I Survived the Attack of the Grizzlies, 1967 Page 4

  “Tough girl,” Cassie said.

  Mel slipped on her red flip-flops and peered out the window. In the distance was a jagged row of mountains. The slopes were still white with snow. It never melted up there, even in the summer.

  Aunt Cassie came up behind her.

  “That’s Heavens Peak,” she said, wrapping her arm around Mel.

  “I know,” Mel said. Mom had told her all about it.

  She could almost imagine that it was Mom standing there with her.

  Suddenly Mel felt that cracking-apart pain in her heart. She felt the flood of tears coming.

  She wiggled out from under Cassie’s arm.

  “Be right back …” Mel said. “I need to go to the outhouse.”

  She rushed downstairs and went outside. She found a chair in the corner of the big front porch. She just needed to be by herself for a few minutes, to pull herself together.

  But seconds later three noisy and sweaty men collapsed down in the chairs right next to her.

  “Whew!” exclaimed a man with a bushy mustache. “That hike was killer!”

  “I think my feet are going to fall off,” said a skinny man with no hair.

  “You won’t be sorry you came here,” said the mustache man. “Not after tonight.”

  Mel bent down to scratch a mosquito bite.

  “I don’t get it,” the third man said. “How do they get the grizzlies to come every night?”

  Mel froze. She eyed the men.

  “I told you,” the mustache man said. “They dump all the leftover food into a big ditch. It’s out back, down the hill. And every night the grizzlies come. You can stand right on the back porch and watch them.”

  “Sounds like a good show,” said the no-hair man.

  “Wait until you see!” the mustache man gushed. “If we’re lucky, we’ll see a fight! Last time I was here there were two huge beasts, and they were fighting over something. I dunno, a ham bone I think. And they just started going at it, wham, wham!” The man smashed his fist into his open hand. “The bigger one was clobbering the little guy. I thought it was going to rip its head off!”

  His friends whooped and slapped their legs.

  Mel fumed. She wanted to tell the men how disgusting it was, to want to watch grizzlies fight over a bone. But she didn’t have the guts. She got up and ran inside. She found Steve and Cassie standing in the lobby, looking worried.

  “There you are!” Cassie called to her.

  Mel rushed to them, nearly knocking over a rickety table stacked with old magazines.

  “You were right,” she said breathlessly, looking at Steve. “Something terrible is happening here. They’re …” She swallowed hard. “They’re feeding the grizzlies garbage!”

  “What?” Aunt Cassie said.

  Mel filled them in on what the men had said. Then she looked around at the people in the lobby. Was that why they’d all hiked eight miles to get here? For the grizzly show?

  Steve looked crushed.

  “Those were the rumors I had heard,” he said. His gentle eyes were suddenly flashing with anger and disgust. “I was hoping it was just some crazy story.”

  Cassie was fuming, too. “We have to do something to stop this,” she said.

  Suddenly, Mel had an idea. “You can do something,” she said to Cassie. She grabbed a magazine from the stack on the table. She held it up. “You can write an article!”

  Millions of people read Cassie’s articles. Last year she wrote about a company that was dumping dangerous chemicals into a river in Montana. After the story came out, the president of the company was arrested. Now he was in jail.

  “She’s right, Cassie,” Steve said. “If more people knew what was happening in Glacier, things could change.”

  Cassie seemed to disappear into her thoughts. Her eyes grew steely.

  “All right,” Cassie said finally. “I’ll do it. But I need help.”

  “I’ll share my research,” Steve said.

  “And I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Mel said.

  “Good,” Cassie said. “Right now we’re going to learn as much as we can about what’s happening here, and how they’re getting away with it. We’ll hike back tomorrow morning and I’ll start writing. I’ll call some editors and hopefully we can get this story out quickly.”

  Mel’s heart was pounding.

  Cassie would make sure the whole world found out the truth about Glacier. And then things would have to change.

  Mel just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  “So tell me, Greg,” Cassie said, looking sweetly at the manager who’d greeted them earlier that afternoon. “When exactly do these grizzlies show up here?”

  Mel and Steve stood behind her, with painted-on smiles.

  They were pretending to be all excited to see the grizzlies eating from the dump. If Greg knew how they really felt, he might not be truthful with them. Mel felt like a spy.

  “Oh, the grizzlies come every single night,” Greg said, neatening a stack of papers on his desk. “They’ll be here when it gets dark. We’ll make an announcement.”

  “We’ve been hearing all about it,” Steve said lightly. “I’m surprised the rangers haven’t put a stop to it … and, uh, you know, ruined everything.”

  “Because isn’t feeding wild animals supposed to be against the rules at Glacier?” Mel asked.

  Of course it was. There were signs everywhere: DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS.

  “Oh, the rangers know all about it,” Greg said. “There were three rangers here just a few nights ago. They were out there watching when the bears came. Didn’t say a word to me. And besides, they know we have no choice.”

  “About what?” Steve asked.

  “We have to dump our garbage out there. Because what else are we going to do with it? The park service gave me an incinerator back in June so we could burn our trash. But it was way too small. The thing broke after a few weeks. I kept asking for a new one. But they just ignored me.”

