Danger at the Border. Terri Reed

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       THREE

      A loud guttural noise emanated from the rustling bushes. Alarm zipped through Jeff and raised the hair on his arms. He tucked Tessa safely at his back as they took refuge behind a stand of alder trees. He searched for a weapon other than his sidearm. Shooting an animal would be his last resort.

      The large brown head of a bear poked over the top of the bushes.

      “It’s a grizzly.” Jeff’s stomach sank like a rock in the lake. “What’s he doing here?”

      The creature stomped through the brush, snapping limbs and branches like toothpicks. Dark eyes stared in their direction. Jeff moved farther behind the tree, trying to keep as little of himself visible as possible.

      The bear rose onto its back legs, making the beast well over eight feet tall. He lifted his nose in the air.

      “My bag,” Tessa whispered. “I have a can of bear spray.”

      Of course she did. Part of her essentials. Bless her preparedness.

      He slipped the strap of her duffel off and laid it on the ground at her feet.

      She dug around in the bag and then handed him a long, slender canister. “Here.”

      The spray consisted of hot red pepper and could shoot up to twenty feet. An effective deterrent in the case of an attack. Jeff hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He held the can nozzle out, his finger hovering over the button. He kept his gaze to the left of the bear so the animal was in his peripheral vision.

      Making eye contact could be perceived as a challenge. He didn’t want to give the creature any reason to charge.

      Tessa clutched the back of his shirt. “Should we climb the tree?”

      “Bears can climb, too,” he said softly in a neutral tone. If the bear heard them talking, he didn’t want the beast to sense any panic.

      “Not grizzlies.”

      “I wouldn’t want to risk my life on that myth,” he said. “I saw a YouTube video of a young grizzly that climbed fifty feet up a fir tree.”

      Her hand tightened on his shirt, pulling the fabric taut against his chest, much like the band of anxiety squeezing his lungs. “Then what?”

      “We wait and hope he goes away?” he quipped, not sure what their move should be. He rested his free hand on his holstered gun. Taking down a bear with his Heckler & Koch P2000 service weapon wasn’t impossible, just improbable. Not the best scenario.

      “Please, Lord, make the bear go away,” Tessa prayed aloud.

      “Amen to that,” he said.

      The bear dropped back to all fours, his nose going to the ground. No doubt sniffing their trail, looking for his next meal.

      Tension balled in Jeff’s gut. “Do you have any snack bars left?”

      “A few of them,” Tessa said. “What are you thinking?”

      “A distraction.”

      “You shouldn’t feed the bear. He could get sick from human food.”

      “Would you rather he got sick off this human food?” He bumped his fist against his chest. She shook her head vehemently, her eyes wide with fear. “Do you have a better idea?”

      She grabbed four bars from her pack. “Here.”

      “Trade places with me.” Jeff stepped back to allow Tessa to slip in front of him. “Hold the spray. If he moves any closer, use it.”

      She nodded, her red curls bobbing softly. She’d lost her hat somewhere along the way. The elastic band holding back her hair had slipped almost all the way off. Hugging the tree, she gripped the can with one hand.

      Quietly, he slit open the top of the bars, then chucked them to the right behind the bear. The food crashed through the bushes. The bear swung around with a growl. He pawed the ground. Waited a moment, then cantered off in the direction of Tessa’s snacks.

      Jeff snatched up Tessa’s bag, grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the tree. They hustled in the opposite direction of the grizzly, moving quickly yet trying hard not to make much noise.

      Every broken twig, every crunch of dried leaves beneath their feet rang out like the discordant notes of a gong calling the grizzly to his dinner feast. They continued onward, keeping parallel to the toxic runoff, but staying where the trees and bushes provided some cover.

      Twenty minutes later, Tessa tugged her hand free from Jeff’s. “I don’t think he followed us.”

      Jeff drew to a halt and listened. The noises of the forest whispered over him. A bird flapping its wings in the trees. The rustle of branches in the early-evening breeze. And an out-of-place humming sound.