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Back 3 a.m.
Chapters (67)
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  67. 3:46 a.m.

Two friends are in the woods when a bear starts chasing them. The first friend begins to run as the second exclaims, “You can’t outrun a bear!” The first friend replies, “I don’t have to. I only have to outrun you.”

“Get in!” I yell to Opik.

He does.

The bear slashes at another tree.

I run to the front of the boat. My plan was to scare him off with the paddle, but while reaching for it, a better plan materializes. I dig my hand around, find what I’m looking for, then run to the back of the canoe.

Lassie whines.

At first I think he is concerned about me. It takes me a long second to realize his only concern is the bottle of honey in my hand.

I squeeze out as much honey as I can, then coat the outside of the bottle. I rear back and throw the bottle over the bear’s head.

I don’t look to see if he takes the bait.

I turn, dig my feet into the dirt, and push with all my might.

The boat doesn’t move.

I turn around.

The bear hovers over the bottle of honey, now twenty feet away.

I take a deep breath and push.

The boat slides a couple inches forward. Opik wants to jump out and help.

I wave him off. “Stay in the boat!”

I turn around. The bear rears up on its back legs. Then he charges.

I scream.

I push the boat forward. It rocks. I push again. There is a grinding as the boat discharges from whatever is holding it back and it begins gliding over the soft brush. I can hear trees being trampled behind me as I shove the boat the last five feet, then dive in the canoe headfirst.

::::

Lassie licks my hand, his way of telling me that I’m okay.

“Thanks, buddy.”

He glances up at me and I realize for the second time my well-being is the least of his concerns. He is licking the honey that caked to my hands when I coated the outside of the bottle.

Sheesh.

Opik stands near the back of the boat. “On-ray,” he says, waving me toward him. I push myself up and join him. He points at a section of wood that is chipped.

“Aklark,” he says.

It takes me a moment to understand. The chips in the wood. The four scrapes directly below.

Opik puts his hands up and curls all his fingers in. He opens his mouth wide and growls.

Aklark.

Bear.

The bear must have swiped at me right as I dove. He must have just missed me.

My heart races.

I’d come inches from being mauled by an Alaskan brown bear. My first thought is: I can’t wait to tell Ingrid.

::::

At 3:53 a.m., I divvy out all the food in the fur hat and we eat.