Jason Gurley – The Man Who Ended the World

BookCoverTitle: The Man Who Ended the World

Author: Jason Gurley

ISBN: None, e-book only

Page count: No specific page count, e-book only

Genre: Science fiction

Price: $2.99

 

Author Bio:

Jason Gurley is the creator of the graphic novel Eleanor, and author of the novel The Man Who Ended the World. By day, he’s a creative director for a design firm in Portland, Oregon. He believes that Superman without the red undies isn’t really Superman, and that nobody has ever swung a better bat than Darryl Strawberry. He’s comfortable being relatively alone in these beliefs. Jason resides in the Pacific Northwest with his wife, Felicia, and daughter, Emma Purl.

 

Tell us about your book:

When Steven Glass’s third grade teacher asked his class what they wanted to be when they grew up, Steven’s classmates shouted the usual answers: “A fireman!” “A teacher!” “The President!” When his turn came, Steven said, “When I grow up I’m going to be the last man on Earth.”

Warning signs don’t come much clearer than that.

Nearly thirty years later, Steven Glass is a billionaire. Surrounded by groupies, yes-men, investment opportunities and glamour, all Steven really wants is to be alone.

Really, really alone.

In secret, Steven builds a personal sanctuary nearly a mile underground. He vanishes from public life, goes off the grid. He’s finally alone. Well, except for an artificial intelligence companion named after the only girl he ever loved.

There, Steven plays video games, heckles the news, and waits for the apocalypse. When the end doesn’t come soon enough, Steven goes to work. He still has billions of dollars to spend — and there must be something he can do to accelerate the coming storm.

Wrestling with his own destiny, unaware of the young stowaways who have discovered his underground paradise, and battling his duplicitous A.I. companion at every turn, Steven Glass struggles to create the reality he has always hoped for — at the expense of the future of every single living human being on Earth…

Unless a pair of eleven-year-old children can stop him and save the world, that is.

 

How long did it take to write the book?

Three weeks

 

What inspired you to write the book?

Initially, I had planned on writing a fast novel to submit to Amazon’s Breakthrough Novel competition. The idea, however, springs from a lifelong interest in the concept of the lonely, empty planet, and what it might be like to walk it alone. I’ve waited for a lifetime for post-apocalyptic stories to become of greater interest to audiences, and though now there may be too many of them, it seemed like a good time to tell an adventure story of my own.

 

Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?

I’ve been writing for years, and I would only write when inspiration struck. Sitting down daily to write wasn’t something that I did, and if I tried it, my work felt forced. But I’m a new dad, and I’ve got a new job, and my family and I have just moved to a new state, so there are any number of things that make it hard to write when inspiration strikes. This experience actually taught me a lot about writing whenever there was time. I would write after my wife and our new daughter went to sleep. I would write in the middle of the night when I should have been asleep. I would write early in the morning before work. I didn’t do much research, though, because the story is much more fun as a cautionary and high-concept tale. Research was something that I didn’t have a lot of time for, so I either wrote things I knew well, or imagined things that research wouldn’t have fed very much information into anyway.

 

What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?

An interest in more of my work, of course, but I wanted to tell a story about the determination of life, and how it surges to fill every gap it can find, no matter what the obstacles might be.

 

Where can we go to buy your book?

The Man Who Ended the World is available as an e-book on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/The-Man-Ended-World-ebook/dp/B00AZUEPII/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1357925097&sr=1-1), and will soon be available on the Nook, the Kobo reader, and in the iBooks store as well.

 

Any other links or info you’d like to share?

I also write and illustrate a graphic novel, Eleanor. This book is also available on Amazon, the Nook, the Kobo reader and in iBooks. It can also be read on the web at http://www.eleanorwitt.com/.

 

Excerpt from book:

Chapter 1

The Stranger

Henry is walking home from school when he first sees the man who will end the world.

There isn’t anything special about the man. He is of average height. His hair is brown. His eyes are brown. His posture is stooped, although so slightly one might not notice right away. He wears ordinary blue jeans, an ordinary blue T-shirt, and an ordinary blue windbreaker. His stride is perfectly normal, without any hiccups or interruptions. He walks with his hands swinging gently at his sides.

