Steel Cage Match

It was another in a long series of sweltering days as Bob, an ex-jock, and out of work construction worker, decided weeks ago to take in the sights and smells of the country before he became too old to appreciate what’s available to see from one coast to the other.

At least that was what he told himself.

Bob isn’t really a nature boy. The real reason he was on the road, hitchhiking, is what money he did have, ran out when he was in Des Moines. Two weeks prior, he had a job offer in Boise that wouldn’t start for three more weeks, and he knew he had plenty of time to get there.

He was thirty bucks and sixty something miles almost straight north from Boise, taking the scenic route over State Highway 55. The last mileage signs read: BOISE 77. Jasper 5.

Gray clouds were starting to crowd out the blue of the afternoon. Bob could only hope the weather would hold off long enough for him to find shelter somewhere, or he would be soaked clean through. As far as he could tell, Highway 55 held no shade, no cover.

Continuing his walk, he heard sounds of cars coming up behind him, headed in the same direction as he was, but how far, he had no clue.

Turning around to face the oncoming vehicles, he stuck his thumb out, and displayed his best smile of pearly whites. Bob is thirty, but when he smiled, he looked a good five years younger.

Three cars and a pickup truck whizzed by him, swirling up a breeze all around him. Bob lowered his well-practiced thumb and settled back into walking.

Shaking his head, he looked ahead at the road before him.

“Can’t they see I’m going in the same direction? Doesn’t matter to me if it’s five, fifty of five-hundred miles; a ride is a ride.”

Walking another five minutes, he saw the same pickup truck that had just passed him, coming back up the other side of the road.

“I guess that’s why they didn’t bother to stop. They only went a short distance to begin with. Must be locals.”

The pickup began to slow down, until it came to a complete stop opposite where Bob stood.

“Hey, mister! How far ya headed?” asked the driver.

“I’m on my way to Boise.”

“Well it ain’t much, but I’m goin’ as far as Idaho City, that’s about an hour or so from Boise. You’d be in better shape to catch a ride from there into Boise.”

“I’ll take it. Every little bit helps. Much obliged.”

Bob smiled his pearly whites at the driver, walked to the side of the truck and threw is duffel bag in the back, and easily vaulted himself over the side and found a corner he could rest against.

He thought to himself, “Might not be much, but I can rest my legs a bit.”

Bob looked back over his shoulder threw the pickup’s back window and saw two other men in front. He didn’t notice them at first, and he couldn’t remember if they were in the truck the first time the driver passed him.

As the driver turned around and sped away, Bob couldn’t hear any of the conversation going on up front because of the racing winds speeding by, whipping his thick shock of shoulder-length hair into his eyes.

If he had, Bob would have risked breaking a leg jumping out of the truck as it went around a bend in the road.

“What’cha think, Frank?” asked the driver.

“I think he’ll do, that’s what I think.”

“Sammy, do ya think Old Bennie will like what we brung’em?”

“Old Bennie likes everybody we bring’em. Especially like that fella in the back. Old Bennie will teach that boy what it means to be an outsider in these parts,” said Sammy, the driver.

“Sammy, ya done the right thing comin’ to get us. He’s a big’un alright,” stated Frank.

Turning to Stu, Frank said, “Just remember, when we git him back to the house, you break out that pipe and lay him a good’un. Like I said, he’s big, and I don’t want ya takin’ no chances with him.”

“You don’t have to worry none about me, Frank. I’ll take real good care of our friend back there.” Stu reached under the seat and gripped a pipe about ten inches long and smacked it into his free hand. “I’ll pop him like a watermelon.”

In the back, Bob leaned against the cab’s hard metal, humming a tune, and feeling good about his life as the wind continued to pummel his face and hair.

Ten minutes into the ride, the pickup made a right hand turn and was bouncing and wobbling over a dirt road with mud holes every four or five feet. Bob leaned over the driver side and yelled, “Hey! Why are we turning? This isn’t the way to Boise.”

“I know,” yelled back Sammy. There’s somethin’ I need to do up at the house. Won’t take but a minute.”

“House? You live up here?”

“Yup. All three of us. The other two are my cousins. We got us a small place up this here road. Just need to stop for a bit and let Old Bennie know what’s goin’ on.”

“Old Bennie?”

“Yup. Don’t worry none. You’ll git to meet him soon enough. Just be careful what ya say and don’t git to close to’em; he can be a mean cuss at times.”

Bob nodded his head and sank back down onto the truck’s floorboard again. “Well,” he said quietly, “whatever they need to do can’t take long. I do need the ride, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

Two more minutes of bumpy, choppy and dipping riding, the road finally leveled out before the pickup came to a jarring halt much to Bob’s pleasure. Both doors from the pickup flew open and slammed shut. Sammy spoke first.

“Mister, ya might as well climb down outta there and stretch them legs of yours. I know this place ain’t much, but yer welcome to look around if’n ya want.”

“Thanks.”

Bob vaulted over the side as easily as he did getting in. His feet hit the ground with a dull thud and he didn’t look directly into Sammy’s eyes, or if might have seen something that wasn’t right. He was about to say he would grab his duffel bag and head out on his own when from the front of the pickup, Frank appeared.

Bob heard footfalls behind him. He started to turn around when he felt the weight of the world come crashing down on his head. As Bob saw the ground rushing up to meet him, he thought he heard Frank say something odd.

“Ya done good, Stu. Yup, he’ll do fine. Old Bennie’s gonna like this old boy just fine.”

Thunder roared, and lightning raced across the hills and lit up the skies behind mountain peaks as the clouds ripped apart into a raging downpour.

______

It was pitch black outside. The rain had long since ended. A sliver of the moon could be seen from a single small window inside a room with an overhead light, uncovered but barely bright.

Bob regained consciousness; seeing the world through hazy eyes that were slowly focusing on his surroundings. Each slight moves he made sent a painful pressure to his head as if broken bones were rattling around.

“I see you’ve finally come back to life. How do you feel?”

