After we had set up camp I really needed to get a run in. I asked if anyone in our group wanted to join me, and while I got plenty of “I’ll join you tomorrow morning,” no one was interested in running after setting up tents.

As I pulled on my running shoes in our tent, my girlfriend pleaded, “Come on, Julie. Skip your run tonight. It’s going to get dark soon anyway.”

I looked at my watch. “It’s 4:30. I’ve got plenty of time, Liz. Besides, after the drive up here I’m a ball of energy. I’m not going to go far. I just need to stretch my legs.”

“Jules, seriously – there’s, like, mountain lions and bears out there! Come on, don’t go alone.”

I put my hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “I’ll be fine, Liz. Seriously. How many years have we been coming up here?”

“I know… but… hurry back, please?”

With a promise I would keep it short, an hour and a half later, after the last light had died away I realized I was a terrible girlfriend. It was a case of “Oh, I don’t remember that trail…” combined with, “That uphill sprint is really tantalizing…” and I was still a half mile from camp. I checked my Garmin watch and could see I wasn’t far and I was on the trail. I had a flashlight, even – I wasn’t that unprepared.

But as I descended into a particularly thick copse of pines, my spidey-sense was prickling. My hand fell to the holster where I carry my bear spray when I backpack… but I wasn’t carrying it while running. I took a deep breath, zipped my windbreaker closer up my neck and ran on.

I came to a dead stop when I heard the voice say, “Hey beautiful lady.”

My first thought: “he’s too close.” My second thought: “Please let it be a ghost…”

As the shirtless man came out from behind some trees onto the trail zipping up his jean shorts, it was clear what he was doing out here. And given I could smell the beer on him from ten paces, I could also tell he probably wasn’t prone to making good decisions (okay, the no-shirt and jean shorts spoke to poor decisions already, given his physique). I angled towards the far side of the trail and intended on just ignoring him – worse come to worse, I was confident I could outrun his drunk ass if it came to it.

“Well, Buck, what do we have here?” his friend stepped out of the bushes ahead of me.

In the light of my flashlight, I could tell from the way this guy was standing he wasn’t drunk. I could also tell his intentions might even be worse than his buddy’s.

“She’s fiiiiiiine, Dean,” the one named Buck said from behind me.

“Excuse me, guys,” I said as firmly as I could and endeavored to run by.

As I did, Dean reached out and grabbed my arm hard. “Oh, where you going, honey? We just want to talk…”

The selling feature for my just-in-case running flashlight wasn’t the clip I use to secure it to my waistband when not in use. Nor is it the quick USB-C rechargeable battery. No, instead it’s the second button which, when held for two second, gives you a burst of the full 3000 lumens that turns night into day. It also physically hurts when said button is depressed and the flashlight is a foot away from the face of the guy who just grabbed you.

The light flashed, Dean roared and released me, and I bolted like a spooked rabbit. With the adrenaline coursing through my veins, you’d think I’d easily be able to outpace drunk Buck and now-blind Dean. Unfortunately, the four miles I’d already done on top of the drive and setting up camp had sapped my all-out speed, and they were powered by some sort of pervert power – I could hear their footfalls gaining on me.

I ran though last-ditch defense – the flashlight could possibly flash again, and even if it couldn’t, it’s still a five inch long hardened aluminum tube, and my step-dad long ago taught me to throw a mean punch. But against two of them? I ran harder.

I came around the corner a good ten meters ahead of them when I saw it.

Ahead of me, angry, glowing, and charging in my direction straight out of a nightmare came the largest bear I have ever seen. Seriously, it rivaled the stuffed polar bear Liz and I saw at the sporting goods store in Ketchikan, Alaska last year. My flashlight shone right through it. And, did I mention it was coming straight for me?

I braked hard.

I looked behind me and I could hear Dean and Buck huffing and puffing. They hadn’t come around the corner yet, but they were just about to.

I looked ahead at the bear…

I ran towards the bear.

The bear ran past me.

Jaws open, it caught Dean’s midsection in its enormous jaws as one paw swatted Buck hard. He flew against the trunk of a tree with a sickening thud before falling limply to the forest floor. The bear reared onto its hind legs, Dean in its jaws. It stood at least fifteen feel tall before hurling Dean’s body to the ground. It roared a primal sound that shook the ground before ferociously swiping right claws and then left. I had to turn away. When I looked back, the bear was standing over what was left of Dean and it was looking at me.

I know I should have been, but I wasn’t afraid at all. The bear seemed to sense it, and – I kid you not – nodded at me before turning and leisurely walking down the path I had just run. Before it went around the corner, I watched it fade into the night. The forest went so still I could hear my heartbeat echoing in the dark.

“Jules!” I heard Liz yell as a crisscross of flashlight beams came running up the trail.

“Julie, are you okay?” Alfred asked. Before I could answer, Liz had enveloped me. “We heard screaming, and a roar…”

“Holy shit,” Taylor said as his beam shone over what was left of Dean.

“Oh my god!” Jennifer’s beam caught the broken figure of Buck.

“What did this?” Eliot asked.

Taylor’s beam followed the path the bear had taken, stopping on an indent in a soft spot in the dirt. He squatted down to examine the depression. “If I didn’t know better… those are too big for a black bear… I’d swear this was a grizzly. But California grizzlies went extinct more than a hundred years ago.”

“Jules, what happened?” Liz asked desperately.

I knew I was in shock. I could feel it in the way I let Liz’s embrace hold me up, and I knew it in the way my mouth and brain couldn’t form coherent words. Finally, I managed to quietly say, “I… I chose the bear.”