On all fours he clambered across the rock, through the bloody remains of a seal, heading for the sluice that funneled the water away. To his left an ice wall blocked his escape-but the slushing sound of water behind him told him the bear had hauled itself clear and was within lunging distance. Max dived into the sluice and sensed rather than felt the power of the polar bear as he heard it bellow, its paw slashing through the air, missing Max but connecting with the ice wall. It sounded like someone scraping their fingernails down a blackboard.
He had missed savage injury and certain death by seconds, but if he stayed in this fast-moving watercourse he would be swept away into the plunging water that disappeared at the end of the rock cave, forty meters away. He flung out his arm, caught hold of something cold and hard. Steel. The edge of a steel cage.
There was no more strength in him. To hold fast against that flow and haul himself over the rim of the channel into the cage was beyond him. Better to die now. Just let go and die. It was so easy.
Sayid’s face looked up at him from the back of the taxi taking him to the airport at Biarritz. That was the last time he had seen his friend. It was like being punched in the stomach-his friend needed him. That was why Max was here! Right now he didn’t care about a crazy man causing devastation. He wanted to save his friend. But first he had to survive.
Max tightened his grip. He wouldn’t give up, but the effort needed was still too much-and then nature took a hand. The water twisted him; he floundered, kept his grip on the steel bar, but he was now belly down, facing the surging water. He couldn’t breathe.
It happened so quickly that the thoughts were barely formed when the force of the water slammed against his backpack, still strapped on his chest, and threw him upwards with the force of the current. It gave him an instant to twist and fall onto the straw floor of the cage whose steel bars he had clung to.
He lay still, the prickly straw making no impression on his frozen body. A blue tinge covered his skin, like the beginning of a bruise. But he was alive. The white noise of the sloshing water seemed like a lullaby. No longer a threat, it offered a soothing comfort to his battered body. The other sound he did not understand-a persistent, desperate scratching.
The alarm bell that rang loud and clear was in his head. He needed warmth and food. His body was desperate for sugar and carbohydrates. The deep straw stank of stale animal smells but he would have happily burrowed deeply and slept. Instead he forced his painful, trembling limbs to stand and undo his backpack. Everything was still dry. He plunged his arms down into the bag, fingers searching for the energy and chocolate bar he knew he had tucked away. He tore off the wrapper with his teeth and shoved the contents into his mouth. He pulled out the dry clothes, but he needed to get his circulation going first, to rub warmth into his skin. There was a pile of sacks tacked against the far wall beyond the cage doors. He pushed. The cage was bolted. Max reached through the bars. The bolt was jammed; the damp air had set it fast. He tried to wriggle the bolt’s handle but it barely moved. If he tried to hammer it with the heel of his hand he’d cause damage to himself. Removing one of his sodden trainers, he slipped his hand inside and used it as a buffer for his fist.
Then he realized what the scraping sound was.
The polar bear was on its hind legs, standing full height on the other side of the ice wall-there were no cage bars between Max and the bear’s enclosure. It was scraping furiously to reach him. And those giant claws were rapidly destroying the half-meter-thick wall.
Max still lacked strength, but the urgency drove him to hit the stubborn bolt as hard as he could. The impact ran through his wrist into his forearm and shoulder, but that was the strongest way to deliver a blow.
The ice wall gave way. A hole crumbled open, big enough for the bear to get his paw and shoulder through. He grunted and snorted and seemed to relish the effort of reaching his meal. Max did his own grunting as he thumped away at the rusting bolt.
He could smell the bear now. Its breath plumed rapidly, its head forced farther through the hole. It retreated for a few seconds, scraping more ice, then, clambering like a giant teddy bear, its back claws found more purchase to force its body through.
Max felt the bolt give. He yelled as loud as he could, forcing the energy into the strike, and hit it again. It was enough. Pushing his shoulder against the cage door, he fell clear. The bear burst through the ice wall like a stuntman jumping through a fake window in a movie. Ice particles shattered; the bear stumbled, then was on all fours and came at Max.
Max shouted at the bear. “Not today! Not today!” And laughed crazily as the bear pressed itself against the iron-fronted gate that Max had just managed to close. He slumped barely a couple of meters from the frustrated, growling bear, repeating this mantra the only thing his mind seemed capable of doing. “Not today. No, not today. No thanks, not today. I’m not on the menu today.”
Fear finally released its grip on him, but the cold did not. He was worn down beyond anything he had ever experienced. He shuddered and felt a wave of relief. Tears stung his eyes. He had been so frightened, so scared. There was no shame in being human. A vulnerable human being. Dad. Oh, Dad, I was so bloody terrified. He couldn’t stop his body racking from huge sobs. The terror needed an escape route and found its release through tears.
Max took a couple of deep breaths. He was all right now. He blew the snot and spit away. He sighed. He was OK. He was OK! What a sight he must look. Exhausted, sitting on the cold floor, his boxer shorts halfway down his backside, one shoe on, one shoe off, hair matted with bits of smelly straw, his skin blue and raised in goosebumps, and a monster of a polar bear fancying him for dinner.
His ears still hurt from the cold-water ride; the sounds of the gushing sluice and the bear’s short, sharp grunts and growls were muted. Better that way. A bit of peace and quiet was exactly what he needed right now.
Max grabbed one of the empty sacks and rubbed the coarse burlap all over his body. He had to get warm, get his core body heat back up. At last he felt the blood prickle his skin-it hurt, pins and needles-but then came the satisfying comfort and warmth as his circulation returned. In between getting dressed he shoved every bit of food he could find into his mouth. The stale crisps and bottled water from the abandoned van followed the energy bar. Now he felt alive. His trainers were still wet but the dry socks and clothes made him feel one hundred percent better-which, given his condition, wasn’t as great as it sounded.
Max looked around him. This huge hall was more utilitarian, like a massive holding area. Empty steel cages, maybe twenty or more, lined the wall where the polar bear still paced. Lifeless machinery, wooden pallets and a forklift, sacks filled with salt. So that was why some of his cuts and bruises were stinging. They must use salt in the polar bear’s pool. And there was the way out! A mechanical hoist rose up between the empty cages, its platform open, big enough to roll a forklift onto, and obviously used for bringing anything heavy down below, like the machinery and all those sacks.
Then he heard a sound from one of the cages just beyond the hoist. It was a voice. Someone was weakly crying for help.
“Sayid?” Max called as he ran past a couple of empty cages until he came to where the whimpering emanated from.
The cage was locked and straw covered the floor. A man’s body lay curled next to the bars, his face badly bruised and covered in stubble and dirt. His eyes sought out Max’s, his hands raised, pleading for help.