Jack James and the Tribe of the Teddy Bear (4 page)

Jack is a famous explorer on the verge of finding a precious artifact in some murky, dank labyrinth. He gets down and crawls, feeling the contours of the walls for signs of a trap while probing the cracked stone floor in search of some secret passageway leading to a mother lode of ancient treasure. It could be anything: a golden skull of the Aztecs, a cache of diamonds, rubies and other precious gems hidden away by pirates in the Barbary Coast, or, better yet, physical proof of Atlantis. He presses on. It’s dark. The dampness soaks through to his knees and numbs his fingertips. At any instant, a fissure might crumble in the deteriorating ground, taking him plummeting to his demise. He might be crawling toward a savage, frothing beast, left to stand guard against tomb raiders and grave robbers and fortune seekers. Still, he presses on.

Then a faint voice calls out from the misty distance.

“Listen, Jack. You come back here right now!”

It’s his mother. How’d she get here?

“You hear me? Get back over here!”

He snapped to the same reality as his mom. Gone was the damp labyrinth, in its place Winmart’s dusty old warehouse. Still, he had a strange feeling. In his peripheral vision he caught movement, a silhouette against another silhouette. Something was hidden between the boxes.

“Wait a sec,” he whispered.

“No!” Liz commanded. “You might get hurt!”

That thought had never crossed his mind. He felt no danger. His mother, and now the deliveryman, disagreed.

“I’ll get ‘im,” Doug parked the dolly. Jack would have none of it.

“Shhh!” he waved the man away, keeping his focus trained on the mysterious object. He knew one false move, one blink of the eye and he’d lose track of it forever.

He leaned in, expecting the thing to scurry off. It stayed still. He got closer, and his vision adjusted to the lack of light.

On the dark concrete floor, a tiny animal stared at him with the most sincere expression. The size of a small dog, or a large cat, and covered in mottled gray brown fur that had seen better days, it seemed damp and cold and tired. Even so, it had a majestic quality. Shaggy hair fell over its forehead a little, and tiny ears stuck out from under tufts of fuzz.

Jack smiled, knowing he should have been afraid. A warm wave of contentment swept over him, though, when he looked into those enormous, coppery eyes. Weirdest of all, on the tops of each cheek, it had areas of slightly ridged, bare skin, both the color and shape of a leaf.

“Whatcha got back there? A rat or somethin’?” Doug snuck from behind. He grabbed Jack’s shoulders and carried him to his mother. Then he picked up a broom and returned to the dark corner, pretending to be a samurai. “I’ll get ‘em!”

“No! Don’t hurt it!” Jack cried.

“Don’t worry,” Doug poised for a strike. “I’m not gonna…”

He froze, letting the broom fall to the floor with a
Clink!

“What is
that?
”

Jack saw wonder in his face, which morphed from a stupor to full-blown joy.

“Well? Can you see something?” Liz sounded equal parts impatient, interested and intimidated.

Doug didn’t answer. The large man just stood there, his stubby hands swinging at his sides, his smile growing bigger and bigger.

“Yeah, I see it,” he crouched and reached for it.

“Be careful,” Jack broke from his mother’s grip and ran to him.

Then an amazing thing happened. The little creature, which at first appeared so realistic, all of the sudden went limp and lifeless. Even its gaze went from glimmering and vibrant to dull and glassy.

Doug lifted it above his shoulders.

“It’s a…” he said with a chuckle. “Why it’s, it’s…”

The stockroom door flew open. Roberta dragged her mortified son behind her.

“It’s just a teddy bear!” she chastised Dillon, pointing at the lifeless thing in Doug’s hands. “You’re afraid of a teddy bear?”

“But I…I…”

Roberta let go of Dillon’s hand, strode to Doug and seized the inanimate object.

“Oh, my word,” she winced. “It’s as dirty as a gym sock. Where
did
this come from?”

“Beats me,” Doug shrugged. “I didn’t think there were any teddy bears in this shipment.”

“There aren’t,” Liz confirmed, leafing through the invoices. “At least there aren’t supposed to be.”

“Well, it belongs to somebody,” Roberta winced at the grimy thing. “But why would anyone want it?”

“Can I have it?” Jack spoke up.

“Ohh, widdle Jackie wants a teddy beaw,” Dillon derided him.

“You want this?” Roberta ignored her son.

“Jack, aren’t you a little too old for that?” Liz seemed to be more telling him than asking.

“No, he’s just a widdle baby,” Dillon again injected his wit.

“That’s enough, Dillon,” Roberta hissed. “Jack, I suppose it’s no problem if you want it, but we should probably do the right thing and try to find its rightful owner, first. Tell you what, clean it up and put it in the Lost and Found. If nobody claims it after a week, it’s yours.”

“All right!” Jack accepted the strange thing from Roberta and headed straight for the employee restroom.

Dillon glared at it, inching backward.

“You’re not afraid of a teddy bear are you?” Jack taunted.

THREE

EVERY TIME TAKOTA PLAYED the dead game it tuckered him out. Ironic, since all he had to do was sit motionless for hours on end. However, the trick required much more than remaining still, and proved harder than it seemed. When executed correctly, the heart rate dropped low enough to become undetectable. The body temperature dipped, making each outer extremity cold to the touch. It became such great camouflage that Tanakee found themselves teaching the art to many of Wind Whisper Woods’ other inhabitants, though only possums actually got it.

