The Three Most Wanted Read online

  Advice heard a thousand times ran through my mind; black bear—harmless unless it has a cub—shout and make a racket and chase it away; brown bear—dangerous at all times—try and sneak away but if it attacks, play dead...

  “We can’t lose that meat!” My voice squeaked horribly. “We cannot lose it!”

  “No, we can’t,” breathed Bane, staring into the darkness.

  For a second we’d gone back in time, cavemen crouched ready to defend our food with our lives...

  Something shuffled from the trees and I clutched Bane’s shoulder with both hands.

  Bear.

  “Black or brown...” Bane’s eyes were fixed on it. “Black or brown, come on, black or brown?”

  The bear stepped into the light.

  Brown.

  ***+***

  11

  STABBING A MELON WITH A NEEDLE

  The scream rose inside, but my throat was too constricted to let it out—all that escaped was a strangled “urk”.

  It was Bane’s turn to yell at wild beasts. “Clear off!” he bellowed. “If you think we’re going to lie on the ground while you take our food you can forget it!” He held his coat wide open, “spear” still clutched in his right hand. “Look, we’re almost as big as you and there’s three of us, so clear off!”

  Hastily I unzipped my coat and held it open as well, then grabbed the pile of metal fork-spoons and began clattering them as loudly as I could. “Beat it! Or we’ll beat you, you mangy bear!”

  The bear paused and peered at us in the gloom. Puzzled by our failure to run away screaming?

  Jon hadn’t joined our little defensive line—just too weak to stand unaided?—I was too busy shouting at the bear to worry about it. The bear sniffed the air—lumbered forward again.

  “Our venison!” roared Bane, stamping and waving his coat flaps like a maniac. “Ours!”

  “You can’t have it!” I rattled the cutlery even harder. “Clear off!”

  The bear was very close now. It eyed the noisy obstructions irritably and rose on its hind legs, swiping the air with horrible claws and roaring back.

  “Go away!” I shrieked.

  “Go. Away!” shouted Bane.

  The bear roared again. Definitely trying to scare us off, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t attack if we didn’t run.

  “How d’you kill a bear, Margo?” Bane let go of his coat and held his spear ready.

  “Damn it, Bane, don’t poke it with that thing!” I tried to sound fierce rather than terrified. “It’ll go nuts and kill us all.”

  “It’s thinking about killing us all anyway! If it tries it, I won’t have much choice. In the throat, d’you think?”

  It did seem about the only place that would do any good. Except... “Or the eye!”

  “Yeah...”

  The bear bellowed and gave some rather more serious swipes with its claws, though they still fell short of us.

  “I wonder if we could kill it,” shouted Bane rather savagely. “It’s edible, y’know.”

  “We couldn’t possibly eat it all...” Then I caught on. Animals weren’t easily fooled, so I pictured a heap of fresh, succulent bear meat, fried in its own fat, and a bar of chocolate for good measure. My mouth watered and a primeval surge swept me. “Yeah,” I howled, “Let’s eat the bear! Kill it and eat it!”

  “Kill the bear! Kill the bear!” yelled Bane, making little threatening jabs with his spear.

  We spread out just slightly, not enough to invite it to rush between us, but enough to suggest a pincer movement. I pulled my pocket knife out and unfolded it, imitating Bane’s little lunges—hunger and the blood pounding of the hunt consumed us.

  “Get the bear!”

  “Get it!”

  “Kill it, kill it, kill it!”

  “Eat the bear, eat it!”

  The bear’s head turned from side to side as we prowled up and down in our little pincer shape. It dropped to all fours and backed up a step. We smelt like humans but we didn’t act like them... We were hunting it, we smelt hungry and unafraid, and it was outnumbered.

  It backed up again and we followed, barely retaining enough willpower to keep from turning bluff into reality. Halfway to the edge of the clearing... I dragged my mind from the primitive mist—time to stop and let it clear off by itself...

  Bane paused as well and the bear rose on its hind legs for one last—decidedly half-hearted—wave of its claws... and caught one paw on Bane’s knife.

