“Let her get closer to the bait,” Max said softly. “Bring her out of the woods into the clearing so I can get a better shot at the cubs.”
They were going to kill the cubs, too!
The stench of rotting was so overpowering that in no way could the big grizzly have smelled humans nearby. If she heard them, she gave no sign. Unafraid, she lumbered toward the deer carcass on the ground. A trap to lure bears to their death!
Miguel scooted forward, taking in everything. Jack felt paralyzed. Choices whirled though his mind, all of them bad. He waited helplessly as the mother grizzly sank her teeth into the carcass. She was dark brown, thick furred, and healthy looking. One of the cubs had the same dark brown fur as the mother, like molasses; the other was lighter, more honey colored. The babies took timid bites.
“OK, let ’er rip,” Max said, and before Jack could react, a shot rang out, but it didn’t sound like a rifle shot; it was muffled, and the big grizzly didn’t fall. She just stood there, on all fours, shaking her head as though annoyed, then trying to reach back to grasp, with her teeth, the metal tube that stuck out from her shoulder.
“Did you put in a big enough dose?” Max asked.
“Plenty.”
“Then why isn’t she falling down?”
“Sometimes it just takes longer,” Terry answered. “Look, there she goes. Her front legs are buckling. Hurry up and dart the two cubs before they run.”
But the cubs weren’t making any attempt to leave. As the female bear slowly rolled on her side, grunting and twitching, her cubs nudged her with their snouts, unsure what had happened to their mother, not knowing what to do.
“Careful you don’t hit big mamma again when you shoot the cubs,” Max said.
“Here, you do it,” Terry answered, handing Max the dart gun. “Use enough stuff in the darts to knock ’em out for a while.”
Now Jack began to put the pieces together. These guys weren’t planning to kill the mother bear or the cubs. They were poachers, out to steal them! So this was what had been happening to Glacier’s yearling bears. His mother had thought the lack of cubs might be caused by a shortage of food in a drought year, or an unknown disease, or who knew what else? And all along, the bear cubs were being poached from the park.
Ashley stirred in the grass, tugging Jack’s arm again, still looking terrified.
“Shhh, you’ll be OK,” Jack whispered. “The bear’s tranquilized.”
Max moved around for a better shot at the cubs, who were whimpering and nosing their mother. When a dart hit the rump of the darker cub, it squealed and twisted convulsively, trying to bite the metal tube, which was smaller than the one Terry had used on its mother. The honey-colored cub started to scurry away. Max was a good shot; his dart hit the cub in the shoulder. Its cry was pitiful.
In a matter of minutes, both cubs were sprawled on the ground next to their mother, unconscious.
“Better hurry,” Max said.
“Don’t worry, we got time,” Terry answered. “Big mamma ain’t gonna come to for a good while. We’ll be outta here. Get the nets.”
Miguel had been lying flat on his stomach, chin resting on his crossed arms. Now he scrunched forward, but he wasn’t watching the men or the cubs; instead he was staring at the van. Jack could almost read Miguel’s mind: The van meant only one thing to Miguel—Seattle. He was scouting out the scene, trying to find a way to get into that delivery van without being caught. The fate of the bears was inconsequential to him, and although he’d been friendly enough to Jack and Ashley, both Landons were merely brief, interesting detours in his drive toward his goal.
Jack pulled Miguel’s head close and whispered in his ear, “Don’t do it. Those are bad men! If they see you, they’ll see us, and we’ll all get hurt. No!”
Miguel’s large, dark eyes stared somberly into Jack’s face. He didn’t answer. Had Jack’s words made any difference?
The two men pulled heavy netting from the back of the van. Dragging the drugged cubs by their back feet, they lifted them together onto the netting, wrapping them thoroughly like a bundle of loose watermelons, and then tying the netted package with ropes so that even when the cubs woke up, they’d be immobilized. After they were bundled securely, the men heaved them through the van’s back doors.
“Got everything?” Terry asked. “Don’t forget the chairs. And pick up those beer cans, just in case. We don’t want to leave fingerprints.”