There is absolutely nothing noteworthy about the man.

But Henry shrugs his backpack a little higher on his shoulder, and stands with one hand in his pocket. He chews a little on his lip, and watches the man for a time.

The stranger looks through the window of Miss Peel’s book shop, lingers a moment, then pushes through the creaky old door and goes inside.

Henry finds an out-of-the-way spot behind a recycling bin and waits. Between the slats of the blinds that hang over the shop windows, he can see the man nosing around inside. The man walks slowly up one aisle and down another. He stops and picks up a paperback, turns it over, puts it back.

Henry thinks he should know the man, whose face is familiar in an unexceptional sort of way. A friend’s dad? A substitute teacher? Maybe he’s one of the school district’s bus drivers?

Abruptly the man heads for the door. Henry can hear Miss Peel call, Thank you, but the man doesn’t hear, or doesn’t care. Henry squishes himself against the metal bin as the man passes by, making himself as small as possible.

His inability to place the stranger’s face was a minor annoyance at first, but after watching the man for a few minutes, the annoyance has grown into a full-fledged, got-to-scratch-it itch.

So when the man comes to the end of the block, Henry hefts his backpack, slides both arms into its straps, and follows.

 

In a town like Bonns Harbor, with fewer than twenty thousand residents, Henry thinks it is strange that he cannot figure out who the stranger is. He doesn’t know that many people to begin with.

The man walks fifteen or twenty yards ahead of Henry, who suddenly worries about being detected. He ducks into every doorway on the block and peers around corners and windows at the stranger.

Sorry, he whispers when his behavior nearly topples a young woman’s baby stroller.

Please be careful, she replies, and Henry says, Shhh. The woman frowns at him. He darts around her, spies a parked Chevy pickup, and runs in a conspicuous crouch to hide behind its bumper. He exhales, counts to three, then leans over until he can see past the truck’s tailgate.

The woman with the stroller has ventured into an intersection. A Bonns Harbor Light and Power truck has stopped to allow her to cross. People bustle in and out of shops and across the street. The sound of small town life is almost pleasant. A dog barks, then barks again.

The stranger, however, has vanished.

Henry jumps up, giving away his location, but the man is nowhere in sight.

And then, just like that, the stranger reappears, straightening up and smoothing his ordinary blue jeans the way a man does when he’s just finished tying his shoe.

Henry drops to his knees and presses himself to the side of the pickup, breathing heavily. He makes a crackling sound with his mouth.

Krzhhhhkkkttk, he says into his hand. Agent almost detected, but subject seems unaware.

The stranger resumes his course through town, weaving left to examine store windows, veering right to avoid other pedestrians. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge them otherwise. There are no nods, and Henry can sort of tell from the man’s posture that he’s not smiling.

Some people you can just tell they’re not smiling.

Krzhhhtkk, he hisses. Subject in motion.

When the man has walked a reasonable distance ahead, Henry slides to his left, still flattening himself against the truck, and like water folds over the curves and corners of the truck until he is hunched over beside the passenger fender.

This makes him visible to the entire street, and a couple of people watch him, amused. But Henry pays no mind, at least until a yellow Volvo lumbers by. The tires crackle and seem to cough gravel. The driver notices Henry and leans on the horn. YOU SHOULDN’T PLAY IN THE STREET, the stern Volvo grille seems to say. Henry flaps his hands wildly at the driver to shush him.

The horn again.

BLEAAATTTT. DANGER, DANGER.

Henry snaps up and risks a peek over the roof of the Volvo to see if the stranger is looking his way.

The stranger is not. He’s just walking, farther ahead now, still slightly stooped, still drawing nobody’s attention. He hasn’t noticed Henry’s antics, or Henry at all.

Some people you can just tell they don’t notice things.

Krzzhhtkhhkk, Henry sighs. Subject is boring.

The Volvo swings past, the driver glaring down at Henry. But Henry pays him no mind, and trudges after the stranger again.

