Triple Threat - James Patterson Page 0,29

female polar bear on my tail will catch me and devour me alive.

But, hey, that’s life above the Arctic Circle for you. Never a dull moment. One second you’re tossing a net into an icy stream, trying to catch a few fish to feed your family. The next, one of Earth’s deadliest predators is trying to kill you.

I glance backward to try to see just how close the bear has gotten. I can’t spot her at all, which is even more terrifying. With all the snow swirling around, her milky-white coat makes the perfect camouflage.

But I know the animal is near. I can just feel it.

Sure enough, seconds later, from behind me comes a mighty roar that echoes out across the tundra.

She’s closer than I thought!

I push myself to move faster and tighten my grip around the freezing-cold Glock, wishing I had a larger gun. Do I empty my clip at the bear blindly and hope I get lucky? Stop, crouch, wait for her to get nearer, and aim for maximum effect?

Neither sounds promising. So I decide to do both.

Without slowing, I turn sideways and fire four times in her general direction.

Did I hit her? No clue. I’m sure I didn’t scare her. Unlike most animals, typical polar bears never get spooked by loud noises. They live in the Arctic, after all. They hear thunderous sounds all the time: rumbling avalanches, shattering glaciers.

But there’s nothing typical about this polar bear whatsoever. I didn’t provoke her. I didn’t wander into her territory. I didn’t threaten her young.

None of that matters. She wants me dead.

The reason? HAC. Human-animal conflict. My theory that has helped explain why, for the past half-dozen years, animals everywhere have been waging an all-out war against humanity—and winning. It’s why this abominable snow-bear picked up my scent from over a mile away and immediately started charging. I’m a human being and, like every other animal on the planet right now, she has an insatiable craving for human blood.

Another roar booms behind me, revealing the bear’s position—even closer now.

I twist to fire off four more rounds. I pray I’ve hit her, but I don’t count on it. With only nine bullets in my clip remaining, I start psyching myself up to turn around, kneel, and take aim.

Okay, Oz, I think. You can do this. You can—

I suddenly lose my footing and go tumbling face-first onto the icy ground. It’s hard as concrete and jagged as a bed of nails. My gun—shit!—goes flying out of my hand and into a snowdrift.

I scramble on all fours and hunt for it desperately, feeling the permafrost beneath me start to tremble from the polar bear’s galloping gait.

I could really use that gun right about now.

By the grace of God, I find it just in time. I spin around—right as the bear emerges from the white haze like a speeding train bursting out of a tunnel.

She rears up onto her hind legs, preparing to pounce. I fire four more shots. The first hits the side of her thick skull—but ricochets clean off. The next two miss her completely. The fourth lodges in her shoulder, which only makes her madder.

I shoot twice more, wildly, as I try to roll away, but the bear leaps and lands right on top of me. She chomps down on my snowsuit hood with her mighty jaws, missing my skull by millimeters. She jerks me around like a rag doll. With her razor-sharp claws, she slashes my left arm to shreds.

Pain surges through my limb as I twist and struggle, trying to break free with every ounce of strength I have. Images of Chloe and Eli, my wife and young son, flash through my mind. I can’t leave them. I can’t die. Not now. Not like this.

I’m still getting tossed around like crazy, but with all the strength I can muster, I shove the tip of my Glock against the bottom of the polar bear’s chin, just inches from my own.

I fire my last three shots point-blank.

A mist of hot blood sprays my face as the bullets tear through the behemoth’s brain. She stops moving instantly, as if she were a toy and I’d just flipped her off switch. Then all seven hundred pounds of her slump down next to me.

Seconds pass and I begin to catch my breath, relieved beyond belief. Slowly, with all my effort, I reach up and manage to pry my hood from the bear’s locked jaw.

I stagger to my feet, instantly light-headed from the adrenaline