The Bear: A Novel Read online

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  To Dave, Ben, Max, Keith

  “There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”

  —The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Thornton Wilder

  Author’s Note

  In October of 1991, Raymond Jakubauskas and Carola Frehe pitched their tent on Bates Island on Lake Opeongo in Algonquin Park, nearly three thousand square miles of wilderness situated two hundred miles northeast of Toronto. The couple had planned to camp for a three-day weekend. When they failed to return on Monday, friends contacted the police. The partially eaten remains of Jakubauskas and Frehe were found on Wednesday. A large male black bear was standing guard over the prey.

  Both victims had died as a result of a broken neck from a blow to the head. To the extent that the events can be reconstructed, it appears that the couple arrived on the island, set up camp, and was preparing a meal when the attack occurred. Frehe was most likely the first to be assaulted. It seems that Jakubauskas attempted to fight off the bear with an oar, since a broken oar was discovered at the campsite and the bear later found to be responsible had long bruises on its body.

  In an article about the incident in the book The Best of the Raven, park naturalist Dan Strickland remembers the phone calls received after the attack. Many callers wanted to understand why the attack occurred. Strickland says that the bear had no signs of disease or other conditions that might drive it to attack humans. Menstruation, which is often thought to be a cause for bear interest in humans, did not play a role. The other question callers had was about the bear’s attraction to food. Although the couple had been cooking at the time of the attack, an untouched tray of ground beef was found at the campsite five days later. The couple’s cooking was not the main attraction.

  Why did this attack happen? In very rare instances, a black bear will prey on humans—and in these cases, the predator is usually a wild bear rather than a “garbage” bear, which scavenges around campsites and is familiar with humans. Jakubauskas and Frehe did not make mistakes in setting up their camp or do anything foolish once there. Since the bear was a large animal, weighing 308 pounds, it is difficult to say that they could have put up a better fight.

  There is no clear reason for what happened other than that a hungry bear decided to take a chance on a new source of food. What is most frightening about this explanation is the idea that there is no blame to place on either the people or the bear. Identifying fault can comfort us because it provides a way to isolate the circumstances of an incident from our own situation, ensuring that what happened to these people will not happen to us. But in this case there is no apparent rationale for the attack other than predation. The couple happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  In the summer of 1991 and 1992, I worked as a counselor at a summer camp in Algonquin Park, leading groups of teenagers on canoe trips that ranged from seven to fourteen days in duration. After the attack, I heard many stories and theories about what had happened on Bates Island—whispers around a campfire at night, all of us searching for the consolation of control, the comfort of story.

  The Bear is based on my memories of and research into this bear attack. I added the kids.

  —C.C.

  Part I

  Bates Island, Lake Opeongo,

  Algonquin Park, 1991

  1.

  I can hear the air going in and out of my brother’s nose. I am awake. He is two years old and almost three and he bugs me lots of times because I am five years old and soon I will be six but it is warm sleeping next to him. I call him Stick. He always falls asleep before me and I listen to the air of his nose. I can hear my parents’ voices. They are farther away than I can reach and whispering because they think I can’t hear. I let out a squeak to let Momma know I am awake and she says “We’re right here” from too far away. I squeak again and the tent zipper undoes and I can see the sky in the crack. Her cool hand brushes my hair back and her fingers touch my cheek. “Shh, Anna,” she says and the sky zips away again. When I am inside a tent the outside is far away.

  The tent is blue and sniffs like dust. My parents have a fire because it is the end of summer and they are cooking something too and not sharing with me. Bacon. I love bacon. My tummy rumbles and I want bacon but it will make Daddy mad. I sniff Gwen teddy bear instead. She is brown and smells like us. I hear the air whistle when it leaves Sticky’s nose. I feel nervous and I don’t know why. The night will be dark soon. And it might be the meat is making my tummy weird. When we were back at the cottage, Sticky was chewing on bacon and he shoved another in his mouth and another and another. When Momma saw she said “Chew your food” but Stick couldn’t chew because his mouth was all full. He started to go red and his eyes got watery and I thought he was crying. I said “Ha-ha Alex’s crying” and Momma came and thumped him. A ball of bacon came out of his mouth. Momma got Stick in trouble for not chewing and I looked at the meat. It had spit on it. I felt a barf in my mouth. And I didn’t eat that bacon ball but it’s making my tummy feel weird.

  The air is cold. I roll closer to Stick. His breath goes in my ear and it is warm. A little piece of light from the fire is having a dance on the side of the tent but only a little because it is not dark yet. There is no music except Stick’s nose air and still the light flicks and rolls on the side of the tent. I can’t sleep. I tuck Gwen under the covers so she isn’t cold and I creep over to the door. The zipper has teeth that grab onto my skin. I go slow so it doesn’t bite and I open it just a little bit so my face can be out. The carpet here is made of pine needles. They smell like the yellow bottle I use to help Momma clean the bathtub. There are prickle pine trees all around our camp. These are the ones that forgot the needles on the ground. The moon is going to switch with the sun and the moon will have a tail that shows up on the water. The water is not chop chop chop anymore. It sits quietly in the lake now because it is sleeping. Close to the water, really far away from me, I can see two shadows. I can hear from the whispers that it’s Momma and Daddy and they are laughing. Momma leans forward and I see a ponytail like a horse’s hanging down. Her face is smiling and I can see her teeth in a nice way. The only other thing I can see is Coleman.

