Survival Stories
I could have been a good boy and done what I was told. But that wasn't my style. I just kept paddling, straight into the morning sun.
The woman's dress was ripped and her tears made white streaks in the dirt on her face. She stared into the mass of jumbled lumber. Allie could hear a baby wailing from somewhere in the mess.
Bleddyn sloshed the contents along the house wall at the back of the lean-to, coating the lower five feet of shakes so that the excess fluid pooled along the whole length of the concrete floor.
Then he took out his cigarette lighter.
The forest about me is absolutely still.
I shoot.
I shoot at the ground before the bear's massive paws. A scuff of snow flies up. In the next moment I lean the rifle against a tree trunk and grab my bear spray from my coat pocket where I've kept it warm. I pull off the safety clip, and this time I walk toward the bear.
Not away. I'm through with walking away.
Suddenly my outrage dissolves, replaced by cold fear. It sticks in my throat. Darren takes a step toward me. I jump back, but he grabs my wrist and yanks me around, twisting my arm behind my back. Pain explodes in a series of flashing white and red lights. My body locks up with agony as my shoulder rotates toward the outer edge of its range of motion. I scream. What the hell is going on? How can this be happening to me?
I’ve never heard myself scream before. Not like this.
La señora tenía el vestido roto. Las lágrimas le marcaban surcos blancos en la cara llena de polvo y suciedad. Miraba desesperadamente la loma de escombros. Allie podía escuchar los gemidos de un bebé.
