BEAR TRAP
BEAR TRAP
BEAR TRAP
I couldn’t remember how old I was when I first found the bear traps Dad kept hidden in the basement closet.
Charlie’s gone.
They weren’t illegal in Idaho, but there were strict regulations on how, where, and which types could be used. The ones dad had found and brought home, though—big, old, rusted things with giant serrated teeth that looked ready to snap clean through a shin bone—hadn’t been legal in decades.
He’d hung them in the shed once he built the cabin.
Charlie’s gone.
The fact he’d foundoneout on a public trail was odd enough to begin with, let alone half a dozen over the years. For one, it was illegal to set them in protected grizzly bear territory, but even folks who still used foothold traps to prevent livestock predation wouldn’t placethatwhere someone might accidentally step on it.
So, who’d set them?
The question had bothered me for as long as I could remember.
Charlie’s gone.
Dad claimed he didn’t know. The whole thing was weird as fuck—I knew that. He’d grow tense and closed off anytime I brought it up. “I keep meaning to turn them in at the ranger station and never get around to it,” he’d say, brushing me off.
I’d let it go and eventually stopped asking, because I never really wanted to think about it, either.
I knew he’d never use them. He respected wildlife too much and was incredibly passionate about protecting natural areas. Besides, he’d removed the pin and spring mechanism in each, essentially making them useless.
Macabre decorations, at worst.
Right?
LEAVE
LEAVE
LEAVE
“Reece?” someone called. It sounded like they were underwater. Or maybe I was?
Charlie’s gone.
Dad had never wanted me in that lookout. He fought Leonard hard on my placement, nearly demanding a closer posting.
“Reece! Are you okay? We may have to call an ambulance…” the voice trailed off again.
I banged up my knee pretty good splitting wood before my shift, left some first aid supplies out on the bathroom sink. No need to worry.
It looked like a fucking crime scene when I walked into his bathroom earlier that evening. Had he really hurt his knee chopping wood? Or had he fallen down a flight of slippery stairs, tripping over himself in the dark while he sprinted away?
“Reece!Can you hear me?”
No, I can’t, because Charlie’s gone.
Blearily, I opened my eyes. Tate leaned over me, hands brushing through my hair.
I winced when his finger caught on something sharp. “Ow,what the fuck are you doing?” I groaned, batting him away.
