Jack James and the Tribe of the Teddy Bear (37 page)

FIFTY

JACK HAD NEVER BEEN so grateful to be ten years old. The best part of childhood, he thought, was the virtually limitless energy supply. Good thing, too. He and Takota had just spent the better part of an hour in a brisk jog.

The woods were a place of many wonders, a spectacular gallery of sights and sounds and smells. He loved them all. Except bugs, of course. Cobwebs kept getting tangled all over his face, and one time a spider got caught in his hair. Not fun. He especially didn’t appreciate it when, during a big gasp for air, some unknown thing zipped straight down his throat.

“Yuck!” he stuck out his tongue, coughing. “Nasty!”

Takota sounded concerned. “What is?”

“I just swallowed a bug or something. Yuck!” he coughed again.

Takota chuckled. “A bug flew into your mouth?”

“Yeah!” he winced.

“People. You’re all weird. Don’t frown when a bug flies into your mouth. Where I come from, that’s free fast food!”

Jack quit running and gave him a straight face. Takota stopped, angled, and returned the look. At the same time, they each smiled, then erupted into fits of laughter.

“You guys really eat bugs?” Jack said through his giggles.

“No,” Takota took a stern posture, then he softened. “Well, maybe some. But only the delicious ones. Beetles, grasshoppers, spiders…”

“Spiders! You eat spiders?”

“Sure. Why not? They’re mouthwatering.”

Jack waved his hand. The fly and everything else in his gut wanted to make a surprise appearance. “Oh, don’t. Don’t say that.”

“What? Why? Are you feeling okay?” he chuckled.

“Let’s just get to Archer Savage Industries,” Jack perused the giant firs and pines and cedars in every direction. Lush, green forest as far as the eye traveled. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“Positive. We’re heading for the river. It’s not the fastest way, but I think it’s the safest.”

“I hope you’re right about this. We can’t waste any more time.”

“I still want to know what you have planned,” Takota crossed his arms. “Do we look like superheroes? You’ve seen Davos. You’ve seen his power. How can we even dream of going up against him?”

Jack kneeled to his level. “My family’s in terrible danger. So are your friends. Everything’s falling apart. I don’t have much in this world right now. But I have you. And, Takota, I’ve got to tell you. When I’m with you, I feel anything’s possible. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s true. Can’t you understand that?”

Takota’s mouth curved up at the edges. “I guess deep down inside, I do. Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Jack blinked a tear down his cheek. “I really, really want to hug you right now.”

Takota retreated a step. “All right, all right. Enough with the sentimental stuff. We don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t care!” Jack captured him in an embrace. He knew the little guy had the strength to easily slip away, yet Takota allowed the boy to nuzzle him. For a few seconds.

“Okay. That’s it,” he pushed against Jack’s chest. Jack didn’t let go. Takota tried again, his second effort weaker than the first. Finally Jack felt him relent, thawing in his arms.

Inside, he knew Takota didn't want to let go, either. Jack didn't know how. He just knew. It went beyond simple words. Even though they'd met just a couple days earlier, he felt a bond stretching into the far reaches of time. And dimension.

While they hugged, the ground began to quiver. Pinecones popped. Tiny twigs tumbled. Shamrocks shivered.

Takota let Jack go. He swiveled in every direction, searching for the source of the commotion. Jack joined the frantic hunt.

He noticed something he'd seen before. The ground bulged in dozens of small piles. Little hiccups of earth erupted into mounds. Sticks and dirt and moss from the forest floor gathered in slight heaps of decaying material, grouping into tiny beings. Jack's memory went to Teresa.

“The woodland workers!” he applauded.

“The what?” Takota didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry. They’re good guys. Teresa Tree’s friends.”

The shapes became more defined. Branches formed into arms and legs. Roots became hands and feet. Sprigs turned to fingers and toes. Rocks and shells and bones developed into sharp teeth and claws.

“But, what are they?” Takota demanded.

