Then I realize that having the parts so well secured might not be to our advantage. If the grizzly gets close, the obvious answer is to knock one out and hope it takes that and stops. But there’s no way I can untie those straps. The ATV is bouncing so much I can barely see the grizzly. We’re whipping along open ground that is not meant to be a path, much less a road, and we have got to be doing forty miles an hour.
The grizzly has stopped gaining.
It’s still running, still roaring, and it is not falling back, but it is no longer gaining on us. We’ve hit its top speed. Now we just need to outlast it.
How far can they sprint? I struggle to remember. I know people always underestimate it. I seem to recall it’s a couple of miles.
We can do this. The bear is about twenty feet behind the ATV. Okay, more like fifteen. Storm whines and trembles, but we’re okay. Even if the bear finds a last burst of speed, we can do this. We’re even starting to pull away. We just need—
“Fuck!” Anders’s curse bellows over the engine.
“Turn!” Dalton yells.
“I know! Casey! Hold on!”
Anders makes a hard right, and I’m bent nearly in two, gripping Storm as tight as I can. She still slides and my seat beltwrenches, making me gasp. I hold her with both hands and legs as she scrabbles.
“Too tight!” Anders is shouting. “Not sure I can do it at this speed!”
I manage to twist and squint to see the forest looming ahead. Shit! We’re reaching the end of the clear ground. There’s an opening into the woods ahead, but he’s right that it’ll be tight and we can’t see how far it goes. This isn’t a path we’ve ever used. It might not be a path at all.
“I’m dumping the body!” I shout as I pull a penknife from my pocket.
They don’t answer. No one is going to argue we should risk our lives to keep it.
The bear has fallen back, but it’s still running, and we’re about to go a whole lot slower, once we hit the forest. Hell, we might not be going anywhere at all.
I reach to start sawing at the straps.
“Left!” Dalton shouts.
“See it!” Anders says.
We hit a bump, and I fumble the knife. I manage to grab it, but the blade slices my finger. I ignore it and keep cutting the strap.
“Hold on!” Anders shouts.
I flick the knife shut and grip Storm with both hands. The body bounces and strains against the cut strap. The ATV swings right again and Storm yelps, but I have her in both hands and locked behind my feet. The belt cuts off my breath, and pain tells me I am going to have bruising, but we reach what seems to be a wider opening. It’s still narrow, branches whipping the ATV and us.
“Cut?” I shout.
“Wait!” Dalton calls back.
He must twist, because his hand rests on my back for a moment. I peek. The bear has fallen farther behind.
“Be ready to cut but hold off!” Dalton shouts.
I nod, not that he can tell with the jostling of the ATV. Storm shakes so much I can only squeeze her tight and hope she’s reassured. Then there’s a snort, and I look up to see the back end of the bear.
“It’s leaving!” I yell.
“Confirm?” Anders shouts.
“Confirmed!” Dalton replies.
Anders eases off the gas—and the strap I’d been cutting snaps. The body bags start sliding toward the back. The other end is strapped, but they’ll slip free from it.
“Losing the bags!” I call. “Eric?”
