Read Online The Sentinel by Jeremy Bishop - Free Book Online Page B

loose rocks around my feet. After mom died, the Colonel raised me like a boy. Even played catch. Taught me how to put pepper on a ball. Or a bottle of paint. Or a rock. I quickly pick up a stone that feels like it’s a good two pounds. I heave it down at the polar bear. The rock misses by a few feet, but the sound of stone hitting stone, along with its motion, distracts the bear for a moment. I pick a smaller stone, maybe just a pound, take careful aim and lob it over the edge. This one strikes the bear’s side, bouncing off its thick hide. The bear twitches slightly, confused by the impact, but I haven’t caused it any real pain.
    If anything, I’ve made it grumpy.
    It rears up on its hind legs with a roar and I think it’s about to charge the tent. If it does, I’ll use the gun, but I hope to stop it before it does. I pick up another rock, smaller still, hoping a good grip will give me better accuracy and speed.
    I look down at the bear, focusing on its head. Anything else is just going to piss it off. A quick stab of pain is enough to make most bears turn tail and run, especially if they don’t know where it came from. Eyes locked on target, I wind up and let the stone fly, nearly throwing myself over the edge in the process. I’m so distracted by keeping myself from falling over the edge, that I don’t see if my aim is true. But there’s a sharp roar from below and when I regain my footing, the bear is beating a hasty retreat from the strange yellow thing that can bite from a distance.
    I realize I can’t get down the way I came. That would take me directly to the fleeing bear. Looking down the cliff, I can see there are plenty of handholds. So, without announcing my presence, I slide over the edge and climb down the wall. Half way down, my arms start to shake. The adrenaline pumping through my body is wearing off and the fatigue from my paddle frenzy is returning. I work my way down a few more feet, look down and see a six-foot drop.
    Fuck it , I think, and jump.
    My knees protest when I land, but I manage to stick the landing with nothing more than a grunt.
    “Was that the bear?” I hear Jenny ask. She’s quickly shushed.
    I walk up to the tent, and know I should let them know the coast is clear, but I can’t help myself. I walk up to the raft, crouch down and shake the text. The muffled squeals nearly make me laugh, but I hold it in and grab the zipper.
    As I slowly undo the zipper, I hear a mortified Jenny say, “It’s undoing the zipper!” And a moment later, when the reality of her statement registers, she says, “Bears can’t undo zippers.”
    I quickly unzip the hatch, push it open and lean in with a smile. “Nope.”
    Jenny and Peach are pressed up against the far side of the raft, clinging to each other. Their horrified faces slowly morph to confusion, to relief and finally to anger.
    “You son-of-a-bitch!” Jenny shouts, but I can see she’s trying to hide a grin. “You could have told us you weren’t the bear!”
    “Could have?” I ask. “Yes. Should have? Maybe.”
    Peach hasn’t moved from her position at the back of the raft. “What happened to the bear?”
    “Took one look at me and headed for the hills,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
    “Seriously,” she says.
    “I biffed him with a couple of rocks,” I say. “He took off.”
    This news doesn’t sit well with Peach.
    “What?” I ask.
    “Polar bears are persistent,” she says.
    Everything I know about polar bears was learned from Discovery Channel specials, while Peach is a bona fide animal expert with reams of wildlife pamphlets and information tucked away in her mind. As her fear returns, all I can think is shit, shit, shit .
    I turn around and there it is. Two thousand pounds of white furred fury charging toward me. Twin screams rip through the air behind me. A wind kicks up at the same time, billowing my cloak out to the side.
    The high-pitched screams coupled with the sudden growth of my cloak surprise