by Richard Bard
“We’ll use these for handles,” he said quietly, whittling off the stray branches from one end but leaving the nubs on the other end. He’d learned how to make torches on a field trip with Uncle Becker and Dad. I wish now I’d gone with them. Instead, I’d stayed home to play video games.
“Can I help?” I asked.
“Sure, grab the tool and the wire from my pack.” He had what Becker referred to as a survival kit in his backpack. It contained a multipurpose tool, fishhooks, flint, wire for snares, a compass, and basic first-aid stuff. It made me feel foolish for stuffing my favorite Transformer figure in my own pack. I fished the bundle of wire and the tool out of Ahmed’s pack and handed them over.
He unrolled a length of wire and snipped it with the tool. Then he jabbed the end of one of the handles into the ground. “Hold this.”
I gripped the smooth end with both hands while he wrapped the strips of bark around the other, impaling them on the nubs to hold them in place. The bark seemed to bend easily around the stick.
“Aren’t they too wet?” Sarafina whispered. I could tell she was trying to put on a brave face, but her quivering lower lip wasn’t cooperating and her gaze kept darting to the darkness beyond the firelight. I moved closer to her.
“No,” Ahmed said. “They’re filled with oil and resin so they shed water.”
He wrapped several layers around the end and then wound the wire around it to hold the bundle in place. When he was finished he stood and swung it like a baseball bat, and I suspected he was imagining a bear towering in front of him. It made me shiver, but watching him also gave me courage. After several swings he appeared satisfied that the end wasn’t going to fly off. He crouched down and started working on the second one.
“How long will they burn?” Sarafina asked.
“Maybe twenty minutes.”
Timmy returned and placed more wood on the stack. “That should be enough to keep the fire going until sunrise.” He crouched beside us.
“When’s that?” Sarafina asked.
“Couple hours,” he said, holding up his wrist so we could see his digital watch. It was 4:00 a.m. “I reset it based on the LCD on the plane.” He helped Ahmed wind the wire around the second torch. When they finished they leaned the torches against the crates, where they’d be within easy reach.
The growls stopped all at once, and there was a rustle of leaves and a series of low grunts. Something was running toward us.
Sarafina squeaked, wrapping her arms around me. Ahmed and Timmy each grabbed a torch and dipped it into the fire. Flames engulfed the wrapped bark and the two of them rose protectively in front of us. Ahmed used his free hand to pull the pistol from his belt as he stepped to the other side of the fire. Firelight reflected off his back as he took up a defensive stance—the torch held forward and pistol at the ready—looking like a warrior from an adventure movie.
Twigs snapped and a low shadow rocketed through the brush just beyond the reach of our firelight. It was the size of a dog, snorting as it charged by. I gulped. There was a ripple of leaves and several smaller shadows chased it, zigging this way and that. Ahmed swept the torch in their direction and I saw something with gray hide scamper into the bushes.
“Pigs?” Sarafina whispered.
“Wild boar,” Timmy said, sounding relieved.
“Quiet!” Ahmed said, his head turned as if listening to something in the darkness.
A limb snapped and there was a deep-throated chuff. Ahmed inched back, raising the pistol.
The bear’s head poked through the brush less than ten feet from where Ahmed stood, its huge face illuminated by the torch. The animal stopped, black eyes frozen on my brother, its shoulders hunched, black claws curled into the earth. It was like a child’s nightmare come true and I could sense my sister was about to scream. As I started to open my mind to help calm her, I sensed something from the bear. Not anger, but fear. Ahmed raised the pistol and the bear’s shoulder fur twitched.
“Wait,” I said too loudly. The bear chuffed and turned its gaze in my direction.
Ahmed braced himself.
If he squeezed the trigger…
I rose, ignoring Sarafina’s gasp. I wrapped my mind around the bear’s, doing my best to project a calming influence toward it. No, not it but her. Her head tilted to one side and I wondered if she felt me.
“Don’t shoot,” I said softly. “Lower the pistol and step back. Move slowly.”
Ahmed hesitated. I prayed he’d trust my senses.