The folding chairs went into the tailgate beside the sleeping cubs; the beer cans were thrown farther back, bouncing off the wall between the van’s cargo area and the cab. Terry started the motor while Max hurried around to the passenger side, slamming his door.
The tires spun wildly. Jack’s thoughts spun just as fast. Those guys had to be stopped, and he was the only one who could do it. Leaping to his feet, he pulled up Ashley and motioned to Miguel.
“Listen to me. They’ll need to open the chain, so they’ll have to park the van. Maybe we can rescue the cubs while the van is still behind the chain.”
“But—they’re grizzlies,” Ashley protested.
“They’re babies and they’re zonked,” Jack cried. “They can’t hurt you. There’s no time to argue—come on!”
Whether or not he understood, Miguel didn’t need any urging. He ran ahead of Jack and Ashley, careful to stay out of sight of the two men in the delivery van, weaving through the trees in a footpath that led straight toward the chained entrance. For the van, it was a long drive around the loop from the spot where Max and Terry had set their trap, and because of the rough road, it moved slowly.
The three kids cut straight through the wild forest in the middle of the loop, shortening the distance, gaining time. When they came close to the campground entrance, still keeping hidden in the trees, Jack saw that the van had already arrived. From the inside, Max kicked open the passenger-side door, allowing heavy metal sound to pulse through the air as guitar riffs and drums shattered the stillness. Good, Jack thought. With that music, they won’t be able to hear anything. Timing would be crucial. There’d be no second chances.
Mentally, he tried to figure how long it would take the men to unlock the chain, hoping it would be long enough for him to carry out his plan. No time to think if it made sense. He had to try.
“Jack—we can’t,” Ashley panted. “You’re crazy.”
“I know.” Gulping for air, he told them, “I’ll open the back door and pull out the cubs. You help me, OK, Miguel?” He pointed to himself, then Miguel, then the van. Miguel nodded. “Ashley, stay here.”
Jack took a deep breath and waited for Max to turn his back. “Start now!” he hissed, then darted from the underbrush. He prayed the men wouldn’t see them, that Terry wouldn’t look into the side-view mirror and that Max wouldn’t turn around and catch them in the act.
In seconds they were at the rear doors, protected by the van’s bulky shape. With a quick jerk, Jack yanked on the handle of the right-hand door in the back of the van. He could feel Miguel pressed right behind him.
“What’s the holdup?” Terry shouted through the driver’s window.
“You got so dang many keys on this ring, I can’t figure out which one is the master key.”
“For cripes’ sake,” Terry complained, throwing open his door. “I showed it to you on the way in.”
“I know, but there’s a couple dozen keys here.”
“You’re nothing but an idiot!” Terry snapped. “That blasted music of yours has killed off all your brain cells.”
A pause—Jack couldn’t see, but he figured Terry was hurrying toward Max. Then Terry’s voice snarled, “Give them to me!”
Jack felt another presence at his elbow, and for a second his stomach lurched, but when he turned, he saw his sister, pale, frightened, but resolute. A look passed between them, wordless but clear: She was there to help rescue the baby bears. Jack nodded and peered into the darkness.
There were no windows of any kind, just the metal hull with peeling
paint on the floor. The two cubs, tied in netting, lay sound asleep, tangled together. Jack knew he’d have to move fast; they’d have, maybe, 20 seconds. He mentally counted the seconds as they worked—20, 19…. Pulling on the netting, both boys slid the bundle of cubs through the partly open door, but it was too heavy. It dropped through their arms and landed hard. It was a good thing the baby bears were unconscious, or they would have squealed when they hit the dirt. No time to worry—16, 15….
“Now you got the right key, so open it, stupid,” Terry yelled as he climbed back into the van. “Let’s get outta here.”
“I’m trying. And quit callin’ me stupid.”
“OK, brain dead.”
14, 13…. “Ashley! Close the door,” Jack whispered. 10, 9, 8…. Expertly, silently, Ashley pushed the back door until it latched. It took all the strength of all three kids to half-lift and half-drag the cubs toward the brush. Jack filled his mind with counting, ticking off the remaining seconds one by one—7, 6, 5…. If Terry looked into the van’s mirror, he would see them. Don’t think—4, 3…. The three of them dragged the cubs farther into the underbrush—2, 1…. As they staggered into the shelter of the nearest trees, where they paused to get a better grip, Ashley gasped, “They’re heavy!”
