Grizzly (14 page)

Kelly reached over and drew the Buck hunting knife from the sheath that hung at Pat's belt. He slit the bear's hide up the belly, made a careful incision through the white stomach lining, and reaching in, pawed out a huge handful of half-digested material.

"Grass," he said. "Leaves. Maybe a fish. But do you see any human hair? Hair doesn't digest, it matts up into balls."

"So what?"

"So our bear has eaten the hair off the heads of every one of his victims. There's no hair in this animal's stomach. You just shot down the wrong bear. And as if that weren't bad enough, we're wasting time while the real one is heading somewhere else."

The radio newsman, reading from his script, continued, "And the bad news is that there's been another bear killing up in the park today. This time, a ranger. The authorities are now certain they're dealing with a rogue grizzly, and although they're sure of killing or capturing it soon, they want the public to use only the lower camp sites, and even there, to utilize full-sized, hard-top motorhomes or trailers. Avery Kittredge, Park Supervisor, promises a quick return to normal operations, but meanwhile, it has been recommended that not only park visitors, but local residents, stay indoors as much as possible. If you must travel on foot, do so in pairs."

He made a throat-cutting motion, and the ON THE AIR sign went out.

The reporter turned to his engineer. "What's the point in traveling in pairs? So the bear can make a sandwich out of you?"

Avery Kittredge's office had been surrounded by the press. A mobile television unit was parked outside the building, with its cables snaking across the sidewalk and a tripod-mounted color camera set up in the lobby.

Inside the supervisor's office, Kelly had just looked up in surprise. He said, "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry," Kittredge repeated.

"That helps a lot," Kelly said. "Listen, Kittredge, sorry doesn't buy any beans. We've lost a ranger. This has gone far enough. Close the park."

"Don't push," said Kittredge. "I called off the hunters, didn't I? I'll stand aside and let you handle things your way. But we can't close the park. We'd never live it down."

"I want to call in a company of the National Guard," said Kelly. "One from up north. Those boys are all good hunters."

"And admit things are out of control? Kelly, you've been breathing that thin high country air too long."

"I've got a plan, damn it. But I need more men."

"Why?"

Kelly went over to a map of the park which was neatly framed, unlike the one that was simply tacked up on his own office wall. He pointed.

"Look—the first killings took place here." He indicated the high camp site the two girls had used. "My guess is, this was the first time he'd tasted human flesh. He liked it. But he couldn't find any more because we chased the back-packers out of the high areas. So he made a circle right about here, and he ended up in one of the lower camp sites, where he tipped open that Dodge pop-top. But he was scared off before he got a chance to eat his victim. So he circled again, and that time he got Gail. Again, he was chased off before he could make a full meal. Then he almost got a hunter, but he had to settle for the baby cub. Finally, he doubled back, moved along our flank, and found Tom. He tore that poor kid up bad, but he still didn't have time to eat before we chased him away."

"Where does that leave us?"

"I think he's going to keep working his way around in what he considers as his private food larder. A bear's sense of scent is fantastic. He knows where we are. This time, I'd like to get the jump on him. Believe it or not, this bear can think, and he's been one jump ahead of us so far."

"A bear, even a grizzly, is just an animal, Kelly. Don't invest it with human qualities."

Kelly said, "That bear is smarter than you and me put together. Avery, give me a chance. Close the park, and let me call in the Guard."

"We can't close the park. And asking for outside help—"

"We've got more reporters and TV cameras in there now than we've got rangers. It's turned into a goddamned circus."

"Cooperate with them," Kittredge said. "They're there at my invitation."

Kelly stared at him. "You
invited
them?"

"Why not? It won't hurt for the public to know the kind of clean, thorough job we're doing."

Kelly turned in a full circle, mumbling. When he faced Kittredge again, he said, "I'm losing my mind. We've got five dead people, and one man in the hospital, and I thought I heard you call that a clean, thorough job."

"We're doing everything in our power—"

"Balls! You won't give me what I need and—"

"Kelly!" warned the supervisor.

