Joanna

"Shit!" I exclaimed as I saw a polar bear lurking around our house.

"What is it, honey?" Joanna asked as I crawled back towards the trunk of my jeep.

"Bear," I replied. "Polar bear."

"It's black fight back if it's brown lay down. If it's white, goodnight," she repeated the rhyme to herself. I grabbed my shotgun and began loading it.

"Stay in the car, Joanna," I commanded as I opened the trunk. I stepped into freshly seated snow. The sky was gray and overcast. I knew this would happen when we would move to Alaska. I've killed a few moose here; they're more dangerous than people give them credit, but I've never killed a polar bear. Never even seen one!

I pulled out my Deagle; my shotgun was slung around my back. The bear was about twenty-five feet from me, rummaging through the trash. It heard me close the trunk. I fired my Deagle. One. Two Three. The bullets did not stop it from charging towards me. I quickly switched to my shotgun, but the bear roared and slapped it out of my hand. I was struck with fear. My body's fight response was stuck between fight and flight. I stood still. The last thing I remembered was me screaming as the bear slapped me with its claws.

I woke up in a hospital lying in a bed. I noticed my vision was obscured, and I reached over to my right eye. I was wearing a bandage over it. I tried to sit up, but I winced in pain. I checked under my shirt, and there were even more scratches. These were deep gashes. I did not also have to look; the bear bit my leg.

"Hey there, handsome," Joanna smiled as she was wheeled into my room with an arm sling.

"I thought I told you to stay in the car," I said, my heart skipping a beat as I thought of the worst that could have happened to her.

"I did, but I distracted the bear long enough for you to kill it. Also, your car window is smashed, and the door broken. Sorry honey," she still gave me that sweet radiant smile, the same smile she gave me when we met each other at St. Mary's School for the Deaf and Blind. She is blind, and I was deaf. Back then, I was her eyes, and she was my ears.

"I killed that thing?" I asked, utterly perplexed. "I thought I passed out?"

"I think you blacked out," Joanna replied. "You killed that beast with such ferocity, I had paramedics have a guy to skin it for it you. I've heard of stories of people wearing the pelts of animals they've killed. Once they can fix my eyes the way they've fixed your ears, I'm sure that it'll look great on you."

"Come on, Mrs. Lambert. Your husband needs to rest." The nurse wheeled Joanna out of the room.

"Au revoir!" Joanna waved with her cute Quebcois accent.

"Au revoir!" I waved back.

I immediately pulled out my phone and emailed my boss telling her that I would be in the hospital for a few days. I worked for the Post, reading French news and academia, and putting my own analytical spin on it in English. I hope to be promoted to a field officer and work in France. Since the Second World War, my family has not been in France when my father left Vichy France for America. It would be good to return to my roots.

I turned on the television, and Dragon Ball Z was on. I haven't seen the show since I was a kid back in the 90s. I would watch the episodes come out every Saturday. This was the first time that I have actually managed to hear them speak and listen to the action sequences. Goku and Ginyu were fighting ferociously. Ginyu knew that he was no match for Goku, but he had one ace up his sleeve. Ginyu wounded himself while Goku stood back, bewildered. Ginyu had his arms out wide and laughed.