“Do as he says,” Sarafina said. She rarely questioned me when I chose to speak. Plus, she had such a deep-hearted love of animals that I knew she didn’t want to see the bear injured.
“What’s going on?” Timmy said.
“Shhh,” Sarafina said.
“It’ll be okay,” I said.
Ahmed lowered the weapon and edged backward. When the bear made no move to follow, Ahmed stepped around the fire to join the rest of us. We stood still as statues as I continued to project my thoughts toward the bear. She stared back at me, and though I couldn’t enter her mind like I had with Mississippi Mike, I had a growing sense she understood we were no threat. After several moments, the tension eased in her neck and shoulders, and she raised her snout and wiggled it from side to side as if sniffing the air. She let out a low chuff and ambled toward the gear we had lined up on the tarp. Her muzzle disappeared inside one of the open bags of brownies.
Ahmed sighed.
She pulled her nose from the bag and swung her head to one side, licking her snout as she released two soft grunts. There was a rustling in the darkness behind her and two more bears pushed into the light and brushed up beside her. Ahmed and Timmy both tensed, but somehow Sarafina and I knew it was going to be okay. Even though the two bears were nearly the same size as the first one, I could tell they were cubs. The new arrivals glanced our way but didn’t seem concerned, happy to follow their mom’s lead. Their snouts dug through the MREs, one bear finding the second open bag of brownies and the other gulping down the abandoned pound cake. After several failed attempts to find other open bags, they snuffed and moved away. The cubs padded into the darkness and the mother took a last glance at me before disappearing behind them.
“That was amazing,” Sarafina said.
All the strength left my legs and I dropped to my knees, only then realizing how scared I’d been.
Chapter 7
I DIDN’T TALK MUCH but I thought a lot, and at this moment I couldn’t stop thinking about how long it would take to trek a hundred and fifty miles through this jungle.
“If we had a road to follow,” Ahmed said, “we might be able to make ten miles a day.” He shouldered through some foliage and a branch whipped back and nearly hit Sarafina.
“Watch it,” she said, grabbing it before it slapped her. “And by the way, if we had a road to follow, we could catch a ride and make it in a day.” She released the limb with care.
I was next in line and it barely scraped my head. Timmy was behind me.
Ahmed stopped to check his compass. A tall stand of bamboo blocked our path. It clicked and clacked as it swayed in a breeze we could barely feel at ground level. “But finding our way through this jungle,” Ahmed said, “we’ll be lucky to make four miles before sundown.”
It could be weeks before we find them, I thought. So much could happen between now and then. The jungle was thick and the terrain rolled sharply. Before setting out, Ahmed had climbed a ridge and charted what he hoped would be the best course. We kept to the furrows. There were more insects that way but it was better than climbing up and down hills.
The path widened a little and Timmy stepped up beside me. “How you holding up?” he asked.
I shrugged. It had only been two hours since we left the campsite and I seemed to have a lot more energy than usual. Even so, my shirt was soaked from the humidity and my shoulders ached from carrying my backpack. It was stuffed with MREs so it was much heavier than before. I’d made extra space by toss
ing my Transformer and my tablet but I’d refused to get rid of Uncle Marshall’s Spider. Keeping it gave me hope that things would return to normal soon.
As if sensing my discomfort, Timmy reached for my shoulder strap. “Why don’t I carry your pack for a while?”
I jerked aside. “No,” I said with a sharpness that was unusual for me. The mini was tucked in the bottom of my pack and I wasn’t going to let anyone else hold it.
Timmy looked at me funny and I could tell I’d hurt his feelings, so I added, “But thanks.”
We’d walked another hour when two deep mewling sounds stopped us in our tracks. Something thrashed around the next bend in the path. We huddled together behind a thicket and Ahmed pulled out the pistol.
“What is that?” Sarafina whispered.
“It sounds like whining dogs,” Ahmed said.
“I don’t think so,” Timmy said, and I agreed with him.
“This way,” Ahmed said. He grabbed Sarafina’s hand and led us off the path and up a rise.