Zero. Trying to keep their breathing low, they stopped where they were. Jack heard the van move forward, then heard Max get out once again to pull the chain across the entrance and lock it.
Suddenly Miguel jumped to his feet, murmuring, “Hasta la vista, dudes.” Even as his index finger touched his forehead in a quick salute, he was leaping toward where the van still idled.
“Miguel’s going!” Ashley cried.
Sometimes it’s easier to ask forgiveness later than to get permission ahead of time, Jack had once heard. No time to think about it—they could hear Max’s feet crunch in the gravel as the burly man neared the passenger side of the vehicle. As fast as a snake strike, Jack lunged forward and tackled Miguel around the ankles, dropping him to the ground. He pinned him flat, which wasn’t hard since he outweighed Miguel by about 25 pounds. They heard Max open the passenger door, and then a sharp bang as it slammed shut.
Miguel let loose a stream of angry Spanish, but it was too late—the moment was lost. The engine of the delivery van roared when it pulled away, bumping up the ungraded road, heading north, gravel sputtering from the tires in tiny showers.
When at last the sound of the van’s engine faded, Miguel just stayed on the ground, lying facedown, no longer fighting. “Come on, get up,” Jack said, lifting him. “It’s OK, Miguel.”
Tears welled up in Miguel’s eyes and ran down his dusty cheeks. He stared at Jack and Ashley, mournfully. “Seattle,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry—I—” Jack stammered.
“You can stay with us,” Ashley told him.
Miguel didn’t answer. Instead, he wiped his cheeks with his palms and turned away.
Maybe it wouldn’t be easier to ask for forgiveness.
CHAPTER NINE
Soaring overhead, a hawk speared the sky with its beak before turning to plunge toward an open space beyond the trees. For a moment Jack watched its graceful force as it arced into the sky once more, another pivot, another bullet dive. The hawk knew what it was doing. It was working on instinct.
Standing there with Miguel, Ashley, and two grizzly cubs, Jack’s thoughts blasted in every direction, like a string of firecrackers sputtering on the ground. Miguel, hurt and angry that he missed his ride; Ashley, fearful of the mamma grizzly; two drugged bear cubs tied in a net; a green delivery van that might be back any minute. Jack pictured the men and knew they were a threat, not only to those cubs, but to anyone who interfered with their plan to steal them. If only, Jack wished, he had the instinct of the hawk. If only he knew what to do now.
“Look, Jack, they’re all squished together,” Ashley said, trying in vain to pull the sleeping cubs apart. “The dark brown one is right on top of the honey one. Do you think the bottom cub will suffocate? Can you untie the knots?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try,” Jack said. But undoing the knots in the ropes turned out to be impossible. They’d been pulled too tight even for Jack the Eagle Scout. His knuckles were scraped raw before he gave up. Sucking at the blood on one knuckle, he said, “That isn’t working. And we can’t just leave them here—if Terry and Max come back, they’ll find them. We’ll take them to our camp and cut open the net, then set them free. Miguel, grab an end. Ashley, you get across from me. Everyone pull up on the count of three. Ready?”
Ashley clutched the net, but Miguel didn’t move. He kept his eyes to the ground. His shoulders, once squared, drooped like a candle left out in the sun. It was as if the life had gone out of him, a wick blown out.
“Come on, Miguel,” Jack repeated. “Let’s go!”
No response.
Immediately, Jack guessed what was wrong. Miguel had missed his ride. What did he care about two cubs, the very animals that cost him his chance? Not now, Jack moaned to himself. There was no time for this, no time for dealing with emotions when a clock was running.