Bob’s head turned in the direction of the voice, his eyes no longer seeing double, but he did see a man chained to a wall opposite him about twenty feet away. Raising his hand to rub the throbbing pain in his head, that was when he realized he too, was in chains.

“What the hell is going on around here? Who the hell are you? Why the damn chains?”

“First things first. As to what’s going on; the same three men who brought you in here, brought me as well. They didn’t like me, and it’s obvious they don’t like you either. They have this thing about outsiders. I was headed east to Lincoln, Nebraska. My car broke down and they offered to give me a ride to a gas station, so I could get my car towed for repairs. My name is Mike Ziggy. The chains are to make sure we don’t get away and go to the police.”

“Mike, my name’s Bob Teague. I was on my way to a job in Boise when they offered me a lift. What are they going to do to us the law can’t know about? Kill us?”

“Yes and no on the killing part. They have a steel cage about a hundred yards or so from here. What they do is throw you inside and wrestle Old Bennie.”

“Old Bennie, Old Bennie; damn, I’ve heard that name enough times. Who the hell is Old Bennie?”

“Old Bennie isn’t a who; but more like a what. Old Bennie’s about ten feet tall, and I’d guess close to a thousand pounds. Old Bennie is a killer bear.”

“A what! Killer bear? You have to be kidding me.” Seeing no smile on Mike’s face, Bob continued. “No, I guess you aren’t. Why in the hell do they have a killer bear to begin with?”

“The way I see it; just for sport. Those three guys are as crazy as crazy gets. They don’t like strangers in this part of the country. When someone comes along they shanghai them and bring them here, like you and me.

“There was another guy, Jack Masters, who was here the night I was brought here. The next morning, they marched Jack and I down to the cage. They made me watch as they threw Jack in there against Old Bennie. I guess the same will happen to me now that you’re here.”

“What happened to Jack, or do I want to know?”

“Old Bennie tore him apart. Ripped him to shreds and snapped every bone in his body; at least that’s how it looked and sounded to me. That was about two weeks ago if I remember right. Seems they like to have a new face around before they put someone else in the cage. It makes you think the whole time you’re chained up, what it’ll feel like when it’s your turn to be in there with Old Bennie.”

“This is insane. Why hasn’t anyone reported them before?”

“Hell, man, wake up and smell the toast burning! Who is going to call the police? Me? You? Fat chance considering our circumstances.”

“Yeah, but you have friends, family; someone that should be concerned about you, right? Someone worried enough if you didn’t write or call, or something.”

“I know what you’re saying, Bob, but people come up missing all the time. Out here, there is a lot of blue sky, mountains, trees, rocks and rivers; no telling when a person might be found, if ever. These three circus freaks bury the bodies, or what’s left of them.”

“I hate to say this, but good point. They’ll come for us in the morning, put you in the cage, and I have to watch Old Bennie maul you to death.”

’That’s right. After it’s over, you’ll do what I’ve been doing. Praying each time that pickup leaves, it comes back with no more than three people in it. The longer you stay by yourself, the longer you stay alive. While you were unconscious, I called you every name in the book.”

The door opened, and Sammy stuck his head inside.

“You two becomin’ good friends? Ain’t it a shame ya won’t be friends fer very long. Brought you fella’s dinner.”

Nodding his head at Bob, he said, “Since yer new, might as well get use to Stu’s cookin, quick. It ain’t the best, but it’s sure enough better’n eatin’ dirt.”

Since the room was completely empty of any kind of furnishings, Sammy set a bowl of soup down on the floor in front of each man, along with a package of crackers, and a paper cup filled with water. Sammy turned and walked back to the door.

“Almost forgot. After breakfast in the mornin’, you two fella’s gits to go fer a walk.”

Looking directly at Mike, Sammy grinned.

“I sure hope ya give Old Bennie a better fight than that last fella did. He weren’t no competition at all. Nope, nary a bit. Have a good night’s rest. See yawl bright and early in the mornin’.

“Oh, and you,” Sammy’s grin grew wider looking at Bob, “you’ll have a ringside seat. Hahaha! A ringside seat; that was a good’un.”

Sammy turned, walked out of the room, slammed the door closed and locked it from the other side.

Bob and Mike could hear his cackling laughter as it echoed in the distance until he was back inside the house.

Mike sighed.

“Any ideas how we can get out of this mess?”

“Not really.”

Silence filled the room as Bob surveyed his surroundings. One window next to the door and not big enough to crawl out of to escape. The only other exit is the locked door. The chain links were secured tightly to the wall, but Bob pulled and yanked on them anyway.

No give. Like Mike, his ankles were shackled.

It was impossible to break free.

Bob couldn’t tell what time it was. With only the one window, he couldn’t see a piece of the moon that might have helped gauge the time.

Seconds ticked away to minutes, then to hours. Not able to handle the quiet any longer, he looked over at Mike who had been falling in and out of sleep.

“Mike, you awake?”

“Sort of; what’s up?”

“Let me ask you something. When Jack went in the cage, were his hands free?”

“No. They were in handcuffs, and he still had the shackles on his ankles. It made for slow moving and it was awkward as hell for him. It’ll be the same way for me, and for you when your time comes. Jack fell two or three times trying to dodge that damn bear before a paw caught up with him. I still have nightmares hearing his screams.”

“Do you consider yourself pretty agile?”

“I take it you have a plan?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking if there would be a way you can somehow get behind that bear, use the chains between the cuffs, and jump up on his back; you might be able to get him in a choke hold, and maybe choke him to death.”

“Believe me, I’ve run that scenario in my head a thousand times. It’s the only real chance I have. Come morning, first chance I get in the cage, that’s exactly what I’m planning to do, or at least try to do.”

Mike shook his head sadly.

“The only problem is; if I do kill Old Bennie, there is nothing stopping them from killing us anyway.”

“True,” Bob whispered, as if cooing to a new born baby.

“If you can get a handle on Old Bennie though, I can try getting the drop on one or two of them. All three of them stacked side by side couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag with a hole in the bottom.”

“What the hell, Bob, I’m game. It’s a slim chance but better than no chance at all. If we pull this off, we’ll be home free. If it doesn’t work, at least I’ll be free from the waiting.”