  “So the park service knows all about this?” Steve asked, a little too loudly. Mel gave him a little nudge. She didn’t want Greg to get suspicious.

  But Greg didn’t seem to notice. “Sure they know. This has been going on at the chalet for years. The tourists love it. And the rangers know that. I’m just keeping up the tradition.”

  They thanked Greg and went outside.

  They were barely out the door when Steve started to rant. He was seething with anger.

  “Did you hear that guy? Doesn’t he know how dangerous this is? They’re hurting the bears. And they’re going to get someone killed. The park service knows? This is crazy!”

  Mel’s own cheeks were burning, too. “How could he not realize how wrong this is?”

  Cassie shushed them. “We have to stay calm. We have more work to do.”

  She looked around.

  “It’s time to find that dump.”

  The dump was right where the mustache man had said it was, in the back of the chalet, down the steep, rocky hill.

  The big ditch was filled with bottles and cardboard boxes and cartons. The stink of rotting food rose up. It reminded Mel of the disgusting smell of Old Slim’s breath when he stuck his head through the window. The sight of the garbage made Mel queasy. So she looked down at the dirt instead … and saw something else.

  “Look!” she said. The dirt was covered with paw prints. They were everywhere.

  Steve knelt down. “Grizzly.”

  He studied an especially huge one. It was twice the size of his hand.

  “See how the toes are lined up straight,” he said, his finger hovering over the print. “That’s how you tell a grizzly print from a black bear’s. A black bear’s toes are curved, like an upside-down U. And look here —” He pointed to the five dots running across the very top of the print. “These indents are the tips of the claws.”

  “How many bears have been here?” Aunt Cassie asked.

  “It’s hard to tell without really studying the prints,”
Steve said. He peered around, then walked about ten yards to the side. “But it looks like at least five different adults, and some cubs.”

  They hiked down the grassy hill. Near the bottom, there was a small cooking grill and a fire pit. A sign said GRANITE PARK CAMPGROUND.

  They all stood there in shock.

  “They actually let people camp out here?” Mel asked, even though the answer was clear.

  “The grizzlies have to pass right through here on their way up to that dump,” Steve said.

  “This just gets crazier and crazier,” Cassie muttered, shaking her head.

  Thinking about it made Mel’s skin prickle with fear. A creeping uneasiness filled her chest.

  Granite Park really was in the middle of the nowhere. The closest road or ranger station was miles away. And Mel knew there were no phones way up here in the backcountry.

  If something happened — if someone got hurt — it would take a very long time for help to arrive.

  The sun dropped down behind the mountains, and the sky turned bright purple.

  They’d changed out of their sweaty clothes and were now in the dining room eating dinner. The sounds of happy chatter and clinking silverware rang out around them. But the mood at their table was grim. Mel picked at her bowl of beef stew. She pictured it sitting in the dump, covered in flies.

  They talked quietly about what they’d learned that day and who Cassie was planning to call once they got back to the cabin.

  “I’m pretty sure National Geographic is going to want the story,” she said.

  Mel could tell she was itching to get started. Pops had an old typewriter in the cabin, for writing letters. Cassie figured she could have the article finished within a few days. But then it would be at least two months before it was published, maybe more.

  Mel wished she could press a button and instantly send this story to people all over the world. But this was real life in 1967, not some science fiction story set a thousand years from now.

  The dining room was buzzing with excitement. There were about thirty people here, including a family with little kids. They’d overheard Greg talking about the even bigger crowd that would be there over the weekend. “Every room is booked,” he’d said. “We’ll have people out in the campground, too.”

  How many of those people were coming to see the grizzlies eat garbage?

  Mel didn’t want to know. Thinking about it made her nauseous.

  Dinner was winding down. The waitress brought them all fat slices of chocolate cake. But none of them took a bite.

  A woman at the next table stood up.

  “It’s time for our sing-along!” she exclaimed.

  People clapped and cheered.

  Steve turned to a man at the next table. “What’s happening?”

  “It’s a Granite Park tradition,” the man said. “Every night after dinner. There’s a sing-along.”

  Cassie groaned. “I have a voice like a screeching parrot.”

  Steve chuckled. “Bet you it’s better than mine.”

  The woman started to sing, and everyone quickly joined in.

  Row, row, row your boat …

  That song … the last time Mel had heard it was that night, in the car. The night of the accident.

  Mel broke out in a cold sweat. Her heart started to pound. She felt as if cold hands were gripping her throat. Everything around disappeared. Her mind seemed to snap.

  “I … I’ll be right back,” Mel stammered, pushing herself back from the table and hurrying away. She rushed out the door and into the night. She wasn’t thinking. She could barely see. She had no idea where she was going.

  She sprinted wildly through the darkness. She ran until the sound of the blood pounding in her ears was louder than the singing voices in her head.

  She collapsed into the grass, buried her face in her hands, and let the tears come pouring out.

  Slowly the spinning stopped. Mel sat for a minute, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She felt dazed, like she’d woken up from a nightmare. She remembered hearing that song, how the room had started to spin.

  This wasn’t the first time this had happened to her. That her panic had sent her on a wild sprint when something reminded her of the car accident.

