by Mike Storey
The warmth swelled and radiated until it was almost too much to bear, and then it was gone, reabsorbed by the surrounding wilderness.
26
THEY DIDN’T CELEBRATE when they broke through the brush and reached the crest. Before them, the savanna stretched for days. They scanned for telltale dust clouds and human caravans but saw only a long slog with no shade or water. Nobody wanted to be the first to leave the shade of the jungle and slide down into the blinding yellow sand.
Something else tugged at them as well. The ridge was still home to Felix. Leaving meant they would be forced to say a final farewell.
Bill slicked back his fur, grimed with dusty sweat, and turned to the others.
“We left behind a good friend,” Bill said, his voice clogged with gratitude and sorrow. “And all we can do now is try to live up to his example. The humans are somewhere out there, and they have Elena. It won’t be easy, but worthwhile missions rarely are, right, Diego?”
“Tough as a croc’s tooth, most often,” Diego said.
“Right,” Bill said. He had never touched a croc’s tooth and hoped he never would. “It will be hot and dry on the savanna, so we’ll bring along whatever supplies we can carry. We will conserve our energy and resources while making the best time possible. At night the temperature will drop; we’ll scrounge for food then.”
They gathered fronds and stuffed one with bitter and hopefully worm-filled clumps of decaying underbrush. They helped one another lash the leaves to their backs, like turtle shells.
“Are we ready?” Bill asked. The band of explorers before him looked beaten down and slightly ridiculous, but there was an unmistakable determination to their grim nods of assent. “Okay. Let’s go make Felix proud.”
THAT DETERMINATION BEGAN to wane almost immediately. The savanna was endless and excruciating. And there was something else, something beyond the heat and fatigue. Bill could not shake the feeling that they were being followed. He even entertained the idea that it was Felix’s spirit, watching over them. But whenever he stopped and turned, he could see nothing. The sun was blinding—the ridge was already just a dark smudge in the distance—but every few minutes Bill would swing around, absolutely sure that something was there, only to see nothing but an expanse of wiggling air.
Sweat stung Bill’s eyes. His paws were fried, and his bones felt hollow, his muscles like jelly. The only thing that kept him moving was the thought of Maia’s heartbreak and Felix’s sacrifice, which propelled him forward despite his growing terror.
Even Diego, that stoic, battered veteran, had begun complaining about the brutal elements. “It’s too hot, mates,” said Diego. “We’re gonna turn to crisps out here.”
His dissent was contagious. Soon Luke requested a ride on Bill’s back, and Omar threatened to turn around.
“There’s nothing back there for you, Omar,” Bill said. “We’re wasting time we don’t have even talking about it.”
“But we’re not going to make it,” Omar insisted.
“Hey,” Bill said, stopping short. The hard, dry dirt sizzled on his paws. “You wanted to be a hero? This is the moment, right here. We have to keep moving. Felix believed in us. He believed we could do it. And Luke, you’ve crossed this stretch before. Tell him it’s possible.”
Luke looked pained, but complied. “I’ve done it. It’s possible. We can do it.”
While not exactly rousing, Luke’s speech seemed to do the trick. Diego and Omar piped down, and Bill did his best to ignore the growing, itchy sensation that they were being watched as their supposed destination seemed to bleed further and further into the distance.
Their grit and persistence was finally rewarded with a cloud in the sky. And not just any cloud—a fat, roiling, dark gray monstrosity that blocked the sun and cooled the savanna for a merciful span of late afternoon. They took advantage of this spot of good fortune by scurrying with increased vigor, stopping only briefly to nibble or catch their breath.
“I’d do anything for a juicy bite of sweetmoss,” said Diego, choking down another clump of grubby mud.
Bill tried to remember the time, not that long ago, when Diego was an almost unknowable Cloud Kingdom fixture, this larger-than-life warrior scout on the front lines of defense. Now he was just another hungry Teddycat lost in the jungle, trying to hold on.