Both men settled down to get as much rest as they could. Sleep didn’t come easy for either one, knowing what was facing them come the morning light.

Before Bob was pulled into the abyss, he thought if their plan failed, he would have a second chance at escape. That was more than Mike would get.

______

As the sun was making its presence known, a cackling sound could be heard. At first, Bob thought it was a rooster, but never remembered hearing one sound quite that bad.

It was Sammy’s laughter. He unlocked the door and brought Bob and Mike their breakfast. A bowl of oatmeal, two slices of bread and a cup of coffee for each man.

At least it was hot.

Bob and Mike sat without eating, especially after Sammy had said, “Yawl enjoy, now. Nothin’ like havin’ a dying man’s last meal.”

Each were sipping on their coffee, neither saying a word as waiting became the primary issue. They didn’t have long. The door opened twenty minutes later.

“Okay, you two,” Frank said dully. “It’s time. Now Stu and Sammy are gonna unlock you from the chains, but everything else stays on. Make any kinda sudden moves, and Old Bennie won’t have a live body to kick around, but he can still kick around a dead one.”

That’s when Frank pulled out a gun and waved it back and forth between Bob and Mike.

Once they were unlocked, each were unceremoniously herded outside and close to sixty yards behind the house where the steel cage sat.

Bob and Mike moved as slowly as possible, trying to delay the inevitable as much as possible. Frank shoved each man behind the back.

“Pick it up, you two. We ain’t got all day. Move yer asses!”

Bob realized of the three, Frank was the most dangerous. Somehow, Frank would have to be the first one he took down.

That last sixty yards was a slow walk, what with only a four-inch gap on their ankle bracelets. What might have been a sixty second walk took closer to five minutes. But they arrived.

Standing next to Mike, Bob stared at the cage. Twenty feet high, with a twenty foot in-ring, but unlike wrestling, no ropes. The roof was made from a wire mesh and the floor of the ring was concrete. And the only way out was the way in; a metal door being unlocked by Stu.

With the door wide open, Sammy grabbed Mike’s arms and half-led, half-dragged him up four plank steps to the center of the ring, then walked out, and relocked the door.

Sammy then went with Stu, and each man grabbed ahold of Bob’s arms and guided him to a small bench to sit and watch the spectacle. Sammy stood behind him, cackling away, while Stu went with Frank to get Old Bennie.

He could have jumped Sammy right then and there, but it wouldn’t have done any good. Frank had the keys and without the three of them close together, the chance of him breaking free were slim to none.

“Bob!” yelled out Mike. “If things don’t work out, best thing I can say is let the bear be quick about his business. A slow death is a bitch.”

“What’s he meaning, if things don’t work out?”

“He means if he can kill Old Bennie, I won’t have a thing to worry about.”

The cackling laughter returned even louder this time.

“Kill Old Bennie! That’s a good’un, mister. You two sure are funny. Kill Old Bennie. Ain’t gonna happen. Old Bennie’s a pro at this. Kill Old Bennie; yeah, that’s funny!”

Bob listened to Sammy and felt what he was saying was true. Looking over at Mike, he could see the fear and sweat on his face. Without Sammy hearing, he said softly, “If this doesn’t work, there’s no telling what will happen. Good luck, my man.”

He thoughts hit the brakes as he watched Frank and Stu returning with Old Bennie strutting behind them. He was the largest bear Bob had ever seen. Mike was wrong. He had to weigh a ton if not more and probably closer to fourteen feet tall. Mike didn’t stand a prayer and he knew it. Bob’s chances for survival were as good as Mike’s. Zilch.

“Open up the door again, Sammy,” commanded Frank.

When the metal door swung open, Frank herded Old Bennie up the four steps easily and released the chain leash from around the bear’s neck. Once Old Bennie was inside, Frank left the ring area, and locked the metal door.

There was no bell to start the action, but the crowd of three cheered, even frank, who, up until this moment was usually very quiet.

The hunt was on.

Mike stayed in one corner as Old Bennie started his swaying movements side to side toward him. Hedging left, the right, Mike did a forward somersault catching Old Bennie by surprise. So much so that it angered him. Old Bennie stood on his back legs and roared with a deadly purpose. He almost sounded like thunder rolling across the sky.

It was a pitiful and sickening scene to watch. Mike, almost six-eight, against a creature that dwarfed him in both size and weight. This was no contest. This was a slaughter.

Mike feinted to his right, then left, and threw himself feet first squarely into Old Bennie’s ankles. This sent the bear stumbling backward, tripping over his own back legs and fell with a jarring impact to the concrete floor.

Mike struggled to his feet and moved as quickly as he could to get behind Old Bennie, and wrapped the cuffs around the bear’s throat, and pulled back to choke him to death.

All of his energy, courage and determination was directed around Old Bennie’s throat.

Bob made his move.

Sammy was slapping his knee and laughing at the comical team inside the cage but stopped laughing when he saw Old Bennie being choked. He stopped thinking altogether when Bob clamped his hands together and smashed him in the mouth, knocking him out before he hit the ground.

Making a desperate rush at Frank and Stu, their backs facing him, Bob threw his body at them like a defensive tackle in football. All three hit the ground, sending Stu into a daze, Frank into a seething rage, and Bob, dizzy as well.

Shaking it off, Bob started to get to his feet when he heard the sound of a hammer being pulled back.

“Make one more move, and Old Bennie won’t have a playmate; just leftover parts after I splatter yer brains all over my yard!”

Bob looked up into the bore of a handgun. Bob looked over into the cage with a feverish look and could only mouth the words, “I tried.”

The whole time Mike still had a stranglehold on Old Bennie, he kept an eye on the movement outside the cage. Things looked good for a minute, but he knew if he couldn’t kill this smelly, hairy hunk of meat soon, he was dead. After two grueling minutes of pulling on Old Bennie’s neck, the muscles in both arms were weakening. Mike didn’t want to quit. He continued to pull back harder and harder. Veins were bulging and pulsating in outlines along his face and neck. His nose started bleeding from the exertion, and he was slowly losing his grip. Mike could feel his strength fading and fading fast. He held on a few seconds longer before Old Bennie had finally had enough.

