by K. E. Rocha
Trying to calm his thundering pulse, he focused on the screen suspended above the bank of monitors in front of Margo. Whatever was about to appear there was going to be huge. Spencer was almost afraid to find out what it would be. A replay of the bear baying? A slow-motion recap of the highlights?
Margo pulled off her hat and tossed it onto the console. Her sickening hair hung in tangled disarray. She raked her fingers through her hair, quickly trying to fix it as she leaned toward something in front of her. A moment later, she dropped her hands and the rapid clacks of fingers hammering on a keyboard resounded around the room. The huge screen went from black to gray. An image appeared.
At the center of the picture sat a man in an enormous chair. At first, Spencer was relieved. At least it’s not a close-up of the bear baying. But he quickly realized that everything about the image was disturbing. It was the chair that scared him most. Really, it was a throne that the man was perched on, and it was covered in pieces of . . . bears. The man sat primly on top of several cushions that Spencer was sure were made of bear hide. A patchwork of different shades of bear fur surrounded him, rising up the back of the throne and leading to a row of bear fangs studding the top edge. The throne’s legs ended in carved bear paws, but the throne’s armrests were much creepier. Spencer didn’t want to believe it was possible, but he was almost certain that fixed on top of the chair’s arms, preserved and hollowed out so that the man’s own hands disappeared inside of them, were real bear paws, with long curling claws. Disgusting.
Margo hacked out another round of coughs. The man in the image moved. It wasn’t a picture—it was a live feed. The man lifted a hand to shield his face as though Margo’s germs might reach him through the video feed. To Spencer’s horror, when the man pulled his hand from inside the paw, the claws went with him. They were the man’s own nails!
Margo slapped the keyboard, and suddenly a small box appeared in the top right corner of the enormous screen. The box displayed Margo’s end of the feed. Her image filled the center, but behind her Spencer could see the very desk he crouched beneath. He held his breath, preparing to run as he searched the desk on the screen for his own image or any sign that the camera had given him away. There was nothing. The space under the desk was dark. He was hidden by shadows.
From his hiding spot beneath the desk, Spencer stared up at the man on the bear throne. An hour ago, he hadn’t thought there was anyone creepier than Margo; now he knew he was wrong. This guy’s definitely creepier.
The man swept a lock of black hair into place atop his head with one claw-like nail and stroked the fur collar of his brown velvet jacket. Beneath the open jacket, a silky black shirt didn’t quite cover his potbelly, but the man didn’t appear to mind.
Spencer looked to Margo’s face on the screen. Her expression was sour, her lips pursed. “You’re looking . . . ursine today, Pam,” she said after a moment had passed. Her voice sounded unnaturally high, like she was trying to sound pleasant, but the sour look on her face didn’t change.
Pam examined his claws, then slipped his hands back into the bear paws at the ends of his armrests. “I’m aware, Lalicki,” he answered, his voice surprisingly smooth and melodic. “Thank you.”
Margo coughed, looking uneasy.
“Well?” Pam prompted softly. “Did you handle the problem?”
“The bear that wouldn’t fight in the ring?” She means Ro Ro, Spencer realized, remembering the men in the barn who’d claimed Ro Ro wasn’t a fighter. “Yes, it’s been handled. She fought.” Margo sneered, clearly pleased with her work.
Pam waved a hand theatrically. “Good. Though I still don’t see why there was a problem at all. The bear had been microchipped, yes?”
“Of course. All the adult bears have been. But—the problem was—” Pam’s eyes narrowed as he waited for Margo to continue. “Her cubs are here. On the premises. The microchips aren’t always effective—”
“Aren’t always effective?” Pam’s voice was dangerously sweet.
“Just with mother bears! It’s the cubs’ fault!” Margo whined. “When the cubs are around, it’s as though the sow can . . . like she can . . .” Pam gave a tight smile. Spencer shuddered, and for a second, he was glad to be in the room with Margo. At least it meant he didn’t have to be in the room with Pam. “Mother bears can overpower the implants if their cubs are nearby,” Margo spat.
