Jack James and the Tribe of the Teddy Bear (35 page)

AS BEN COLLAPSED to the grass, a small gathering of neighbors filtered into the street, murmuring. They stared at his parent’s residence, shutters dangling, glass shattered, bricks missing from the chimney. They also gawked at the gulf in the front yard, assessing its curb appeal, no doubt. Mostly, they fixed on something happening behind him, close to the house.

“Stevens! Stevens, say something! Officer down! Officer down!”

The entire police contingent huddled over one of their own, a uniformed man on his side.

“What happened?” one of the neighbors asked.

Someone else answered. “The bullet! It must have ricocheted off the ground and hit him in the neck! He’s bleeding bad!”

“What?” Ben sat up. “No!”

He scrambled to his feet and already felt the O/A’s strange and powerful pull, a magnetic attraction tugging him to the officer lying in a pool of his own blood. The other cops offered no resistance. They all seemed mesmerized by the dazzling spectacle.

Stevens stirred, twitching his legs and arms. Then the most curious thing happened. The blood began to shimmer. It reminded Ben of the Quantum Foam he’d developed for the O/A, how it seemed to burst with myriad reflective particles. The blood stopped gushing and funneled back toward Stevens, traveling up his arm, shoulder, neck, entering the bullet wound, a thin crimson line sparkling and snaking into his carotid artery.

Then the machine’s humming and internal spinning expired. Its lustrous shell darkened, leaving Ben feeling a bit let down by the subdued colors and sounds of normal reality.

Stevens blinked, turning his head to the officers crouched next to him.

“Wha—what’s going on?” he sounded dazed. “Where am I?”

“Just take it easy, guy,” an officer patted his shoulder. A siren wailed. “There’s the medevac. We’ll get you outta here real soon.”

The ambulance squealed around the block. It had to slow for the crowd scattered throughout the street. Behind it sped another police car, blues and reds spinning, warning bursts blaring. The ambulance skidded to a stop and two EMT’s jumped out. Simultaneously, Chief Sillay rushed from his cruiser.

“What’s his status?” he pointed to Stevens.

“He’s fine, Chief. He’s gonna be just fine.”

“Good,” he strode and tackled Ben to the ground, driving a knee into his neck.

“Ow!” Ben was in instant agony. He dropped his invention.

“Chief! What are you doing!” more than one officer yelled.

“This man is a fugitive from the law! He’s under arrest!”

A shared groan of disapproval rolled through the gathering. Some people’s voices rose above the clamor.

“Leave that man alone!”

“Can’t you see he helped that poor police officer!”

“Let him go!”

One cop ran to catch his boss. “Hey, Chief! Listen, I know it’s hard to believe, but you know that stuff we’ve been hearing about this guy and his machine? It’s all true. He’s not a threat to the community. In fact he’s probably the exact opposite.”

“Lieutenant Platt, I don’t want to hear it!” the chief shoved Ben despite a chorus of boos and hisses. “Back off!” he commanded. “Everybody just go home, you do
not
have a permit for this assembly!”

“I don’t need a permit to stand in my own front yard,” a lady in curlers held her hips, daring him to defy her. Voices bustled in agreement.

“There’s nothing else to see here! Just let us do our jobs and go back to your homes!” the chief carried on with his arrest procedure.

“But, Chief, please!” Ben begged. “What about Pud? I can’t leave Pud!”

“What on earth is a Pud?” the chief scowled.

“It’s, it’s…” Ben noticed something in the tree above. He pointed. “Him!”

The chief looked skyward just when Pud dropped onto him. He released his grip on Ben and seized his cranium, trying to pry Pud loose. The little creature held tight.

“Run Ben! Hurry!” Pud hollered.

“Come on!” someone helped him stand straight. “Let’s go!”

The crowd parted. Ben hesitated, glancing back. Pud was still affixed to the chief’s scalp.

“Get outta here!” Platt put the O/A in his pocket, then unlocked the handcuffs. “Just go!”

“Mr. James, come on!” an anonymous helper tugged at his orange inmate shirt, leading him through a yard adorned with gnomes and plywood cutouts painted to resemble old women bent over in the garden. Running under a pergola, he hit a low-hanging wind chime. The bamboo clucked and clacked.

Then he stopped.

Catching his breath, Ben studied his helper more closely, recognizing the thick glasses, the unkempt hair, the ever-present suspenders and bow tie. He felt stupid for not seeing it sooner.