The mewling sounds grew louder. They tore at my heart and a part of me wanted to rush toward them. But I knew better. Timmy urged me forward and we clambered up the slope. The ground steepened and we had to grab exposed tree roots to pull ourselves up. Sarafina yelped when she stepped in a nest of tiny, yellow snakes. There were at least a dozen of them and they slithered away in all directions, blending into the brush and leaves.
“Come on,” Ahmed said. “We’re almost there.”
A minute later the four of us settled on a small plateau. We plopped on our butts, breathing hard. Ahmed pointed and we all gazed down at the source of the sounds. Below was a clearing, where a black bear swayed back and forth inside a bamboo cage. Two more bears paced around it, their snouts jutting upward as they vocalized their distress. The broad carpet of trees and foliage dropped off to a valley behind them.
“I didn’t know bears could sound like that,” Ahmed said.
“They’re the ones from last night, aren’t they?” Sarafina asked.
“We have to help them,” I said, rising to my feet.
“Whoa, pal,” Timmy said, pulling me back down. “There’s no way I’m letting you go down there.”
“They won’t hurt me.”
Sarafina and Ahmed turned and studied me.
“Mama Bear won’t let them,” I added.
My sister scooted over to me and took my hands in hers. I stared past her at the bears. The mother chuffed and clawed at the cage. I could feel her confusion and her cubs’ anguish. All I’d have to do was lift the bamboo panel that had slid down to trap her.
“They’re too agitated to risk it,” Sarafina said, squeezing my hands. “I know it’s the right thing to do. I can feel their pain, too. But you could get badly hurt.”
“Quiet,” Timmy said. “Do you hear that?”
It sounded like grinding gears and the rumble of a motor. It was coming from somewhere beyond the bears. We ducked and fixed our eyes in that direction, and a prickle started at the back of my neck. I had the strange sensation someone was watching us. Then there was another gear change and I sloughed it off. A motor revved and a puff of black smoke sprouted from the trees. There was a flash of canvas and metal. A truck was climbing the hill.
“Yes!” Sarafina said, rising to her feet. The rest of us were quick to join her.
The mama bear stilled, her head turned toward the sound of the truck. She woofed and the two smaller bears disappeared into the brush. The truck pulled into the clearing and stopped with a squeak of its brakes. A tarp covered something in the rear of the vehicle. The cab doors opened and two men jumped out.
“Let’s go,” Sarafina said, starting off.
“Wait,” Timmy said, pulling her down in the tall grass. Ahmed and I ducked, too. Timmy pointed to the back of the truck, where a third man had jumped out holding a weapon that looked like the AK-47s we’d left back at the camp. “Let’s see what’s going on before we go charging down there asking for help.”
Good idea, I thought. I didn’t like the look of those guys. The men rolled back the tarp, sparking a chorus of growls and snorts, revealing four metal cages about half the size of the bamboo cage in the clearing. Three of them held angry bears, each of them swiping at the men as they walked by.
“Down,” Ahmed whispered, dropping to the ground. We flattened beside him and watched.
The driver jeered at the animals, poking one of them with a probe that sparked when it touched him. The bear jerked backward and mewled. The men laughed.
“Creeps,” Sarafina hissed, clenching her fists in the dirt.
I was sickened by the pleasure the men took, and felt a sudden desire to use the sparking stick on them to see how much they liked it. I shook my head to clear the thought. I’d never wanted to hurt anyone before and it made me uncomfortable. But when the man walked over to the bamboo cage and did the same thing to the mama bear, I felt a tingle of energy from the mini in my backpack and the emotion returned. I allowed it to linger and finally understood what the makers of the pyramids had seen as the flaw of the human race. Violence was a part of our nature, whether it was from nasty men who took joy in the pain of a helpless creature—or in the children who witnessed it.
I felt Sarafina’s gentle touch. “We’ll find a way to stop them,” she said, and a part of me wondered if she was reading my mind. “We need to follow the truck.”