“How many, Lalicki?” Pam snapped. “How many of my bears are being chipped without success? Hmm?” He looked away for a moment, nodding to someone outside of the frame.
Margo hesitated.
“Welllll?” the man suddenly screeched, his voice nasally and wavering now.
A maid carrying a silver tray with a teapot and teacup on it entered the screen next to Pam. Pam ignored her, waiting for Margo’s reply.
“Pam, I assure you,” she said evenly, “this has only happened once or twice before.”
Pam held up a hand, silencing her. “I want to see it. Show me video of the bear baying where she didn’t respond to the microchip.” Margo opened her mouth to respond. “Now,” Pam cooed threateningly. He motioned for the maid to pour his tea.
Spencer stared at the woman beside Pam. She was wearing a sleek black uniform, her dark brown hair twisted into a bun on top of her head. There was something familiar about her . . . She looked almost like . . . The woman put the tray down on a table next to the throne, and as she picked up the teapot, a thin gold bracelet slipped out from under the cuff of her shirt. A charm dangled down, tapping the silver tray lightly as she moved to pour the tea. Mom!
The woman’s face only had traces of what he knew Mom to look like, but even so, Spencer was certain. It was her. Spencer’s eyes darted from Mom to Pam, who was keeping his eyes on the screen ahead of him. Margo’s scraggly head was down, her fingers flying across the keyboard in front of her. They don’t know who she is!
Mom extended the teacup to Pam, who was too busy glaring at Margo’s frantic attempt to call up the video to take it. She turned to look at the camera, acting as though she was just glancing over. Prosthetics. The moment Mom turned, Spencer remembered the drawers full of fake facial parts. It was obvious now that she faced him. Her mouth and eyes were unchanged, but everything else was eerily unfamiliar. As she started to turn her attention back to Pam, Mom’s eyes drifted over the desk in the room behind Margo, where Spencer was hiding. She can’t see me!
Spencer froze, torn between needing to stay hidden and his desperation to see his mom. He couldn’t let her leave. Not yet. Not before she saw him and knew that for a moment they were together, and that he was on a mission to bring her home.
Spencer shot out from under the desk and came to stand in full view. Mom’s attention snapped back to the screen at the sudden motion, and their eyes locked. Spencer heard Pam’s shrill cry and Margo’s gasp that turned into a fit of coughs, but he didn’t move to run. He couldn’t do anything but look at Mom. And in what felt like an instant, it was over.
Crack! Margo slammed a hand down on the keyboard and the screen went black. “IVAAAAN!”
“Let me GO!” Spencer kicked his legs and thrashed around, trying to break free, but Ivan gave no sign of being bothered by the struggle.
Ivan had grabbed Spencer before he could make it out of Margo’s conference room. Spencer had run from the giant, hurtling over the desk and then under it, sprinting from one side of the room to the other, trying to find another way out, but there wasn’t one. Ivan had snatched him right off his feet, but Spencer wasn’t going to stop fighting his muscled captor. He had to get away!
Standing a few paces away, Margo watched Spencer struggle.
“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on the smallest Plain,” she sneered. “Might as well stop fighting, Spencer. You’re not going anywhere until I say so.” Spencer didn’t stop. Margo dropped her voice to a snarling threat. “Let me put it this way, the more trouble you give me, the worse this goes for you—and for your parents.” Margo’s pale skin sagged
around the thin line of her mouth. “Got it?” Spencer stopped kicking.
“I did good?” Ivan asked.
“Yes, yes, you did fine!” Margo snapped. “Now get him out of here. Tie his hands and keep him in the hallway. I have to call the boss and clean up this mess.” She spat the last word directly into Spencer’s face. He grimaced. Her breath smelled worse than the inside of the Grizzlee Den.
Ivan carried Spencer out of the room and deposited him roughly back on his feet in the cavernous hallway. The door slammed shut behind them. Keeping one hand wrapped around Spencer’s arms, Ivan retrieved a length of rope from his pocket. Spencer watched carefully as the giant fumbled with the rope, trying to lash Spencer’s hands together while holding him still at the same time. To Spencer’s relief, Ivan tied Spencer’s hands in front of him. An overhand knot. Spencer identified it easily. It wasn’t anything fancy, and if he could just lose Ivan for long enough, he was sure he’d be able to manage getting the knot undone.
