Grizzly Trap Read online

  GRIZZLY TRAP

  Slowly the bear turned its head in our direction.

  Please don’t let it see us! I prayed.

  But it was too late. The grizzly was looking right at us. Its little piggy eyes locked with mine. Lifting its upper lip, it bared its teeth and made a loud blowing sound. Then it rose up on its hind legs, water pouring out of its fur, and let out a fearsome roar, halfway between the bark of a dog and the bellow of a bull.

  We were dead meat.

  Puffin Books

  Also by Justin D’Ath

  Extreme Adventures:

  (can be read in any order)

  Crocodile Attack

  Bushfire Rescue

  Shark Bait

  Scorpion Sting

  Spider Bite

  Man Eater

  Killer Whale

  Anaconda Ambush

  Coming soon: Devil Danger

  The Skyflower

  Gold Fever

  Topsy Turvy

  Snowman Magic

  www.justindath.com

  Puffin Books

  For my editor Tegan Morrison, with thanks

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Penguin Group (Australia), 2009

  Text copyright © Justin D’Ath, 2009

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  ISBN: 978-1-74-228513-9

  puffin.com.au

  1

  ATTACKED BY A GRIZZLY

  ‘If you get attacked by a grizzly,’ E.J. said, ‘lie face down on the ground and cover your head.’

  ‘Won’t it eat you?’ asked Sally.

  ‘Depends how mad it is,’ the American cub scout said. ‘Sometimes they lose interest if the person plays dead.’

  We were on our way to an international cub scout Camporee in the Rocky Mountains. E.J. and his dad had collected us from the airport in a minibus that belonged to the Bobcat Creek Scout Group. For the rest of us in the vehicle – six Australian cub scouts and their two leaders (Mum and me) – it was our first ever trip to the USA.

  ‘What if it doesn’t lose interest?’ Guy asked.

  E.J. paused while his father swung the minibus around a steep hairpin bend. ‘Grizzlies hardly ever eat a whole person,’ he said. ‘But you might lose a hand or an ear, or part of your butt cheek if he’s hungry – grizzlies especially like butt cheeks.’

  ‘Gross!’ said someone down the back.

  Guy was staring wide-eyed into the steep, forested canyon below us, as if every tree concealed a hungry bear. ‘Wouldn’t it be better just to run away?’

  ‘Only if you’re an Olympic track star,’ E.J. said. ‘Grizzlies can run thirty-five miles an hour.’

  ‘What’s that in kilometres?’ asked Joel in the seat next to mine.

  E.J. sniggered. ‘Faster than any of you guys could run, that’s for sure.’

  I looked around the bumping, swaying bus at all the white-faced Australian cub scouts. Even Mum looked nervous, and she was our pack leader – Akela, the wolf.

  ‘I’ve heard there aren’t many wild grizzlies left in the United States,’ I said, trying not to look nervous. As Akela’s helper, my leader name was Baloo – the bear!

  ‘Are you kidding?’ laughed E.J. ‘Last time they did a count, there were over a hundred wild grizzlies in this stretch of the Rockies.’

  Normally I get on well with people. Even if something about them annoys me, I make an effort to be friendly. But E.J. was starting to get under my skin. With all his talk about grizzlies, no one would want to leave the bus when we reached Glass Mountain National Park, much less spend the next five nights in a tent.

  ‘Have you earned your Dunny Badge yet, E.J.?’ I asked.

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘What’s a Dunny Badge?’

  ‘I’ll show you when we get to camp.’ I grinned.

  It was the last time I would grin for a long, long time.

  E.J. was sitting directly behind me. I’d twisted around in my seat to speak to him, so I didn’t see what the others saw. But I saw their faces: suddenly everyone’s eyes nearly doubled in size.

  ‘MOOSE!’ cried Guy.

  I had never seen a wild moose before, and I didn’t see this one. Things happened too fast. There was the shrill blast of the bus’s horn and a squeal of brakes, then the world seemed to tip sideways. My seatbelt pulled one way, gravity pulled the other. The pen from my shirt pocket shot up and hit me on the chin. A map book went sliding up the window next to Joel. Two sleeping-bags and a bottle of raspberry cordial bounced across the ceiling.

  Then – CRUNCH! – a silver spray of raindrops exploded through the bus.

  That’s when my brain finally kicked into action.

  Those aren’t raindrops, said a little voice in my head, they’re bits of glass from a broken window.

  We’d had an accident. A moose had run in front of the bus, and Mr Johnson had swerved to avoid it. But he’d gone off the road. Trees flashed past the windows, then sky, then more trees, then sky again. The bus was tumbling, like a rolling log, down the steep side of the canyon.

  I remembered how far it was down to the river. And how the final fifty metres was a vertical rocky cliff.

  We were all going to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!

  THUMP!

  2

  D-D-DEAD

  Everything was upside down. I was upside down. Joel beside me was upside down. The bus was upside down. Dust swirled in through the broken windows. Outside, I could see rocks and grass and pine needles. There was a strong smell of raspberries.

