and look for Lucas, not when I was flying blind. I’d be putting us all in danger. I needed more input to formulate a plan, and maybe my android sensors would help.
Wait, I told myself. Any second now. . . .
There. The crunch of heavy footfalls cracking through an icy layer of snow. The bear was on the move. But I had no idea where it was going, or where Lucas was. I took a cautious step forward.
Thermographic imaging: Activated.
The snowy landscape disappeared, replaced by an explosion of color. A navy blue background, interspersed with green vertical bars. Trees, I realized.
Just beyond those, another image appeared, one that made my body go numb. A deep orange silhouette so enormous, it could only be one thing.
Image dimensions: 7 ft., 9 in. tall.
The animal was a beast. But the appearance of the much smaller red lump, about ten feet away, made me choke down panic.
Lucas.
He huddled in a ball behind a tree trunk, out of the bear’s line of sight . . . for now.
Our trap had startled the bear into rearing up onto his hind legs. His head moved this way and that. Scenting. He knew we were trespassing in his forest.
My pulse pounded in my ears, fueled by a strong dose of programmed adrenaline. The rush caught me off guard. I’d missed it, this desire to act and protect. Part of me wanted to run out and challenge the bear, but I needed to analyze first. I couldn’t take unnecessary risks with Lucas’s safety. I forced myself not to move.
Probability of targets colliding: 65%.
If I stayed put, there was a small chance the bear wouldn’t interpret Lucas’s scent as some kind of threat, and would amble off of in search of a more promising meal.
But the overwhelming odds were that it would find him. Pursue him.
My mind zipped through scenarios, like creating a distraction by throwing a rock, or sprinting past the bear and leading it away. Before I could decide, my sensors flashed.
Threat detected.
Engagement: Imminent.
The bear’s giant orange thermographic image whirled around, up on his hind legs, like he’d used some kind of superpowers to detect me. Although he didn’t roar or make any kind of sound, I could see colored breath puffing from his mouth as though he was panting with excitement. Only two trees stood between him and me.
Crap.
Normal vision mode: Activate.
My sensors warned of the decreasing distance between us.
30 ft. until engagement.
25 ft.
The projected time until confrontation streamed in milliseconds. Should I call for Lucas’s help, as my instincts dictated?
Suggested maneuver: Zero motion.
Stay put? I stifled a hysterical giggle.
My android logic insisted I remain reactive, not proactive. My human logic said something else.
Requesting alternate course of action.
With the bear now less than fifteen feet away, the directive remained unchanged.
Refrain from motion until otherwise notified.
I gritted my teeth against the urge to scream. Refrain from motion? Seriously?
Then I saw Lucas stumble forward.
“Hey! Over here!” he shouted, waving his hands overhead.
I stared, frozen to the ground, while my heart spasmed with fear, shock, and something else I couldn’t identify in the chaos.
“No,” I tried to warn, but the lump in my throat swallowed the word. Lucas waved his arms harder and started to clap his hands.
“Over here, you overgrown slipper!”
“Lucas, stop!”
Too late. The bear whirled and lumbered toward Lucas with more speed than I would have thought possible. I held my breath as Lucas jumped for a branch and hoisted himself into the tree. He scrambled upward, but even as I sprinted toward him, I knew I wouldn’t reach them in time.
The bear leapt. His massive paw whipped out and swatted at Lucas’s foot. I saw a blur of gray and blue when the sneaker ripped free and arced through the air.
Injury analysis: Possible minor appendage damage.
Risk of major damage: Low.
As that information flashed, I stooped and grabbed a heavy rock. The bear moved, but only to climb atop a three-foot boulder near the tree. Clever. He’d positioned himself with better leverage and access to Lucas.
Attack: Imminent.
Projected target: Abdominal region.
I threw the rock as hard as I could and yelled, just as the bear launched a massive paw at Lucas. He struck and the blow hit Lucas’s forehead. Lucas jerked back with a cry, one hand losing its grip on the branch. I watched helplessly as he dangled there, while the rock smacked the bear’s head and bounced off. The bear reared back with an outraged roar.
Injury assessment: Negligible.
Desperation flooded me. I’d thrown that rock hard. The blow