Teddycats

by Mike Storey

  “Yes,” said Felix.

  Felix had seen plenty of animals, brave and otherwise, freeze up in the jungle, too frightened to even understand the dangers they faced if they didn’t fight or flee.

  “All right, eel’s gone,” Diego said. “Now get back to the bow and keep lookout.”

  20

  THE SUN WAS shining and the wind was warm at their backs as they drifted purposefully down the river. The current was quick but steady, nothing Diego couldn’t handle. They had even set down their paddling bones, letting the river do the work as the water turned from a bleak brown to a sharper blue and the mist cleared.

  “I could get used to this,” said Bill, reclining in the sunshine.

  “Have to admit,” said Omar, “it sure beats humping through the jungle brush. I’ve got thorns and bramble cuts all over.”

  “You’ve got to learn to be one with the wilderness, my friend,” Bill said.

  Omar laughed. “Sounds like you’ve already forgotten about the swamp thing that almost stole your snout.”

  “Can’t let that keep you down,” said Bill lightheartedly.

  “Stay on task,” Diego warned.

  Omar and Bill were supposed to be on watch duty, but they had grown drowsy with sun. The unchanging river unfurled before them, and despite its power and beauty it could not hold their attention. Luke was actually sleeping. Bill figured he might as well join his friend.

  “Wake me up when we get to the human den,” said Bill, yawning.

  “Let’s not grow complacent,” Felix said. “It’s calm now, but there’s still plenty that can go awry.”

  Diego, clearly fed up with his lookouts, listed some potential dangers. “Crocs, piranhas, eddies that’ll suck ya under in no time flat. Ever seen a croc up close? One of them knobby monsters could swallow this entire operation in one bite. One of them, a legendary sucker, Boris, he’s got a long yellow stripe down his back. Here’s hopin’ you never meet him. Old Boris has chomped down whole boats of humans.”

  Bill and Omar exchanged glances, then quickly got back to work. It did seem like it would be best to avoid a run-in with a croc. Instead of resting, they admired the jungle from their currently peaceful vantage point. Every now and then they spotted movement in the trees—toucans, lizards, monkeys, sloths, and bands of coatis—lurking, slithering, hunting, grooming, or just making a racket high in the trees. Bill allowed himself to imagine a future where the Teddycats were integrated into jungle society. Then he would finally be allowed to wander the land, free and not beholden to any rules or Elders. They weren’t there just yet, but close enough that failure would sting like never before.

  They had grown so accustomed to the river’s rumble that they didn’t notice as it gradually grew into a roar. The current picked up as well, but at first that had seemed like a good thing. After all, they’d welcome anything that might shorten the journey. But then the raft began to list. Diego and Bill returned to paddling duty and tried to steer them back into the middle as Felix leaned against the rudder with all his diminished might.

  “What’s tipping us?” asked Omar, working hard to remain calm.

  “Hopefully just rapids up ahead,” Diego said.

  “White water,” whispered Luke.

  “What’d you say?” Bill asked from the port side.

  “White. Water!” said Luke, pointing to a frosting of sloshy caps in the near distance.

  The water lashed back at them as they dug their oars into the current, trying to carve a line back on course. Soon they were spinning sideways and picking up speed. Their hippo bones sliced through the water but seemed only to accelerate their loss of control. The mist returned, thicker now, and settled smack in the center of the river valley.

  “Time to consider the idea that there might be a drop ahead,” said Felix.

  “How big?” Diego asked.

  “I can’t say,” said Felix, sighing. “But based on our speed and trajectory . . .”

  “You’re sayin’ it might be a real inconvenience,” said Diego.

  “Something like that.”

  “Give me a boost,” said Bill, beckoning Omar and Diego.

  Startled, they complied. It took a moment to secure footing. The raft was no longer spinning, but waves had started to form as the current squeezed the water. Omar and Diego each grabbed a paw and lifted until Bill’s hindquarters were level with their snouts.

  “What do ya see?” asked Diego.

  Bill squinted and shielded the sun with a flattened paw. “Nothing yet.”

  “Jeez, you’re heavy,” said Omar.

