Two-hundred pounds of animal assailed me from behind. The impact is worse than a kick in the ring. My face eats dirt. I struggle to breathe with a mouthful of earth. Claws dig painfully into my flesh. I grit down and elbow the animal.
Barely able to distinguish what it is.
Cougar, I think.
I elbow again. My pulse in my ears, I can barely even hear. Nails rip at me, and I know it’s going to aim for my neck.
My jugular.
I’m going to die here. The sheer dread pushes my fight-or-flight instinct—I ram my elbow harder, not letting the cougar at my windpipe.
I’ve been camping enough times with the Meadows family to hear Ryke and Daisy in my head.
Stand tall and big and loud.
I’m already on the ground.
Don’t let it have access to your neck.
I’m trying.
Never run away or turn your back.
It’s on my damn back!
Adrenaline pumps in my ears and I can’t get to my gun that’s on a belly-band at my waist. My knife is closer. Clipped chest-high on my backpack strap, I reach for the hilt. Exposing my neck for a single second.
“KITS!” Sulli’s deafening screams fill my ears.
“GET OFF HIM!” Banks yells even louder, and the cougar falters, distracted, for a millisecond. Enough time for me to unclip my knife, and I stab the cat’s torso.
He lets out a wailing hiss and eases up on me. I roll out to the side, just as Sulli swings her backpack at the cougar’s head. Once, twice, and then her backpack slips out of her fingers.
I struggle to stand, then freeze in a crouch as the cougar locks eyes with me.
“Don’t move,” Banks tells me, holding out a hand.
We’re all perilously still. None of our eyes shift off the animal.
“He’s going to pounce on him,” Sulli warns Banks. While the cougar stalks me, Sulli tosses rocks and stones at him. “GO THE FUCK AWAY!”
The cougar doesn’t turn on her.
He’s after me.
I stand fully up. He lunges, and his paws crash against my chest. My back hits the dirt again, and I just start stabbing.
Every piece of flesh I can find, I sink my knife in and pull out. The sound the cougar makes is guttural, brutal, and I use my forearm to block him from biting my face.
His teeth are like blades puncturing through my skin. Pain radiates in my elbow, and I feel Banks trying to physically wrestle the animal off me.
He’s been trying since the moment it jumped. My stomach sinks when I realize he doesn’t have a gun.
Since he didn’t have a band for his, I’m carrying his gun in my pack. I had more room.
My call.
My mistake.
A fatal fucking mistake.
And then the cougar lashes at Banks as he drops down to his knees.
“NO!” I yell, sitting up to see the cougar raking its claws at my friend. Banks tries to throw him off, but the cougar is close to his throat. I sink my knife into the cougar’s breast. The animal writhes. Blood is everywhere.
Banks quickly reaches for my waist.
He’s going for my gun.
His hand slips up my shirt, grabs the firearm from the band, and without hesitation, he rotates and fires three quick rounds.
The pop pop pop is layered with a growl. It takes me a second to register that the limp, dead cougar on top of us isn’t the one growling.
The animal has already gone slack on our bodies. The weight crushing, oxygen-stealing, and I turn my head to find Sulli.
I see what made that noise, and blood rushes out of my face.
A second cougar.
And it’s charging after Sulli.
22
SULLIVAN MEADOWS
Stand tall and big and loud.
Don’t let it have access to your neck.
Never run away or turn your back.
A second cougar isn’t casually stalking me. He or she is springing towards me, and I know not to turn my back to the animal. But I have nothing to defend myself. No rock is going to stop the attack.
My eyes dart to the Patagonia backpack that flung out of my hand.
My gun.
I need the gun my dad gave me.
Heartbeat in my ears, I can’t hear anything or anyone as the cougar lunges.
Instinct takes hold.
I.
Just.
Run.
Feet to ground. Breath stuck in my lungs. I run.
I skid.
My fingers find my backpack and I’m fast as I reach in, but I’m not fast enough. Paws and claws crash into me, knocking oxygen from my lungs.
Fuckfuckfuck. My hand is on the hilt. Pain flares somewhere on my skin, my body, as I remove the gun from my