In A Split Second

By: Sarah J Zimmerman

I wiped the sleep from my eyes, the ragged steering wheel twitching slightly as the truck jolted down the little lane. Frost creeped in on the corner of the windshield, and despite the geriatric heater’s best efforts, I could still see my breath trickle out my nostrils every exhale. The rocking headlights cast a feeble beam of yellow light out into the darkness. I could hear the motor whine, probably shouldn’t have run it in 4-wheel for so long, but it was my only option. I listened as the tire chains gripped into the ice. I feel like that truck had been through a lot, it was scratched, dented, and busted to pieces, but what can I say, there aren’t many car renting opportunities in the one of the most remote parts of the Yukon. After my flight landed in Whitehorse, and a taxi took me as far as it would go, I bought the old veteran truck off a local and continued into the wilderness. As I drove along, I saw a rugged wooden sign along the road.

“Ha! My destination.”

I sighed and turned into the driveway on my left. As I rattled up to the little, rustic cabin, I saw a figure moving in the window, by the time I parked, he was standing by my driver’s side door.

“You’re dumber than you look.” he grunted.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment to my appearance. You must be my guide.”

I smiled and reached out for a hand shake, the man stood still. He had a stern expression on his brows. He was a native, and looked to be of one of the local tribes. He appeared to be middle aged or a little older, but lean and wide shouldered. His face looked leathery and weathered, like too much time in the cold got to it.

“You must be eager to die, rookie, since you travel alone, at night, in this weather.”

He gestured to a small bush plane sitting behind him.

“Gear goes there. We sleep tonight and leave in the morning.”

I sheepishly nodded and tossed my bags in the plane. 2 duffels full of down parkas and fur lined gear, and lastly, a matte black gun case.

I wandered into the shack and was steered into the spare room. As I slid into the rickety bed, I watched the crackling fire place and contemplated the journey so far. Here I was, curled up in a twin sized bed, staring at the rough cut rafters three thousand miles from home. This was the midpoint in a spectacular trip: the starting point was home in Connecticut, now here with my guide, then out onto the ice for experience of a lifetime, Polar Bear hunting. As I drifted through my sea of thoughts, I sank into sleep. After I awoke and partook in a hearty breakfast courtesy the outfitter’s wife, I was introduced to the rest of the party and we promptly left for camp.

After 4 days of hunting, we had seen a half dozen bears, but nothing over 5 or 6 feet, and no big shooters. We hunted all day by dog sled, covering as much ground as possible and glassing for game. That night, as we trudged back to camp, a somber atmosphere hung over the hunting party. We had one more day, one last hunt to score a bear.

I woke up on the last day, and stumbled out of bed. Everyone was exhausted, but we had planned the hardest hunt yet for today. As I suited up in my parka, and tugged my fur lined hat and mask over my face, I was more determined than ever.

“Now or never folks!”

This was the battle cry of our guide as we loaded the sled and slipped out onto the ice. I winced as the frigid air stabbed at my face and eyes. The mercury read -20 degrees Fahrenheit, and as the dogs skimmed through the snow, the wind drove the cold through every coat and to the center of my bones. I glanced over at my guide, his dark eyes were locked in a steely gaze on the horizon. He was getting nervous too. Sure, he would still get paid whether we got a bear or not, but according to law, the meat from my kill would go to him and his family, as with any Inuit guide. For all intents a purposes, he needed this kill more than me.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the sudden stop of the dogs. My chest smacked off the rail and I spun to the guide to see what was wrong. He was standing transfixed, peering through his scope. I scoured the landscape to determine what had so thoroughly captured his interest.

“Get your gun.”

I hesitated, in disbelief of what was happening.

“Now!” he barked.

I scrambled to the front of the sled and unsheathed my rifle. I threw down a sandbag for the stock and slammed my bipod into the ice. I eased onto my stomach and positioned myself for a prone shot.

“That’s a 9 foot bear. Get ready, 300 yards. As soon as you get a shot, go, before he spots us.”

My heart raced as I steadied my cross hairs over the beast. He finally lumbered around and half turned, in doing so I got a split second shot at the vitals. I held my breath and squeezed. My shoulder caught the recoil as the 8mm Magnum kicked backwards, and 200 grains of lead sailed through the air. There was an explosion of ice as the bullet struck the ground under the bear.

“You missed!” growled my guide.

I worked the bolt furiously.

The bear was understandably shaken, and had spun towards us with his head alert, trying to find where the shot had come from. My second shot hit right behind his left ear, dropping the beast to the ground. The third blew out his heart as he struggled to get up.

We drove the dogs over and carefully strode up to the bear. A wonderful specimen, nearly 9 and a half feet long and thickly furred, the bear was the trophy of a lifetime. We propped up his head and I posed with my rifle for a picture. It would have been a fantastic moment… had the ice not given out.

We were on rather thin ice anyway, and the 1000 pound bear was stressing it worse, when I got up to him and posed, it was too much. I heard a loud crack, and before I could even stand up, the ice crumbled. I jumped away, scrambling to stay on top of the ice. In a split second, the giant bear slipped into the ocean behind me, and I fell and slipped in behind him.

I felt the water rush in, the icy current flowing into my clothes and searing my skin. I struggled, trying to claw my way back to the surface, but I got tangled in my clothes. My air was running out. As the current spun me upside down, I caught a glimpse of the dark depths below. I felt myself sinking, the waves swallowing me into the abyss. My limbs started to stiffen, the intense cold was brutal. I was growing weaker. It was too much, 5 minutes ago was the best moment of my life and now was the end of it? My back hit the ocean floor. I could feel the cold draining the life out of me, I heard something calling out to me… I closed my eyes and succumbed to the sea.