Part 4
PB places the envelope with the finger down on the ground next to the far side of the tent away from the sleeping bag. He glances at Sam and she is regaining her color as she rubs her right temple with her hand.
"I doubt that's Abe's finger," he reassures her "Why would someone put it in an envelope like that? They probably sent it to him."
"But why?" she demands, her voice breaking.
"A threat maybe? I don't know."
He takes her hand and leads her out of the tent and over to the picnic table set up next to the site's fire pit. He looks over towards the neighboring campsite and the two old men are eyeing him blank faced.
"Everything all right son?" the one wearing the fishing hat asks.
PB leaves Sam at the table and makes his way passed the fire pit into the old timer's site.
"Were you guys here yesterday?" he asks.
"Sure were young fella. Caught us six long ones in the river over yonder," the bald one says.
"Did you see a guy camping over there?"
"Sure did. He made his way up that there trail just this morning."
"Do you know to where?"
The bald one grins.
"He had himself a big backpack and he headed on up that there trail. That be the John Muir Trail."
"Tried to tell that boy not to," says the one with the fishing hat.
"Why?" PB asks.
The old men give each other a look and the bald one says: "Because of that there Bear That Hates Humans."
"The what?"
"You ain't never heard of the Bear?"
PB shakes his head and the old men exchange looks again before the bald one speaks.
"They say 12 years ago he was a regular bear, a good old bear that just ate nuts and thangs like'a that. But one day that bear done broke in a cabin about All Hallows Eve and ate him some candy they all had there. Bear had himself a sweet tooth. He started looking and tearing up all cars and tents and whatever looking for candy. He got a nose that can just smelt it from 10 miles away."
The old man pulls a snuff can from his jeans and yanks a big grip of chew out. He forces the dip under his lip before going on.
"They say he smelt some candy in a human one time. Not on a human but in 'em. That bear done tore that human up to get the candy in the stomach. Ever since they say it don't matter if he smelt it or not. He'll crack a man like a nut to get at the innards just in the hope there be some candy."
"Where did you hear this?" PB asks suspiciously.
"It's common knowledge boy. Ask anybody out in this valley and they'll tell you about the Bear That Hates Humans."
"The name doesn't even make sense," PB points out "Shouldn't he be The Bear That Loves Candy? What does hating humans have to do with it?"
The bald one spits and says: "It don't matter what his names is boy. 10 years ago they done got a posse of rangers together to go get this here bear. They smoked him out by Piamato Lake and done had that bear on the run. They caught him along the pass and unloaded their scatty guns on him but it didn't do no good."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean them bullets bounced off that bear's hide. It don't do no good. Bear got some kind stiff thick skin that a bullet can't break. He killed all six of them rangers. That was ten years ago. Now they saying he done been spotted somewhere in yonder hills."
PB nods but he is sure he has come across a couple of mad men. He takes his leave and returns to Sam at the picnic table.
"These old guys say Abe went up the John Muir trail which starts right beyond these trees."
"They're sure?"
"Yeah. Abe told them. He didn't tell them why but he said he was going up the trail and left with a pack."
The grab their own packs from the car and prepare to head out. As they make their way into the trees PB glances back towards the car and the site and spies a ranger truck slowly driving by.
"Look, the trail is right here," Sam points out and PB turns his attention forward.
"I heard this trail goes up through the entire Sierras."
Her voice has a hint of wonder in it and PB is glad to see that the prospect of a hike and finding her brother has taken Sam's mind off the severed finger. He follows her through the trees and onto the thin trail of trampled dirt and leaves.
They walk for two and half hours until they reach a clear green creek that flows along the side of the trail. There has been no sign of Abe and they have only run into three other hikers besides themselves along the trail. They throw their packs down on the grass and sit down next to the water. PB is already sore and covered in sweat and dirt. He tries to hide his premature exhaustion from Sam who has unzipped her pack to dig out a bag of nuts and shows no signs of fatigue.
"How far do you think we should go?" PB asks and digs in his own pack for something to eat.
"Till we find Abe," Sam replies and gazes out at the creek.
"But he could be anywhere. It's just wilderness out here. What if we can't find him?"
"Those men said he headed down the trail so we're going down the trail."
"That's not all they said." PB mutters skeptically "They were a couple of nutcases. They told me a whole tale about some bear that kills people looking for candy and has skin that's so tough that bullets bounce off of it."
Sam absently places some nuts and dried fruit in her mouth and says: "Right. The Bear That Hates Humans."
"You've heard of it?"
PB feels a chill scrape along his back.
"I hope Abe packed his bag right," Sam says "He's not a real outdoors person. My Dad used to take us up to Tahoe for a week in the summer and Abe would just stay in his tent reading."
They rest a while longer and then don their packs and continue along the trail. The terrain begins to curve steeply upward and PB's breath starts to come out rough and stuttered. The trees above them break away and they find themselves making their way along the vast plateau of a granite cliff. The sun beats down and PB's pack digs into his shoulders and grinds into his hips. There's a slight relief when they begin to descend the other side and the fir, pine, and cedar trees engulf the trail and blot out the sun's direct heat.
As the trail continues along the base of the mountain the air becomes moist and thick green leaved plants surround them along the path. PB wipes the sweat from his eye and notices a man ahead of them. The man is tall and burly and is leaning against a wide Sequoia stump. PB is struck by the man's appearance; his thinning hair is slicked back and he's wearing a suit that looks expensive and clean.
Sam and PB get with in twenty feet of where he's posted and the man boosts himself up away from the trunk.
"Stop right there please."
The man has a thick Russian accent and PB knows something weird is going to happen. He searches for some sort of stick or club along the side of the trail.
"You are going to come with me," the man says.
Sam pulls a Swiss army knife from her pocket and draws the blade.
"Who are you?!" she demands.
The man looks her over with his clear blue eyes and breaks into a slight grin of amusement.
"I take you to the man at the top," he mutters and begins to come towards them.
Sam brandishes her knife but PB grabs her shoulder and they begin to back away down the trail the way they came. They stop short when they find another man blocking the trail behind them. It's the young ranger from the reservation cabin and he's holding a large assault rifle in his arms.
"Put the knife on the ground and let's go. Enough bullshit," the ranger says.
Sam slowly complies while glaring angrily at the grown out beard and little rat eyes under the brim of the ranger's green wilderness hat. PB no longer notices his fatigue or the weight of his back pack.
To be continued in Part 5
No comments:
Post a Comment