  Coleman is green like grass and he is so heavy I can’t lift him up. We bring him on canoe trips to carry our food and keep it cold. And we use him so that bears can’t rob the food from us. Bears like our food if we let them and we don’t want to do that. So Coleman holds everything cool inside his body and has a metal tooth in the front that keeps him shut tight. He is really really big and a metal box. Stick and I can both fit inside him like when we play hide and seek at home. We can stay so quiet and hide in Coleman from Daddy and try to stop laughing with my hand on Stick’s mouth. When Coleman sits in the canoe he can’t fit across sideways and so Daddy needs to put him pointing to the front. Only Daddy can lift him up. When Coleman has to pee he has a little button at the side where I can push and his pee comes out and when I see it sometimes I pee too. Coleman is why we camped on the island because he is so heavy and big. The water was chop chop chop because the wind was whistling in my ears and Coleman makes the canoe go tippy. If we went down the path to the next lake
where we were supposed to camp then Daddy would have to carry Coleman and the canoe but Momma wanted to be here at the island to see the tail of the moon. Once I tried to pick Coleman up and I can’t.

  I whisper hello to Coleman and Daddy’s head turns away from the fire: “Back in the tent, Anna.”

  I stay still to make me dream.

  “Did you hear me?”

  I am awake.

  “Last time, okay?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Sleep tight.”

  I poke my head inside and Gwen missed me. She looks lonely and I tell her with my eyes that I am coming. I carefully take the zipper in my fingers. They feel furry in the tips and too tired to pull. Zipper will bite if I don’t watch out. I pull again and the zipper tries to get me between my thumb and pointy finger, the soft part that looks like it could be on a frog. I sit back and pull my hand away. The zipper must be hungry and so I will stay away. I grab Gwen and sniff and tuck her back into the sleeping bag.

  I lie on my back and snuggle and the fire is dancing more on the side of the tent because it is a little more blue and gray outside. I watch it and my eyes start to shut but I don’t want them to. Maybe if Stick is asleep then Momma will pluck me out of bed and feed me bacon. I want to ask out loud but my teeth are too fuzzy. My head is heavy like a rock. My eyes shut again and I peel them open. I hear a sniff. It might have been from Sticky’s nose but it sounded bigger than that. Stick’s nose must be growing and in the middle of the night it will hog all the air. Something moves on the side of the tent. I see some fluff beside the dancing fire and I think the fluff is Stick’s hair. He has escaped. It might be his little white head sneaking out for bacon. A few of his fluffy hairs are sticking up as a shadow just outside the tent. His nose whistles beside me so I know it’s not, but the hair stands up and I think it looks thicker. The hair stands there shaking like my fingers when I am hungry. I watch it and it moves forward only a very little, as slow as a snail. It would be a hairy snail and much bigger and that means it probably isn’t a snail anymore. And the bacon smells and my eyes fall down and now I can open them only a crack. I see the hair move and I think as my eye shuts how did Stick stay sleeping and sneak out of the tent for bacon at the same time?

  2.

  I hear Momma yelling and I keep my eyes closed. Dreams aren’t real. I know that because my momma doesn’t yell. She has a soft voice that looks like a lily that tastes like sugar cookies at Christmas when you don’t put the sprinkles on. We made cookies and I was allowed to use the shiny stamp to make an angel. The wings broke off in the oven and then we tried again and we got perfect angels with wings. Stick wanted to eat his before Momma put the sprinkles on. He cried because he couldn’t wait for sprinkles and thought we were just taking the cookie from him. Momma gave him the cookie and he ate it and I put icing on mine. Red and green icing and sprinkles even though they blinked like the sun when I held them up. I got done and wanted to save my cookie to show Daddy and put it on a plate. Stick started to cry. He wanted my cookie. Momma said no. Stick cried more. Stick loves cookies.

  Momma doesn’t yell about cookies and she doesn’t yell when I spill my glue on the carpet even though the glue was brand new and it was all gone. She says she only will yell if I am about to get hit by a bus. She says maybe sometimes people yell because things are hard but if you go past the things that are hard you can be very very strong. And now she is yelling. I open my eyes to see if a bus is coming. I will jump out of the way like a superhero, maybe one with a cape but maybe not. All I see is blue and I am lying on my side so it is hard to jump. The whole world looks blue and flappy. I give Gwen a hug and look at the flapping. It’s the tent in my face. Flap flap flap—it snaps and growls like a dragon. I better close my eyes so it isn’t so scary.

  I think of my house in Toronto because I wish I am there. I like the woods too. The pine needles taste like spicy gum and I climb on rocks. I can swim like a dog when I kick hard. And I like coming out into the park near our cottage in a canoe with marshmallows and graham crackers and chocolate that we smoosh together and Stick gets it stuck in his hair and hands. He is Stick because he always has sticky hands. He used to have them more like every time he touched me on the arm his hand would stick on me. And he also plays with sticks all the time. He chops me with them and he pretends that they are cars or trucks or guys. I said one day that he was a sticky stick and Momma and Daddy really laughed because there is one word and he is both of them. That is how he got the name Stick and Daddy lifts his shoulders and says it just stuck.