 

But the inattentive and ordinary man begins to take on a different air as he approaches the edge of downtown. In one horrifying moment, the stranger executes a sudden spin that catches Henry flat-footed in the middle of the sidewalk. The stranger looks this way and that, and Henry nearly pees himself.

But the stranger seems to look right through Henry.

The stranger’s shoulders relax, and his hands find his pockets, and he begins strolling up the street again.

Nobody notices eleven-year-old boys. They’re practically everywhere. They’re like trees, or red Jeeps, or discarded shoes.

Henry the spy is too shaken to radio in.

He lags back and follows at an even greater distance, too disturbed by the other man’s anti-spycraft moves to employ any flair. He lingers so far behind that the man becomes insect-sized on the street far ahead.

Henry pretends to look at the display in the game shop window, distracted a little by the little diorama that Glenn, the shop owner, has created. There’s a little Tyrannosaurus rex stomping through a tiny small town, tail precariously close to toppling a miniature water tower with BONNS HARBOR BEARCLAWS emblazoned on its side. Little toy cars and plastic figures scatter before the dinosaur, and red-and-yellow cellophane, lit with flickering LEDs, sets several small buildings ablaze.

He almost forgets his mission, and when he turns back to survey the street again, his heart sinks for a moment until he locates the man, surprisingly far away now, turning the corner at Harper Street.

The stranger is leaving the downtown strip behind, and heading for the neighborhoods near the railroad tracks.

 

For as long as Henry can remember, the junkyard at the edge of town has always been abandoned, its treasures secured behind a sheet metal gate strung up with heavy chains and a threatening lock. This is not to say that Henry has never been in the junkyard. Eleven-year-old boys are not thwarted by the trappings of grown-up security.

But this time, there’s no need for Henry to peel back the loose boards on the Silver Cloud Lane side of the junkyard. The stranger pats his pockets and produces a key, and to Henry’s amazement, unlocks the gate.

This is huge, Henry thinks. Someone bought the junkyard!

Henry cannot exactly say why this is huge, but events of such magnitude rarely happen in Bonns Harbor. The sale and purchase of a tired scrap yard rates very high for an eleven-year-old boy indeed.

He waits until the gate has closed again, and then he dashes to the Silver Cloud side of the property. The boards are still there, still loose, still forever damp and porous with rot. Henry doesn’t slip inside the junkyard just yet. For now, he pulls the boards back only enough to open a sightline, and he watches.

The yard is still populated with discarded automobiles and diseased washing machines and hollowed-out refrigerators and crumbling oil drums and twisted bumpers and even a soot-stained smokestack from an eighteen-wheeler. There are coiled and scarred springs the size of fire hydrants. Henry and his friends have played here enough times to know that some of the cars are brittle, the metal eaten nearly completely through by weather and rust, and with a careful swing, can be punched through with a baseball bat or a metal pipe.

The stranger drops a key back into his pocket, and strolls casually across the yard to one of those cars, a 1994 Chevy Corsica. The car, resting on top of a larger pile of assorted metallic junk, used to be wine-colored and now is just a husk of orange steel and bleached plastic. The windows are mostly knocked out, and broken bits of bluish diamonds are sprinkled in the window gutters and across the seats. Henry knows this because he and his friends were responsible for breaking those windows, as well as the windows of most of the other cars in the yard.

Henry watches, puzzled, as the stranger lifts the Corsica’s trunk. The lid groans and squeals, and the stranger winces. So does Henry.

Then, to Henry’s amazement, the stranger carefully steps onto the car’s bumper and climbs into the trunk.

And, with some effort, pulls the lid shut from the inside.

 

Henry yanks the boards back and runs into the yard, his concern at being discovered forgotten. The Corsica just sits there, not bothered at all by the human trapped in its bottom.

Henry bangs on the trunk with a flat palm. Hey, he says. Hey! Mister, are you alright? Can you hear me?

There’s no response from within.

I’ll open it up for you! he shouts.

