Bearly Burning: The Bears of Blackrock, #2

CHAPTER ONE

JOSEPHINE

The wheels locked instantly as Joe stepped on the brake, dropping her stomach through the floor of the tired, old Ford Taurus wagon. She lifted her foot, quickly pumping to gain traction. The car did what it wanted in this kind of weather; it would stop only if it damn well pleased.

A moment later, they reached a stretch of clear road and the wheels found traction again. Joe slowed the speed down to a snail’s pace. She might be desperate to get to the border, but she wanted to get them there alive.

Momma?

Yes, baby? Joe whispered into the backseat.

Her daughter, Rory, lay stretched across the back, her mid-section strapped in by two separate seat belts.

I’m scared. I don’t wanna drive anymore.

Joe sighed. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and the snow was coming down with such fury that the view through the windshield looked more like the Millennium Falcon traveling at warp speed than it did a station wagon on the back roads of Maine. Still, Joe needed to get as far away from Portsmouth as possible. Eight hours of driving was taking its toll on them both, and the threat of storms had turned into whiteout conditions by Bangor.

Joe glanced down at her phone.

Time to destination – 55 minutes.

Fifty-five minutes and they’d be at the border of Canada. Fifty-five minutes and they’d cross into a country that didn’t welcome felons. Fifty-five minutes and they’d be out of the reach of Carson O’Neil.

Still, fifty-five minutes in whiteout conditions at three in the morning felt like an eternity.

Joe turned on her blinker and pulled off to the side of the road.

Siri, where is the nearest hotel?

The phone began to hem and haw over this request, taking longer than usual in the backwoods of Who Knows Where, Maine. Joe glanced back into the rear view at her tired girl.

I found only one hotel near you. Would you like directions? Siri said.

Joe glanced down at her phone – The Blackrock Inn and Tavern. She looked around at the dense trees and white squalls of wind and snow. There seemed to be nothing, as though this corner of the world had been torn from the map, left untouched by person or light.

She took a deep breath.

Siri offered up directions, and Joe turned the station wagon onto Falkirk Road, a stretch of pavement with no line at its center to betray much traffic. Joe straightened her rear view mirror and crept forward along the road. The snow was several inches thick on the roadway, a sign of the last plow having past quite some time ago. Still, there were tire tracks to betray the road ahead, and Joe was grateful for a trail to follow. She crept along the road at a slow speed, passing tired old buildings and a quiet post office.

Turn right onto Falkirk’s Harbor Way.

Joe did as she was told and almost instantly regretted it. The car skidded out around the corner, taking the turn sharper than she’d intended. She turned the wheel into the turn and the car straightened out, but even with traction restored, Joe didn’t like Falkirk Harbor’s Way. There wasn’t a tire mark to betray previous cars, no sign of a plow having passed down this road since the storm began. Joe envisioned her and her daughter pulled over on the side of the road or stuck in the middle of it with spinning tires, helpless and waiting for a plow to find them and dig them out.

God damn it, Maine. I fucking hate you.

Joe slowed the car as she pulled around a bend in the road, passing an old sign that pointed in the direction of an Indian Reservation. The sign pointing in the direction Siri commanded her to go simply read Docks.

Exciting stuff, she thought.

Joe pulled around another corner, and Siri burst to life again.

Turn left onto Seaside Drive and the destination is on your left.

Oh, thank God, Joe said, turning the wheel. This road was just as hidden beneath the snow; its boundaries betrayed only by the tree line on either side. She rolled along the road, trudging a path through well over a foot of snow. The road twisted and turned, betraying nothing beyond trees and blackened openings into the surrounding forest – the only sign of side streets and driveways. She passed a gated road on the left and rounded a final corner as Siri assured her The Blackrock Inn was just ahead on the left. The road dipped so suddenly, Joe’s stomach shot into her throat. She pressed her back into the seat, fighting to keep her breathing steady. The tires had traction, she was going slow enough. If she just maintained this speed, she should make it down the hill to the Inn without any skid-outs. Right?

