Jack James and the Tribe of the Teddy Bear (16 page)

BEN’S PULSE JUMPED when he heard a cacophony of police sirens raging outside. Then, from four different angles, several squad cars converged on the Winmart parking lot and his nerves really kicked in. Other alarms joined the high-pitched chorus: fire engines, ambulances, incident command vehicles, and a number of unmarked sedans, all arriving in a hurry.

“This is the Willow Police!”
a harsh voice boomed over a loudspeaker.
“We have the building surrounded! Ben James, drop your weapon and come out with your hands in the air!”

“That’s ridiculous. This is
not
a weapon!”

He waved his invention to allow everyone a look. Most cowered and sheltered themselves like he was carrying an infectious petri dish.

“I said drop the weapon!”
the voice became harsher.

“And I said it’s not a weapon!” Ben continued exhibiting his device to anyone who cared to see.

“Drop it or we’ll open fire!”

“Ben, please!” cried Liz. “Do what they say. Just put it down!”

Ben pleaded. “Don’t you see, Liz? If they stop me, they stop the human race from moving forward.”

“Time’s up!”
the voice was followed by a series of swift popping noises. Glass shattered. Ben felt a sharp pain in his hand and jerked with a yelp, dropping the O/A to the floor.

“Dad!”

“I can’t believe it!” he cradled his stinging fingers. “They shot it! They shot the O/A!”

In less than three seconds the store crawled with police, all in complete riot gear. Black helmets, body armor, goggles, vests with multiple pouches containing backup pistols and extra ammo. And they all carried submachine guns. To Ben it seemed they were dressed for the apocalypse.

“Nobody move!” ordered the one in front, tall and dark with a well-groomed mustache,
CHIEF SILLAY
inscribed on his chest. He had an MP5 pointed at Ben. “Except you! You kiss the floor, NOW!”

Another officer kneed him in the calves, dropping him hard.

“You can’t do this!” Ben cried. Three policemen jumped him, straining his hands behind his back. “You have no right to stop progress!”

Ben’s tears dripped onto the floor. He watched the fruit of his lifelong work smoke and sputter. The dazzling glow of its smooth outer shell faded, a burnt, smoldering hole where the bullet had made impact. For a second, he thought its surface was rising and falling as if trying to breathe, though it more resembled suffocation.

“What have you done? What have you done?” he muttered.

He tried to keep focused on the O/A, thinking maybe he might get it back if he freed one hand.

“Stop resisting!” commanded one of his subduers. Their hold on him tightened. No use fighting. They had both arms pinned behind his back, his wrists aflame with agony. He couldn’t stop, though, not while his delicate, priceless device was loose on the floor.

“NO!” desperation changed to sheer terror. He watched someone in the chaos kick his machine, sending it sliding against the wall. It came to rest in a dusty corner under a bin of forty-pound dog food bags.

“Where’s the weapon?” the chief yelled in his ear, then repeated to his subordinates. “Where’s the weapon? Find the weapon!”

“It’s not a weapon,” Ben murmured.

The police hunted everywhere, pushing over displays, shoving aside vending machines, dislodging soda dispensers. They even frisked the bystanders, paying particular attention to Liz, Jack and Amelia. After the search yielded nothing, they once again set their sights on Ben. While his pockets were being ransacked for the second time, he knew it was a matter of moments before they found where it was hiding.

He was right.

“Wait,” the chief pointed at the stacks of dog food. “What’s in there?”

They poked and prodded at the bags, sliding most of them on the floor. Ben cringed as they tore apart the entire section, sacks heaped in a mess, shards of kibble strewn about their feet. Certainly they would find the O/A, he thought. Seconds before their flashlight beams reached it, though, something else did. Ben had to blink a few times to convince himself it wasn’t some optical illusion. It wasn’t. Tiny fingers, no bigger than a baby’s, reached and snatched the machine out of sight. Not long after, the police quit searching, puzzled at their failure.

“It’s not in here, Chief. We can’t find the weapon anywhere.”

“It’ll turn up,” he brushed the dust off his tactical vest. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got dozens of witnesses who saw him with the weapon. Right, Al?”

“He was holding a…well he was holding something,” Al trembled.

