Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Seven
PRESENT DAY
THIS TIME, TASHA WOULD BE ready for Not A Bear.
She’d finally quieted Imani’s desperate fantasies that Not A Bear was their friend and only wanted to hug them, or keep them warm.
Cloying fantasies, since Tasha would love to release her terror too.
Instead, she’d told Imani to scavenge this nest for sticks large enough to serve as clubs or spears for when it returned. Not if it returned—when.
Imani had told her about a cavern stuffed with bones, which was all Tasha needed to know.
Their bones might be next. Her left foot’s bone was already peeking with savage waves of pain to remind her that she was made of bones.
Resting a hand warmer atop the fabric wrapped around her foot felt like a grim mistake, since her waking nerve endings were screaming in waves that rippled up and down her frame, from her toes to the base of her neck.
But better this agony than her foot freezing off, she thought.
If she survived today, she wanted her foot to survive too.
And Imani. Most of all, Imani needed to survive.
How could any mother live on knowing that her youngest daughter had died trying to save her?
Tasha suspected that her impulsive child might have peeled away from Johnny and Sharise, since it wouldn’t have been the first time.
That made more sense of their separation, and even in this dark, with pain-glazed eyes, Tasha had detected the rapid blinking that was Imani’s “tell” when she wasn’t revealing the full truth.
Imani’s work in therapy to stop lying had worked so well that dishonesty genuinely seemed to trouble her.
“Here,” Imani said, breathless, as she returned to Tasha’s side.
Since the nesting materials in this nook were so small and soft, Imani had ventured out into the wider recesses to search for bigger branches.
But by decree, her flashlight glow had never been out of Tasha’s sight.
Imani handed Tasha a three-foot staff that fit perfectly in her hand, tapering slightly at the tip.
“I knocked off the smaller branches. I could only find one without going farther out.”
“Never mind, then—we’ll make do with one,” Tasha said.
“I have a pocketknife,” Imani said. “I’ll sharpen the tip.”
“Good,” Tasha said. “And keep that knife in your hand.”
Tasha hoped she wouldn’t have to argue with Imani over the importance of taking precautions despite her daughter’s fantasies about Not A Bear’s good intentions, or even sentience, like it was a character in a damn Disney movie.
Managing her pain took all of Tasha’s will.
She didn’t want to tell Imani, but the pain relievers were too weak to help, or hadn’t taken hold yet.
Just like she needed more than alcohol, she needed much more than Tylenol.
“Okay, but we shouldn’t hurt it unless it tries to hurt us…” Imani began.
“It’s already hurt us,” Tasha said between gritted teeth in a guttural growl driven by pain.
“I know, but…”
Imani went silent, knowing better than to push it.
With a sigh, she squatted and began whittling the tip of the staff with her knife’s tiny blade, shaving off flecks of wood with learned strikes.
She might not like the task, but she was carrying it out with the same urgency and focus she’d exhibited when she started the fire in the fireplace last night.
If they’d had a place to vent the smoke, Imani said she would have started a fire for her now. They had plenty of kindling.
“I wonder if she gave it a name…” Imani whispered while she sharpened the staff’s tip.
Tasha could think of a few names for it, all right.
“Don’t,” she said, a warning. Every word she spoke caused shooting pains, but this was important enough to withstand the torrent.
“Stop it, Imani. Don’t think of it like a pet.
If it was a pet, it was hers, not yours.
It’s just a wild animal now. Don’t… hesitate to defend yourself.
Promise me.” Pain squeezed tears from her eyes.
“I promise,” Imani said. “Don’t cry, Mom. I almost shot it with the rifle. I missed.”
Relief bathed Tasha. Imani might be the most imaginative person in the family, even more than Johnny, and if she were too swept away by her fantasies, it would be hard to rein her back in.
Tasha could picture her daughter reaching out a hand to try to pet Not A Bear like countless social media videos of people acting foolish with wild animals.
“I think I smell it,” Imani said.
The whole nook stank of Not A Bear, like mud and rotten eggs, but Imani was right: The smell was sharpening. Tasha’s heart throbbed, sending more sizzling pain through her body. She reached for Imani, grabbing her wrist to still her whittling.
“Give me that,” she said. “Get behind me.”
Imani held the finished spear out of her reach. “Mom, you can’t even stand up.”
“Now,” she insisted.