  ‘Everyone stay where you are,’ came Mum’s voice from behind me. She sounded amazingly calm. ‘Try not to move, and don’t undo your seatbelts. Is anyone hurt?’

  Several voices muttered that they were okay. Someone had the hiccups. Someone else was crying softly, trying not to be heard.

  ‘Will, is that you?’ asked Mum.

  ‘My arm hurts,’ he snivelled.

  ‘All right, love, we’ll help you in a moment,’ Mum said gently. ‘Sam, are you okay?’

  I waggled my feet, then tested my arms, wrists, fingers and neck. Everything seemed to be working. But it was hard to be sure because I was dangling upside down. ‘I think so.’

 
‘Good. See if you can free yourself from your seatbelt. Be very careful not to fall on your head.’

  It wasn’t far to fall, anyway – the bus’s roof had caved in and my hair brushed against it. Jackknifing my body, I swung my legs down in front of my chest and undid the seatbelt’s buckle. Luckily I was wearing jeans, because I landed knees-first in a bed of crunchy window glass. Other stuff lay scattered around me – hats, cameras, an apple with a bite taken out of it. And a cracked plastic bottle lying in a puddle of red cordial – now I knew where the raspberry smell was coming from.

  ‘Good work, Sam,’ Mum said from somewhere beyond my view. ‘Now listen up, Gunggari Pack – and you too, E.J. I want everyone to stay exactly where you are until Baloo helps you down.’

  It felt strange being called Baloo. I wasn’t really a scout leader – fourteen’s too young – but when Joel’s dad couldn’t get time off to come to America, Mum asked me to fill in for him.

  ‘Sam?’ Mum said. ‘Could you take a look at Will before you help the others?’

  Will was clutching his right elbow with his left hand. His lower lip trembled and tears trickled down his upside-down forehead into his hair. When I asked him to unclip his seatbelt while I supported his weight, Will shook his head. ‘Can’t move my arm,’ he whimpered.

  I couldn’t support his weight and undo the belt buckle – I didn’t have enough hands – so I freed Guy first. Together, we lifted Will down and helped him out through one of the broken windows.

  ‘How close was that!’ Guy muttered, as we settled Will on a gentle grassy slope about five metres uphill from the wreck.

  The bus rested upside down against two fir trees. They grew right on the edge of the cliff, where the canyon made its final vertical plunge towards the river far below. Both trees sloped out over the cliff at a forty-five degree angle, and they’d been knocked half out of the ground when the bus rolled into them. A few bent and mangled roots were all that was keeping the trees in place.

  I heard a clatter of falling rocks from the other side of the bus. It sounded like a small avalanche. One of the trees tipped a few more centimetres. The bus wobbled.

  ‘It’s going to fall over the cliff!’ Guy said.

  ‘Shhhh,’ I whispered. I didn’t want to scare the cubs who were still trapped inside. ‘Stay here with Will while I get the others out.’

  That was Baloo talking, not me. The real Sam Fox was terrified. I didn’t want to go anywhere near the bus. It might roll over the edge at any moment, taking everyone with it.

  Including Akela.

  Why isn’t she helping? I wondered, scrambling back in through one of the smashed windows.

  As soon as I saw her, my question was answered.

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘It isn’t as bad as it looks,’ she said calmly. ‘Head wounds always bleed a lot.’

  She wasn’t kidding. Even though Mum had pressed a rolled-up sweatshirt to the side of her head, blood was seeping out around the edges and dripping through her hair like tomato sauce.

  ‘I’ll get you down,’ I said.

  ‘No, Sam. Help the others first.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No buts,’ Mum said. ‘I’ll be all right here for a few more minutes.’

  I wondered if we had a few more minutes. The bus could fall at any time. But I couldn’t tell Mum what the situation was without the rest of the pack hearing. Someone was sure to panic, and all it would take was one sudden movement to tip the bus over the edge.

  As quickly as I could, I began evacuating the remaining cubs. It was Sally who had the hiccups, so I got her out first. Then Emma, then Joel, then Matt. I left E.J. until last – not because he irritated me, but because he seemed calmer than the others.

  It wasn’t until I got to him that I realised my mistake. E.J.’s hands felt clammy, his eyes were unfocused and his teeth chattered.

  He wasn’t calm, he was in shock.

  ‘It’s okay, mate,’ I said, struggling to undo his seatbelt. It was twisted the wrong way, so the release button pressed against his stomach and wouldn’t open. ‘I’ll have you out of here in a jiffy.’

  E.J.’s out-of-focus eyes seemed to stare right through me. ‘D-D-Dad,’ he whispered.

  Poor kid. He was in a really bad way.

  ‘I’m not your dad,’ I corrected him. ‘I’m Baloo.’

  He shook his head. ‘My dad, Mr J-J-Johnson.’

  A chill passed through me. I hadn’t given a thought to our driver since the accident. Twisting around, I peered under the headrests towards the front of the bus. Holy guacamole! The forward section was completely caved in. All I could see was the back of Mr Johnson’s head, jammed sideways against the crumpled ceiling.