“I want to gorge myself on fruit,” Omar said. “Just chop down a whole grove and go nuts.”
“I miss Felix,” Luke said.
“We all do, buddy,” said Bill.
“He knew he wouldn’t make it across this cursed sand,” said Diego. “And he knew we wouldn’t make it with him. The Teddycats owe him a great debt.”
Everyone was silent for a moment, heavy with memories of Felix.
“Bill, do you think we’ll make it?” asked Omar, breaking the silence with his quiet query. “I mean, really make it, all the way back home.”
“Depends what you mean by ‘home,’” Bill said. “I can’t know what the Elders will say or what the rest of Cloud Kingdom will decide, but the beauty of the wilderness and the love of friends like Felix makes me realize that the jungle was our home all along. So here’s the deal: First we free Elena, then we free the rest of the Teddycats.”
The cloud shifted. Sunlight began to leak through the seams, and heat hovered in the air once again. They had to get back on the trail before it returned in full force.
“We’re burning shade,” Bill said.
“I’ll go a bit further,” Diego said. “For Felix.”
“For Elena and Maia,” said Omar.
“Let’s do it,” said Luke.
Bill smiled. “Take the lead, buddy.”
At last, dusk came. They combed the sand for dinner as the sun settled into the distant hills and the sky faded purple. Bill’s optimistic estimate placed them a little over halfway across the savanna, and no closer to catching the humans than they had been back at the ridge. Their limbs were sore, their paws tender and crusted. Bill took one last look, still haunted by the creepy sensation of strange eyes drilling into his back.
27
BILL WOKE WITH a chilly jostle. At first it felt like a freak cold front rushing through the savanna, brushing his body with stark wind. But then a dreaded metallic scent filled his snout, and his predicament came into sharper focus: He was trapped, surrounded on all sides by steely mesh. And then there was a second dreaded scent that told him, without question, that a human was at the handle.
His suspicions had been right all along. They were being followed! If only he had trusted his instincts. If only he had instincts! Once again his anger at the Elders reared its head. Life in Cloud Kingdom had softened his body and dulled his senses. No wonder the rescue mission had been one disaster after another. No wonder Felix was gone. Now there would only be three of them left, forced to fend for themselves in arid, hostile territory.
Bill hurled his body against the cage. He saw that he was still at the site that they’d settled on for the night. He could see Luke and Omar begin to stir. Diego was a heavy sleeper—he could snooze right through an earthquake.
“Luke! Omar!” Bill hissed. “The humans—”
He froze mid-sentence. The last thing he wanted was for the humans to find his friends, too. Just because he was in a tight spot didn’t mean they were all finished.
“What’s going on, Bill?” Omar said, still sluggish after a scattered sleep.
“Stay away,” Bill whispered urgently. “Lay low!”
Luke’s eyes snapped open and immediately filled with fright. “Bill! What do we do?”
There was no time. Suddenly, Bill was up in the air. The human had lifted the cage. Bill tried to stay steady as the steel beneath him began to pitch. His friends were frantic.
“We’ll find you, Bill!” Luke screeched.
“Just hang on!” said Omar.
Diego finally woke and, after a quick read of the situation, clamped paws over Omar’s and Luke’s gaping mouths and tucked down behind a tuft of coarse desert grass.
Already Bill felt far away. He wanted to believe that he would see his friends again, that things would be all right in the end, but then he thought about Jack and all the troubles they had already struggled to overcome. It didn’t seem like there could be much luck left over.
“Just remember what Felix said!” Bill shouted as the human, faceless and impossibly strong, carried him away.
BILL HAD NEVER been locked up before. He missed his family—his mother’s endless tenderness, his father’s stirring, steadfast stoicism—but he wouldn’t want them to see him this way, helpless and scared.
Through the steel, he realized that they’d reached the edge of the savanna. His captor’s long legs and quick stride had brought them back to the jungle faster than he could have even imagined. No wonder we couldn’t catch the humans, he thought, slumped haplessly in a corner of the cage.