Old Bennie roared with hatred and walked backward into the steel cage’s chain-link wall. The impact forced Mike’s grip to finally let go. The impact, so immense, so sudden; Mike’s face held more surprise than pain from a man who had just had his back broken.

In a frightening, sickening way, Mike’s body slid down instead of slump or fall over to the concrete floor. He laid in a slumbered-over fashion until Old Bennie turned, reached out with both of his huge arms, lifted Mike, and hurled him across the concrete flooring.

Mike screamed in mid-air. The screaming stopped abruptly when he hit the concrete face first. He lay still. Face up, eyes wide open and vacant of life. His skull was split wide open and blood dripped out of both ears and his nose.

Old Bennie went back down on all four legs, lumbered over, and swiped his right paw against Mike’s face. Seeing no movement, he lifted his head high and roared out his victory.

Bob stared at the macabre scene, not really wanting to believe what he witnessed, now knowing he would be next for the mammoth brute.

Bob was brought out of his revelation when Frank spoke.

“Thinkin’ about what’s gonna happen to ya, eh? Ya won’t have to wait much longer. We usually wait until we can find ourselves another person before we’d put ya in there; but ya went and done somethin’ real stupid. Old Bennie’s gonna have himself a new playmate, tomorrow.”

Bob jerked his head toward Frank’s eyes which held a sadistic gleam. Bob’s eyes held fear.

“Don’t look so scared, boy. Ya just tried playin’ hero. Who knows? Next time ya might get lucky.”

Sammy came up behind Bob and kicked him in the back of the head.

“That’s for hittin’ me, smart ass. Nobody hurts me and gets away with it.” Sammy was going to kick him again when Frank grabbed his arm.

“That’s enough. Save some for Old Bennie. This fella here, we’ve got to get rid of him plenty quick. In the morning, Old Bennie will do the job.”

Looking at Stu as he was finally back on his feet, he said, “Take’em back to lockup. Then you and Sammy get the body outta there, get the shovels and bury his dead ass with the others. We don’t need him drawin’ flies around here. Don’t forget to come back and wash the blood away, too.

“I’m takin’ Old Bennie back to his pen where he can eat and get some rest. He’s gonna have a busy day tomorrow, and I want him at his best. Not too often he gets to play two days in a row.” Frank actually smiled that time.

After Stu and Sammy had Bob safely in tow again, they climbed into the steel cage with each man grabbing an ankle and dragged Mike’s dead body out and down the steps, and then dragged him another two hundred yards where he was to be buried, right alongside twenty-eight other men.

______

Bob had no idea how much time had passed before he heard voices and then heard the pickup take off and thought he could hear it hit all the holes as it went bouncing up the dirt road.

“Probably gone searching for someone else. I wonder if they all went this time. If so, maybe I can break the door open. Those two idiots forgot to chain me to the wall.

“It’s not going to be easy, but even if I am hobbled, with these ankle chains, I can hop my way out of here, or roll, or something to get as far away from here as I can. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that bear get his paws on me.”

Standing, Bob took four-inch steps, being careful to maintain his balance. Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. When he was within what he felt was a good distance to propel himself into the door; he only hoped this would work.

Staring at it, he willed it to open and fall away under its own power.

That didn’t work.

The door was your standard type door that might be used for a bathroom or bedroom. Nothing metal that Bob could see. On the inside there was just the door knob and one lock. Of course, that didn’t mean it wasn’t double or tripled locked on the other side.

Inhaling and exhaling, trying to build his energy level to break the door open, he leaned forward and threw all his weight against the door.

It didn’t work.

He tried again. Nothing.

Again. That time he heard the doorframe crack.

Leaning back, throwing his head back to get his hair out of his eyes, he propelled himself again.

The door gave way and Bob fell through, pitching forward into the dirt, landing on his left side and arm. The fall hurt, but he knew nothing was broken. Looking up quick, half-expecting to see Frank standing over him with his gun, Bob was relieved to see no one.

“Now what?” he questioned himself.

He spotted a barn off to his left about seventy feet away. He made up his mind to roll there instead of tiny steps. He was already losing precious time as he had no idea when Frank and his cousins would be back.

Two minutes later he reached the double set of barn doors, grabbed the handle with his two cuffed hands and swung one door open. Squinting his eyes to adjust to the barn’s filtered darkness, Bob started hunting for anything that he could use to get the chains off.

While looking, he estimated they had been gone at least twenty minutes. If his memory served him right, he might have another twenty tops to get free and get gone from there.

“Better to think ten and rush like hell, Bob. What do you think?”

“I think you’re right, Bob.”

“Great. Now I’m talking to myself.”

He spotted a long work table and saw what he needed: a power-saw. Hobble-stepping over to the table, he saw it was still plugged in. He flipped on the switch and the blade revved to full power. He just had to be careful with his wrists, or he might lose one, or both hands.

He placed the short links of the handcuffs against the spinning blade and watched as metal clashed with metal. A few sparks flew, a few that landed on his face and lightly singed his cheeks. It was going to be slow. Too fast and the blade might break and possibly jump from its brace and who knew where it might end up.

But they finally came apart.

Just as the links separated, Bob could hear the pickup coming up the dirt road.

Frantically, he searched for anything to snap the links holding the cuffs around his ankles and spotted a hammer and chisel. He grabbed both and started beating hard and fast where the links met solid metal.

The pickup was getting louder. Another minute and they would be in the yard. Another minute after that, they would know he was missing.

Another minute was all he needed.

The doors to the pickup slammed shut and Bob heard voices as he continued to free his ankles.

“Damn shame we couldn’t find nobody to replace that old boy, Frank.”

“Ain’t no big deal; Stu. He’d be too much trouble to have around too long anyway.

Sammy, you go to the shed and check on’em. Get him some food and make sure he ain’t tryin’ anythin’ funny, ya know?”