  Luke tried to help, but Bill’s weight was awkward and not easily shared.

  Felix stayed with the rudder, trying in vain to steer them to a bank. But while the river had narrowed, the trees had pulled back like a curtain. There were no longer gracefully dangling limbs within reach, just heaps of boulders. “Luke, come help me,” Felix said.

  Together they tugged on the rudder as Bill tried to keep his balance.

  “No rush, mate!” shouted Diego, his voice nearly lost to the spray. “Anytime now!”

  Bill leaned forward. The mist was like a sheet. “Let me down,” he said, trampling the shoulders of his supporters.

  “What did you see?” asked Diego.

  “Well, I don’t know how big it is, but there’s definitely a drop.”

  The raft was straight as an arrow, pitched slightly forward. Instinctively, they began to move to the stern. The rudder rattled violently then fell away through the wooden slats, ripped out by rocks or just the force of the current.

  “If we make it through this, we’re definitely sticking to land from now on,” Omar said.

  “Agreed,” said Bill.

  The roar reached a thunderous crescendo as boulders created a ripping funnel and rapids rocked the raft. Spray soaked their fur as the mist enveloped them, reducing visibility to only an immediate, increasingly panicked pocket.

  “Here we go, mates,” said Diego, steeling himself.

  “Whatever happens,” said Felix, “do not bail out! Stay on the raft!”

  “Teddycats, use your claws!” Bill said. “Luke and Felix, grab on to us!”

  Luke immediately latched onto Bill, all four limbs plus tail wrapped around his friend’s torso like a pole. Felix went flat on his stomach and hooked two arms around Diego, who stabbed his claws into the wood as the raft launched forward.

  21

  THEY WERE ONLY airborne for a moment, but as the raft catapulted out of the mist, it stretched out into what felt like a lifetime.

  Memories long forgotten swelled and turned so real Bill felt he could reach out and kiss his mother, smell Cloud Kingdom grass, feel the warmth of the straw in his den. He could hear Maia’s laugh—and not that low, dry “ha” when Bill did something stupid, but the rare, lyrical cackle she couldn’t control, the one that made Bill believe they knew each other even better than they could understand.

  The raft kept falling. Bill could somehow sense his father holding him as a little kitten, swearing he would always protect him. Even the Elders emerged, outlined in an anxious red aura but glowing with concern, their hands outstretched in welcome. Bill could feel old judgments falling away. His frustrations flattened. A warm, vibrant space appeared—just a speck on the horizon, more of a feeling than a destination, a golden crack in the earth—and pulled at him.

  The raft plunged into the water. It was cold and cloudy. They shot deep into the basin at the foot of the falls. The Teddycats held on for dear life, while Luke and Felix held on to the Teddycats. The raft scraped the bottom, where the water was dark but clear. For a terrifying moment, the force of the falling water pressed them against the sand. Bill twisted about, unsure whether to release his claw and make a break for the surface, but Felix’s words—Stay on the raft!—stuck with him. Suddenly, the raft caught
a current, which lifted them violently from the bottom and spat them out.

  WHEN BILL CAME to, they were beached on a flat rock, chests heaving. He counted all four of his comrades, safe and sound, but the raft wasn’t so lucky. Their river craft was destroyed, splintered and scattered, their supplies lost. The sun had baked the stone to a stinging degree, but Bill didn’t want to move. At least, not quite yet. Though the waterfall was still within sight, its thunder had been silenced. There was only the throb of blood. Bill shook his head until his ears popped and the roar returned.

  The rock was beginning to burn his fur. He rose, slowly, his spine creaking, and stretched his battered muscles. His neck was sore. He was dizzy. There were stars in his eyes.

  “Everybody all right?” he asked, a bit unsteady on his paws.

  Diego groaned. “I’m gettin’ too old for this.”

  “I think so,” said Omar, scanning his body for damage. “Just got the wind knocked out of me pretty bad.”

  “Glad to hear it,” said Bill. “Hey, Luke, how many toes am I holding up?”

  “Not now, Bill,” said Luke. He was soaked and shaking, fur plastered to his bones.