  ‘D-d-dead,’ whispered E.J.

  3

  SAM FOX, YOUR NUMBER IS UP!

  I freed the American cub scout and helped him out to join the six Australian ones.

  ‘Nobody is to come anywhere near the bus,’ I told them.

  Then I went back for Mum.

  ‘Have you had a look at Mr Johnson?’ she asked. She must have heard me talking to E.J.

  ‘I’m getting you out first,’ I said in my Baloo voice – I wasn’t going to argue about it. ‘Then I’ll check on Mr Johnson.’

  There was a creaking noise. The bus shuddered.

  ‘What was that?’ Mum gasped.

  I told her what was going on as I positioned myself underneath her. Mum was much bigger than a nine-year-old cub, so I had to lie on my back and lower her down on top of me. Then I couldn’t move – Mum was too heavy and we were sandwiched between the upside-down seat backs and the squashed-in ceiling. We stared at each other, our faces only a few centimetres apart. Our situation might have been funny if our lives weren’t in danger. And if Mr Johnson wasn’t only a few metres away, either dead or badly injured.

  ‘Can you crawl over me?’ I asked.

  Mum nodded. But when she tried lifting herself up, her body went rigid and she let out a little grunt of pain.

  ‘Mum! What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  I knew she was lying. She had another injury – something worse than the cut on her head. It was hurting her to move. But she had to move – our lives depended on it.

  A centimetre at a time, Mum wriggled across me. Finally she dragged herself out through the shattered window. As soon as she was clear, I rolled over and crawled out after her.

  Behind us, the bus made a creaking noise and another small avalanche went clattering down the cliff.

  ‘We’ve got to get Mr Johnson out,’ Mum said.

  She tried to stand up but lost her balance. I had to grab her to stop her falling against the side of the bus and sending it crashing down into the river below.

  ‘You’d better sit down, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’ll see about Mr Johnson.’

  It wasn’t something I was looking forward to. The front of the bus was crumpled like a squashed drink can. I didn’t think anyone could be in there and still be alive.

  Fearing the worst, I knelt down and put my eye to the narrow slot that used to be the driver’s window. Another eye looked back at me.

  And blinked.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.

  It was a stupid thing to say. Of course Mr Johnson wasn’t all right. But I was still suffering from a mild case of shock myself. It had only been about ten minutes since the accident.

  ‘Leg … stuck,’ Mr Johnson groaned.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said in my confident Baloo voice. ‘I’ll get you out.’

  I scrambled around the front of the bus, searching for a way in. And stopped dead.

  Hooley dooley! Half of the bus’s front section hung in mid-air, dangling over a fifty-metre drop. My toes were only centimetres from the edge.

  I can handle a lot of things – fighting off wild animals, for example – but I can’t handle heights. Every muscle in my body went into complete shutdown. I couldn’t move.

&n
bsp; But I was moving. The ground sloped down sharply towards the cliff’s edge and gravity was pulling at the dirt beneath my sneakers, making me slide forwards.

  Snap out of it, said the little voice in my head, or you’ll wind up splattered like strawberry jam at the bottom of the cliff!

  It spurred me into action. I grabbed hold of the bus’s bumper to stop my slide. But the bus was balanced on a knife edge. There was a loud grinding noise, metal against rock, and the bus started tipping. And when the bus tipped, so did I. There was nothing I could do. My weight was pushing the bus over the edge, but if I let go, I’d fall.

  The bus kept slowly tipping until I was leaning right out over the dizzying vertical drop. The toes of my sneakers sent a trail of pebbles and small rocks spiralling down towards the wiggly blue line of the river far below. It was like looking down from an aeroplane.

  An aeroplane that was about to crash.

  Sam Fox, your number is up! screamed the little voice in my head.

  Suddenly the bus stopped tipping.

  Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump went my racing heart.

  Then, like a giant seesaw, the bus started tipping the other way, pulling me back to an upright position.

  ‘We’ve got you, Baloo,’ someone said behind me.

  Four hands grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled.

  I fell backwards onto the ground between Guy and Sally.

  ‘Thanks, guys,’ I gasped.

  Sally hiccupped. ‘It wasn’t just us,’ she said.

  Spaced along the uphill side of the bus, each gripping a wheel or part of the crumpled bodywork, were Joel, Emma and Matt. They’d pulled the teetering bus back from the brink. They’d saved my life.

  ‘Thanks, Gunggari Pack,’ I said, struggling upright. My legs felt wobbly and I was shaking all over, but there wasn’t time to sit down and recover. ‘Hold the bus steady while I free Mr Johnson.’

  ‘Is he o-o-okay?’ stammered E.J., still sitting on the grassy slope next to Mum and Will.

  ‘His leg’s stuck,’ I said. ‘I’m going in to get him.’

  Mum had a bloodstained scarf tied around her head like a bandage. ‘Do you need help?’ she asked.