Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Bryce
“Survival of the Fittest: Bryce and Chesteria Passed. Isis and Adrian Failed.”
Icouldn’t sleep. My mind kept replaying the day like a movie stuck on the same irritating scene.
I’d been staring up at the ceiling, arms folded behind my head, pissed off that I let myself get roped into this kumbaya cabin retreat bullshit.
Chesteria was worth being annoyed over. Those other two? Absolutely the fuck not.
I was about to close my eyes until I heard a scream. It was loud, panicked, and far too human to be the wind or the cabin creaking.
Isis jerked in the bed next to me. “Bryce, what was that?!" she fretted in a low tone, eyes wide as if she just saw Jesus moonwalk past the window.
I didn’t even look at her. I was already halfway out of the bed, slipping into my sweats.
“It was a scream,” I responded dryly. “What the hell you think it was, Isis? A goddamn lullaby?”
“Oh my God, I did not come up here to die!” she panicked, clutching the sheets.
“This is how people die in movies, Bryce! First, there’s a mysterious noise, then somebody goes missing, and next thing you know, we’re all getting picked off like it's a Netflix horror special! I saw a documentary just last week. The girl went missing, and all they found was a Croc and her bonnet!”
I ignored her theatrics, grabbed my piece from the nightstand, and threw on a hoodie over my bare chest.
"Bryce, what are you doing?!"
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to see what that noise was. One of us gotta live to tell the story… and it’s gonna’ be me.”
“Wait! You can’t go out there! What if something’s really out there?” she muttered.
“Then you better hope it’s not faster than you. And don’t include me in yo’ scared-ass autobiography. Look, either stay yo’ scared ass in here, or come quietly. Pick one.”
Isis tossed the covers over her legs, hopped out of the bed, and grabbed her robe.
“Oh, I’m not staying in here by myself! You crazy?! We’re in this together!”
I grabbed three more things off the dresser—a flashlight, my phone, and a backup mag. I slipped the safety off and crept out of the room with Isis all on my ass, barefoot and breathing like she was in labor and nine centimeters dilated.
Soon as we stepped out of the room, my phone screen lit up.
Chesteria.
Her name was still saved in my phone, right where I left it two years ago. I never deleted it, any texts, videos, or pictures. It just sat there, quiet and untouched, like a wound that never healed right, and was just waiting to bleed again.
I didn’t hesitate to answer. “Chesteria, you good?!”
“Chesteria?” Isis repeated, confusion settling into her voice, irritation following close behind.
I ignored her.
Chesteria’s voice came through the line cool, calm, and completely unfazed. “Kitchen. We have a Code Brown.”
Shit.
Code Brown meant bear.
“Aight. I’m on the way down.”
The moment I ended the call, Isis started in. “I thought y’all were exes? So how do y’all still have each other’s numbers?”
“Isis, mind yo’ damn business. Now is not the time for you to be pressing me like you my woman and shit.”
She sucked her teeth. “Well… what did she say? What was that noise?”
I picked up the pace, already halfway down the stairs. “We got a Code Brown.”
Isis tugged my shirt sleeve like a toddler about to snitch. “What the hell is a Code Brown?! What does that even mean?!”
A bear, Isis… a whole damn bear. I wanted to say, but I knew if I told her that, the sound that came out of her mouth next would be half gasp, half scream, and one hundred percent annoying as fuck.
“It means don’t scream again unless you trying to get your obituary written tonight,” I warned.
“And don’t be looking at me like I’m your hero.
You been ignoring everything I said since I pulled up to yo’ crib.
If something drags you out by your robe, that’s gonna be between you, it, and whatever angel on night shift. ”
Isis slapped both hands over her mouth, finally showing she had at least three brain cells left.
Once I hit the bottom and rounded the corner, I spotted Chesteria and Adrian near the kitchen, displaying two completely different energies.
Chesteria had her legs planted, shoulders squared, and gun aimed like she trained exactly for that moment.
Okay… she was. And she was trained by the best… me. Yup… I brag a lil’ different.
I smiled just watching her stance. That girl handled a weapon cleaner than half the cops I knew. Pride swelled in my chest; the kind a coach feels watching his star player sink the winning shot.
Then there was Adrian, standing behind her, shaking, his soul clearly seeking a refund for the entire trip.
These niggas swear they be real men until it’s time to take the trash out at night, fix a leaking faucet, kill a roach, catch a rat, pay a bill, the check engine light comes on, or a bear breathes on the porch like it smelled neck bones and cornbread in the air.