  “Good enough,” said Bill. “How about you, Felix?”

  Felix was crumpled on the rock, his injured leg at a painful angle. His spots seemed to disappear, and his eyes were closed.

  “Felix?” Bill said. “Felix, are you all right?”

  He rushed to the jaguar’s side. His body was limp and heavy.

  “Wake up, Felix!” Luke pleaded.

  Diego put an ear to Felix’s chest. “He’s swallowed a lot of water.”

  “Okay, I know what to do,” Bill said. “Diego, hold him steady.”

  Bill took a deep breath. A lancing pain shot through his lungs, but he ignored it and gathered as much air as he could hold. He peeled open the droopy flaps that hung over Felix’s jaw. The exposed fangs were gleaming and rigid, but in his resting mouth they seemed more like decoration than powerful weapons. Bill blew forcefully into the jaguar’s mouth, then pumped away at his chest while Diego held Felix’s head in his lap and spoke softly into his ear.

  Bill’s father had taught him how to resuscitate an injured animal when he was very young. He had even practiced on a bed of straw wrapped in leaves. Always be prepared was his father’s motto, and though Bill had never used the technique before on a living creature, he found himself right back at home with his father, the bundle of straw dying on the floor of the den.

  He listened for a heartbeat but heard nothing. Another deep, lung-cracking breath; another round of chest presses; more tender coaxing from Diego.

  Omar and Luke watched in silence.

  “Come on, mate,” Diego urged.

  Bill took one last breath. He tried to capture all the power of the jungle, the gratitude and friendship in his heart, their collective need for Felix’s dignity and quiet strength. He couldn’t imagine accomplishing their mission without him. Bill would carry him the rest of the way if that’s what it took. The air was bruising—it made his eyes water. He blew every last particle into Felix’s lungs, then pounded his chest.

  One! Two! Three! Four!

  Suddenly, a spout of water shot out of Felix’s mouth and splashed Bill in the face.

  Everyone leapt back as Felix gargled for a moment, spat out another lungful of water, and rolled over onto his side with a groan. Slowly, he turned back over, eyes open.

  “Felix, you’re alive!” exclaimed Bill.

  Omar, Luke, and even Diego whooped in celebration.

  Felix smiled, dazed and maybe slightly embarrassed. “Are we there yet?”

  22

  IT WAS A good question.

  With the raft destroyed, their food and tools lost to the river, and nobody in much of a rush to get back on the water, the crew set about figuring their position. Luke and Omar gathered whatever foodstuffs they could find on the riverbank—mostly bland grass and slugs—while Diego tried to salvage what he could from the raft. There was very little left over, though he did manage to fashion a new prowling stick from one of the splintered hippo bones found washed up down the bank.

  Bill sought high ground, as was his nature. He climbed a series of boulders, trying to calculate their distance from the savanna and, with any luck, the human den. He couldn’t get too high—the waterfall’s mist obscured the view—but he eventually hopped from a wet rock formation to an umbrella tree. He climbed the trunk until it began to bend, then took in the vista.

  To the west was the waterfall. Bill shook his head. It seemed insane that they had survived. It looked like a longer drop than the fall on the side of Cloud Kingdom, long considered a death sentence by Teddycats and featured in tragic jungle legends. To the east lay the continued arc of the river. It was impossible to see past the next bend. The savanna was straight ahead, flat and dusty. It appeared they had landed deep in the savanna. There was a thick but finite chunk of green between the dust bowl and what Bill hoped was the dent of the river valley.

  He sighed and counted his blessings. Everyone was alive. The fresh air felt good—the humidity, once heavy and bothersome, now tasted sweet to his tongue and cool on his lungs—and carried the scent of fresh rain and breadfruit blossoms. Across the river, just before the bank slid into the savanna, there stood a huge tree, twisted and gnarly. Bill decided to cross the river and climb the giant. Hopefully the view from the top would confirm the edge of the savannah and lead them the rest of the way to the human den.