"And now you've called in the media. Kittredge, just now I've figured you out. You don't give a good goddamn whether or not we get that grizzly. What you want is to play Mr. Commander-In-Chief, and get all that juicy press coverage. It might lead to a nice dark brown plastic office in Washington, right?"

"Get out of here," said Kittredge.

"Well, you just lost your free ride," Kelly yelled. "You are not coasting to Washington on
my
back. I've got a responsibility to my men and those people out there, and by God, I'm going to see that it's carried out."

Coldly, the supervisor said, "That's it, Kelly. You're finished. Clean out your desk."

Kelly said, "Up yours, boss man. That's the nice thing about civil service. You can't fire me. Go on, file your petition. By the time it goes through, I'm going to have that bear."

He turned and left, deiiberately not closing the door.

A reporter popped in and began taking pictures.

A Cinemobile truck had pulled up to the Wildhorse Mountain Lodge, and its crew were busy setting up cameras.

Allison Corwin moved among the throng, taking her own pictures. She was as much interested in those who were there to record the news as the news itself.

A suave reporter, a hand microphone growing from the well-manicured fingers of his fist, stepped up to a middle-aged man near the lodge entrance, glanced over his shoulder to be sure the Eclair NPR 16mm camera was rolling, and said, "Excuse me, sir. How do you think this bear thing's being handled?"

The man, in a thick southern accent, said, "Handled? Okay, I reckon. At least they kept the bear away from us folks down here. But I do feel sorry for that Ranger boy."

The reporter, unctuously, said, "I'm sure everyone feels the same way." He turned to a young woman and asked, "How about you, Miss?"

"Me? What?"

"Apparently there are dangerous bears here in the park. Aren't you afraid to be here with them?"

She looked around. "I don't see any bears. They don't come around here. I think this thing is getting more publicity than it deserves. If you stay away from trouble, you don't get into trouble, that's my motto."

At that moment, Kelly pulled up in his Toyota. The reporters swarmed toward him, but he brushed past their questing microphones and went into the lobby. Allison followed him.

He sensed her presence.

When he turned, she smiled and said, "Click."

"Click to you," he replied.

She moved closer, so they couldn't be overheard.

"Kelly . . . I worried about you."

"No need to."

She said, "I'm sorry about Tom."

"I know."

"We all liked him."

"I did too." He hesitated. "Allie, I'm sorry about the way I acted. About your book."

"Not to worry. I got some good photos anyway."

"You mean you went out there on your own?"

She smiled. "Never mind. Wait until you see, the prints."

"You're crazy."

She pinched his rump. "I know," she said.

Her father came over. "How are we doing, Kelly?" he asked.

"Not very well," said the ranger. He looked around at the crowd thronging the lobby and spilling into the bar. "What's the matter with these people? Is it morbid curiosity? If it wasn't my job, you couldn't get me within fifty miles of this place."

Waiter Corwin said, "It's surprising. I didn't expect so many people to stay on. And more keep arriving."

Allison said, "It's a big show. They don't feel threatened. Everything around here looks too civilized."

Kelly said to Corwin, "Walter, I asked Kittredge to close down the park."

"And?"

"And he refused."

"Would it help?"

"I think so."

"How."

"If we get rid of all the people, we get rid of that grizzly's source of food. Remember, he's a man-eater now. If he gets hungry, he might go away. Or he might get careless."

"Then Kittredge was wrong."

"He usually is." Kelly paused. "Walter, how about closing down the lodge?"

Allison said, "Why? The bear isn't down here."

"I know. But it's a gesture. A beginning. Here in the lodge, everybody thinks it's safe. If you shut down, you're saying right out in front, it's
not
safe. If you close up, I think I can get the other concessioners to go along. If the private sector takes this seriously, maybe we can force Kittredge's hand, and he'll have to close the park."

"I can't afford to go it alone," said Corwin. "if you can guarantee the others, I'll agree."

Slowly, Kelly said, "I haven't spoken with them yet. I had to start somewhere."