“Walter!” he cried. “I didn’t recognize you without your…” he hesitated.

The young man blushed. “You can say it. Zits, pimples, whiteheads, pizza face.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ben studied his skin. “But, how?”

“You should know. You did it.”

“I did? Oh,” Ben tapped his pocket. “The O/A.”

“There’s no other explanation. I’ve taken everything, and I mean everything to get rid of my acne. Then, after that night in the Loo Wit room, it all changed. You did it, Mister James. Your machine works. And I was there when you made the breakthrough.”

“Yeah, well don’t celebrate too soon. It might work, but I still don’t have a firm handle on its operation. Can’t even get the thing out of level one without ripping a hole in the ground. Who knows if it will ever be used to its fullest potential.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Ben James I know,” Walter maintained eye contact. “The Ben James I know would see every new experience as a learning one, good or bad. And he’d get better each time he tried.”

Ben stood at attention, drawing a deep, sharp breath. “Walter, you’re right. No mistakes, only breakthroughs. What was I thinking? There’s no time for negativity. The O/A
will
work. It has to. It’s my only hope to get my family back,” he laughed. “Funny. First, the machine tears my family apart. Now, it’s the only thing that can bring us together.”

He followed Walter into a large family room.

“Here,” Walter tossed him a pile of folded clothes and a pair of shoes and socks. “Put these on.”

It felt good for him to get out of those stiff, gaudy jail-issue togs. They smelled bad and gave him a rash on his elbows.

“I really appreciate this,” he examined himself. His feet were swimming, the slacks nearly fell off his size 32 waist, and the shirt sagged over the shoulders. “Even if things don’t fit too well.”

“Sorry. It’s all I could get on such short notice.”

“It’ll do fine, Walter. Once again, you come through for me. Now, I need you to help me one final time? Can you do that? Can you help me again?”

“Of course,” Walter brimmed with enthusiasm. “Anything, just name it.”

“I need you to help me get to Archer Savage’s compound on North Point. Do you have a car?”

“Sure! Come on!”

Ben followed Walter out back to a small alley where the trashcans made their homes. Walter hurried past a line of parked cars until he reached a classic, mint condition Cadillac hearse,
Willow Funeral Home
, inscribed on the side in gold calligraphy.

“What’s this?” Ben was unsure how to react.

“It’s a hearse. I work part-time at the mortuary,” he jumped in the driver’s seat and turned the engine over. “Don’t worry, it’s cool. Get in!”

Ben hesitated. He breathed heavily, staring at the back tire. “I think there’s a problem over here. You might have a flat.”

“What!” Walter sprang from the car and ran around. “I just got these tires rotated! It can’t be!”

Ben didn’t wait for Walter to reach him. He threw himself on the front seat, slid to the controls and shifted into gear.

“Hey!” Walter chased his employer’s hearse down the narrow street. “Mr. James! What are you doing!”

“I can’t take you with me, Walter! It’s too dangerous!” Ben shouted out the window as he stepped on the accelerator. “I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt!”

Walter yelled something in return, but Ben only heard the rumbling of the Cadillac’s V8.

“Sorry, Walter,” he mumbled, leaving the boy in a cloud of dust. Then he flinched. Something heavy and blunt had fallen onto the roof. He heard the quick pitter-patter of tiny, yet powerful feet. Suddenly, two large, mismatched eyes peered at him through the windshield. Ben saw a goofy, upside-down grin.

FORTY-SEVEN

TAKOTA FELT A RUSH of something he hadn’t had in the longest time—hope. Finally, with the arrival of Orzabal, came the promise of some assistance. The gray old Tanakee welcomed him into his arms like a treasured friend, patting his wayward pupil on the back.

“Orzabal! It’s so good to see you. I came to find you!”

“I know, young Takota,” the ancient one’s voice whispered with the wind. “That’s why I traveled here. To find you.”

Takota stood straight. “Then you know what’s happened?”

Orzabal nodded. “I know more than you. Even more than the True Soul,” he pointed to Jack.

“What?” Jack kneeled. “What’s going on?”

“Your friends are fighting a battle without you. While you linger here in Wind Whisper Woods, their danger escalates,” his eyes opened, dulled by age, yet still sparkling with vigor. “And you are the ones who can save them. The only ones.”

Takota kicked a stone and it skipped across the river’s turbid surface. “I wish everyone would stop saying I’m some sort of savior! I can’t use Eteea, it’s worthless!”

