Read Online Touching Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen - Free Book Online Page A

he worked his hand to his side and stuffed the hair in his pants pocket. If he lived through this, he would have something to brag about. He could prove he had fought a bear. The hair gave Cole a sense of power. No bear would willingly give up a big clump of hair.
    Cole struggled to shift his position on the uneven ground, but stiffness had set into his joints like hardened cement. He couldn’t roll to either side. If only he could use both arms. Struggling, he raised his head for a better look at his right arm. It lay mangled and useless. All he could see of his forearm was ripped shirt and ragged torn flesh. A bloody white bone jutted out near his elbow like a broken stick. His fingers looked artificial, pale and puffy from grabbing the Devil’s Club. They faced the wrong direction. The onlysensation he had from the arm was a throbbing burn in his shoulder.
    The sight of his arm frightened Cole. He drew in a deep breath, but again pain stabbed at his chest, warning him. He returned to shallow tentative breaths, drawing air past his lips as if he were sipping from a straw.
    Cole grimaced and struggled to raise his right knee, but he couldn’t. The crushing bites to his thigh had rendered his leg lifeless. He relaxed his neck to catch his breath. Sweat stung his eyes.
    And still it rained, cold rain, soaking into everything it touched. A breeze swayed the branches overhead. Cole’s gaze wandered in a big circle around him. All of the landscape, the air, the trees, the animals, the water, the rain, all seemed to be part of something bigger. They moved in harmony, bending and flowing, twisting and breathing, as if connected. But Cole felt alone and apart. His soaked clothes chilled his bones. The hard ground pushed at his wounded body like a big hand shoving him away.
    No, Cole thought, he was not a part of this place. He should not be here. It was not his choice to lie dying on a remote island, alone, unable to move. This place held him prisoner more securely than any jail cell. Here, he was powerless. He could not keep warm or find food.His place was wearing dry clothes in a safe warm room, sleeping and eating without a care in the world. His place was having other people worry about him. His place was being in control. That was his place.
    Haunting thoughts pried at Cole’s mind. Night would come sooner or later, and with it, more rain and cold. What would happen when the last bit of warmth seeped from his body? What was death like? Did it hurt? Did it come fast like lightning from the sky or a blow from the Spirit Bear? Did death sneak around like a stinking seagull, trying to snatch life from a body like meat chunks from a rotting carcass? Or did life just flicker out like a dim candle?
    Cole’s tortured thoughts slowly gave way to an even worse possibility. What if death didn’t happen right away? Would seagulls land on him and peck bits of warm meat from his body when he could no longer fight back? And where was the bear?
    Waves of pain wracked Cole’s body. With each agonizing wave, he bit at his lip and whimpered, trying not to cry out. All of his life he had been haunted by nightmares of helplessness. Some nights he dreamed he was drowning, unable to find the surface. Some nights he dreamed of fists raining down on him like gianthail. Worse yet were the dreams he had of being alone and no one caring about him. Now he was living his worst nightmare. Cole flopped his head to the side and spotted a small caterpillar inching over a rotted branch. He reached out his finger and crushed it. That would teach it not to crawl so close.
    The sweet taste of blood kept seeping into Cole’s mouth, forcing him to swallow. His stomach cramped. Wincing, he wiped at his mouth with his left hand, then stared at the glistening red on his knuckles. It reminded him of the bear’s blood on the knife blade beside him. It also looked like the blood he had seen on the sidewalk after beating up Peter. The blood looked identical. This