  Bellowing in mild pain and hypochondriacal fury, it shuffled forward on its hind legs and swiped for us, no bluffing now. We leapt back to avoid the deadly claws... What now? We couldn’t retreat, still couldn’t let it have the meat, but to actually fight it...? Whoa… The bear came at me again, I dodged sideways, trying to lead it away from the food and give Bane its back.

  My foot slipped on a twig and the bear’s claws were coming for my face... Bane’s spear drove into its thick neck, with all his force behind the blow.

  The bear whirled, howling, and Bane leapt back, but the bear’s paw caught his shoulder and flung him a frightening distance, spear flying from his hand. Darting between them, I grabbed up the makeshift thing and howling almost as loudly as the bear I lunged for its eyes... couldn’t reach... thrust into its neck instead... the bear recoiled and lashed out again... something knocked me out of the way—Bane, on his feet!—he grabbed the spear and stabbed again but the bear was learning, it swiped at him so fast he had to dodge before the knife blade could touch it... we needed a better plan than this...

  “Hey, you stupid bear!” Jon’s voice, raised in a hoarse yell. “You’re messing with homo sapiens, remember?”

  He came rushing past me as I tried to regain my feet, a ball of fire in his hands. Oh, not a ball of fire—the stove, with flames pouring from the top.

  “Jon, stop!” yelled Bane, as Jon got as close to the bear as seemed wise, fire or no fire.

  Jon already had: the monster’s breathing couldn’t be hard to hear. “So clear off or we’ll set you on fire!” he wheezed.

  Good idea, that’d kill it... all that mattered, now. Killing it before it could kill us... Simple rule of nature...

  But we were humans and we didn’t belong wholly to nature. Perhaps we could just drive it off... Already it backed away, on all fours again, roaring in fear and confusion as the flickering flames illuminated the shadows.

  “Here, Margo,” Bane thrust the spear to me and grabbed the stove from Jon.

  “Just drive it away,” I blurted.

  Bane had already sprung forward, shoving the flaming thing so close under the bear’s nose it must’ve singed its fur.

  “Homo sapiens’ venison, get it?” he bellowed.

  The bear recoiled, whimpering—turned and fled, crashing through the bushes.

  Bane dumped the blazing stove on the ground and grabbed Jon’s wrist. “Stream, come on...”

  “Wait, you’re bleeding...”

  He shrugged off my searching hands. “It’s not bad, Margo. Make sure the whole forest doesn’t go up...”

  Uh oh, good point. I hastily rewrapped Jon’s jacket around the stove and lifted it, carrying it back to the little area we’d cleared for it. Ah, that’s why they both had their hands in the little stream. The jacket didn’t make a very effective oven glove.

  The interior flameGuard partition lay on the grass, the tip of Jon’s pocket knife still shoved through one of the slits—very, very illegal to light a stove without it in, but under the circumstances the EuroGov could take that rule, along with their hunting ban, and stuff it somewhere unmentionable.

  I picked up the knife, all the same, and slid the flameGuard back down into the stove, immediately damping down the flames, though they licked up through the slits in an impressive manner. Jon must’ve used all the dry kindling, followed by several handfuls of fresh wood; it’d be blazing for a while. I adjusted the tube vents running up each side of the casing to maximum so it wouldn’t go out from lack of air, and pu
t the pan in place just to ensure no stray flames could escape. Then added water to stop our dinner burning.

  “Do you two need the first aid kit?”

  “Not urgently.”

  “Okay. I’m going to turn the flashlights off for a minute.”

  Flashlights off, I waited a little to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, then scoured everywhere in the vicinity. No telltale glow betrayed a smoldering twig—I put them on again and took the medical kit over to the stream.

  “Are you two okay? Jon, that was brilliant!”

  Jon shrugged modestly. “Recalled wild animals are s’posed to be afraid of fire.”

  “I’m a complete idiot!” fumed Bane. “Messing around with string and an itsy-bitsy knife; I should’ve lit the stove and set the stick alight.”

  “Oh, come off it,” I said. “By then the bear would’ve had its pick of human or venison for supper.”

  “Hmm, I s’pose. Might not’ve come at all if the stove was lit, though.”

  “D’you know how badly you hurt it? I hope it doesn’t meet anyone else.”

