How does an unarmed fifteen-year-old girl defeat a bear? I need a weapon. I look over at the pile of suspended ceiling grid pieces. Humans have been killing bears for hundreds of thousands of years, mostly with wooden spears. I have metal. I can do this.

  There are two sizes of metal pieces, the longer twelve-foot main beams and the shorter two-foot cross pieces. I can also harvest more from the ceiling if I need to.

  I pick up one of the long pieces. It bows significantly. The metal is pretty thin and flimsy. In cross-section it is shaped like a letter T. One part intersects the other perpendicularly in the middle. At the bottom of the T is a small hollow bulge. When it was hanging from the ceiling, the T would be upside down with the tiles supported by the cross section. Some of the wire that had suspended the ceiling is still attached and more is hanging above me.

  How long should a spear be? I figure I want it to be longer than I am tall to give me some safety distance. Six feet is probably enough. I should be able to break the longer metal pieces in half by bending them back and forth until the metal fatigues. I need to make three or four in case I need to poke the bear multiple times and one spear fails. Can I use the shorter pieces for anything?

  I take my time considering how I should make use of the materials I have. I have plenty of water and enough food to sustain me for a couple of days at least. I don’t know how many calories those smoothies have, but they seem to be at least a meal and possibly a day’s nutrition.

  I find the middle of one of the long pieces and flatten the bottom of the T at the midpoint with my shoe, then bend it in half so that the bottoms of the Ts are side by side. I do the same with another long piece but bend it in the opposite direction. I put the two pieces together so that the bend parts form a cross at the base of the spear and the tops of the Ts of the second piece abut the side-by-side vertical parts of the Ts of the first piece.

  The vertical parts of the Ts of the metal runners are not solid. There are holes along the length and by using some wire threaded through the holes, I am able to firmly attach the four lengths together about every foot. Now the spear feels very sturdy, but it still needs a sharp point. Maybe I can just rub it on the concrete floor under the padding until it gets sharp?

  I look over at my pile of shorter pieces and have an idea. I bend the top T sides of two short pieces down towards their verticals, then wire them together. I interlock them further by flattening the top sides of the Ts down as much as possible with a few minutes of strategic stomping. Now I have a strong, somewhat flat two-foot-long single piece of metal.

  I pick up my six-foot spear and loosen it near the tip so that my two-foot piece of metal can fit inside about a foot. I rip a small rectangle from the carpet and roll it up. Sliding it between the runners a foot deep from the tip holds them apart slightly and creates a backstop. I slide the two combined short pieces into the gap between the runners, and it stops halfway in. Once I sharpen the shorter piece by rubbing one end on the floor, I’ll have a removeable spear tip. I can make a dozen or more. This will give me an extra foot of distance from the bear and the ability to stab it multiple times.

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  It is a lot of work, but after an hour of scraping, the tip of the two linked short pieces is pretty sharp. It’s time for a test. I load the spear tip into the haft and target a spot on the wall. I take a few steps and ram it into the wall. The spear tip punctures the drywall easily and then hits something solid. I pull back on the handle, and the spear tip stays in the wall. I think this is going to work. I retrieve it and resharpen the tip that was dulled by the impact with whatever is behind the drywall between the room.

  I spend the next two days converting the fallen runners from the drop ceiling into spears and tips in preparation for battling the bear. I do have to climb back up onto the counter and pull down more of the ceiling for additional materials, but I do it carefully with no mishaps. In the end I have another handle and sixteen spear tips. I also make a third handle without the gap but instead with the tip sharpened just in case I run out of removeable tips.

  I’m ready. If I can get a spear into the bear’s eye or mouth or throat or heart through the gap between the doors when its close enough, I might be able to kill it in one thrust. If not, as long as it keeps attacking, I have more spear tips. My biggest worry is that the initial wound won’t be fatal. If the bear retreats, do I wait or do I venture out and track it? What if it never returns to the door in the first place? Do I go out and hunt it in the open? I’ll just have to play it by ear.

  I’ve finished nearly all of my food. The bear hasn’t been around since yesterday. I lay my weapons out near the door. I keep a loaded spear driver close at hand, ready to pick it up the moment I see the bear. I drink a few sips from the last smoothie bottle. I don’t feel hungry right now, just nervous. My last sleep was fitful. I finally passed out from exhaustion. I think it was enough—I feel awake and alert. I pace around the room frequently going to the door to peer out into the next room. I force some rolled carpet between the two doors to hold them open about three inches. They are still tied by my belt and shoelaces but having that opening will make it easier the thrust my spear at the bear once it gets close enough. Still, no bear can be seen

  There is a tightness in my chest and my stomach feels unsettled. I can’t believe any of this. I’m squeamish about using a flyswatter, now I’m waiting here ready to kill with a spear. I’m too on edge and need to relax. I sit down crisscross on the relatively dry rolled carpet and lay the loaded spear over my lap, grasping it with both hands. I close my eyes and take long slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. I struggle to clear my mind. The hum-buzz of the fluorescent light directs my thoughts to the rooms. I go over everything I’ve been through so far to exercise those demons. I’ve made mistakes but nothing catastrophic aside from entering the rooms in the first place. If only I had known what awaited me.

  I try to refocus. Thoughts of home intrude now. It seems like another world. I guess it really is. I don’t know where I am, but it’s not some vast building on Earth. It’s somewhere else. How long have I been here? I think this is day twelve. If I get through the coming battle alive, I’ll let myself check. Now I think it really is July. If I make to August twenty-fifth, I’ll be sixteen. What will my parents, sisters and friends do if I’m not back by then?

  There is a huffing from the adjacent room. I open my eyes.