She pulled around the corner at five miles an hour, and the world around her took on a strange depth. She stared through the windshield at the unnerving glow of the world. A light in the distance flashed toward her, then disappeared. She crept down the hill another few feet, watching the black ahead.

The light appeared again.

A lighthouse.

They were right on the water.

Joe turned back toward Rory. Baby. You awake? We’re almost there, sweetheart.

Rory grumbled but did not move.

There’s a lighthouse out on the water. You can see it even through -

Joe turned her eyes back to the road just in time to see a massive black shape bound onto the shoulder. She slammed on the brakes, twisting the wheel away to keep from hitting the bear, but her wheels locked in the snow instantly, and the car began to pick up speed on the downward slope.

No, No! Joe chanted to herself as she pumped the brakes desperately, the massive bear by the road now a distant memory as her car slid down the road, faster and faster. She fought to turn the wheel, but there was no direction to the skid – the car was going down. Down, down, and hell-bent on doing it at high speeds. Suddenly, trees appeared in the light of the high beams, and Joe turned back to brace her daughter as the car dropped from beneath her, plummeting a sickening distance. She held her breath, bracing in the eerie silence that fell over the car as it dropped off the edge of the road.

A sound like a shotgun blast rattled the car as they made impact. Joe saw white, then black. Then the pain began to set in.

Joe could taste metal, the sour flavor of it filling her mouth. She spat onto the floor of the car, and pure red trickled from her lips. Her body throbbed from head to toe, her temple and her neck growing warm with running blood, then cold as it cooled in the frigid air.

A window in the car was broken, even though she couldn’t see it.

Momma? Rory said, her voice pained.

Joe opened her mouth to speak, but her throat clamped shut on the words. She fought to move her right hand, the only part of her body that wasn’t screaming against even the thought of use.

This can’t happen, Josephine. Don’t you dare fucking die, here. Don’t you dare. Fight.

Joe felt her hand down onto the console, lifting the cap to pull her phone from inside. Her face contorted in grief and pain as she silently prayed that these moments would not be her last. Her daughter was alone there, lost in the middle of nowhere. They had no family, no one to know they were missing. Rory would be trapped in that cold car, and Joe could do nothing to protect her.

Why couldn’t you just stop when you had the chance? Why did you have to keep going?

She felt her fingers crack as she moved them, but she would not succumb to the pain.

I hate you, God, she thought. Don’t do this to me! Don’t do this to my baby! Please God, don’t do this!

Momma, there’s something outside the car. There’s a big thing coming over!

She fought to clench her fingers around the phone, but they could do little else, certainly not dial numbers. A moment later, Joe saw the screen come to life, the streaks of her own blood coating the glass surface of the phone. She pressed her thumb to the button and held it.

Siri chimed to life.

Joe gasped for air, feeling blood trickle into her throat. Siri. Call 911.

Calling 911, the phone assured.

Momma, there’s a bear outside! Momma don’t go to sleep. Momma!

CHAPTER TWO

KIRK

The wagon was hissing and clinking away twenty feet down the seawall, its hood crumpled against one of the two massive trees that had stopped its tumbling down the rocky beach and into the water.

Kirk stomped his paws into the snow, feeling the cold crunch under him. He moved slowly, fighting with his massive weight. He moved down the hillside, the trail of the car gauging a smooth line through soil and snow combined. He lost footing just a few yards uphill from the wreck, skidding a foot or two on his ass in the snow.

Momma, there’s a bear outside! Momma, don’t go to sleep! Momma!

Shit! He thought.

He’d forgotten his state, climbing down the steep hill on all fours – he was still a bear.

Kirk took a deep breath and pulled himself upright, feeling his insides shift and rise as the man emerged from within the beast. Kirk stood there naked in the snow, inspecting the car with clearer, human eyes.