The trunk is locked, so Henry looks around and spots a bent metal rod. He pushes one end into the space between the trunk and the bumper, and leans on the rod. But nothing happens. The trunk doesn’t budge.

For ten minutes Henry tries and fails to break into the car. He bangs on the car with his palms. Mister? he yells. I can’t get in. Are you alright in there?

As the sun goes down, he gives up and goes home.

He tells his father, who listens with an unimaginative stare, then tells Henry to wash up for dinner. After dinner there’s the singing show they always watch, and Henry briefly forgets all about the man who locked himself in the car until that night, when he’s just about to drift off to sleep.

Then it’s all he can think about all night long.

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Matt Posner and Jess C. Scott – Teen Guide to Sex and Relationships

Teen-Guide-coverTitle:  Teen Guide to Sex and Relationships

Author: Matt Posner and Jess C. Scott

ISBN:  1477411429

Page count:  250

Genre:  Young adult nonfiction

Price:  Paperback $13, ebook $2.99

 

Author Bio:

Matt Posner is a New York City schoolteacher, novelist, and performing poet. Jess C. Scott is a professional noncomformist who writes in many genres.

 

Tell us about your book:

Teen Guide to Sex and Relationships is an advice book for teenagers which explains the basis of friendship, love, and sexuality. It’s written from two points of view, with a male and a female author. We cover a wide variety of topics, with each author answering each question in a way we intend to be helpful, direct, practical, and honest to our own opinions based on our knowledge, experience, and research. Rather than trying to promote a particular religious or political agenda, we give our own genuine opinions.

 

teenguide_authorpixHow long did it take to write the book?

The book was Matt’s idea originally. He proposed co-authorship to Jess in Fall 2011 and the book was published in May 2012.

 

What inspired you to write the book?

Matt became aware that due to legal and other constraints, he could not give advice on these topics to students in the school where he works, even when he saw how badly the young people were in need of guidance in order to make wise and healthful choices for their lives.  A book on the topic would give him a chance to say what he wanted to say, and he wanted a female voice to balance and contrast with his own. After a long time thinking about the idea, he approached a past promotional partner, Jess C. Scott, to provide that female voice. Jess was immediately interested, and writing commenced from there.

 

Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?

We each made up a list of questions to answer. Initially, Matt handled the sex questions and Jess the relationship questions. Then we both answered all the questions and added more by mutual agreement as we went along. Each of us read through and commented each other’s text. The original author got the final say on how the text read, and we never argued on any point. Jess did the cover design and the formatting, while Matt managed the copyright. Most of the research we did was cumulative over years of study and life experience. We know a lot of young people, and we are well-read about both relationships and sex, and have our own separate experiences with it. We are both skilled researchers as well.

 

What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?

We want our young readers to come away with the ability to make choices for their lives that promote their physical and psychological health. There is a lot of misinformation out there about sex and relationships, and a lot of hearts are broken and a lot of lives harmed by misinformed or uninformed decision making. Any young person who makes a smarter choice because of this book validates our decision to write it.

 

Where can we go to buy your book?

The book is available at every online store in the U.S. Ebooks are at all retailers, and the paperbacks seem to sell well at both Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Through extended distribution we have sold paperbacks as far away as India! We don’t have paperback distribution to bookstores, but our paperbacks by CreateSpace are top quality!

 

Any other links or info you’d like to share?

Our blog:  http://teenguideqna.wordpress.com
Matt’s website:  http://schooloftheages.webs.com

Jess’ website:  http://www.jessink.com

 

Excerpt from book:

How can I tell if the person I have a crush on likes me back?

JESS:

I guess you’ll notice some changes in their behavior. It’s more obvious with some people and a little harder with those that are more careful about their body language and facial expressions.

The person is likely to show their interest in one way or another. They might start talking/messaging/texting you more often, asking more questions about you. They might smile at you more and just pay you more attention in general. They might laugh more around you or do something that comes across as awkward (these are also things they might be sub-consciously doing to get your attention).

The person might also start hanging out with your social circle or some of your friends (in order

to dig some info on you). You can also rely on your friends for info which your crush might not have told you (assuming your friends are trustworthy, and if they’re not, well, they never were your true friends anyway).

