Page 95 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
A shout. Only it doesn’t come from behind him.
It’s in front of him. A woman’s voice shouting, “Max!”
“Detective Casey,” he says, and the name comes out as a croak as he runs faster now, tears nearly blinding him.
He doesn’t swipe away the tears this time. He just blinks so he can see.
Max escaped the bear-man. Not once, not twice, but three times. So who cares if he’s crying when he’s found? He knows what he did. He was brave and smart, and he survived. Most of all, he survived.
“Max!” Detective Casey calls again, and then Deputy Will shouts, “Max! Where are you?”
“Here!” he says, and his voice comes out as a chirp, barely audible.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because they can hear him crashing through the bushes, and they are there, so close he can see them running toward him. One last burst of energy, and he claws through a bush and his ankle gives out, but it doesn’t matter. Deputy Will is there to catch him, to scoop him up and hug him, and Max collapses on his shoulder, and he’s sobbing like a baby, but it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter because he is safe.
It doesn’t matter because he survived.
He survived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Casey
I catch up to Anders, who’s holding Max as the boy shakes against him, his tears of relief starting my own.
“You’re okay,” I say as I walk over and pat his back while he clings to Anders. “We found you. You’re okay.”
Max stiffens, and I yank my hand away. Then he fights to get down, and Anders quickly releases him.
“He’s there,” Max says, the words tumbling out. “The bear-man was right there. He found me, and he fell, and I got away but he’s still there.”
Anders pulls Max behind him as we both lift our weapons and point them in the direction Max came. We’d heard a cry of pain, and we thought it was Max. It could have been—he’s limping—but now that I replay the sound, it was more man than boy.
“Eric!” Anders shouts. “You nearby?”
“Coming!” Dalton yells back.
“We have Max! But his captor’s still out there!”
“Got it!”
We stay where we are. We might yearn to go after Max’s captor, but we need to let Dalton catch up.
“Max?” I whisper. “You say the man fell?”
Max nods. “I stabbed him in the leg yesterday. He was coming at me, but I got out of the way and he tripped. He fell. I kicked him in the stab wound.”
Anders grins over at the boy. “Nice.”
Max doesn’t smile back, but his eyes glow at the praise.
“Did he chase you?” I say.
“I—I don’t know. I just ran as fast as I could. I heard you, and I knew you were nearby.”
“Good. Is your foot hurt? Or your leg?”