Spencer knew about knots. Dad had grown up sailing, and on rainy days during summer vacations, Dad would teach Spencer to tie knots. Spencer had helped Cheng practice to get his Boy Scouts merit badge in knot tying, but even before Spencer helped him, Cheng would have been able to tie a better knot than Ivan was doing now.
“I did good,” Ivan grumbled from under his helmet, letting go of Spencer’s tied hands just as Margo reappeared.
“Tie the hands in the back next time, Ivan,” she reprimanded, thrusting a wooden chair out toward her brother. “And take this.” Ivan shrugged and took it. As soon as he did, Margo raised one of the evil-looking prods that the thugs had used to herd Ro Ro and her cubs. She pointed it at Spencer. “Let’s put him with his beloved bears.”
“No!” Spencer tried to run, but Ivan grabbed his bound hands, yanking him back.
“You can’t keep me here!” Spencer yelled. “People will be looking for me!”
“Who said anything about keeping you here?” Margo croaked out a laugh as she brushed past. With a jerk, Ivan dragged Spencer along behind.
They stopped in front of the elevator at the end of the corridor. Margo pressed a button beside it and the doors slid open, revealing a platform like the one the bears used in their tree elevators, except this platform was suspended by two thick cables. Spencer looked up into the elevator’s open shaft as they got on. There was another set of doors higher up. There can’t be another underground level above us. We aren’t deep enough . . .
“What’s up there?” he asked, his voice shaking. Don’t act scared. He cleared his throat. Margo hit a button on the wall of the elevator shaft, sealing the doors shut behind them.
“The outside world, Spencer,” she answered, pressing a combination of buttons on a device in her hand. It looked like a TV remote and a video game controller morphed into one. The platform started to lower.
When the platform stopped, Margo pressed a button on the wall of the elevator shaft to open the doors, then stepped out into an empty gray room. Ivan’s grip tightened around Spencer’s arm, but Spencer wasn’t going anywhere. On each of the three surrounding walls, there was one windowless steel door. It looked like a prison.
“Come on, Ivan, we don’t have all day!” Margo barked, swinging open one of the doors and putting the device in the pocket of her lab coat. Dragging the chair in one hand so that it squealed against the polished floor, Ivan tugged on the rope binding Spencer’s hands. He marched Spencer off the platform and through the steel door that Margo held open. As soon as he stepped into the cavernous, brightly lit room, Spencer tried to turn and run.
“No,” Ivan stated, holding him there. “I’ve got you good!”
A row of thick plexiglass cages made a U around the room. An adult bear sat staring back at Spencer from almost every cage. Spencer’s stomach started to hurt. He thought he might be sick. Whatever reason Margo had for bringing him here wasn’t good . . .
For a moment, Spencer almost forgot his fear. Ro Ro and the cubs were in one of the cages. Ro Ro’s metal collar and chain had been removed, but she didn’t look any better. She was lying on her side, licking a bloody patch of fur on her left leg. Her dark neck was matted with blood. The cubs huddled next to her, sucking on each other’s paws and making a loud humming noise that drifted over the top of their cage. Their collars and chains had been removed, too, but they were still trying to comfort themselves. Spencer hoped the comforting was working. We’re going to get out of here.
Margo waved the prod around like a baton, and a large bear in a nearby cage roared. Spencer jumped, immediately recalling Uncle Mark’s warning: A bear in pain is a very dangerous animal.
“What’s this? A Plain that’s afraid of bears?” Margo sneered. Before Spencer could swallow his fear and come up with a response, Ivan had dragged him into the only empty cage in the room.
Ivan let the chair clatter onto the cement floor, then pushed Spencer down to sit. Spencer leaped up. They couldn’t just lock him in here!
“No, you don’t.” Ivan pushed him back down.
“I thought you understood. The more trouble you give me, the worse this goes for you and your parents.” Margo stepped forward. “Would you prefer to be tied to the chair?” Tied here? No way!