Orzabal remained emotionless. “Your fear is worthless. Cast it aside like that pebble, Takota. For fear is the only thing encumbering you.”

“Tell me more about my family,” Jack said. “Are they really in danger? Are they?”

Orzabal directed his attention to the boy. “No more danger than you can handle, True Soul.”

“What does that mean?” he inched closer. “Tell me, does that monster, Davos, have my mom?”

Orzabal nodded.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” the boy screamed. “Takota, please come back with me! Please!”

Takota slouched. “Jack, I can’t. You saw me try to go up against Davos. It’s hopeless.”

“Apparently you cannot see yourself, Takota,” said Orzabal. “You handled those Sasquatch well. Held off a whole battalion.”

Takota glared. “So it was you! You sent those things to attack us, didn’t you?”

“No. They acted on their own. They’re defending Wind Whisper Woods. They know the Nagas is near. Jack startled them. However, they now know he is the True Soul, and you are his Power Protector.”

“Listen to him!” Jack pleaded. “Please, Takota! We’ve got to go, please come with me, now!”

Takota’s heart ripped down the middle. Why? Why did he feel such affection for this boy? What was holding him back from screaming ‘
NO!’
and running? He could become lost in the woods, never to hear or care about Eteea or True Souls or Nagas again.

“I can’t,” he searched Orzabal, hoping to find at least the smallest shred of understanding. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” Jack demanded.

“Unless I can teach you the ways of Eteea. Is that what you mean, Takota?”

“Can you?” he leaned toward the old master, feeling the urge to embrace him again. Then that impulse perished with a single, downward slant of Orzabal’s brow.

“No,” his voice fell with a solid
Thud!

“What! What do you mean? I’m supposed to be some powerful and fearsome warrior, a guardian of Eteea, and you won’t teach me anything? There must be
something
you can show me. A spell. A trick.”

“Eteea is not sorcery nor is it some cheap parlor game. It is to be used when needed only. It is a sacred mystery. In order to learn, you must do, you must be. Then the lessons will come. No one can show you how. No books will teach you. To access this inner spirit, you must initiate it through your own will. This is Eteea,” Orzabal glanced at Jack. “You are special. Your abilities are central to the health of this universe. You will guide us on this new journey.”

Jack was ashen. “I just wanna save my family. Takota, if you don’t wanna go with me, then I’m going alone.”

He started downstream.

Takota pushed yet closer to his mentor. “Wise Tanakee warrior, you’ve told stories of once fighting off an entire horde by yourself at the walls of Mashkan Shapir.”

“The ancient citadel,” Orzabal observed Jack as he hiked away.

“That’s right,” answered Takota. “My friends and I always thought it was a mythical battle. We thought you were speaking in riddles, tall tales to teach us young ones a lesson. Now I realize you told the truth. You really
were
a great warrior, which means you must have some wisdom about fighting you can teach me.”

The sage peered straight through Takota. At the river bend, Jack stopped and offered a wistful look.

“Being an Eteea warrior is not fighting or killing. It is understanding, compassion, the willingness to learn. Possess those things and Eteea will advance inside you,” he turned to Takota. “It will be hard for the human race to adapt to the coming changes. You must be willing to sacrifice all for the True Soul. That is the purpose of the Tanakee on this planet. That is why we are here.”

“Takota!” Jack cried, waving his arms, his small silhouette scarcely visible in the settling fog.

“Is there nothing you can teach me?”

“I can tell you only one thing,” Orzabal’s gaze narrowed into tiny slivers.

“Then tell me, what is it?” Takota watched Jack cut through the forest and out of sight.

“I have listened to the great Eteea so that I may interpret the messages she gives to us, to explain the connection between Tanakee, humans and this universe…”

“Old one, please,” Takota tapped his toes. “Stop delaying and tell me.”

The sage continued as if never interrupted. “This world is full of dangers. The path of the Eteea warrior requires great attention and observation to these dangers, both in this realm and in the many others where we can cross when the great spirit so chooses.”

Takota stretched his neck, trying to catch a sign of Jack. No use. The boy had gone. “Come on, just cut to the good part, will you? I don’t have time for this.”

A thunderclap and an immense gust startled Takota, throwing him to his knees. In front of him, Orzabal grew taller, wider, larger in every proportion. Higher and higher the old Tanakee stretched, his great bulk matched by the fire building in his scowl. Takota’s instinct told him to flee, yet something held him in place. Trembling, he watched the powerful one swell with a terrifying fury to a size which surpassed even the Bigfoot.