“Got’cha, Frank. He won’t pull nothin’ funny with me.”

“Ya mean like this mornin’,” laughed Stu.

“Ha! He might have got me a good’un, but if’n I remember right, he got in a good’un on you, too.” Sammy headed in the direction of the shed.

“I’m gonna go out behind the barn and check on Old Bennie and see how he’s doin’.”

“I’ll go with ya, Stu,” said Frank. “I sure do like that old bear. I’d really hate to see anythin’ bad happen to’em. Be a damn shame I tell ya.”

Inside the barn, Bob was still banging on the ankle cuffs when one side finally gave way. Couldn’t have been fast enough is all he could think.

Bob held onto the hammer and looked for a place to hide. Looking behind himself, he saw a built-in ladder that led to a hayloft and he went up it quickly. He no sooner got to the top when Sammy started yelling.

“Frank! Stu! He’s gone!”

He watched from the hayloft as all three men rushed inside the shed to the far right of the barn, and then they came out again.

“Didn’t you two chain him back to the wall!” Frank was livid. He slapped both men hard across the face.

“He can’t get too far. He’s still in chains. Spread out.” That was when Frank turned around and had a clear view of the barn door, wide open.

“Go look in the barn. The door is open unless one of you numbnuts left it that way. I’m bettin’ he’s in there.”

All three men headed to the barn and slowly went inside, cautious as to not get jumped like they were earlier. Stu was the first one to notice the broken links by the power-saw.

“I think he went and got himself free, Frank.”

“I can see that, stupid. He still can’t get far. I knew I shoulda blowed his head off this mornin’. Spread out. We got to find’em before he brings the law down on us.”

“Damn outsider!” Sammy screamed. “If’n people like him never came around here in the first place, we wouldn’t be doin’ stuff like this.”

A few strands of some hay fell to the barn floor settling at Frank’s feet. He looked up. He motioned for them to follow him outside.

Outside and lowering his voice, Frank said, “Stu, you and Sammy get Old Bennie from his pen and bring’em here. That old boy is up in the loft. If Old Bennie can’t finish’em, we sure as hell can’t. Go on, get movin’.”

Bob’s heart was pounding like a trip hammer. That was too close for him. He had to wait for them to split up before he could make his escape after dark or try to take them out one at a time.

A few minutes passed. Bob hadn’t heard any noise and started down the ladder when he froze halfway down.

The barn door opened, and he heard Frank’s voice.

“Boy, I know yer in here, so I brought ya some company. Old Bennie’s been dyin’ to meet’cha.”

The barn door then slammed closed.

Bob stared down into Old Bennie’s eyes. Old Bennie stared directly up at him, cocked his head to the right, let out a deafening roar, bared his sharp yellow-stained teeth at him, and roared again, sending shivers scrambling throughout Bob’s skin.

Bob started climbing back up the ladder when Old Bennie came charging in a standing position and with his right front paw, swiped at Bob’s left leg missing by a single breath, but instead, by knocking the ladder so hard, it trembled and caused him to lose both his balance and his grip, sending him to a six-foot jarring landing, less than five feet away from Old Bennie.

Old Bennie backed up but remained standing as Bob looked up from the floor and saw death snarling down at his face. Bob’s back and left shoulder hurt from the fall, but he couldn’t concentrate on the pain. He had to get away from Old Bennie.

Despite the fall, he still gripped the hammer in his hand.

Rolling in pain to his right, he put another five feet between him and the shaggy, smelly brown bear.

Raising the hammer in a defensive position he yelled out, “What are you waiting for, you bastard! Come get me. I got something for your ass!”

Old Bennie came forward with deadly menace in his eyes, hatred in his growl, and whatever stood in his path, he thrashed it to the side.

Bob backed up to the other side of the table where the power-saw sat, and he spotted a three–inch bolt to the other side of the saw, picked it up, aimed and hit Old Bennie squarely in the head.

Old Bennie stopped, shook his head, and with one massive-sized paw, rubbed at the spot that hurt him for a moment but made him even angrier and roared louder. No one has ever struck him before and now his anger intensified.

Bob watched as blood trickled over the bear’s left eye. Looking around for something else to throw, he reached down and picked up a flat piece of metal, about two by three inches long and an inch thick, and this time when he threw it, it hit Old Bennie squarely in his right eye. Old Bennie gave out more of a shrieking yell than a roar.

Old Bennie dropped down to all fours and then sat up, so he could attend to his injury and forgetting all about Bob for now. Old Bennie didn’t know how to fix this. Old Bennie never knew pain before.

Bob circled behind Old Bennie and brought the hammer down hard right in the middle of his head with everything he had, and again, Old Bennie screamed out his pain in a drawling roar.

Outside the barn, all three men thought that last scream came from Bob. They’ve never heard Old Bennie in pain before and it did sound somewhat human.

“Won’t be much longer,” Frank said, smiling a real smile for the second time that day. Stu and Sammy smiled right along with him.

Inside, Bob came down with the hammer, a second, and then a third time before Old Bennie, in an effort to defend himself for the first time ever, used his left arm to thwart off his attacker. His aim was true, but his swing was weak.

Bob felt the blow, heard a rib crack, and he grunted in pain. Gripping the hammer even tighter, his hand and most of his shirt, covered in blood, he believed one or two more shots would finish the bear off. Getting back to his feet, Bob continued the assault, ignoring the cracked rib as much as he could, and swung the hammer twice. Old Bennie was all but dead.

The next swing was the final one.

Old Bennie lay still as one dead sigh escaped his mouth. The handle of the hammer rattled with the last jarring hit, and it split and fell away from Bob’s hand, leaving splinters in its place.

He started pulling pieces of wood from the palm of his hand, but his eyes never left Old Bennie. Blood was rushing out in several places along his skull, and suddenly, Old Bennie stood abruptly on his back legs, and roared in what sounded like mad triumph at last.

Bob stood back several feet.

Looking around for something, anything to defend himself and put an end to this madness. Finding nothing, Bob gave into the fact he was about to die.

“What does it take to kill you, you ugly bastard!”