He had no idea how soon the tranquilizer would wear off. Thirty minutes? Ten? They had to do this fast. Planting himself right in front of Miguel, forcing Miguel’s dark eyes to meet his, Jack spoke hurriedly. “Listen to me. I know you wanted to go.” He thrust his hand out into the distance. “But those were bad men. Really bad. They would have hurt you. You couldn’t go with them. I—I did what I had to do. So now you’ve got to help us with these cubs. I can’t carry them with just Ashley alone.”
Shaking his head softly, Miguel let his lids droop back toward the ground. All expression had drained from his face, like water into sand, and now there was nothing, just a blankness, a page with no writing. Maybe, Jack thought, this was how Miguel had survived. When things got rough, he just disappeared into himself.
“Miguel, I said I was sorry.”
Silence.
“Come on, give me a break.” Jack could hear his own voice rising. “Did you want to get yourself killed? We’ve got other problems now—like these bear cubs and….” Frustrated, Jack jerked his fingers though his hair. “I don’t know how to explain! Why can’t he understand—”
“Because you’re yelling at him. He doesn’t have to know English to hear that.”
“OK,” Jack snapped, “then you do it! Tell Miguel that if those guys found the cubs gone and just him in the back there, he would have been toast.”
Ashley had been kneeling over the cubs, her fingers kneading their backs through the netting. “Jack, it’s not always what you say, but how you say it.” She stood and gently, quietly, took Miguel’s hand. “Miguel, I’m sorry you missed your ride. Jack is too. I know you’ve got to get to Seattle.”
Miguel’s eyes met hers. His gaze moved over her, warily.
“Seattle. Sí,” he answered, barely above a whisper.
“We—” she pointed to Jack, then to herself—“will try to get you there. To Seattle. To your teacher. I promise.”
“Seattle?” A flicker of hope spread across Miguel’s face. “¿Es promesa?”
“Sí,” Ashley answered. “A promise.”
“Hey, you can’t promise him that!” Jack exploded. “So that’s your answer? To lie to him?”
“It’s not a lie.”
“How do you think you’re going to—look, we don’t have time for this. We’ve got major problems. We’ve got bear cubs all tangled up in this net, bad guys that may be headed back, a tranquilizer that’s going to wear off—”
“And we’ve got Miguel. Maybe we could get him a bus ticket or something.”
“Great. I thought you were going to adopt him,” Jack retorted. “Now you’re going to help him escape?”
“He’s made it all this way. He deserves to get there.” His sister’s profile showed her chin sticking out stubbornly, which, Jack knew, meant she wasn’t going to let go of her plan for Miguel.
Then Jack saw a smile tu
gging at the corner of Miguel’s mouth as he said, “Gracias.”
A squirrel chattered madly in a tree, doing its part to hurry them along. Precious time was ticking away.
“We’re moving these cubs, now,” Jack ordered, “with or without Miguel. Ashley, take this end.” He pointed to the section he wanted his sister to lift. “Pull as hard as you can.”
“Will you help us, Miguel?” Ashley asked.
“Help, yes,” Miguel answered. Squatting low, he laced his brown fingers through the net. Ashley and Jack did the same. “OK,” Jack barked. “On the count of three.
Pull up!”
The heaviness of the two cubs—close to 150 pounds total, it felt like—was even more daunting because they were pure dead weight. Netting cut into the kids’ fingers; they had to keep stopping to rub circulation back into their hands as they made their way up the straight part of the road, then turned left onto the loop that led to their campsite. Finally, about 30 feet from the trailer, they gave up and began to drag the sleeping cubs, who bounced along the ground like rocks in a bag. One of the cubs made a squeaking noise, but its eyes stayed closed.
“How long’s it been since they were darted?” Ashley asked.
“I’m not sure, but we better get moving before they wake up.”
“I’ll get the scissors,” Ashley volunteered. “It won’t take long.”
The scissors weren’t any more of a success than the attempt to untie the knots. First Ashley, then Jack tried to squeeze the handles of the scissors together, but it was no use. “Darn it—there’s wire in the center of this cord the net’s made out of,” Jack declared. “Mom’s kitchen scissors aren’t strong enough.”
“Hey!” Miguel said, pointing to the darker cub, which was all tangled up with its honey-colored sibling. “She wake up.”
The Hunted Page 7