The mission felt doomed. He had been forced to abandon his friends, leaving them high and dry. Bill curled up as the cage swayed, careful not to flash a claw.
Bill was looking for landmarks, trying to memorize the human’s route as they continued through the jungle. He was already planning an escape, collecting intelligence. There was no way he would meet Jack’s same fate. He hadn’t come this far to fall prey to the same greasy, stomping devils that snatched Elena, junked the jungle, and seemed hell-bent on ruining everything. A part of him couldn’t wait to see Joe again, face to face. He would rip the ivory from Joe’s neck, the gold from Joe’s teeth, the fur and skin from Joe’s shoulders and feet.
The human was breathing hard as they approached a clearing. Then, Bill’s eyes grew wide as he saw what was inside the clearing. A glowing white orb, surrounded by smaller outposts, all bustling with activity. He had never seen anything like it. It was noisy. The whine of bright lights and the hum of cold air. Above all, a loud, constant grinding sound. Bill scanned the premises for familiar human sights—the fire pit, unnatural debris, rusted metal husks—but this human den was tidy and sleek.
The human set the cage down outside one of the smaller structures, a shiny box on stilts, and released its grip on the handle. Bill surprised himself by feeling abandoned. The unknown future felt certain to be far worse. His father had even warned him once about how creatures learn to love their captors. Bill had never understood that—especially given the way his father fought for the Elders—until now.
More humans crisscrossed the clearing. They were shrouded in some kind of bright white material, and their faces were hidden by veils of some kind of mossy mesh that was attached to coverings on their heads. Bill recognized a smell from the last human site, though not as sharp as before. And there was no smoke, no fire. What had the humans become since they left their last post? Bill’s panic bloomed once more. The cage seemed to contract around him. The urge to flee was so strong, concentrated in the tense muscles of his shoulders, that he thought he might be able to plow straight through the steel bars. But when he tried, all he got was a sore snout.
The human—his human—returned and picked the cage back up. Bill was disappointed by the wave of relief that washed over him. Together they climbed the steps to the box, and the human opened it and went inside. The interior was washed with white light. Bill blinked. More cages. The human unlatched Bill’s and ushered him into a larger one. There was a vessel of food on the floor, and water dripped from some kind of suspended container, attached to the walls of the cage. Bill offered an unconvincing snarl in return as the human locked the new cage and walked away.
Bill hadn’t had anything approaching a real meal in days, so maybe his taste was distorted, but the water was warm but clean, the food dry but surprisingly tasty. He dug in.
When the food was all gone and the resulting fog of gratitude lifted, he took stock of his surroundings. The white room was lined with cages containing animals of all stripes and sizes. Most were snoozing or otherwise silent. Bill recognized the quiet from other dull, desperate situations. He didn’t expect instant camaraderie, just felt like making his presence known.
“Uh, does anybody know where we are?” he asked.
“Hi, Bill!” said a chipper voice.
Bill’s head shot up. There, in the cage directly across from him, was Elena.
28
BILL’S BRAIN WENT blank for a moment, as white and empty as the long bright light that ran the length of the room’s ceiling. As the daze faded, his focus zoomed in on Elena’s tiny face, squeezed between the bars of her cage and seemingly unscathed.
“Elena, you’re alive!”
“Oh, Bill, I’m so happy to see you!”
The familiar giddiness of her voice sent a spike of pleasure up Bill’s spine. He couldn’t believe it! Just when he thought all was lost, Elena was found. But what good was he to her now? How could he help if they were both in cages? Bill decided to leave that for later. Elena was alive and well. That was a good enough start.
“You wouldn’t believe it, Elena,” Bill said. “I told the Elders we had to find you, so we left Cloud Kingdom. We’ve been all over the jungle. We got lost, we went over a waterfall, we found a human den, and then Felix . . . well, Felix’s gone.”