Some people take things slowly (they might want to get to know you better first), while others just jump right in and let you know that they’re interested in you. The bolder ones might just ask you out. If they do, congratulations!

 

MATT:

It’s very difficult to be normal with a person you have a crush on, but that’s probably what you have to do. Hang around, don’t show how strong your feelings are, just be friendly and casual, and see how that person responds to you. When I was young, my classmates always liked to back into relationships. It was necessary just to be in the area and pretend not to be interested until the other person decided you weren’t threatening. Your generation tends to socialize in groups, so maybe you can get a group of kids together and include the person you’re interested in.

The other way to find out if you have a chance is to find a friend to ask. I don’t recommend this, but sometimes it works. The person you have a crush on may not have thought about you that way, but might start to think about you differently if your friend asks the right way. The risk of this method is that teenagers are not always cool about this situation, and they will tend to make fun of someone who has strong emotions that aren’t returned. For this reason, you might not want to share how you feel until you know that you have built a strong friendship and that there is no one else that person is interested in.

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Charles Fetters – Grizzly

BookCoverImage[1]Title: Grizzly

Author: Charles Fetters

ISBN: 1468119192

Page count: 224

Genre: fiction/drama

Price: Paper back $15.00 Kindle $6.00

 

Author Bio:

Charles lives at the Head of the Great Lakes in Superior Wisconsin. He owns a home improvement business by day and writes his storys by night.

 

Tell us about your book:

Grizzly

After years of being bated with a cocktail of raspberries, growth hormones, and human body parts by a young, greedy and unscrupulous hunting guide.  These wild bears grow to a monstrous size and no longer understand their true role in the natural world. The largest male begins to wonder through the Northern sections of the Park, scaring the wits out of any human he meets.

The smell of human has for the past six years meant raspberries. When these humans refuse to give him the one thing he craves more than all else, his patients runs out. Some hikers and campers escape but those few who don’t, suffer a death so violent it terrorizes the first responders as well as Park management.

When the Chief Warden suffers this horrible fate then something has to be done with this Grizzly. They call in the Federal Wild Game Bounty Hunters.

These men are expert trackers and highly skilled hunters with vast knowledge of Bear activity and patterns. However, there is nothing normal about this bear.

After 24 hours the hunters realize this will be the most dangerous hunt of their lives. It soon becomes a battle for supremacy; the calculating human mind and their big guns against monstrous size, brute strength and absolute terror.

Man has not won every battle against Mother Nature. Can they win this one, or will this Patriarch successfully defend his territory?

 

How long did it take to write the book?

About 14 months plus several editings

 

What inspired you to write the book?

I enjoy telling storys with a bit of drama

 

Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?

I would write weekends and those evinings that I was not exhausted. I have lots of free time in the winter so I wrote the bulk of the story then. I researched the World Record Grizzly. Basicly, I Googled it. I used Google Maps to zoom in on Glacier National Park to get the perfect location for the setting.

 

What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?

Well I hope they put the book down thinking it was a good story, maybe a bit shocked at the ending. With enough possitive feedback I will write a sequel.

 

Where can we go to buy your book?

paper back: https://www.createspace.com/3753767

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Grizzly-ebook/dp/B00A5PK26M/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1353258944&sr=1-1&keywords=charles+fetters

 

Any other links or info you’d like to share?
An audio version will be coming out soon. I don’t have a link yet. You can watch for it on “I-Tunes.”

 

Excerpt from book:

The first officer looked at Warden Brandon and insisted, “give it up Warden, we are going in with you and we are wasting time.”

He reached over to his shoulder with his right hand and squeezed the radio mic. “112, 124.” A short pause then.

“Go ahead 24.”

“112; We have a situation at the Kintla Ranger Station. Possible man down, we are going in for an assist.”

“24; man down, affirmative. Do you need back-up?”

“112; no mam, we have a Warden.”

“24; clarify. Is this man civilian or officer.”

“112; Officer mam, Chief Warden Hayward.”