  “If it runs smack into a search party of EuroGov troops, I’ll consider it a job well done. Not sure I hurt it that much, anyway. About as much use as stabbing a melon with a needle. Margo, could you shine the flashlight... good, no blisters. Jon, show me your hands...”

  Jon spread his hands for inspection. A rather bright red, but...

  “No sign of blisters.” Bane sounded satisfied.

  “Laudate Dominum,” said Jon. “We’ve enough to worry about without injuries.”

  “How’s your shoulder, Bane?”

  “What’s wrong with his shoulder?” Jon’s head turned.

  “Bear knocked him clean across the clearing,” I said.

  “Actually that was mostly me, diving away from the force of the blow. But I do seem to be bleeding, which is a right bugger,” Bane conceded.

  “You’ll have to sleep in a scentSeal bag,” I giggled rather hysterically.

  “I may put one over the dressing,” said Bane seriously. “Much good it’s likely to do.”

  “Has to be better than nothing,” said Jon.

  “Come on, let me see,” I urged.

  While Bane peeled off his jacket, shirt and thermal top I hung the second flashlight from a branch above us, directing the other at the wound. Three bloody gashes ran across the very top of his arm where it joined the shoulder, three gashes and one raw red scrape—one claw had missed him entirely.

  “I think I need to stitch it,” I told him. “We want to stop all bleeding as fast as possible—to say nothing of keeping infection out.”

  “If there’s any hope of that,” snorted Bane. “I doubt the bear washed its claws before attacking us. Stitch away, then, I put in needle and thread. Let’s be quick, I want to get that venison up a tree before we have another visitor. Though how much point there is worrying about it now I smell like dinner too... huh.”

  I washed the cuts with filtered water from the bottles, packed in as much antiseptic cream as would stay with them pinched together, and set to work with the needle. Bane sat rigidly and endured, albeit muttering a monotone of oaths and distractions under his breath.

  “It may hurt less if you relax,” I told him.

  “Oh, come on, Margo, I’m sitting still: what more do you want? Damn, damn, damn, venison dinner, nobody eaten by bear and a nice venison dinner, damn, ouch, ow, venison dinner, Margo wedding night...”

  “Excuse me?” I demanded, hiding a smile. “What was the last one again?”

  “Nothing, venison, venison, lots and lots of venison... Ow, ow, Margo in a lace nightie... ouch, Margo not in a lace nightie...”

  I cuffed the side of his head gently and cut off the thread. “All done, Bane. I see the mere promise of a venison dinner seems to have a remarkably invigorating effect on you.”

  He smirked tiredly at me. “Takes something a little out of the ordinary to take your mind off being stabbed repeatedly with a needle, y’know.”

  “Yeah, yeah, any excuse. Now hold still so I can get this covered up.” I dressed the wound carefully and taped a scentSeal bag over the top, then picked up his bloodied clothes. “I’ll get these washed ASAP.”

  “I’ll get the venison hung up.”

  “Wait... you’re not going into the forest by yourself?”

  “With a bit of luck, Margo, we’re in that bear’s territory and there isn’t another one. But yes, I’m going into the forest, ’cause I’m certainly not hanging it anywhere near camp.”

  I bit my lip and realized my hands were gripping his arm. He’d be alone out there, smelling so tempting... What if the wolves came this way?

  Jon’s head turned from one to the other of us, as though what wasn’t said told him as much as what was. “I’ll go with Bane. Two of us will be less enticing.”

  “Yes,” I said quickly, before Bane could speak. “You go with Bane. I’ll be safe here with homo sapiens’ secret weapon.”

  “So secret only one of them thought of it,” muttered Bane, still irritated with himself.

  “Oh, go hang the venison, then we can eat.”

  “Yes, please. Come on, Bane.” Jon attempted to drag Bane off and almost fell in the stream.

  “Wait,” snorted Bane in amusement. “I haven’t got the grub.”

  “I don’t think we need to eat any more grubs.”

  “Oh, you did realize what we were feeding you, did you?”

  “That many legs are a little hard to miss.”

  Clothes washed and sleeping bags arranged—nothing to do but wait. When had I last been this alone? Every rustle made my muscles tense... Shadows crept between the light of the flashlights... I began to shake. No longer proud homo sapiens safe by my magic fire, I was just a girl—a sort of New Adult—alone in the dark in the wilderness. To my shame and fury, I started crying.