Bill paused for a moment to catch his breath. “But I knew we’d find you, Elena. The humans caught me in the savanna, and for a second I thought it was all over, but here you are!”
“Here I am,” said Elena, smiling.
Bill wondered why she was in such good spirits. Luke’s account of human imprisonment had been dark and brutal, but Elena didn’t seem injured or mistreated. Maybe she was too young to realize the danger she was in; maybe she didn’t know what the humans were after.
He pressed on, babbling with relief. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get out of here. I promised your family I would get you back, and I stand by my promises. I don’t care how many cages they trap us in, we’re getting out of here, and then we’ll bring the rest of the Teddycats someplace safe. You’ll see, Elena. Things are looking up!”
“Okay, Bill,” she said.
He had forgotten how young Elena was. She was just a baby. Still, there were things he needed to know from her.
“I have to ask you some questions, Elena,” he said, his voice slower and softer. “How long have you been here?”
“I fell down!” Elena said.
“I know! I was there. Boy, that was scary! I’m so glad you’re okay. Now, have the humans been giving you enough to eat?”
“The food here is good!” Elena said.
“Yeah, it’s not half bad, is it?” Bill murmured.
He wasn’t getting a lot of useful information, but he decided to try one last time. The first step toward escape was figuring out the humans’ schedule. “Speaking of that, when do the humans bring the food and water? Think really hard, Elena. When do they go to sleep?”
Elena looked confused.
“Okay,” Bill said. There would be more time to pry. Maybe too much time. “Never mind that for now. Do you have any friends here?”
“Of course she does,” said a low, loopy voice.
Bill twisted his head, hopeful yet wary. “Who said that?”
HENRI WAS A hulking spider monkey with a wise tenor that reminded Bill of Felix. His tail curled up behind him, instinctively looped around an invisible branch. As the longest-serving facility inmate, he organized a mini-orientation so Bill could meet the others.
“All right now,” Henri said. “When I say your name, introduce yourself to our new friend.”
There was a general clucking of consent.
“Duffy,” said Henri.
Silence.
“Duffy,” Henri said again.
“He’s sleeping,” another voice said.
“He was j
ust up,” said Henri, annoyed.
The voice dropped to a whisper. “I think he’s narcoleptic.”
“Duffy!”
Henri had a stern caretaker’s shout, the kind that bolted through the air like lightning. Bill had been on the receiving end of more than a few of those.
“Who?” a new voice said. “What?”
“Say something about yourself,” said Henri.
Duffy was a sloth, sweet and slow. The whispering gossip was Miguel, a small frog, apologetically poisonous and rippled with wild colors. There was also Vic, a sneering vampire bat; a snooty ocelot named Edgar; and finally, Coco, an aloof macaw.
At last it was Bill’s turn to break the ice.
“Well, I don’t really know where to begin,” Bill said. “Elena was snatched by a human, and a gang of us formed a search party. I had just about given up when I was snatched myself, and here we are, reunited at last.”
“Funny how that works out,” Henri said. “Allow me to extend a warm welcome.”
“Thanks,” Bill said. “But I won’t be here long. Elena and I are going to bust out.”
The other animals laughed.
“Good luck to you both,” Henri said, after the screeching and hooting subsided.
“So what kind of place is this?” Bill asked, ignoring the sarcasm. “Elena wasn’t able to tell me much.”
“She hasn’t been here long,” Henri said. “And they’ve treated her well so far. But . . .”
“But what?”
“Well, we’ve all got something the humans want. Once you figure out what that is, the writing’s on the wall. Some of us are exotic pets. Others are trophies. Others possess properties that could be used as weapons.”
“Sorry!” Miguel said.
“And some of us are simply rare,” Edgar said. “The stuff of legends.”
Bill nodded. “I’ve heard some stories,” he said softly. “We lost another Teddycat, Jack, to the humans. We think they were after his claws.” He gulped, fighting back a roil of deep unease. His limbs felt light, out of his control. “They probably pulled ’em right out.”