“No. I’ll sit,” Spencer mumbled. After a nod from Margo, Ivan stepped out of the cage and jogged back to the steel door. Once he’d reached the door, he turned back, counting something on his fingers.
“Cage number seven, Ivan!” Margo barked. “Press button number seven and hurry up!” A second later, a plexiglass door lowered down on a cable, sealing Spencer inside with Margo and her prod. The button to open Ro Ro’s cage must be next to the steel door, too . . . Spencer noted, before turning his attention back to Margo, who was slowly walking in a circle around him.
“Let’s make this easy,” she started. She tapped the walls of the cage with the prod as she circled, aggravating the two bears on either side, whose cages each shared a plexiglass wall with Spencer’s. “You have some information that we need.”
“We?” Spencer was careful to keep his voice steady. He shot a skeptical glance toward Ivan, who was still standing beside the steel door but had begun shining his red football helmet with a rag, an expression of total concentration on his face and his tongue poking out of his mouth.
“No, not him.” Margo dismissed the question. “Now, tell me, when was the last time you saw your mother?” She stopped directly in front of Spencer. Staring down at him, she ran her tongue over her yellow teeth, as if she were an animal who had caught her prey and was about to devour it. Relief washed over Spencer. He hadn’t blown Mom’s cover!
“Not long ago,” he answered. He was tempted to smile, or laugh in Margo’s face, but he was afraid of what she might do.
“When exactly was that?”
He shrugged. He wouldn’t tell her anything. It was way too dangerous. He’d already come too close to giving Mom away by jumping out of his hiding spot to see her before she left the screen of the video conference. Now that he knew she was still safely disguised, Spencer was sure the risk had been worth it. That one moment they’d gotten to see each other, no matter how far apart or how dangerous it might have been, was enough to make Spencer even more determined. He would finish the rescue mission Mom and Dad had started, and then bring them home, too. Even so, he wasn’t about to take any more chances. For now Mom was safe, and Spencer was going to do everything he could to keep it that way. Margo wasn’t going to get any help from him.
Margo stared at him, but when the silence continued, she started to get angry. “Fine!” she snapped. “Let’s talk about Bearhaven, then.”
“What are you talking about?” he shot back.
Margo leaned down over him, putting her face way too close to Spencer’s.
“We have your father, you know. I would suggest that you cooperate. For his sake.”
Spencer narrowed his eyes at her. There was no way he was going to cooperate . . . But what would that mean for D
ad?
“Where’s Bearhaven, Spencer?” Margo asked evenly.
Spencer swallowed hard. “What’s Bearhaven?”
Margo let out a long, terrifying laugh. “All right,” she finally said. “You obviously have some thinking to do.” Her voice dropped threateningly low. “But you’ll want to reconsider your answers. If you don’t cooperate, your father will feel the consequences. And as for you—” She slammed the bear prod down onto the ground, then reached into the pocket of her lab coat.
Margo pulled out the control device. “All these bears around you? They belong to me. If I say attack”—she pressed a few buttons on the controller—“they attack. And guess what. I just said it.”
Suddenly, the bear in the cage on Spencer’s right reared up on its hind legs and threw itself at the plexiglass wall between them. Spencer leaped out of the chair and scrambled to get away, stumbling and off-balance with his hands tied. On shaking legs, he pressed himself into the farthest corner of cell number seven. Margo’s loud laughter gave way to a series of hacking coughs, but Spencer ignored her. The bear bared its teeth and clawed the glass furiously. It backed up and threw itself against the wall again, causing the cage to shift around Spencer. The door shook in its track.
“Stop!” Spencer shouted. The bear continued to attack the wall ferociously, but there was no anger in its eyes at all. Instead, the bear’s eyes were blank, unfocused. It’s the microchip . . . Spencer realized. The bear didn’t have any control over what it was doing. It was just as trapped as Spencer was.
Threatening to come back to continue her questioning, Margo left the cage to rejoin Ivan. She sneered as she punched a few buttons on her controller, stopping the bear’s attack, then stalked past her brother through the steel door. The moment the door closed behind them, Spencer lifted his bound hands to his mouth and started tugging at the knot with his teeth.