Old Bennie took two lumbering but dizzying steps forward. Bob closed his eyes waiting for that final moment when the bear would tear right into his soul, when Old Bennie teetered to his left, and his back legs buckled, and he fell over like a huge oak tree and made a thunderous plunge to the floor.

This time Old Bennie didn’t move, didn’t breathe. No more second chances for him.

Bob breathed a big sigh of relief.

Then he remembered about Frank and the others outside the barn.

“Now I have to deal with them. I know Frank has a gun, but what about the other two? They have to have more weapons around this place somewhere. I’ll just have to deal with it when the time comes.”

Looking around, he saw a window big enough for him to climb out. He walked over to it, opened it, slipped outside, breathing heavily from his cracked rib and the energy he used in killing the bear. Once outside the barn, he took no time at all hiding himself in the bushes behind the barn and watching.

Out front, Sammy said, “Seems awful quiet in there. Frank, ya don’t suppose somethin’ happened to Old Bennie, do ya?”

Frank slapped Sammy.

“Nuthin’ better have happened to’em, or I swear that boy is gonna die a real slow death. Let’s get in there and take a look. I think he tore that boy up anyway.”

Stu swung the barn doors open, and all three men rushed in to see another victory by Old Bennie. Frank was the first to see Old Bennie lying in a pool of his own reddish-brown encrusted blood. He screamed as if he had just lost a son.

“I don’t know where ya are, boy! But I’m gonna hurt ya bad! Can ya hear me, you summanabitch! Yer ass is mine now!”

Stu and Sammy looked all over the barn and found no sign of Bob. Stu noticed a window open. “Looks like he went out that way, Frank.”

Frank walked over to the window and shouted, “Don’t matter much. He can’t get by us without takin’ the main road outta here. If’n he tries goin’ through the woods, either the tar pits or quicksand will get’em.

“Ya hear me out there, boy! I’m sayin’ that so I can save your ass for me to kill; and I sure as hell will. Slice the skin right off ya bones nice and slow like. Then I’m gonna cut you into small pieces. Ya killed Old Bennie, boy, and now yer gonna pay big time!”

Turning back to the other two, he said, “Sammy, you take the west side of the house. Stu, you take the east side. Be careful. He’s dangerous as hell now that he’s free. Go on, get back to the house and get your shotguns. When ya spot him, wing’em. Killin’ him is my job.” He looked past them.

Frank thought back to when he first found Old Bennie as a cub, caught up in one of their traps they set out to catch game for food. There was something in the cub’s face that softened Frank then, and he ended up taking him back to the house. From there, he fed him, and trained him to obey commands and to kill.

“It’s for Old Bennie.”

Staring out from behind bushes and weeds at the barn, Bob heard everything and knew there was only one way out. He knew he had to get to Sammy and Stu first, before Frank found him. Thinking back for a moment, he somehow managed to find some light humor.

“Damn, I’d have been better off being flat broke in Des Moines.”

Not waiting any longer, Bob stayed deep in the brush to avoid being seen and circled around the barn until he was in a westerly direction of the house. This was the area Sammy would be. He figured Sammy to be the easiest to take care of first.

Grabbing at his injured rib, lungs wheezing, he waited patiently for Sammy to start searching for him. While waiting, he willed his mind to tell his body to forget the pain.

Five minutes went by before he heard the underbrush being trampled by one set of foot falls.

Peering through the bushes, he caught Sammy carrying a shotgun, muzzle facing upwards on his left shoulder. Sammy’s eyes were darting left and right.

Sammy was fifty feet away. Then forty, thirty, twenty, ten. At five feet, Bob made his move and sprang like a cat and lunged his body into Sammy’s.

Sammy was starting to level the barrels of the shotgun at Bob’s chest, his fingers cranking back the hammers, and his trigger finger about to squeeze off both barrels when Bob leaped three feet from the air sailing into Sammy.

The shotgun sailed backward and high into the air and the early afternoon stillness was shattered by the powerful twin blasts as Sammy and Bob hit the ground.

Pinning both shoulders with his knees, Bob hit Sammy with a hard right. He could feel bone crunch under the blow as Sammy was out of the fight. Bob stood up, clutching again at his cracked rib, feeling the pain even more. So much for pretending it doesn’t hurt.

Looking around, he found the shotgun, ejected the spent casings, and hurriedly went through Sammy’s pockets and found six more shells. He reloaded and went looking for Stu.

Stu heard the blasts and thought that Sammy got that old boy. He started running in the direction of the blasts when Frank appeared out of nowhere and stopped him.

“Don’t go chargin’ over there until ya know for sure Sammy winged’em for me. And that’s all he better have done, too. He ain’t yelled out or nuthin’ yet.”

Stu nodded his head.

“If’n we don’t hear from’em in another minute, you swing left, and I’ll go right. Just in case he got Sammy; there ain’t no way he can cut us both down from different directions at the same time.”

Bob heard every word. He was squarely in the middle of both men less than forty feet away. He kept his eyes on Stu but kept his hindsight on Frank.

They split up as agreed.

Stu was about ten feet from Bob when he came charging from his hiding spot and brought the butt of the shotgun down on top of Stu’s skull, sending him roughly to the ground. He grabbed Stu’s shotgun and tossed it as far as it would go.

Now it was just him and Frank.

Sweat was pouring from his body; his breath coming in shock waves, and his heart was beating to beat the band. His rib wouldn’t quit giving him fits, but of it all, Frank scared him more than anything else, except for Old Bennie.

That was all he had time to think about before he heard, rather than felt the bullet tear into his upper thigh sending him falling to the ground.

Rolling with a new pain, clutching his leg, Bob had just enough time to hide in the bushes as Frank yelled out.

“Boy, it’s like I told ya. Just you and me! I got me five more bullets that says I win and you lose. That scatter gun ain’t no good from where ya are! It won’t even get close.

“Yer bleedin’, tired, hurt, and scared. I know it. I feel it. I can taste it. You murdered Old Bennie, the one thing I ever cared about! I’m gonna make ya pay for that, you sunnsabitch!”