“Yes,” I said, watching the men below as they backed the truck up into the clearing and used a built-in crane to lower the empty metal cage beside the bamboo cage. The bear roared and swiped at the men, her claws slashing across the bamboo. But the men barely flinched. When the entrances were lined up, they lifted the bamboo gate and used the prods to jolt the bear, each touch rippling the muscles beneath her fur and triggering a whimper. She lurched into the new cage and the door clanked closed behind her.
A few minutes later, the truck and its live cargo made its way back to the road and disappeared into the trees. There was movement in the surrounding brush and I caught a glimpse of the two younger bears running after it.
“Hurry,” Sarafina said, taking my hand and starting down the hill. The others followed, and when we reached level ground we ran as fast as we could. We rushed across the clearing, through the trees, and onto the dirt road, finding ourselves on a promontory overlooking a rolling forested valley. Mountains rose in the distance. The road was mostly hidden as it twisted and turned through the trees. The sounds of the truck were faint.
“There,” Timmy said, pointing to an exposed hairpin turn.
The truck lumbered down the hill, and my mind’s eye tracked its probable course into the endless canopy of trees. That’s when I saw it.
“Look,” Ahmed said, beating me to the punch. He pointed to where columns of smoke snaked through the trees, drifting together to form a faint cloud that stretched above the tree line.
Two hours later we were huddled on a ridge above a farm. A grand, three-story, pagoda-style house with smoke coming from its chimneys was situated on a slight rise overlooking a cluster of older wooden structures, including a long building with wide entrances at either end that looked like a kennel of some sort. There were also a barn, two barracks, and several smaller shacks. An orchard of red flowers climbed up and over the hillside beyond, and people were working the fields. Others milled around the buildings and most had rifles strapped to their shoulders. Alongside the long building were scattered vehicles, including a tractor, a couple older cars, an SUV, and two trucks, including the one from the clearing.
“The bears are still on the truck,” Sarafina said.
Ahmed said, “There are more over there.” He pointed to the near end of the long building where several other bears were caged.
“Yeah,” Timmy said. “But it’s not like we can do anything about it. There are armed guards everywhere.”
“Why are there so many?” Sarafina asked. “It’s not like the bears are going to get away.”
“They’r
e not there for the bears,” Ahmed said. “It’s because of the poppies.”
“Of course,” Timmy said. “Opium.”
“They grew poppies near my village in Afghanistan,” Ahmed added. “And we knew never to go near. Poppy growers shoot first and ask questions later.”
Sarafina sniffled. Her eyes were moist. “But what are they going to do to the bears?”
A man and a woman wearing coveralls walked over to inspect the four new cages. One of the men from the truck followed closely behind. After a quick inspection, the woman nodded. The three men grabbed their gear and rifles and strode toward the barracks. The couple put on gloves, turning their backs on the truck and the other caged bears as they proceeded into the long building. As soon as they entered, a chorus of mewling sounds echoed from within.
The mama bear and the other three bears on the truck raised their heads as one, all looking toward the building. They clawed and gnawed at the bars of their cages.
“Oh my God,” Sarafina gasped.
The mewling got louder and I could imagine rows of caged bears inside. Their cries were agonizing. I spun around when I felt another prickle at my neck but no one was there. My mind was playing tricks on me. Under the circumstances, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“We have to do something,” Sarafina said. “Besides, we need one of those vehicles.”
“We can’t,” Timmy said.
My sister’s expression flared but Ahmed shushed her before any outburst could happen. He took her arm and urged her back down the hill. Timmy and I followed. When we were out of sight of the farm, we gathered under a stand of trees.
Sarafina put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean?”
“Do I really have to explain?” Timmy said. “Think about it. Those are armed guards down there. Like your brother said, they’d shoot us, dump us in a ditch, and think nothing of it. We have no clue what’s going on inside those buildings, and even if we did, what could we possibly do about it? Besides, we’ve got a mission of our own.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “To hike that way and find your parents and Tony and the others. And in the meantime, it’s my job to keep you safe. So mingling with a gang of sadistic Chinese drug farmers in order to help some bears is simply not going to happen. Just forget about it.”