  BILL SAUNTERED BACK to the group, his eyes slightly glassy. He was still riding high off Felix’s recovery and their miraculous survival. Every now and again a shiver would slither down his spine, a reminder of the sheer fact that he was alive. Bill thought it might be best if he always felt this way—grateful, full of wonder and appreciation—and he pledged to dedicate more time to reflection as soon as this was all over and Elena was safe.

  “Find anything useful?” Diego asked.

  “Not much,” Bill said. “You?”

  “Eh.” Diego shrugged, nudging a pile of scraps. “Not that we had a lot to begin with . . .”

  “Now there’s a bright side for you,” said Bill. “We’re no longer weighed down with pesky supplies. Luke and Omar, how goes the hunting and gathering?”

  “Depends,” Omar said. “If you like mudslugs, it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

  “A Teddycat cannot live on mudslugs alone,” Bill mused. “But they’ll have to do for now. Felix, feeling any better?”

  “Much improved, thank you,” Felix said, with an upturned grimace. “I saw you climbing—any idea where we are?”

  Bill relayed the sights while choking down a scoop of muddy slugs. He tried not to oversell the prospects. It was only a tree in a jungle full of them, but it was better than nothing.

  “And you think this tree is promising?” Felix asked.

  “It’s our only lead,” said Bill. “But it’s closer to the savanna, and it might let us see which way the river snakes. With any luck it’ll point us in the right direction.”

  “Then I suppose we cross the river and hope for the best,” said Felix.

  Snakes? ” said Luke.

  23

  ONCE FELIX ASSURED the group that he was recovered enough to move, they humped across the river, arm in arm, through the edge of the basin’s shallow water and slack current. Just downriver, before the bend, was another series of rapids, which reminded them all of their reasons for abandoning water travel for dry land.

  “If I had to get chewed up, I’d choose a big cat to do it,” said Diego more or less out of nowhere. “Death by croc is the absolute worst way to go.”

  “Is that right?” said Bill, trying not to imagine either scenario.

  “Any day,” Diego said. “Less messy, for starters. Just ask Felix.”

  “No thanks,” said Omar.
r />   “Hey, Felix,” said Diego, unwilling to drop the subject, “you and your cat cousins are dainty eaters, yeah?”

  “We’re respectful,” Felix said. “By and large.”

  “That’s all you can ask for these days,” said Diego. “Just a spot of respect. Not like what these humans are offering.”

  “Amen,” said Omar.

  They fished one another out of the water and shook themselves dry. Up close, the tree was even more massive than Bill had imagined. The roots alone dwarfed him. They stretched and folded like boas across the wide, grassy clearing that had developed in the tree’s expansive ring of shade. It was the biggest tree he had ever seen. While the others offered encouragement, Bill heaved himself up a gnarled root, scampered to the vast trunk, and began to climb.

  The bark was deeply grooved, making it easy to snag a claw, but Bill’s limbs were still sore from the underwater thrashing. The tree seemed to go on and on. By the time he reached the first significant offshoots, a certain dizziness returned. He was not yet high enough to oversee the savanna, so he put his snout to the trunk and forced himself not to look down.

  On the rare occasion when Bill felt outmatched by a climb, he narrowed his focus to the few inches right in front of him. The color of the bark was a rich, chocolate brown. It smelled old and nutty. Bill thought about how long the tree had been there and what it must have survived as the jungle grew and changed around it. He remembered what Felix had said about seasons and the long life cycles of the jungle. Countless plants had been suffocated, strangled by darkness, as the enormous tree grew over hundreds of years.

  Bill could no longer hear the shouts of encouragement coming from below. The air thinned. He was high enough to see over the surrounding area, but not through the shimmering mass of the tree’s foliage. Bill dug in and kept climbing. His fur was dry, stripped by the altitude. Finally, the trunk began to narrow, and the upper limbs were slender enough to provide a glimpse through the leaves. He reached a sturdy nub and inched his way away from the trunk. He could see all the way to the savanna and the surrounding forests; in the distance, the slowly bending river. From that height, it all seemed very peaceful. Bill felt a pang of homesickness. But then, suddenly, he saw something: puffs of dark gray clouds, but not in the sky. They were coming from the earth, drifting up through the trees. He hooted with relief and delight.