Free Untraceable by S. R. Johannes Page B

this crap anyways? We got guns.” His lisp is magnified in the still evening air.
    Al stops whistling but keeps a steady rhythm with his knife. “You never know when we might need ’em. Them creatures is unpredictable.”
    “Yeah, but bear spray? Seems like that’s for a buncha sissies.”
    I roll my eyes. It’s hard to take these idiots seriously. Some men drink from the fountain of knowledge.
    Obviously, these guys only gargle.
    Or maybe they’re just plain parched.
    Al chuckles. “Got it off one of those bear-huggin’ sites. Wanted to be sure we were prepared to dance.”
    Billy reads the label aloud. “Bear Smart. Repels bears in a non-toxic, non-lethal manner. This pepper spray will not permanently injure the bear or the outdoorsman. Holster is also available.”
    I smile thinking of how many times people end up hurting themselves by spraying into the wind.
    Al opens one side of his hunting vest, revealing a gun. “I got me a holster right here.”
    I only get a glimpse, but from the shape of the handle and length of the barrel, it appears to be some kind of .44 Magnum. All those hours of watching Dad polish his antique gun collection might finally come in handy.
    Billy loads another bag. “Where we huntin’ this time? Some place new, I hope.”
    “Doesn’t matter. Everything’s under control. We don’t need to be afraid of none of those forest cops this time.”
    Forest cops? Wildlife officers, game wardens, and park rangers are often referred to as forest cops around here. Hard to tell the difference unless you know the uniform or what each person actually does.
    My brain shuts down, and my ears buzz as if a swarm of bees is trapped inside my head. Their voices sound all nasally and distorted, like a McDonald’s drive-in operator. I jerk out of my daze and quickly note the coordinates on my GPS watch. When I spin around to leave, my head is so jumbled, I forget about staying quiet and step into a pile of dead leaves and twigs. A horde of birds explodes from the bushes around me. I stop and look back to see if the two men heard me.
    “What was that?” Billy grabs his rifle. From the size and color, I’d guess it’s probably a Winchester or a Colt.
    Al glances in my direction and slips a hand into his vest. “I dunno. Let’s check it out.”
    Billy’s voice quivers as he stares off into the trees, his gun cocked. “Maybe it’s that friggin’ bear again. Feels like he’s huntin’ us sometimes.”
    Al slides out his pistol and storms in my direction. “I got me a weird feeling about this.”
    Without too quick of a movement, I slowly slink to the ground and press my body against the earth. Keeping my eyes down, I spy on the men, hoping they don’t investigate my location too closely. I bury my face in the leaves. As footsteps pound toward me, I suck in my breath and breathe shallow so they can’t hear the oxygen filling my lungs. The loud crunching of Al’s shoes gets closer and closer. He stops on the other side of the bush and rattles the branches directly above me.
    Billy whispers from further away. “See anything?”
    Al kicks his foot into the roots, stirring up some dirt and leaves. A gritty cloud of dust particles billows around me. My nose twitches as I fight against the urge to sneeze.
    Unfortunately for me, I lose.
    Al’s voice hisses above me as he leans over the line of bushes. “Well, well, well. What we got here?”
     
     

Survival Skill #12
     
     

To fend off a predator, always target the most sensitive spot.
     

     
    I lift my eyes and stare at the dirty pair of boots in front of me. My eyes trace up two tan pant legs until they settle in on Al’s pitted face.
    He motions with his gun as if it’s a pointer. “Get up.”
    My mind circles through different reasons on how to explain why I’m lying on the floor several few yards away from their camp. “Sorry, guys. I was just hiking through.”
    Al must sense I’m lying, because his eyes narrow and a smile