The front driver’s side door was all but imploded, pushed in by the trunk of the first tree. The driver would not be in good shape. The back door remained intact, fogged now by breathing from within. He took a step and slipped in the snow, his bare ass slamming into the ground. His skin scraped over the rocks and twigs laid bare by the car’s path, but he was back on his feet and by the side of the car a moment later.

There was a voice; he’d heard someone. He knew at least someone survived.

He frowned. It sure as hell wasn’t the driver.

Kirk could hear a calm voice repeating itself, followed by a higher-pitched cadence.

It sounded like that of a child.

Kirk lunged for the car and pulled the door handle. The back door of the car opened. He held it in front of him, shielding his lower half from view. Seeing a naked man in the wilderness at night would be enough to give any kid nightmares.

Are you there, Rory? The voice on the phone asked. The little girl in the back seat nodded but did not speak, her wide eyes trained on the naked man standing outside her car. She moved away from him across the back seat.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen this kind of scene – a child helpless as their parent lays injured in the front seat. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called to such a scene, but this was different.

Kirk hadn’t been called to this scene, he’d caused this scene.

Rory? Are you there?

The little girl nodded again, but before she could answer, the woman in the driver’s seat inhaled, turning her eyes to Kirk.

Kirk lunged forward, awed to see the woman move.

Don’t let him have her, she said. Then her eyes closed, again.

Holy Christ! She’s alive!

Kirk turned his attention back to the little girl, no longer concerned with her seeing his naked state. Sweetheart, tell the lady on the phone to tell dispatch you’re off Seaside Drive. Halfway down Lookout South.

The little girl frowned, and her lip began to tremble as she moved further away from him, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. My Momma says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.

His chest tightened as the words came. It sounds like your Momma loves you very much. I know I must look like a crazy person, but I promise I’m here to help. Can you tell the lady for me? Please?

Rory stared at him, the bloodstained phone shaking in her hand.

Kirk leaned down, making a point not to move closer.

The little girl clutched the phone with desperation, the voice on the other end calling to her softly. Rory, honey. Are you there? Who’s with you? Did your Momma wake up?

Kirk put his hand out to the little girl. My name is Kirk Fenn. Has your Momma ever told you that when you’re in trouble you should find a policeman or a firefighter?

The dark-haired little girl nodded her head.

Kirk fought with everything he had to show patience, but he knew her mother needed care, and she needed it immediately. If he couldn’t get the phone by coercion, he’d have to take it by force.

God damn it, why didn’t he bring his truck tonight?

Well, I’m a firefighter, and my cousin is the man who drives the ambulance.

Rory, who’s there with you honey?

It’s Kirk, Paula! He called, inspiring an audible flood of relief on the other end.

Oh, thank god. Deacon is on his way. We have the phone pinging down by the harbor.

Rory moved the phone toward him, holding it out in front of her.

Kirk took it from her shaking hand, reaching up to the front seat to get the driver’s pulse. It was there, but barely.

Lookout South. Car’s halfway down Lookout South, Kirk said, inspecting the imploded driver’s side door.

Oh, Jesus. It didn’t go in the water? The dispatcher said, her voice dropping to an almost whisper.

How far out is he, Paula?

There was a conference of radio on the other end of the line. His cousin, Deacon Fenn’s voice was muttering through static in the distance.

Kirk couldn’t make out the words, but a moment later, he didn’t need to know, as the engine gave a low popping sound – the sound of something hot bursting into flames.

Tell him to get here as fast as he can. I’m going to have to move the victim.

Alright, I’m staying on the line, Paula said, but Kirk was no longer paying attention as he ducked down into the door of the car to look at the little girl.

Honey, I need you to get out of the car, ok?

Rory shook her head, glancing toward her mother for reassurance.

Kirk took hold of the driver’s side door handle, but the handle mechanism was shot. He gave it a tug nonetheless. The door was sealed shut, smashed into place, and locked there as though soldered. Kirk growled as the smoke began billowing out from the hood and into the front seat, flames licking from beneath the hood and casting gold light on the ground beneath the car.

Rory. Get out of the car! He said, causing a visible fright.

The little girl began to