“I murdered!” Bob yelled back. “What about Mike? What about all the others you and your two dimwit cousins rounded up for that damn bear to kill? What do you call that?”

“We were doin’ what any self-respectin’ citizen should be doin’; keepin’ our town, our valley safe from people like you. I don’t like outsiders comin’ in and takin’ jobs away from people who live here. I don’t like yer kind comin’ round, tryin’ to build on our land. This country is filled with mountains and a lotta fine soil, and its people like you that come in here and destroy it all. I won’t have it happen while I’m alive, and I ain’t gonna let you stay alive to pol-lute it none either.”

“Frank, I was just passing through here. I have a job waiting for me in Boise. That’s where I was headed. All you had to do was ask. All you had to do was ask any of those people you buried. I bet none of them wanted to stay.”

“Yer lyin’, boy. Nuthin’ but lies and I ain’t gonna listen to a one of’em. I’m comin’ to get ya, boy!”

Bob was exasperated. Frank didn’t want to understand, or he was more stupid or out of touch with the world than he thought he was.

At least Bob was able to buy a little time. While talking to Frank, he had pulled off his belt and used it to tie off his thigh and stem the blood flow. The bullet only ripped a hunk of skin off, but as far as he could tell, no muscle tissue was torn, and nothing else was broken. The rib still hurt as he breathed, and it was hurting more as his breathing became gasps of air.

He could hear Frank tearing through the underbrush like a wild man. Bob settled his fingers on the triggers of the shotgun, bracing the butt against his right hip, barrels pointing in whatever direction he could hear Frank moving from.

Another bullet kicked up some dirt about a foot from Bob’s right leg. He quickly pulled his leg out of sight.

“Almost got the other one, didn’t I, boy!” Frank laughed sadistically.

In an effort to appeal to Frank’s moral values and his own sense of justice, Bob had an idea.

“Frank! Can you hear me, Frank!”

“I hear ya, boy.”

“I’ll make a deal with you.”

“No deals, boy.”

“Not even if it means you get a chance to kill me where Old Bennie did all his killing?”

“Ya mean the steel cage?”

“Yes! You and me, one on one. No guns, no hiding. Whoever loses—dies.”

Silence. A full minute went by.

“Well, Frank, how about it?”

Bob heard a hammer click back. Looking over his shoulder, he stared at Frank standing over him, the muzzle of his gun pointing right between Bob’s eyes.

“I seem to remember ya in this same position this mornin’. Get on yer feet, boy. I kinda like that idea of yer’s. That’s why I’m not gonna take ya back to the barn right now and start slicin’ ya to pieces. I was thinkin’ about just blowin’ yer head off while standin’ here.

“I kinda like yer idea though. I think it would be fittin’ I kill ya in memory of Old Bennie. I’d like to think he would like that. Let’s take a walk to the cage.” Waving the gun in the direction, Frank ordered, “Move! I don’t wanna have to tell ya again.”

Bob’s insides were trembling as he was walking back. His ploy worked, but nearly cost him his life before his plan even got started.

He came up with an idea at the right time, or else Frank might have ended his life right there in the brush.

Bob had one last chance at freedom. Failure this time meant certain death.

He knew Frank had the advantage. He was bigger, country-tough, and he didn’t have a cracked rib or a hole in his leg.

After a few minutes of slow moving because of his leg, Bob and Frank were in front of the steel cage. Bob closed his eyes, remembering what he had witnessed earlier that morning.

He shivered.

“Sammy and Stu ain’t around. Ya kill’em, boy?”

“No.”

“Don’t make no difference. Get yer ass up in there. It’s unlocked.”

Bob grabbed the handle, opened the door and stepped inside. Once he was, he only now realized how huge the cage was, yet how small the space for survival had Old Bennie still been alive.

“I’m gonna give ya the whippin’ of yer life. When I’m done, yer gonna lay in yer own blood like Old Bennie’s layin’ in his. Then I’m gonna drag yer ass to the barn and begin to slice you up real slow like.”

Frank laid his gun down on the last step in and entered the cage. As he entered, Bob attacked quickly, hitting Frank with a series of left jabs, a couple right hooks, and another right, hard into Frank’s nose. Frank went sprawling back against the steel-meshed wall.

Frank shook his head, wiped the blood flowing from his nose and mouth, and took a second to lick the blood from his hand, and then he grinned in his sadistic manner, bent low with his arms outstretched and rushed Bob, grabbing him around the middle, sending both men to the concrete floor.

Bob screamed in pain from the jarring landing that reminded him of his injuries. Frank sat astride Bob’s chest and started hitting him with left and rights. Bob tried using his arms to block several of the blows, but too many found their mark.

Bob was losing, and he knew it. In desperation, he grabbed below Frank’s beltline and squeezed for all he was worth, sending a shocked look of howling anguish coming from Frank’s mouth. With a flailing overhand right, he connected with Frank’s temple, sending him backward on the concrete in a sitting position and Frank holding his crotch, wincing in pain.

Breathing heavily, Bob lunged up onto Frank’s chest, sending him flat on his back this time, and Bob returned the favor with several left and rights pummeling Frank’s face. He kept swinging and swinging with more of his punches connecting than were Frank’s earlier.

He felt the gristle give way as he broke Frank’s nose, as he felt it shift to the left. He felt Frank’s jawbone break in three different places, and his blood splatter up, and coated his fists, and felt some coat his cheeks.

After what felt like hours, but were just a few minutes, Bob stopped. Frank wasn’t fighting back. It was over. The whole nightmarish ordeal was finished.

Bob slowly stood up, wobbling somewhat from drained of energy and because his leg was bleeding again. He looked at the cage door, the door to freedom.

Just as he reached the final step out of the steel cage, he heard Frank’s voice.

“It ain’t over yet, boy!”

Hearing the wheezing garbled words out of Frank’s broken mouth, words droning through his nose, Bob turned to see a battered and bloodied Frank, whipping out a Bowie knife from his boot, arching it high in the air, racing to the door.