Nigga probably scared of ladybugs, too. He looked like the type to duck when a fly buzzes too close and yell, “That was a bee!” like that’s gon’ make it less embarrassing.
Isis took one look at the bear and let out a scream that could’ve cracked open the gates of Heaven.
“Bryce, it’s a BEEEAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”
The scream she let out carried notes, trembles, and a full church choir range.
It started in soprano, dipped into alto, and came back up with a squall that rattled the windows.
I halfway expected an organ to start playing and ushers to fan her ass down.
Seriously, the way Isis carried on, somebody would’ve thought a tarantula was rolling around in her lace La Perla thong, that had no business being worn in a cabin with wildlife.
Right on cue, the bear let out a deep, pissed-off roar—probably mad that Isis had just interrupted him while he was digging for his late-night snack.
“Sweet Jesus on a jet ski!” Isis mumbled, clutching her robe, suddenly very invested in self-preservation..
I glared at her so hard my eyelid twitched. “What the hell did I just tell you?” I snarled.
“You said don’t scream, but it’s a Bear, Bryce… a real one… with fur, claws, and murder energy! And I whispered-screamed… or so I thought! Still, it’s a thing!” she babbled, voice cracking. “Oh my God, I knew I shouldn’t have come!”
Chesteria cut her a dry look over her shoulder. “Then why did you come? To die fashionably in a robe?”
Adrian’s scared ass chimed in, “How are y’all so calm right now?!”
I stared at him, nostrils flared, like he offended my bloodline. “Nigga, why are you so scared?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but I held up my hand.
“Don’t even say it. You look like the type to faint if you stub yo’ toe.”
“It’s a bear, bro!”
“And yet you brought yo’ timid ass to the woods with no backup plan, no instincts, and no spine.” I stepped around the couch, sizing him up. “Tell me something… how would you have been able to protect her if shit went left?”
“Chesteria can obviously protect herself. But I got a… pocketknife.”
I scoffed. “A pocketknife? Nigga, you can’t bring a knife to a bear fight. That’s not survival gear; that’s a ‘sorry for your loss’ starter kit.” I glanced at Chesteria. “Who handed you this liability?”
Chesteria stepped in, palms up like a mediator at a kindergarten fight. “Bryce, you’re right, but right now we have a much bigger situation to deal with than your masculinity Olympics. Let’s handle this, and y’all can get back to your measuring contest later.”
“Handle it?!” Isis shrieked. “You’re gonna fight the bear? Like… physically? Do y’all have pepper spray? Bear spray? Mace? Something?!”
Chesteria tilted her head, sarcastically. “Nah… we’re gonna challenge it to a rap battle, and if it starts beatboxing, we all just gon’ run in harmony. Can you hush, please?”
Isis rolled her eyes, fully committed to her victim narrative.
I nodded once. “Look, Chesteria is right. Everybody be quiet. I got this.”
I didn’t charge the bear like an untrained idiot. Instead, I moved with presence, dominance, and like I was the apex predator.
Chesteria tapped her foot twice, signaling that the bear was alert and surveying its surroundings.
I returned her signal with a slight nod.
Then calmly—like I’d done that before—I grabbed a metal pan from the fireplace tool set and smacked it against the grate.
CLANG-CLANG!
The bear jerked back, startled by the sudden noise, as if it wasn’t expecting company.
Chesteria flicked the beam of the flashlight towards the partially open door, casting just enough light to catch the bear’s attention without fully illuminating the space.
The bear turned its massive head, letting out a dramatic huff.
I seized the moment and banged the pan again with more conviction.
CLANG-CLANG!
That time, I shouted in a deep, loud voice, not threatening, but commanding. “Out!”
The bear blinked slowly, like it was processing the command. After a brief pause, it seemed to reconsider its invitation to dinner. With a reluctant grunt, it turned and lumbered backward, back out onto the deck.
I moved quickly and slammed the door shut, twisting the custom lock tight… then I turned slowly.
Everyone was staring.
“Damn… you really made it leave,” Adrian said in disbelief.
Isis dramatically clutched her chest. “Oh my God. You’re like… bear whisperers!”
“Did you really just record this?” Chesteria asked, narrowing her eyes at Isis, who had her phone out like it was press night.
Isis, still holding her phone up, gulped. “It was for documentation… just in case one of y’all died, and we needed a Netflix deal.”
“One of us?” I scoffed. “You mean either you or that nigga. Because if it came down to it, I would’ve offered you and him, since y’all are clearly the weaker links. And afterward, I would’ve lit a candle and kept it pushing.”