The sound of the engines faded, and the jungle dissolved around him, thick, green leaves turning into deep green needles, the patter of a jungle rain slipping into the howling of a winter storm. He stood still, confused, as the images faded and joined, then faded again.

The bear sat against a tree, grinning at him. It looked like a Vietcong. The little bastard was taunting him.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” Jonathan said. He was confused. Everything hurt—his head, his arms, legs aching until he wanted to scream with the pain.

“Afraid? Of you? That’s really fucking funny.” The thing waved its stubby brown arm. “I’d tear you apart without even thinking about it.”

Jonathan stood still for a long moment, blood beating in his ears. Then he screamed and leapt for it, grabbing it by the head and holding it up in the blowing snow. Its eyes were a glassy brown.

But still it stared at him. He had to stop the staring.

He took it by its ear and sawed at the throat with his knife, thirsty for the blood that would surely spurt out of it, gush all over him as the veins and arteries severed.

He ripped the last bit of its head clear and held it up, to show them what he had done.

“I am not afraid of you!” he screamed. Thin white bits of stuffing floated down, were caught by the wind and whirled away from him and into the storm. He probed into the neck cavity with the point of his knife, but met no resistance at all.

There were no bones.

Moaning, he tossed it aside. No bones. His trophy case would have to wait for a new addition.

He knew it would not wait long.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Helen paced the tiny room, trying desperately to keep warm. Her head ached terribly and the ends of her toes were blocks of ice. She wondered if she had lost them already.

Don’t think about it. Just get out before you lose anything more. Get out before you lose your life.

She had watched the snowmobile disappear with renewed terror, unable to believe that help had been so close and yet it had slipped through her outstretched fingers. The snow outside showed no signs of stopping, and the wind still whipped around the walls of her prison. If anything, the temperature was dropping. She could not wait until they returned. She had to get out now.