Chief Sillay scolded his prisoner. “There’s no way you’re getting off this time, Ben James. I own you,” he pointed to his men. “Take him away!”

“Dad! Dad! Did they hurt you?” Jack ran to his side as the cops hoisted him to his feet.

Ben whispered in his son’s ear. “I don’t have time to explain,” his throat felt scratchy. “Help the Tanakee, Jack. Help them.”

“But…” Ben knew Jack wanted more, but the police had a job to do.

“Come on!” the chief shoved Ben in the back.

“My machine is not dangerous!” he shouted. Four officers dragged him toward the front exit. “You all saw!”

“You suck!” Dillon tossed an egg. With impeccable accuracy it smashed him in the ear. A frothy mix of clear goo and yellow paste dribbled down his neck.

“Son!” Roberta reprimanded. Too late. Dillon had started a trend.

“You almost killed me and my daughter!” a man hurled another egg and missed narrowly.

“Get outta here!” a woman tossed a box of cereal

“Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!” the chief pressed his men.

“Dad!” he heard Jack try to get his attention one last time.

TWENTY

 “WHAT. WAS. THAT?” Savage flung open the sliding door and made eye contact with Novak.

She flung up her hands. “Not a clue.”

Jensen added, “A guy came out of nowhere with some crazy gadget and almost took the building down.”

Savage held his palm vertical to stop any further discussion. “Just tell me you got the creature.”

“We got it!” Novak slid into the passenger seat. “Things got a little bit weird there, but we got it.”

“Good, good, good,” Savage couldn’t contain his eagerness. “Where’s the bag? Where’s the bag!”

“Here,” Jensen handed him the Winmart sack. “Almost lost the little bugger. He’s in there, though.”

“Outstanding,” Savage clenched his fist over the folded paper. He tossed the sack into the cage, letting it bounce to rest on its side. He slammed and locked the steel reinforced mesh door, then flipped a switch, activating the electromagnetic dimension inhibitor.

“There,” he wiped his hands together. “That should keep the little bugger.”

“Should we go?” Jensen reached for the ignition.

“Yes, let’s…” he stopped. “Wait. Not yet.”

He realized something, and it gnawed on him.

“You guys notice that thing hasn’t moved an inch?”

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” commented Jensen. “It’s like a possum. It really had everyone in the store fooled. They all thought it was a teddy bear.”

“Not all of them,” Novak eyed him.

“Yeah, well I need to be sure,” Savage switched off the electromagnetic current and reached his fingers through the metal mesh. Then he paused. He knew the Tanakee had large teeth and extraordinary strength. It was docile when pretending to be a stuffed animal in the grocery store, but there was no telling what it would do now, caged and cornered.

He extended the metal antenna on his hand radio and used it to stand the bag upright. Then he positioned it under the paper fold and pushed open the sack. In one last step, he poked at the bag until it fell onto its opposite side.

Savage peered and saw something furry in the darkness.

Then, a revelation.

“Wait a minute,” he unlatched the locks, opening the cage door. “You guys didn’t bring me an animal posing as a teddy bear…”

He snatched the sack, reached inside and produced a brown and white stuffed animal resembling a monkey holding its breath.

“You incompetent fools brought me an actual teddy bear!”

“That’s impossible,” protested Novak. “I put it in the bag myself. There’s no way I put
that
stupid thing in there.”

“Sir, she’s telling the truth,” added Jensen. “I watched her. We never surrendered the bag to anyone the entire way out the store.”

“Are you sure?” probed Savage. “Not once did you lose sight of the bag? Not even for a second? Think!”

“Well, I…” Jensen stalled.

Novak blurted, “Now that I think about it, there
was
an odd encounter right before we reached the exit. Remember, Jensen?”

He flashed an innocent face. “Sure, but that was an accident. A little girl ran into me. At least I think it was a little girl.”

“You fool, that was no accident! Do you know what this means? This means the creature is getting help. And whoever it is, they have some kind of advanced technology!”

“Sir!” Novak alerted him, although there was no need. He heard the sirens. For a fleeting instant, he thought the police may have been coming for him in his conspicuous, white panel van with blacked-out windows. Some busybody might have gotten suspicious and called the cops. However, when the screaming parade of Willow’s Finest sped past and ignored him altogether, it set his mind at ease. Temporarily.

