Chapter 1

Jack Logan lay in a cold sweat on the cotton mattress of the hand-made bunk. The mattress and his clothing were damp from the perspiration pouring
from his aching body. His consciousness had been drifting between painful awareness and fitful sleep for several hours. Sleep where a never-ending
series of nightmares of attacking grizzly bears kept filling his imagination. The fire in the fireplace was little more than a flicker, with a nice bed of coals
giving warmth to the little mountain cabin.
Turning his head to look at the dwindling fire, Jack realized that his very life might depend on that fire. He forced himself to painfully roll over and sit up
on the edge of the bunk. The cabin seemed to teeter and spin as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He weakly gripped the rough wooden plank
that bordered the bunk. He just sat on the edge for a moment until the waves of pain and nausea passed.
After his brain cleared and his eyesight became steady, Jack began the arduous task of standing up. It hurt. It was particularly painful when he tried to
put weight on his left leg. That damned grizzly had almost ripped it off with a single swipe of those claws. Jack stood motionless for a few moments,
trying to maintain his balance while keeping his eyes focused on the flickering flames.
With a hesitating shuffle, dragging his left leg behind, Jack moved toward the stack of wood beside the fireplace. Every move was excruciating. His left
leg hurt the most, but his back and left arm were also tormented by his movements. That grizzly did a lot of damage before the lucky bullet from Jack's .
45 found the animal's brain and stopped the rampage.
As he reached the woodpile Jack leaned against the wall, supporting himself with his good right arm. Even that small movement caused waves of agony
from his wounds. He stood still for a moment, breathing hard from the exertion of moving the fifteen feet from the bunk to the fireplace. His vision was
beginning to blur again and he felt woozy. Jack took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled slowly. The pain diminished slightly. After a
few moments and several deep breaths, Jack picked up a smaller piece of wood from the pile and dropped it into the fireplace.
There was a shower of sparks and hissing as the wood fell into the coals. For a brief moment, the fire seemed to go out completely. Then it flickered
and began to burn again. Soon the stick of cedar was catching fire. As he stood watching the fire struggling to rebuild itself, Jack couldn't help but
associate with the flames. His own life was flickering. His energy was depleting and he knew that it would take a miracle for him to survive. It would
have been so easy to just lie in the bunk and wait for Death to claim him. But Jack Logan wasn’t a man to give in easily. He would fight to survive with
as much zeal as he had fought that bear.
Jack slowly reached down and picked up another small piece of wood to put into the fireplace. It too caused the flames to sputter almost into oblivion.
But as he stood there, leaning against the mantle, the flames began to lick up around the new addition and start the inevitable consumption process.
The smell of cedar was strong in the room now. Jack loved the smell of a cedar fire. It was a pleasing aroma to his senses. He stood there for long
minutes, leaning against the mantle, letting the fire get well established, and feeling its soothing warmth soak into his body and dry his clothes. His eyes
were closed. It was all he could do to stand, but he realized that if he sat down he might never get up again.
After several minutes, Jack placed larger third and fourth logs on the now healthy blaze. That would last several hours.
As he leaned against the mantle, Jack looked around the small mountain cabin that he called home for the past eighteen months. As he perused his
meager surroundings, he couldn't help but reflect on the irony of his circumstances. He left the city after the death of his family, looking for peace and
solitude to restore his traumatized soul. He spent weeks looking for a mountain cabin where he could get away from people and congestion. He just
wanted to get back to nature and heal his broken heart. The best way to do that, he thought, was to enjoy what he loved most, the mountains and the
wilderness. This place was just what he wanted and he had enjoyed the last year and a half, turning it into a place he could call home. But he hadn't
bargained on an irate grizzly bear claiming it as part of his own territory.
The fire was growing and the warmth was putting energy back into Jack as he felt the strength coming back into his legs. He thought it might be a good
idea for him to eat something. Just like the fireplace needed fuel to keep giving off warmth, his body needed fuel to help it to fight off infection and to
heal.
Torturously, Jack hobbled toward the opposite end of the cabin, pausing often to catch his breath and let waves of pain wash away. As he neared the
stove, he considered whether or not to try to light it. He didn't have the energy, plus having two fires would deplete his wood supply faster. He settled
for a cold can of beans and a can of peach halves. His meat supply was stored outside in the root cellar, and he was in no condition to attempt to
retrieve any of the jerky stored there.
Jack picked up the can opener and sat the two cans down on the table. He pushed one chair nearer to the table and began the painful task of sitting
down. It took several minutes, and even after he was sitting on the skin-covered chair, he had to shift his weight several times to find the least painful
position. Finally he began to relax slightly and took the can of beans and placed it between his knees. His left hand barely had enough strength to
hold the levers as he manipulated the opener with his right hand. After the task of opening the bean can was complete, he repeated the ordeal with the
can of peaches. When both cans were opened and sitting on the table, Jack just sat still for a moment letting his strength rebuild sufficiently to allow
him to continue.
The stainless silverware was kept in an old coffee can sitting on the table. He took out a fork and began eating the cold beans right from the can. After
a few bites, he stabbed one of the peach halves with his fork and consumed it. The sweetness of the peach, along with the sugary syrup, seemed to
give him energy. He ate a second peach half before he resumed his attack on the beans. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d become since his last
meal, over twelve hours before.
He was only halfway through the beans when he began to feel full. He forced himself to consume several more bites. He finished the last of the
peaches and turned up the can to drink the remaining juice. Jack sat there, looking around and contemplating his next step.
The fire was burning brightly now, casting a cavalcade of eerie dancing shadows on the walls of the little cabin. The aroma of cedar was strong as the
wood burned slowly in the fireplace. Jack could feel the warmth of the fire even though he was at least ten feet away. As he sat there, he leaned
forward and placed his head down on his good right arm. His injured left arm rested comfortably on his badly injured left leg. The cuts on his back
protested slightly as he leaned forward, until they became accustomed to the new position. Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Maybe if he
rested for a few minutes he would be able to think more clearly about what he should do next. Maybe he should have taken the advice of several
people and kept a satellite phone. But he was stubborn. He wanted to rough it. He never dreamed anything like this could happen. Shortly after he
began to mentally criticize himself for ineptitude, Jack fell asleep.