Before Corwin could make an answer, Allison said, "Kelly, Dad's on the line here. What's happened up in the park is tragic, but he needs this extra business. Things have been tight."

"Somebody has to be the first to take the plunge. Walter, I need your help."

"I want to help," said Corwin. "But I have stockholders. I have to think of them. Legally, I ought to consult them."

"There isn't time."

"You're not being fair, Kelly," said Allison. "You're using your friendship with Dad to put him under the gun."

Kelly realized that he'd lost. He said, "You're right. Well, it was just an idea. It may not matter much anyway."

He turned toward the door.

Allison reached for him. He shrugged away her hand.

"Go take your pictures," he said. Arid, as he left, he said over his shoulder, "Click."

Kelly's cabin was not much more luxurious than his bare office. The outer walls were of log construction, and the old chinking had begun to fall out so that the cold wind could get its fingers inside when the northers blew.

Kelly stared out the window into the night. The day's hunt had been unsuccessful again.

He sucked on an ice cube from the full glass of scotch in froat of him.

Arthur Scott, who was mixing the drinks for the past hour, had made it as light as he dared. Kelly had long since had too much.

Scott renewed the argument.

"How about it?" he asked.

"It's too dangerous," Kelly said.

"Listen," said the naturalist, "your methods have proven themselves to be worthless. Let an expert give it a try."

"I can't take the responsibility."

"Your shoulders aren't broad enough to carry it all anyway. Let the rest of us share some of the load."

"Yeah, Mr. Expert," Kelly said, the liquor talking. "What the hell do us civil service rangers know about hunting anyhow? Scott, I used to stalk deer with a home-made bow and arrow, and I always came home with meat."

"That was a long time ago, Kelly."

Kelly took a long pull at his drink, too far gone to realize that it was mostly water. "Yeah, a long time." He sucked at another ice cube. "What the hell am I doing in this business anyway? Why didn't I stay in real estate? Do you know how much I could get for this mountain if I could subdivide it and parcel it off?"

Scott said, "Frankly, I'm not interested in the ravings of a drunk, which is what you are tonight. If you want to hang up your jock strap and get out, go ahead."

Kelly said, "Go home, buddy. I'm lousy company, I know it."

Scott said clearly, "Kelly, I'm going in after him."

"You're—"

"Alone. My way."

"Like hell you are."

"I have faith in my methods. I can capture him, Kell."

"Stay out of those woods. That's an order."

"I can find him. I know the woods better than he does. And when I come up on him, I can put him down."

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"Maybe," said the naturalist. "But I've wasted too much time already. I've got myself a
Ursus Horribulus
to catch."

The beast hurt.

The bullet wound in his throat ached. The slug had gone through cleanly, without hitting bone or a major artery. But it was a constant reminder to the beast that the two-legged ones had unseen claws that be had not suspected.

Although the bear did not think rationally, he had decided on a primitive level not to give the two-legged ones a chance to hurt him again. He would approach them with stealth and no warning.

Ada Rogers had worked for Walter Corwin for eleven years. Her husband, before he died, had been the general handyman at the lodge, and she had been cooking for its guests since Robert was old enough to walk.

Robert was eleven now, and this early morning before it was time for the school bus, he was playing in the back yard with his pet rabbit.

Ada did not work the breakfast shift, so her time was free until around eleven, when she would begin to prepare for the lunch crowd.

She was sorry for the trouble the bear incidents had brought, but glad, in a bitter-sweet way, because it had resulted in extra business, and Mr. Corwin needed that money. She knew that he had often paid his staff when he really should have laid them off, and that included her.

She called out the window, "Robert, you stay close to home. The bus'll be along soon."

He didn't answer. He was trying to get Sam, the rabbit, to eat some carrots. Unlike Bugs Bunny, Sam had absolutely no interest whatsoever in carrots.

His mother shouted again. "Robert! Do you hear me?"

Reluctantly, he called, "Yes, Ma."

"Don't get dirty. You're wearing your good pants."

"I won't," he promised.

Sam accepted a slice of carrot. He would really have preferred lettuce, but a captive rabbit eats what he can get.