“What are they doing here?” he asked. “What did you two do?”

“It wasn’t us, sir,” said Jensen. “It was that lunatic with the machine. Someone must have called 911.”

“Lunatic, huh? Well, that lunatic just snatched the Tanakee right from under our noses. I hate when people steal what I’ve already stolen. It’s annoying. Is there no more honor in this business?”

Savage grabbed his video camera and trained the lens on the drama unfolding outside. The footage might have proved a valuable asset. The police had the building surrounded, and were shouting commands for the crazed man to come out with his hands up. After the suspect refused, things moved quickly. Shots rang out and the police stormed the store.

A few tense minutes later the cops came out again, escorting their detainee.

“There he is!” shouted Jensen. “Mr. Savage, that’s him! That’s the guy who had the, the device. Whatever it was.”

Savage zoomed in on the man emerging from the building, flanked by several police in full tactical gear. Was this guy a foreign agent? Or worse, was he from one of his competitors? He didn’t seem too menacing. Some sort of science nerd. Far from a fearsome, highly trained industrial spy.

TWENTY-ONE

“TELL ME, JACK. How do you feel?” Mrs. Eisenschmidt, the school psychologist, leaned on her elbows, showing off a new
Oregon Ducks
sweatshirt. “Jack?” she got closer, placing her face in his line of sight. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” he offered, although his thoughts were still on the welfare of those precious creatures.

“You know, Jack. We all, at one time or another in our lives, become sad. Every one of us. Even me. I get sad, too. I have times in my life when it seems everything’s falling apart. And you know what makes me feel better? Talking about it. You’d be surprised how good it feels to just talk about your problems. So, whaddya say, kiddo? You wanna talk?”

He mumbled, “My mom said I’m not supposed to talk about it anymore.”

“I see,” she leaned back. “Your mother doesn’t want you to talk about your father?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s not my dad.”

“Then what is it that’s bothering you?”

“I-I wasn’t trying to steal him,” he explained. “I just knew he didn’t belong to those people. He doesn’t belong in the store at all. He’s living there with his friends, but I think they’re lost, or maybe they’re hiding. They need our help. Those people who tried to take him, they’ll be back.”

“All right, all right,” she smiled. “It’s going to be okay, Jack. Just try and relax.”

“I can’t relax. How can I? At any moment those creatures could be kidnapped, and then I’ll never see them again? None of us will ever see them again.”

“Let me get this straight,” Mrs. Eisenschmidt scratched her temple. “Am I correct to assume you’re talking about a teddy bear?”

“It’s not a teddy bear, it’s just pretending to be one,” he countered. “It’s a living, breathing animal that thinks, walks, eats and…”

“Poops? Does it poop, too, Jack?”

“Well, yeah. I assume so.”

“And just where does it poop? Did you think about that?”

“Where do you think, silly? The bathroom, of course.”

“Come on, Jack. Who’s the one being silly? Animals? Using the bathroom?”

“You’re missing the point. The fact is they’re extremely smart. That’s obvious by the way they’ve adapted to life in the supermarket. And they can literally stay frozen in place like they’re playing dead. That’s the sign of a highly intelligent being.”

She giggled. “If they’re so darn smart, then why are they living at Winmart? If I were them I’d pretend to be a teddy bear at Fred Meyer’s. The quality and selection are much better there.”

“Mrs. Eisenschmidt, if this is nothing but a joke to you then I’ll leave.”

She held up her outstretched palms. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You just have to realize your story’s a little hard to swallow.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” he said. “No one has to believe me, but I know. I know they’re smart and fast and amazing. I’ve seen them do things, incredible things. And you know what else? They can talk. One of them talked to me. Asked if I was okay after I fell down the stairs.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she got up and examined his skull. “That’s the problem. You’ve bumped your head.”

“No, I didn’t. You see, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. It saved me. It got underneath me and softened the fall so I wouldn’t get hurt. It protected me.”

“Listen, Jack,” she sat again in her squeaky chair. “It’s okay to have imaginary friends. When I was a little girl, I had tea parties with my dollies. I would tell them all my secrets and imagine they would tell me theirs.”

He crossed his arms and sighed heavily as she continued.