Seeing the gun where Frank left it, he reached for it, pulled the hammer back and yelled, “Hold it, Frank! I don’t want to have to kill you.”

“It’s you or me, boy. Take yer pick.” Frank lunged from the top step.

Bob fired.

Frank dropped to the bottom of the steps face down. Slowly turning his face to the side, he looked at Bob, then looked down at the bloodstain forming under his chest, not believing Bob would shoot him. With an animalistic surge of strength, Frank managed to right himself back to his feet, and raising the knife, Frank screamed and lunged at Bob again.

This time the gun roared three times.

Frank pitched sideways, and fell head first onto the steps, and bounced off them to the dirt. This time there was no coming back. Frank’s eyes were wide open, seeing nothing.

Lowering his arm, Bob looked around, seeing the pickup standing like a lone sentinel. He half-walked, half-dragged his injured leg, sweat on top of sweat sticking to every fiber of his being as he made his way to the truck. Once there, he looked inside for the ignition keys; not there.

“Frank must have them, or one of the other two do. I’m not really liking the idea of digging through a dead man’s pockets, but I have to get the hell out of here.”

Walking back toward Frank’s body, he caught sight of Stu and Sammy making their way back. Realizing he still held the gun, he trained it at them, pulling the hammer back.

“Okay, you two. Stop right where you are. It’s over. Frank’s dead.”

Both men stopped short when they saw Frank’s gun in his hand.

“Is there a phone in the house?”

“Sure is,” Stu said. “What? Ya think we’re hermits or somethin’? Hell, mister, we got cell phones, too.”

“No, not hermits, just crazy is all. Both of you get inside the cage. Might as well drag Frank up in there with you.”

Nervously, Stu and Sammy each grabbed a useless arm and dragged Frank’s body up the steps and let him fall to the concrete about three feet from the door. Bob found the padlock and snapped it shut. Now he had nothing to worry about. As he started for the house, one booted foot stepped on the Bowie knife.

He bent over, picked it up and actually admired it, then stuck it right into the bench he sat on this morning when he watched Mark die. “Lucky for me I had the edge when I did, or he would have gutted me with that thing.”

Limping toward the house, he was determined to get help. He would call the police first, asking they send an ambulance.

Looking around the house for the phone wasn’t easy. The inside of the place didn’t look like it had been cleaned in years. Dishes piled on top of dirty and food encrusted dishes.

Strewn about the living room and kitchen were to-go bags and wrappers from Burger King, Taco Bell and even Mickey D’s. He even found some in the bathroom. Neat and tidy they were not.

Finding the phone in between three pizza boxes, he hit three numbers.

“911. What is your emergency, please?”

Bob explained everything.

“All right, sir. I have already dispatched two patrol units and an ambulance to your location.”

“You know where I’m at? Because I sure don’t.”

“Yes sir. Our state-of-the-art phone system is similar to a satellite tracking system. We can pin your location down within one hundred feet. Help will be there and estimated to arrive within eighteen minutes."

With no more to be said, Bob hung up, walked outside, and sat on the top step of the porch nursing his thigh, and clutching at his cracked rib as the pain in both places were really beating the drum inside his body.

Within that eighteen minutes, he heard sirens and saw flashing lights of red’s and white’s coming up the rutted road followed by an ambulance.

Watching as they pulled up to the house; it was then he believed it was finally over.

After thirty minutes of answering questions and another twenty being attended to by paramedics, by then, another four police cars, another car reading: Idaho Animal Control Unit, and a large van that read: Idaho State Forensic Unit, with the state seal in the background.

Stu and Sammy were handcuffed and put in separate police cars, but not before they gave the location where they buried all the bodies, starting with Mike’s. His would be the freshest.

Looking at one of the paramedics after she had sutured and bandage his thigh and wrapped his chest to keep the rib steady, he smiled at her and said, “I guess you’ll want to keep me around for a few days, won’t you?”

She looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean you personally. I meant the hospital.”

“They might, but it’s your choice. Personally, I wouldn’t advise any travel for several weeks, or any unnecessary movement until you get some strength back in that leg and your rib heals.”

As the ambulance pulled away, followed by another unmarked van holding Frank’s body, in a body-bag, Bob started whistling a Willie Nelson tune, On the Road Again. After a minute, he said to no one in particular, “I know one thing for sure. After I get to Boise, I’m going to make sure I’m never broke again. If nothing else, I’ll go Greyhound when I need to get some place.”

“So, what is your last name, Bob?”

He looked at the female paramedic. The one driving, was a man about his size and weight.

“It’s Teague, pronounced like league.”

“I’m Sandy Cole. Nice to meet you, even if it is under such bad conditions. Since you’ve gone through such a rough patch, and since you’re a stranger and all; if you decide not to stay in the hospital, I can be a nice enough person to buy you dinner. After all, you did go through one hell of an experience."

“Yeah, I did, Sandy. And I think I might take you up on your offer. It’s not every day I damn near get mauled by a bear and three crazies in a strange place. And follow that up with an invitation by a pretty woman such as yourself, for dinner.

“I can say that, can’t I? or do I say, pretty paramedic?”

She laughed. “Woman is just fine.” She smiled.

Boise can wait a few more days.

______

It would be the talk in six counties and all over the news as to what happened.

The investigation took over seven months to process before the D.A. would take the case to trial.

Twenty-nine bodies were recovered and over time, identifications from dental records for many were made, and many families finally had the closure they had sought after for a very long time. There were three sets of remains that couldn’t be identified. Of the twenty-nine, five were females.

It was found from testimony from both Stu and Sammy; Frank had raised the bear from a cub and trained it to kill people it couldn’t recognize or was familiar with their body odor.

At the trial, Stu and Sammy were found guilty and each received a sentence of 999 years and a day for multiple murders.

This just shows that in some respects, taking the scenic route isn’t always the best choice made.

Bob, never did get that job. The company couldn’t wait on him and hired someone else. It didn’t matter. He found work in Jasper with a construction outfit.

And Bob and Sandy got married.

Imagine that. A happy ending after all.