Read Sacrament for Free Online Page B

mile back,
but bright enough to show Will his quarry.
    The animal was closer to the shore than to the shack, and closer to Will than either: standing on all fours,
swaying, the ground around her dark with her free-flowing blood.
    'What the fuck's going on out here?' Guthrie demanded.
    Will didn't look at him; he kept his eyes fixed on the bear - as hers were fixed on him - while he yelled for
Guthrie to go back inside.
    'Rabjohns? Is that you?'
    'There's a wounded bear out here-' Will shouted.
    'I see her,' Guthrie replied. 'Did you shoot her?'
    'No!' From the corner of his eye Will could see that Guthrie had emerged from his shack. 'Go back inside will
you?'
    'Are you hurt?' Guthrie called.
    Before Will could reply the bear was up, and turning her bulk towards Guthrie, she charged. There was time as
she roared upon the old man for Will to wonder why she'd chosen to take Guthrie instead of him; whether in the
seconds they'd stared at one another she'd seen that he was no threat to her: just another wounded thing, trapped
between street and sea. Then she was up and swiping at Guthrie, the blow throwing him maybe five yards. He
landed hard, but thanks to some grotesque gift of adrenalin he was on his feet a heartbeat later, yelling
incoherently back at his wounder. Only then did his body seem to realize the grievous harm it had been done.
His hands went up to his chest, his blood running out between his fingers. His yells ceased and he looked back
up at the bear, so that for a moment they stood staring at one another, both bloodied, both teetering. Then
Guthrie spoiled the symmetry and fell face down in the snow.
    Still standing at the doorstep, Lucy began a round of despairing yelps, but however traumatized she was she
plainly had no intention of approaching her master. Guthrie was still alive; he was attempting to turn himself
over, it seemed, his right hand sliding on the ice as he tried to lift himself up.
    Will looked back the way he'd come, hoping that somebody was in sight to help. There was no sign of anyone
on the shoreline; perhaps people were making their way along the street. He couldn't afford to wait for them,
however. Guthrie needed help and he needed it now. The bear had sunk down onto all fours again, and by the
degree of her sway she looked ready to keel over entirely. Keeping his eyes on her he cautiously approached the
place where Guthrie was lying. The delirium that had seized him earlier had guttered out. There was only a
bitter sickness in his belly.
    By the time he reached Guthrie's side the man had managed to turn himself over, and it was clear that he was
wounded beyond hope of healing: his chest a wet pit, his gaze the same. But he seemed to see Will; or at least
sense his proximity. He reached out as Will bent to him, and caught hold of his jacket.
    'Where's Lucy?' he said.
    Will looked up. The dog was still at the doorway. She was no longer barking.
    'She's okay.'
    Guthrie didn't hear him reply, it seemed, because he drew Will closer, his hold remarkably strong.
'She's safe,' Will told him, more loudly, but even as he spoke he heard the warning hiss of the bear. He glanced
back in her direction. Her whole bulk was full of shudders, as though her system, like Guthrie's, was close to
capitulation. But she wasn't ready to die where she stood. She took a tentative step towards Will, her teeth
bared.
    Guthrie's other arm had caught hold of Will's shoulder. He was speaking again. Nothing that made much sense
to Will; at least not at this moment.
    'This will ... not come ... again.. .' he said.
    The bear took a second step, her body rocking back and forth. Very slowly Will worked to pull Guthrie's hands
off him, but the man's hold was too fierce.
    'The bear...' Will said.
    'Nor this...' Guthrie muttered, '... nor this...' There was a tiny smile on his bloody lips. Did he know, even in
his dying agonies, what he was doing; holding down the man who had come with such sour memories,