  I heard them coming back, but couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Margo... Margo, are you hurt?” Bane’s steps approached quickly and his arm wrapped around me.

  “Not hurt, I’m not hurt,” I sniffed. “Just being silly.”

  “Oh, Margo.” His other arm wrapped around me as well, enfolding me in warm, safe Bane. “Not being silly. You hate bears. Of course you were scared. You were so brave.”

  “Poor Margo.” Jon’s hand stroked my hair. “You didn’t get to stay up a tree, did you?”

  With my pack around me again, I began to get hold of myself. “You sweetie-pie, Jon. I know you really want to say for pity’s sake, Margo, stop sniveling so we can eat.”

  “That too,” he grinned.

  Eat we did. We speared the pieces of venison on the fork-spoons and gnawed at them like the wolves we’d stolen them from.

  “If I live to be a hundred and fifty,” sighed Jon, three venison strips later, “I will never eat a more delicious meal.”

  “S’gorgeous,” I managed around a mouthful.

  “Divine,” said Bane, barely pausing his chewing.

  We washed it down with weak nettle tea as the clouds drifted slowly away across the night sky. Bane propped his back against a tree and slipped his un-clawed arm around me as we sat gazing at the now moon-drenched clearing. Jon put his head in my lap and lay staring up as though he could sense the brilliant stars above us. Bane was so used to me doing double-duty as a pillow he didn’t even twitch.

  “We’re going to make it,” he said softly. “Am I allowed to say it?”

  “Fire away,” said Jon sleepily.

  “Course you are,” I said. “Seems pretty likely, at least to Lausanne. Vatican State... maybe...” Please, Lord?

  “Wonder if Anne’s still there?” said Jon.

  I blinked. “Who’s Anne?”

  Bane shot me a look as if to say, you shared a bunk with this guy for four months and you have to ask that?

  Jon just said, “My sister.”

  I blinked again. “Isn’t she... dead?”

  “Isn’t your brother Kyle dead?” />
  “No, surely you know that... oh. She went to follow her vocation too?”

  “Yes. Years ago. So she’s probably not there now, even if she made it.”

  Nice to learn that his sister wasn’t—necessarily—dead, but my mind drifted quickly back to Lausanne ...Then the Alps. Italy. Vatican State. I moistened lips dry with excitement. Could we really do it?

  Lausanne. Food. Danger. If the theft—well, one could not precisely say theft if we left money—if the break in was reported, we might find the EuroGov waiting for us at the passes.

  “We must pick the house, or houses, very carefully,” I said, listening to Jon’s soft snores. “Check the living rooms—if only we could find one with oak wreaths...”

  “Brilliant, Margo,” said Bane. “We’ll look until we find one.”

  Some parents dealt with their child failing Sorting by removing all photographs, by never mentioning them again. Others did pretty much the opposite, keeping—adding—photos, each crowned with a little wreath of oak leaves and acorns. A small defiance of the system.

  We could’ve slept where we sat, bellies full and hearts light, but before long habit and prudence—and the nip in the air—drove us into our sleeping bag.

  “Thank you for the venison, Lord,” I murmured, “and for not letting us be eaten by the bear.”

  “Or the wolves,” muttered Bane dryly. “Ta for the grub, I s’pose. Night, Margo.”

  “Night, Bane.”

  ...Blackness all around... a bear snuffling in my ear! I screamed...

  “Margo,” said the bear, sounding startled.

  “Bane? Bane, what the hell are you doing? I thought that damned bear was back!”

  “Uh, nothing. Nothing.” Sounded embarrassed. Stroking my hair or sneaking me a kiss after stoking the stove? We’d decided to try and keep it alight tonight. Probably wouldn’t normally have alarmed me.

  “What’s going on?” yawned Jon.

  “Nothing,” I groaned. “Just Bane doing a fine imitation of ursus major. Back to sleep, back to sleep.”

  I settled my head on the mat and closed my eyes...

  ...Warm sun struck through my eyelids. Day. I opened my eyes and looked around. Everything untouched. Bane, a hot shape on one side; Jon, a warm form on the other—good, nothing had snuck up and eaten either of them. Okay, feeling a little paranoid.