Around the hidden bend, wood crackled from a churning motion in the dark. Slithering. The sound awakened every instinct in Tasha’s hind brain to flee. But they were trapped in this nook with nowhere to go.
She grabbed the sharpened staff while Imani stood behind her with her spotlight raised toward the murky void. Not A Bear wasn’t in view yet. “Help me up…” she whispered.
With a firm grip of her full arm, Imani tugged Tasha to her feet with strength that surprised them both.
While Tasha found her balance, her left foot bumped against the cavern wall, a pain so powerful that her body spasmed and she was afraid she would faint.
Her scream from her wide-open mouth was silent; even half-mindless with agony, she didn’t want to make a sound.
Just in case. Imani hugged her tight, her apology unspoken. She was trembling.
“It’s okay…” Tasha whispered to her dear daughter’s helmet, near her ear.
Tasha propped herself against the cavern wall with her left leg and right hand raised, the spear ready. No, not a spear—throwing this wouldn’t hurt Not A Bear. She would wait until it was closer—until it opened those flaps and sailed toward them.
As she imagined Not A Bear, the white coat appeared low to the ground, gliding close to the wall, almost obscured outside of the light’s ring. It moved more like a fish than a snake.
“Mom, how does it move like that?” Imani sounded more fascinated than frightened.
The question in Tasha’s mind was: What if it kills all of us today?
The terrible chittering that filled the nook nearly made Tasha drop her spear; her hand tried to fly open from reflex.
Everything foreign and unknowable about Not A Bear was woven into that sound, a perversion of a noise a squirrel or otter might make, so chilling from an animal large enough to fill the nook’s entrance and swallow her, spitting out her bones.
Tasha shifted slightly to shield Imani, who was still tracking Not A Bear’s motion with her light.
Imani’s free arm was wrapped around Tasha’s waist; half to hold her steady, half to hold her tight because she was her mother.
Tasha pressed their hips close, wishing she could absorb Imani back into her body to keep her safe.
Tasha channeled the power of every mother before her as she raised her stick high, her grip tight and sure.
She felt the resolve of the countless mothers in caves, in huts, in cabins, in row houses, who had stood between a monster and their children.
As she stood ready, she forgot her injured foot.
She forgot the cold. Her world narrowed to the light showing Not A Bear moving closer to them, still low to the ground.
Its mouth was closed, but sharp teeth curled from the corners of its mouth like hooked grins.
She felt Imani breathing behind her, rapid heaving.
“Keep away from us!” Tasha yelled. “Get back!”
A predator, not prey. Her voice was a scythe ready to carve this monster into strips.
Not A Bear stopped its forward motion and began to raise itself, and Tasha was ready to see those wings. Ready to pierce through that furred neck even if it meant facing its teeth, if it would keep Imani safe. She was already in pain, so pain’s power over her was stripped.
Once it was close enough, she would drench herself in its blood.
Something glimmered in Imani’s flashlight beam as the creature flung its snout and tossed something toward them from the hidden side of its mouth.
Imani screamed behind Tasha, startled. Tasha barely heard the thunk in the brush as the item landed beside them, heavy.
Was it a stone? Tasha still held her stick, but she hadn’t expected Not A Bear to throw something at them, a tactic that felt more human than animal.
She couldn’t stab it if it didn’t come closer. Had it understood her plan?
Imani’s light wavered for a wild instant, but soon she righted it, keeping the beam on the creature so it would not slip out of their sight. Not A Bear slid backward slightly, rearing up taller. But those awful flaps stayed plastered tight across its underbelly.
“Mom,” Imani whispered. “Look down.”
Imani wanted her to look at what the monster had thrown at them, but it was hard to coax her eyes away from its snakelike swaying as it watched them. Finally, Tasha did glance down at the debris bed near them—and stared down longer than she meant to.
“Mom?” Imani whispered. “Do you see it?”
Yes, Tasha tried to whisper back.
But she was too shocked to make a sound.
No matter how long Imani stared, the half-empty package of water bottles still lay there.
The plastic packaging was mauled by teeth marks, but at least a dozen water bottles were intact inside.
Weren’t these the same water bottles she’d kept wishing she’d brought with her?
And now Beast had laid them at their feet.
Imani shone her beam back up squarely toward Beast—although she couldn’t call it Beast now, could she? A Beast didn’t bring you water. A Beast didn’t try to keep you warm.
The creature was swaying slowly, watching them.