“24; Chief Warden Hayward, affirmative. Do you request an air lift?”

“112; Not yet, mam. It’s search and rescue as of now.”

“24; Affirmative, search and rescue. Keep me posted.”

“112; yes mam.”

Warden Brandon stood there in disbelief at their bravery or ignorance, but was very glad he wasn’t going in there alone. It would be well after dark if they had to go all the way to Flat Top Ridge.

As the officers retrieved their hiking gear out of the trunk of the cruiser, Brandon was preparing his gear as well. When they saw Brandon’s 50 caliper Remington they suddenly got the gist of what they were up against and rushed out to get the

only big guns they had with them, two 12 gauge pump shot

guns with slugs. They may not bring down a grizzly but they would certainly get its attention.

Two hours later they crested Flat Top Ridge.

Warden Brandon was surprised at the two officer’s physical  endurance. Nether man seemed to ever tier much, in fact the way they kept talking, it seemed like they had more energy than Joe himself. Maybe it was their training regiment, maybe it was nerves, Brandon didn’t know. Never-the-less, the Warden appreciated the fast pace they had set. It allowed them to reach the Ridge by twilight, making it unnecessary to use their flashlights-saving them for the trip back.

All three men came to an abrupt stop when they spotted the gruesome scene of Chief Warden Hayward’s remains. They quickly lowered their packs and pulled out their flashlights.

Shining the light on the horrible sight one officer whispered,

“Jesus Christ!”

The other spoke a little more loudly, “holy shit, look at this.”

Brandon was speechless. This was his boss and friend laying in peaces, spread out over the campsite. He had done his best to convince his boss not to come up here alone but he had insisted. Brandon thought of the man’s family, his wife and two teenage kids, that would now be on their own. Anger at himself started to boil within him.

“God Damn it!……….This is my fault. I should have insisted that I come here instead. At the very least I could have been at his side. He should have never been allowed to come here alone.”

One of the officers tried to console him, “there would just have been twice as many body parts to hall back. If a bear did this, it would have to be a big one. A big bear with a nasty attitude.”

The other officer spoke up, “a big bear that is wounded.”

He was shining his light on a track imprint in the trail. Three toes were missing and spots of fresh blood lined the print. This was the spot the bear had stood on his hind feet before the attack.

The other officer spoke in shock, “Look at the size of those tracks! That is one big fucking bear!”

Brandon stood there silent, his mind wrestling with guilt

and anger.

One of the officers asked him if he was going to be alright.

Brandon forced himself to snap out of his negative thoughts and come back to the task at hand.

“We need a helicopter to retrieve his body. Does the State have one available?”

“Yes we do, I’ll call it in.”

He reached to his left shoulder and squeezed the mic. on his radio.

“112-124 copy?”

“24; copy.”

“112; we need a recovery lift. Victim DOA.”

“24; is this victim Chief Warden Hayward?”

“112; affirmative.”

“24; chopper dispatched, please set GPS.”

“112; affirmative.”

“24; we have your GPS.”

“112; we have a PDS, (particularly dangerous situation,) will need lift for 3 officers as well, please prepare the chopper for the extra weight.”

“24; do you need back up?”

“112; no, we just need to get the hell out of here.”

“24; affirmative, chopper will handle the extra weight.”

“112; what is your ET?”

“24; ET in approximately 22 minutes.”

“112; affirmative, 22 minutes. Officer requests the chopper hit high gear. We have a wounded grizzly loose here in the dark. We may not make it 22 minutes.”

Suddenly there was a screech on the radio and other transmits could be heard but only for a second. This screech was a warning that went state wide. No one was to use the radio unless they too had an emergency.

“Rescue 1, go to Code 1, Code 1.”

They could hear the chopper pilot radio back.

“112; affirmative, code 1.”

“24; stay in radio contact at all times. Chopper ET, now in

approximately ten minutes.

“112; I’m not going anywhere, affirmative ten minutes.”