  Once, at school, a teacher walked by and Mel caught a whiff of her spicy perfume — the same perfume that Mom always wore. Next thing Mel knew, she was a quarter mile from school, in the middle of a park. She had no idea how long she’d been there.

  Another time she was at the supermarket with Dad, and she heard an ambulance scream by. It sounded like the ambulance that had taken Mom away, after the crash. That time Mel wound up a block away, sitting on a curb behind a bakery.

  It always took a few minutes for Mel’s mind to really clear. And now she realized she’d better figure out where she was. Steve and Cassie must be looking everywhere for her.

  She was just standing up when she heard something. A low, gut-twisting growl.

  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  Mel froze, and then slowly looked around. Suddenly she knew exactly where this blind dash had taken her. She was at the back of the chalet, just a few yards away from the garbage dump.

  And just ahead, glowing in the moonlight, was an enormous grizzly.

  Mel wasn’t the only one who saw the grizzly.

  From somewhere behind her, back up the hill, Mel heard voices and clapping.

  “There’s a grizzly!” a man shouted. “The show’s about to start!”

  Flashlight beams lit up the bear, which was about twenty feet in front of Mel. Its eyes glowed green in the lights. And those eyes were drilling right into Mel. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe or blink.

  Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

  She just had to walk away, get back to the chalet. Like she had the other night at the cabin.

  But something about this grizzly kept Mel’s feet glued to the ground. It was coming toward her without making a sound. Its ears were pinned back.

  It was acting just like the sow that had attacked Steve. And Mel knew — in her bones — that this grizzly wasn’t going to just let her back away. It saw her as a threat.

  To its food.

  That ditch was right behind her. The air smelled of garbage mixed with fresh food. The workers had probably already dumped some of tonight’s leftovers — the bait, to get the grizzly to come for the “show.”

  The cheers and whoops were getting louder. People obviously had no idea Mel was down there. Their flashlights were pointed at the bear. The beams danced around, stabbing at the grizzly’s eyes. She had no doubt that the lights were making the grizzly even more furious.

  Stop! Mel wanted to scream.

  But she was afraid to make a sound.

  Her only hope was to drop down and play dead. She prayed the attack would be quick. She realized she had no pack strapped to her back. No thick hiking boots. Nothing to protect her but her light T-shirt and shorts. She thought of that scar on Steve’s leg.

  She had only seconds to decide what to do.

  Play dead, play dead, she told herself.

  But then she noticed a pine tree, in front of a big bush. She knew that grizzlies could climb. But most didn’t. Should she risk it?

  Before Mel knew what she was doing, she had kicked off her flip-flops and was sprinting toward the tree. The bear was just a few feet behind when Mel launched herself upward. She gripped a low branch, kicked her legs up, and swung them around.

  Too late. The grizzly was right there. With lightning speed, it rose up and swiped at Mel with its paw. Its claws stabbed into her thigh, ripping open her flesh. Mel gasped at the pain. But she managed to pull herself higher before the bear could knock her down with another swipe.

  Now the grizzly was even more enraged. The frail tree shook as the grizzly pounded against it with its paws.

  Graaaaaawrrrrr!

  Suddenly a man shouted, “Wait! There’s a girl in the tree!”

  The cheering and clappi
ng stopped. It became eerily silent. All Mel could hear was the bear’s low, hissing breaths.

  A woman shouted, “We need to help her!”

  And then …

  Crack!

  The branch snapped, and Mel fell into the darkness.

  Mel fell through the sharp pine branches. They scraped and stabbed her as her body twisted and turned. She grasped desperately for them. But the fragile twigs broke off in her hands.

  She landed with a jarring thud in the bushes, smacking her head hard on the ground.

  She shook off the pain and sat up.

  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  The bear was just feet away. She could see its glistening black nose, the gleaming points of its canine teeth. Mel braced for the feeling of claws slashing through her skin, jaws crunching down on her bones.

  She gripped a long, sharp branch that must have broken off as she was falling. She sat up and held it out in front of her. A ridiculous weapon, that little stick. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the grizzly had laughed.

  Mel heard something rustling in the bushes right in front of her. Probably some terrified squirrel.

  Voices echoed. “Mel! Mel! Where are you?”

  It was Cassie and Steve!

  The grizzly stepped toward her, its eyes burning with fury. Its muscles rippled under its shaggy fur.

  The rustling in the bushes got louder. And then Mel heard a strange new sound.

  Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack.

  Before Mel even knew what she was doing, she had pulled the stick back and jabbed it into the bushes. The stick hit something, something big and solid. And then that something leaped out of the bushes. It landed on the ground between Mel and the grizzly. Mel’s mouth fell open.

  It was a huge porcupine. Its quills stood straight up, like metal spears.

  The bear reared up onto its hind legs. It let out an earsplitting roar. Not of fury. The sound was high-pitched, ragged, almost a cry.

  The bear was afraid.

  The porcupine click, clack, click clacked, louder and faster.

  Mel’s heart thundered.

  In that moment, everything seemed to disappear. The voices shouting her name. The footsteps closing in. The flashlight beams getting closer and closer.