“Insolence!” Orzabal pointed his hulking finger. “I’ve been much too easy on you. Well, I say no longer!”

“But, but…” Takota stammered.

“Do not hesitate. Do not doubt. You
are
a protector. You
must
protect the True Soul!” he swung his elongated arm toward the trees where Jack had gone. “This very moment, he is defenseless, walking into a trap, and you alone can rescue him. Do you truly wish to let him perish?”

Takota turned away.

“Your friends. Enola, Cheyton, Pud and Ayita,” he paused. Takota looked up at him. “They are all in grave danger!”

He implored the great elder. “What about me? Who’s going to help me?”

Orzabal softened, frown lines transforming into a smile. “Young one. Believe me when I tell you. Eteea will come if you put your faith in yourself. When the time is right, you will not be alone.”

“Takota!” Jack’s distant call made both Tanakee perk their ears. Faint, almost imperceptible, in distress.

“He’s already in trouble,” Orzabal said.

Takota turned toward the sound, willing his vision to Jack’s location, seeing what the insects and the frogs and the birds saw. He pictured Jack in a dense buttress of Birch roots. Takota felt an ominous presence. He broke from the vision and searched his surroundings.

Orzabal had left him.

“Orzabal! Wait!” he ran to the base of the falls in a desperate attempt to find the Tanakee elder. Nothing.

Jack came into his vision once more. Afraid, alone, buried in a living tomb.

Takota hurried to locate the portal to the human world. He found the little stream leading to the secret passage under the giant fallen log. On the other side, the air felt different. A rigid wind wrapped him in its tingling grip. He felt goose pimples rise under his fur and longed to be back in his home forest.

“Takota!” Jack sounded desperate. His voice came from a massive knot of roots guarding the hidden gateway.

He circled the perimeter and found no way to squeeze into the thicket. Then he noticed a bubble from under the mud, splattering a sloppy splotch onto his clean coat. He frowned and wiggled, letting the gunk slide down his back.

“Yuck!”

One more step and he sank to his neck. He reached for the surface, yet everything gave in to his touch. A root twisted toward him. He took it and pulled himself up to his waist. Before he removed his legs, the mud clenched onto him, toothy jaws stinging his thighs.

Above the snapping and churning, he heard Jack’s whimpers. The roots had him caught, and their grip was tightening. Takota lost all concern for himself. No longer did his own pain matter, nor did he feel it. His vision traveled to Jack, deep in the vast network of angry, vicious vines. He saw the boy, saw the tangle of wood, and saw a way through it all. Then, in a blink, he was with Jack, directly by his side.

“Takota!” he brightened. “I didn’t think you’d make it!”

Takota knew the roots were pressing against the boy, and ignited with a keen sense of ability. Failure was not an option. Protecting Jack took priority. His apprehension, his lack of confidence—none of it mattered.

He glared at the gnarled wood. It seemed to return the gesture, crackling and stretching. The boy grimaced and squeezed out one word.

“Help!”

Takota filled his lungs. One sturdy pull and the root snapped. He fell back, hearing an anguished cry from somewhere deep inside the snarled timber. Other roots tried to compensate by covering the gap left by the damaged one. Takota broke them, too, forcefully and without hesitation. Then he reached for Jack’s outstretched arms, held tight and heaved.

A strong tug slipped Jack out. Without a thought of how much bigger the boy was, he forced himself under Jack’s shoulders and dragged him to a safe place far from the hungry plant life and haunted mud hole.

“Jack! Jack! Speak to me!” he felt a pulse, though he couldn’t detect if the boy was breathing. He climbed on Jack’s chest and hopped twice, trying to force airflow. After a third time, Jack coughed and winced.

“Ow! What are you trying to do, kill me?” he sat up and placed Takota on the ground.

“No, but those things almost did. You’ve got to watch what you’re doing.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear you’re sorry. I want to hear you won’t do anything like that again, understand?”

Jack smiled. “Does this mean you’ll be my protector?”

He sighed and forced Jack to meet his stare. “It’s my job to protect you, and that’s what I’ll do. I’ll guard you with everything I have. But I need you to promise you’ll do your part. That means when I tell you danger is near, listen. When I tell you to do something, obey. Sometimes you’ll have to obey without thinking, without questioning, without wavering. Can you do that?”