A/N: Chapter 10, double-digits! Valve owns Left 4 Dead and a castle made of money. I own this story. Happy reading!
I refused to relax until the bear was dead.
I was having trouble sleeping that night. Sure, I was tired, and I usually sleep like a rock (Hey, I slept through a helicopter crashing into the woods less than a mile from The Cabin. You draw your own conclusions.) But my worries just came back to haunt me like the little bastards they were. Call it a primal fear, but something in me didn't like the idea of a zombie-bear crashing around outside, just waiting for an opportunity. I considered sleeping in the nuclear bunker downstairs, but it freaked out Den to be in windowless spaces, so I decided against it.
I gave up on the idea of sleep, eventually, and got up, opening the door to the main room.
Denver, to my surprise, was awake, instead of being curled up on the Hideous Floral Couch (His favorite spot) and was, instead, pacing in front of the door to the outside, growling.
I'd long ago gotten used to his odd habits. The fact that he curled up when he slept, or that he ran and pounced on all fours, and chased miscellaneous small squeaky things, I chalked up to permanent damage from the virus; (How exactly it'd done it, I have no damn idea) The fact that he could run faster and jump higher than me this way was a factor in why I didn't bug him over it.
Still, seeing him like that was a pretty disconcerting sight.
"Den?" I asked, calling quietly. He stopped at the sound of my voice, but didn't move from his vigil.
I sighed. "Den, the bear's not here. I pretty damn sure of that. It's OK." I said, trying to reassure him, as much as myself.
He stayed where he was, and his silence told me he was still worried. I left him be, stoking the dying embers of the fire and throwing on a couple of logs, and sitting back against the Hideous Floral Couch, hugging my knees against a shiver that ran down them, despite the warmth of the fire.
Where was the dead-mode when I needed it?
Denver came up to my side, silently, and sat next to me. Then, he did something that he hadn't done in awhile; He leaned against me, actually settling close to me.
He'd done this before, this close contact; When the initial awkwardness was over, and I stopped nearly shooting him every time he jumped, he'd tried it, when I was reading to him. I'd push him away, feeling embarrassed, and too close for comfort, and he'd eventually gotten the message and kept his distance.
Now, though, I welcomed it. Maybe it was my fear. Maybe it was the fact I hadn't had any (real) human contact in a month. Whatever it was, I felt strongly comforted with him against me, like this. I calmed down, by degrees.
It calmed Den down, too; His stiff muscles relaxed, and his breathing evened out. In the moment, it was just the two of us; nothing between, and no other sounds or thoughts. It was a moment of peace in the night, before the storm in the morning.
It was Denver that eventually broke the silence.
"Mar." he said, quietly. He knew my full name, but still called me 'Mar' out of habit every now and then. "I'm…"
"Scared?" I replied, finishing his thoughts for him. I felt him nod, against my shoulder.
"I am, too." I admitted. "But you know what?" I said, my fear slipping away a little bit.
"We'll kick some ass in the morning."
Even as I drifted off to sleep, my vision blurring, the fire dying, and his breathing gentle, I could see the ghost of a smile on his face.
Wake up against the couch.
My eyes are shut, but I know Marcy isn't there; I can still smell her a bit, on my clothes, but I don't feel her anymore.
I get up and stretch. Wake my legs up, so I can pounce.
Feel the worry in my stomach again. Worry about what will happen.
/Hunter rival prey run/
"Hey, you're up."
Turn to the sound of her voice. The worry feeling goes away a little bit, but then I see the big-scary-gun-thing on the table.
/'Grabbin' a hunting rifle'/
Go up to the table with the big-scary-gun-thing. She nods at me, and makes a shhkkshk sound with the gun. "Though I'd wait until you were awake." She says. "Once it's in the trap, it should be a pretty easy cleanup, though it's good to have backup."
Yes. May head says. I don't want you to get hurt.
I don't say it, though. I just go to the outside-door and wait.
"No breakfast?" she says, smelling confused. I shake my head. The worry-feeling in my stomach is too much for food.
Now she smells anxious. Not as much as yesterday. Right now, she smells more like protect-home and kill rival.
It is a scary smell.
I liked it better last night, when she smelled relaxed and happy and one other smell I'm not sure what is.
Scary-smelling Mar is opening the door, and I follow her out.
It rained a little bit, so the air smells like water and dirt. "Can you catch any scents?" She asks.
Shake head. Stupid rain! It washed away lots of scent from yesterday. Marcy is smart. She remembers the trail from yesterday.
The wind is blowing at us, and it still smells like water. I don't smell the bear until we see it.
Marcy showed me a picture of a bear, once. It was a big-black thing, and it was on a tree. It didn't smell like anything, which confused me.
The bear in the trap-thing looks like the picture-bear, but much bigger. It smells, too. It smells like blood and prey, but mostly it smells like sick, and sad, and hurt.
Marcy breathes in, quick, but I don't think the bear can move. It just sits there.
It smells very very sick. Like me-sick, but much stronger.
It's breathing, hard, and it isn't moving much; it has its leg in the trap thing, but doesn't try to get away.
Hurt. Not a rival-smell, or a big-angry smell like before, but just sick. Pain. Hurt. Death.
It reminds me of something.
Marcy takes off the gun-thing. "Poor bugger." She says, looking at the bear.
"I thought I'd be bigger…" she says, quieter this time, and she holds up the gun-thing to her face.
The worry-feeling is sharper now, and I feel very scared.
Growl a little bit. Don't like the gun-thing.
"You don't have to watch, if you don't want to." She says, smelling a little sad, even over the smell of bear.
She waits while I run. Run run run. Far-leaps, long-jumps, get away from the smell of sick, and rival, of smoke and fire…
I get to the place with the claw-marks. Stop there. Breathe hard, chest is all thumpy, scared in my stomach, in my head, everywhere…
I still hear the bang behind me, and it hurts my ears a little bit.
Jump at the sound, then relax. It's over. I think.
Chest stops thumping, the worry goes away. Nothing to hurt us now. Safe.
Wait there a little bit. Don't want to worry Marcy too much, so I sit there. Smell some of the claw marks. Very old, so not much smell.
Wait.
Stop.
New claw-mark here. Smell is very strong. Very fresh. Just this morning. Smells like the blood-place.
/Rival hunter run angry sick attack run/
Doesn't smell like the trapped bear. Not right. Different.
I could have sworn it'd be bigger…
Bear in trap smelled… male. Not like this.
Claw-mark smells…female. Like Mar.
There's more than one bear. My head says. I smell the trail; It smells like water, but under it is the she-bear smell, back to where Mar is…
/RUN pounce chase rival HUNT angry FIGHT/
I listen.
A/N: Stuff is going down. I hate to leave you on a cliffhanger, so I'll post the next chapter within the next couple of days. We're getting near the end, so hang in there!
Thanks for reading, please leave a review. Fav/follow if you liked it, and recommend it to your friends, neighbors, pets, co-workers, and elderly members of your family. (Actually, no, not the last one. Marcy's cursing might send them into shock) See ya next chapter!
-Author