Kill the Bear

“What one man can do – another can do!”

He stared at me, a crazed look clouding his blue eyes, his three-day growth of gray beard miniature spikes that brought my attention back to the five-foot wooden spear I’d sharpened earlier.

He’d gone insane, I realized. But then, Charles’ form of insanity was antithetical to most men’s. He became even more rational. How else does one acquire a billion dollars and keep it in this modern world of ours?

I mumbled the phrase back to him, and probed the tip of my spear with a thumb.

“Louder!” he barked.

“What one man can do …”

“Louder!”

I stopped and stared at him, five feet away, ragged, weary, as sleep-deprived as me, still in shock from Steve’s death. We had no sleep last night, not wanting to wind up like that, and, to be honest, I thought a lot about my own death. My own impending death, by all signs and appearances. It’s kinda wild, but I think I was okay with it.

“Louder!”

“What one man can do, another can do.” It sounded loud, to me.

“Louder!”

The spear twirled in my hands. For an instant, I actually thought I was going to stab Charles. But no, my jaw clenched, and something fell over me, but it wasn’t aimed at Charles, so much as through him.

“What one man can do, another can do!” I bellowed full-blast out of lungs.

I no longer felt the cold, the ever-present and all-encompassing Alaskan cold. Anger enveloped me. Charles saw that, too, and liked it. He must’ve been worried that I’d given up at some point during the night, and I did. I wanted to die. Not like Steve, but the way I always envisioned: massive coronary, painful but I wouldn’t had felt it due to the cocaine and alcohol overload, naked beneath a big-breasted blonde. A chick that looked a lot like Charles’ wife, but that’s another story.

“Say it again!” Charles commanded, spittle flying in all directions.

Blood boiling and chest pounding, I leapt to my feet, clenching my hands white and tight around the spear. I was pissed off, more than I’d ever been in my life. The whole thing – it wasn’t fair! Wasn’t fair – why me? The plane crash days and days ago, the cold, finger-numbing cold, the walking in circles, the helicopter that didn't see us, oh God the hunger! And Steve – and – and –

“Bob! Say it louder!”

“WHAT ONE MAN CAN DO – ANOTHER CAN DO!”

Charles snarled a laugh, his immaculately white teeth like a little dog’s crowding the grimace, and raised his own spear high above his head. The blazing bonfire cast demonic crimson hues upon him. “And what are we going to do?”

I reached out and clasped his arm, tight, and brought him to me, eye to eye.

“We’re going to kill that f---ing bear.”

And do something extraordinary …