Page 3 of Catching Camila

He opened his eyes, a headache pounding behind them. Whatever he'd seen, he knew it was important. That place called to him. He needed to find it. He closed his eyes again, searching for the memory, but nothing appeared, just a steady, unsettling void.

The headache pounded harder and he was exhausted. He let his eyes shift to the overlapping leaves above. He couldn't keep them open.

The earth rocked, a giant boom cracking through the quiet.

He sat up. Around him, the birds cawed and thrust themselves into the air.

This was bad.

John bolted upright. He was sprinting toward the sound before he could think.

A rift in the trees appeared and John skidded to a stop. It was as if something had crash-landed from above. The hairs on his arms stood up as he looked at the snapped and splintered tree trunks, the burning branches, the ground plowed in a quarter-mile scar of dirt and debris. A sick feeling crept up his throat. In the middle of it all sat a twenty-foot wide crater.

Sweat broke out across his back. His breathing quickened. He stepped toward the crater, his heart pounding. Would someone…be inside it?

John took a few uneasy steps until he was at the edge, the mounds of displaced earth squishing between his bare toes. He leaned forward, held his breath, and peered into the hole.

Empty.

He stumbled back. How did he feel about finding nothing? What had he expected? Someone inside it who could answer his one million burning questions?

He felt so utterly alone.

His eyes on the ground, he noticed something he'd overlooked—long scratches dug deep into the grass at the edge of the crater. It was as if something, some animal, had clawed its way up and out. How had it climbed out so fast? John bent down and touched a finger to the claw marks.

They were huge.

Branches thrashed on the other side of the crater. John stood upright, fear pumping. Deep in the tree cover, a shadow bolted away. John couldn't make out features, only size. It was big. Grizzly bear big.

John didn’t breathe as the shadow swiveled toward him. Eyes blinked from the distance. Large, red, and angry.

John stumbled backward. What kind of animal had red eyes? Away. He had to get away.

He turned to run. Voices sounded from behind him; the locals must've heard the boom. When he looked back, across the wreckage, the shadow was gone.

But not for long, John thought as he bolted the opposite direction, his heart hammering into his throat. Whatever it was it had smelled him.

It would be back.

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