Code 1 genericly meant, “officer in trouble.” It would motivate responding officers to get to the scene as quickly as possible. The pilot and the EMT had reluctantly stood up from their TV show and began to move as soon as they heard the call. However, it was a different story when they heard Code 1. They would run to the chopper instead of walk and the emergency equipment would be prepared in-flight instead of pre-flight. The chopper engine would not be given a chance to warm up. Once at power it would lift and fly.

On Flat Top Ridge the three men were now moving closer to the horrible sight of Chief Hayward’s torn body. The bear had scattered body parts out a considerable distance. One leg was found more than a hundred feet away. The three men reluctantly began to pick up body parts and return them to the torso. This would make it easier when the recovery chopper arrived. The entire mess would have to be put in a body bag for transport.

Warden Brandon bent down to straighten the torso. He rolled the Chief over onto his back as the officers placed the leg and arms next to it. His intestines were spread out for some distance and in many peaces. The smell was horrendous but Brandon placed them back the best he could. Tears dripped off his cheeks as he worked to give the body as much dignity as possible.

One officer stood up and began to take his gloves off.

“Do you hear that?”

The other two men looked at him with surprise.

“No…..what?”

“That’s just it. There is no sound at all except for our breathing.”

Brandon and the other officer stood taking their gloves off as well. Brandon could not remember ever hearing the forest so quiet. Once his gloves were off, he bent down and retrieved

his light and riffle. Both officers brought their shot guns up to a ready position and released the keeper strap on their pistols.

Nothing moved, absolute silence. The stillness seemed to

give one a sense of claustrophobia in the near darkness of the evening. They were all now shining their lights in different directions. Each man fighting the urge to panic.

One officer shined his light at his watch and spoke quietly, “ET approximately six minutes.”

Quoting Gordon Lightfoot’s “Edmond Fitzgerald,” Brandon spoke softly, “where does the love of God go when the minutes turn to hours?”

Just then the other officer whispered with shock in his voice, “look!”

The other two men turned to see what direction he was looking at, then shined their light at the same place. What they saw was the most frighting sight ether of them had ever seen. It was like a shocking scene from a horror movie. Two large green eyes reflecting the light stood out between two huge tree trunks. It was to fare away to make out anything but the eyes with their flashlights.

One officer whispered, “what the fuck is that?”

Brandon spoke, returning his whisper, “grizzly!”

The officer that noticed it first spoke, “shit, now what do we do?”

Brandon said quietly, “keep your lights on it at all times and don’t move. What ever you do, do not panic.”

“If this thing attacks, whats my best shot?”

Brandon answered, “aim for the neck. A head shot will only piss him off. Try to break his neck.”

“Okay.”

The other officer asked, “is that my heart beat or is that the chopper?”

Everyone listened closely.

After several seconds Brandon spoke up, “I think that is the chopper but he is at a distance yet. We have another problem guys.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I forgot to set the flares.”

“You have flares?”

“Yea, but I need to get over to the trail so they know where

to drop the basket.”

“Shit!”

The other officer said, “set them, we will cover you.”

“Yea, do it, do it now.”

“Okay, but warn me if he moves at all and keep those lights on him at all times.”

“Affirmative.”

Brandon started moving to his left keeping his light on those eyes the best he could. His riffle was at his shoulder pointing the same direction as his light. After several steps he had to shine his light at the trail to find his pack. Once located the light went straight back to the bear.

Finally he reached the pack and bent down to open it.

Both officers began screaming then two shots rang out. The loud concussion of the 12 gauge shots, in the silence of the evening, scared the charging bear and Brandon got his light on it just as it disappeared back into the forest.

One officer spoke up, “that was no bear, that was a fucking  dinosaur.”

The other officer stated, “I never seen an animal that large before. He must be 3000 pounds.”

Brandon grabbed four flares and dropped his pack then shined his light back to the woods just in time to see the bear making another charge.

He screamed, “here he comes again.”

Both officers pumped in fresh shells and fired at what looked like a moving shadow. This time however, the bear didn’t back off. He stopped right in front of both men, his front legs spread wide and his jaw snapping together in an aggressive act for supremacy.

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