boulder, barely poking above the ground. “This is probably as good as it’s going to get.”

“On a rock? Won’t it be too hard? I don’t sleep right on beds that are too stiff.”

“Listen, Charlie: that’s enough. We’re lucky to be alive out here. Now go to sleep.”

Charlie sighed and made a face, but he did as he was told.

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