Gifted, a Brainrush Novella

by Richard Bard

  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 tossing 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 valle
y. 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’re 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.”

  But I could tell my sister wasn’t going to. It wasn’t in her nature. If someone needed help, she’d be there for them. Ahmed wasn’t much different, and I guess I wasn’t, either. It’s the way my mom had raised us while my dad was in a coma, and it’s the way my dad had acted every day of his life since. The three of us stood side by side in front of Timmy. He crossed his arms and his lips became a thin line.

  After several moments, Ahmed said, “You’re right. Sarafina and Alex can’t go down there.”

  Timmy blew out a breath.

  “It’s not safe,” Ahmed said, facing my sister and motioning toward me. “Especially for Alex. So you’re going to have to watch over him while Timmy and I go down to take care of business.”

  Sarafina sighed, but she nodded and took my hand.

  “What?” Timmy asked.

  Ahmed turned to face him. “I respect that you wish to protect us, to stand with us as we face down the challenge that has been set before us.” He spoke as if elders from his childhood guided his words, as if he were still part of an Afghan warrior tribe determined to fight back against ill treatment from the West. “The loyalty you have shown to our father and to us does you great credit, and you have long since become part of our family because of it. We are honored and fortunate to have you with us.”

  He placed a hand on Timmy’s shoulder, standing slightly taller than him, and it was in that moment I began to see my brother as an adult.

  “But don’t be fooled by our ages,” Ahmed continued. “We are warriors in our own right and have proven ourselves as such in the past, each of us using our different talents to do what was necessary, guided by our love for one another and the lessons we have been taught by our father and mother. Those lessons have served us well, and it is in situations such as this one that we must rely on them the most. So I ask you,” he said, squeezing Timmy’s shoulder, “what do you think our father would do?”

  The question seemed to hang in the air. When Timmy’s jaw dropped open, I knew the answer had just hit him in the head.

  “Oh, crap,” he said.