Jack spun in a circle, gesturing at the self-constructing creatures. “All the mythical beings that live in the dream realms between midnight and twilight. Elves, goblins and gnomes. Fairies, sprites and pixies. They exist! They’re real!”

“Of course they exist,” Takota stood guard with his back to Jack’s legs in a crouched posture. “What are they doing here?”

“Maybe they want to help. Maybe Teresa sent them.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Takota pointed.

Jack detected something different about the magical entities. They seemed dull and lifeless, a sharp contrast to their joyous, festive mood while they’d rebuilt Teresa’s house. They were the same grassy-haired elves, mossy-bearded gnomes, and leafy-winged fairies. In their faces, though, he saw a hardened staleness, and more. Spreading over each of them were thick patches of dark green mold, encapsulating them in rotted veils.

“Um, is that the way they’re supposed to look?” Takota asked. “You said they’re friends. They don’t seem so friendly to me.”

Jack stared wordlessly at the desolate things surrounding them. A dingy woodsprite stretched its wings of decayed leaves and fluttered into the air. Then it swooped low and shot up again, hovering near his face. Its blotchy eyes trapped his. Its blemished, crinkled lips parted to reveal two rows of serrated teeth made of sharp, muddy stones. The gangly, disheveled being pulled a small bow from over its shoulder, then took a minuscule arrow out of a quiver strapped under its wing. It readied the arrow, pulled the bowstrings, and aimed.

Frozen in fear, Jack wasn’t able to defend himself in any way. Luckily he had Takota. His protector leapt and snatched the wooden fairy in his claws the way a cat catches a dragonfly. He brought it down, prepared to rip off its wings with his jaws, when the thing collapsed into hundreds of separate twigs and rocks and leaves and bits of soil.

Takota stood and brushed off his fur, staring at the small bundle of matter that once was the twig fairy. Twitching and hopping, it attracted Jack’s attention, too.

“Is it…” he paused and watched. “Is it coming back to life?”

“Uh, yeah,” Takota backed into his knee. “Jack,” he caught his breath. “What’s going on around here?”

“Teresa told me this might happen,” Jack answered. “She said the more Davos’ influence lingered, the more his evil would spread.”

“So, these things have been infected by Davos?”

“I think so.”

“We need to go!”

Takota flung toward a large, grassy gnome. It spread its arms as he made contact, slicing a hole straight through. The stunned stick goblin pawed at the empty space where its chest used to be. It raised its sneer at Jack, then caved in upon itself, leaving a pile of vegetation behind. Takota kicked at the remnants, scattering them thin.

“Takota!” Jack yelled. Two stick elves attacked, one on each side. Takota snatched their root hands and smashed them together, crumbling them to bits. Again, he hurried to disperse the pieces, shuffling his feet in the heaps of stems, leaves and stones.

“This way! Come on!” he waved, and they sprinted up a narrow trail. Jack caught the cool, distinct smell of the Columbia River mixed with the Pacific Ocean. It had to be close. The maniacal woodland beings sounded closer. Dozens of tiny footsteps, drubbing relentlessly from behind, drove him to push faster.

Under his feet, the ground became unstable. The wind picked up and blew pine needles into his face. Temporarily sightless, he stepped onto a shifting rock and slipped, circling his arms to catch his balance. The wind felt strong on his exposed skin. One more step and he felt an odd sensation. The earth wasn’t there anymore. He fell forward, blinking away the obstruction in his eye.

“Jack! NO!”

He felt a tug on his jacket. For a moment he was floating. He blinked again, able to see finally. They’d come to the edge of a tall, steep precipice, the mighty Columbia flowing lazily below. Jack hadn’t seen the cliff until it was almost too late, though Takota had him. Barely.

“Don’t move!” Takota yelled.

“Where am I going to go!”

After Takota managed to get him to relative safety, Jack scanned their surroundings. The undergrowth seemed alive with movement, scrambling little monsters made of dirt and wood, all after him and Takota, and closing in.

“We’re trapped!” he felt the optimism draining out of him.