  Right now I like our house in Toronto more and it is brick and tall and skinny. My friend Jessica says hers is bigger. The kitchen is almost in the backyard where there is a tree that is the same age as me. We are growing thicker every year except it has more leaves and is way taller now. I want to catch up. There is a big long counter that I sit at to make cookies and eat cereal. Also Popsicles because in the backyard is where you go so they won’t drip. Sometimes I used to let my tongue melt it a little and let it drip into my tree. Now I don’t do that because the magic drip made the tree grow so fast that it is way bigger than me even though we are the same age. That’s why I like my kitchen but my favorite place in my house is my room. It has my puzzles and Lego and a carpet that tickles my feet. I go under the sheets with Gwen. We hide in bed when it is rainy outside the door or when I feel scared. I call and Daddy comes in to snuggle with me. He never talks. He gets into bed with mussy hair and wraps his arms around me. In the morning I wake up and he is gone.

  When you have a dream and it feels real it means you might pee the bed. That’s what Momma says. If I am having a bad dream she says I should get up and pee. The bathroom light is always on. But I remember the tent. That is what is blue and very flappy. Flap flap flap. Maybe I am dreaming that too. The most important thing that Momma says I have to remember is not to dream I am going pee before I get to the toilet. It’s not my fault but I have to remember. If I don’t remember and I dream that I am peeing then I really pee but not in the toilet. Then I wet the bed and the sheet that makes a crunchy sound like cereal needs to be hung in the backyard on a string so I can hide behind it like the curtain for a play. Go to the toilet. There is no toilet when we are camping. I don’t need to pee.

  And I don’t like the flap flap flap. I turn over and hug Gwen and snuggle into Stick and hope the sounds will go away. Momma screams like a monster is tackling her. That’s why I know it’s a dream so I should keep my eyes shut tight. It is dark behind my eyes. Momma never yells. Mostly not ever. Except sometimes.

  3.

  Even though my eyes are shut tight I can hear the rip of the zipper. I turn to look and see a crack of sky and it is really dark blue now and Daddy’s head is blocking most of it. He looks mad and I am in trouble. He is shouting and all I see is teeth. They are not very white teeth and big. He has pointy fangs and at the back he has even bigger teeth that are wide and look like they could be in a dinosaur’s head. Inside the middle of most of them is a piece of gold. That is where he keeps all our golden treasure so that it will be safe. If it is inside his mouth then no robber can sneak away with it. Or if a robber tries to take it in the night then he will also have to try to take Daddy’s teeth. That will wake Daddy up and he will chase the robber away. I duck down. Daddy scoops me up.

  Daddy is hugging me but it’s not a snuggle. It is hard and squeezy and my breath shoots out of my body. The sky shakes. I see a long arm that is like a claw but big and it is a tree branch with needles. Daddy is running and the running is shaking me. The yelling won’t stop. I see Gwen’s head jumping up and down. She is in my arm and she will let go if I don’t hang on so I pull her tighter and try to sniff but her head is wiggling too much. Daddy jerks me back and I see things scatter all over the ground and I think that Daddy is making a mess.

  Daddy moves away fast and I feel the ground go in my back. It is pointy and makes my breath go away. A pine needle pricks in the crack between my pj top and bottom. My pj p
ants are always falling down. I have to use my hand to pull them up at the back and sometimes when I am running it happens. Once a boy laughed and pointed because he said he saw my bum. He didn’t see my bum. Not the round part. Just the tippy top of the crack that peeks out from my pants. Momma says it’s my other-end smile. I like pants that stay on.

  I want to reach to get my pants up but Daddy grabs my ribs again. He throws me like he does into the water at the lake but there is not water. I hit my head. I scream and it hurts and Daddy is so mad he is yelling. Except he made the mess not me. Or Stick might have sneaked out and made the mess but Daddy is still yelling. He pushes me and I wonder if he is going to throw me into the lake. He does this sometimes but we aren’t supposed to play rough in the water. We have to be laughing and everyone needs to be happy if Daddy is going to let me stand on his shoulders and jump or if he is going to throw me in. When I do jump I am not scared. I plug my nose and go in and the noise stops. It is quiet under the water. There are bubbles that I see and no sharks. They don’t live in our lake. Only little fish that nibble at my toes if I stand really still and even that doesn’t hurt. When it is quiet and I see the bubbles I know it is time to go up and I let go of my nose. I kick my legs and come back up and find Daddy’s arm to hold me up. The noises push back in my ears.

  This time Daddy throws me and I don’t go in the water. There is something hard in my back and Daddy pushes at my stomach. It is not a game. We aren’t supposed to push so I tell him to stop and scream because he is screaming so many things that I don’t think he can hear me. He pushes again even though it is not allowed and it hurts my stomach this time so I curl into a ball around Gwen. He shoves me on the back and I feel the air rush around me. I hear a thump. Click.