“No we’re not!” Takota jumped to catch a branch on a tall Western Red Cedar. “This way!”

Jack followed him one limb to another, same as climbing the rungs of a ladder. After going a good distance, he glimpsed below. Their pursuers were climbing, too.

“They’re coming!”

Takota dropped to the bottom branches and attacked a spindly stick monster. It snapped at him, slashing with its lanky arms. He clung to the tree trunk with one hand while swiping at the thing with the other. One of his blows made solid contact, dislodging his foe from the limb. It smashed to pieces when it hit the ground.

Still more came.

“Climb!” Takota ordered.

Covered in pitch, his hands a sticky mess, Jack kept going. The tree swayed, growing thinner toward the top. Still, he climbed until he felt it might snap. Then he stopped, wrapped his arms and legs around the tall timber, and watched.

Takota was a blur, clawing from one side of the tree to the other, pushing, kicking and smashing the aggressors, sending each of them tumbling.

Then something flew close to Jack, buzzing like a hive of angry hornets. Over his shoulder he peered to find another winged sprite—and it was mad.

It dipped its leafy wings and raged toward him. Slashing its claws into his backpack, it got caught in the pockets. He slipped one strap off his shoulder, then the other, letting the pack and the sprite cartwheel down, hitting limb after limb until they both crash-landed on a group of rocks.

Looking defeated, the band of angry wooden faeries, dwarves and elves gathered near the tree trunk. One of them spoke to its comrades in a language Jack had never heard.

“What’s it saying?” he asked.

“Shhh!” Takota lifted his ear. “Change of plans.”

“Change of plans? We have plans?”

“I mean them. They’re switching strategy.”

The creatures moved to a clearing a few yards away. There they collapsed onto themselves, each separating into bits of dirt and rock and wood, the materials from which they were constructed.

“They’re giving up, Takota! You did it!”

“Hmm,” he rubbed his chin. “Something’s not right.”

“What’s not right? They’re history. You kicked their butts!”

He stiffened his lip. “I don’t buy it.”

“You’re just being paranoid,” Jack began the arduous descent down the great conifer.

“Wait!” Takota scurried to catch him. “Look!”

The mass of forest debris began to ripple. The pile seemed alive, pulsating with the rhythm of a heartbeat while the leaves and twigs and other matter once again collected. Only this time, they formed a single, large cluster.

“You have a point,” Jack shimmied up again. “That’s not right.”

Higher and bigger the shape grew. The stems and old bones and dirt clods, all dancing with minds of their own, placed themselves into perfect position. Colossal feet formed. Then ankles appeared—wide, to carry the massive girth that would follow. They continued building onto each other until fully forged legs came into being.

“Uh, oh,” Jack muttered. “Not good.”

“Not good at all,” Takota agreed. “We need to get outta this tree, now!”

They started down. Jack took another glance and his heart skipped. The midsection, chest, shoulders and head had assembled. The only things left to be built were its arms, and they were coming along nicely. Then the gigantic wooden ogre became mobile, striding toward them with remarkable fluidity.

“Get back up!” ordered Takota. “NOW!”

Jack had already begun climbing, hurrying his hands and feet, scratching his wrists against the rough bark.

Curiosity forced his gaze down. The stick beast had assembled to a full two stories tall, twice the size of the largest Bigfoot. Dead grass was its beard, with additional straw protruding from a stocking cap made of moss. Jack’s pulse raced when it found him with its black granite eyes. It frowned and issued a barbaric roar. Jack shuddered. He looked to his little friend, asking without words if he thought they had a chance of getting out of this one. Takota answered him, again without speaking.

I will not fail you. I will protect you, no matter what.

The wooden brute stomped through the brush. It bellowed with delight while plucking a long, stout log from the forest floor. It carried the lumber to a rock pile and paused at a particularly jagged boulder. Issuing an echoing grunt, it jabbed hard with the wood. When he lifted the tip, the rock came with it, glistening with sharpness on both sides.