He fought back a tear when he thought of the forest. His home and family were so far away. Yet, as he sat on one of the shelves in an area they called,
Lost and Found
, his only immediate concern was the stirring and growling in his stomach. He swore his midsection had imploded into an empty hole.

He crawled from the shelf onto a countertop, gasping in disbelief and taking in the view. The room was vast, bigger than any he’d seen in his life. Tanakee were accustomed to small caves and the occasional hollow stump, not cavernous structures such as this, so big he could barely see where it ended.

And it was filled with…FOOD!

His nose went crazy catching scents. Left, right, up, down—all around. Rows and rows of delicious, wonderful, mouthwatering, scrumptious, delectable food! Finding something to eat in the forest wasn’t too difficult, though never like this, everything lined up and laid out, waiting to be plucked.

The sights and smells barraged him from all angles, whipping his mere hunger into complete starvation. But then severe weakness followed, threatening to put an end to his fun before it even started. Being captured by Archer Savage, all that time in the lab, his harrowing escape, stowing away in Doug’s delivery truck, and having to play the dead game half the night—it became too much for a simple creature from the woods.

Feeling defeated, he sighed and rested against a display of packages which crinkled at his touch. Then his nose twitched. He perked up, noticing a wonderful smell. The fatigue melted away when he ripped open one of the tiny bags, releasing its multicolored contents onto the floor.

He picked up a green one and popped it in his mouth, allowing it to hit every taste bud on his tongue. The flavor exploded. A slight tingle cascaded into an avalanche of sweet delight, hard on the outside, smooth and sugary on the inside. After a few more mouthfuls, the pieces were gone and he contemplated eating the package, too. Instead, he licked it profusely, then examined the brightly decorated markings.
‘M&M’s
,’ it read. There it was.
M&M’s
. His new favorite food.

He jumped to the floor and got a rush of energy from the candy. Before he knew it he was running wild, hooting and hollering up and down each aisle. He ran past mountains of aluminum cans, paperboard packages, meaty treats in airtight wrappers, towers of encasements filled to the top with all types of edibles.

He kept moving, through the area with fresh fruits and vegetables (he hijacked an apple, took a few bites then dropped the core), past the aisles with boxes, cans and other packages of food, and into different parts of the store.

He came upon a place with large letters on the wall which spelled out,
‘Electronics.’
There he saw rows and rows of thin, various-sized boxes, lined and stacked on shelves. When he spotted one glowing, he slid to a stop. He felt confused. Inside the shiny box, he saw another Tanakee, only it appeared flat and unnatural. He slanted his head, so did the other Tanakee. He reached his hand, so did the other Tanakee. Then he thrust and thrashed his arms at the intruder, hoping to drive it off. Instead, the other Tanakee did the same thing. That was enough for Takota. He sprinted away, swearing he’d never return to that haunted spot.

It didn’t matter. He had no time to play, anyway. The future of his entire race depended on him. That terrible man, Archer Savage, was after him, and he couldn’t stick around long. Still, with so many choices to dine on, it would have been a shame not to sample at least a few things.

But what to eat first?

He went back to what he knew best—fruit. After another apple (a red one this time), a few cherries and a bite of a pear, he got impatient and went for the stuff he’d never seen before. Such a dazzling array of magnificent colors, shapes and sizes, all ripe for the picking. He grabbed some yellow thing that made his mouth pucker. He tossed it aside and tried a green one. More puckering. The orange things were much sweeter, and he took the time to eat a whole one, though he found it cumbersome getting past the bitter peel.

By the time he’d made it through all the produce, his nose became sidetracked by several shelves of bags with delicious pictures on them. He didn’t know what they were, though they looked amazing. He ripped one open to taste its contents. Crispy, salty. Ambrosia, each thin, delectable bite. So many flavors. Each one had to be tested.

At the rear of the store, he found several large glass cases heaped with all manner of seafood and meat. The slabs of beef were massive, almost bigger than Takota, himself. And when he bit into one, the flavor left him in a semi-trance. He sampled it happily, along with many others, all while swaying to some internal melody.

As he finished with his newest culinary find, he began to experience some discomfort in his gut, a bloated feeling which endangered his dining. He moaned and rubbed his belly, wanting to crawl into a dark place next to something warm and sleep off what he feared would soon become a terrible food hangover. What was he thinking? Stupid! Stupid!

However, he forgot about the ache in his stomach when, on the rack next to him, he found heaps of colored packets inscribed boldly with the words,
‘M&M’s’
. Ahhh, always room for his favorite. One thing he noticed, though.
M&M’s
made him thirsty.

Two aisles over, he found a whole section of containers filled with liquids ranging in hue from red to blue to dark brown. Stacks and stacks of cold, wet beverages waiting for him, never mind if many of them might have been questionable.

He came to the end of the long machine which kept the containers cold, and didn’t find a drop of plain old water. Yet the more he scanned the beverage aisle, the more intrigued he became at the incredible color contrasts, the bold, sharp lettering and, of course, the vast amount of choices. Such a dizzying array of drinks.

Randomly he chose a can, its cold sides moist with condensation. He knew he might have made a mistake when he saw the painted silver horns and menacing glare. Emblazoned along the sides were the words, ‘
Bull’s Horns.’
He didn’t know what was in it. He didn’t want to know. His instinct told him to put the can down and run, but since when had he started listening to instinct?

With a sharp claw, he poked open the can’s top and gulped down nearly half its contents. He would have guzzled it all if not for the burning. At first it wasn’t a concern, just a little discomfort in his throat. Then the small flame of unease became a wildfire of raw, anxious energy, tearing through him, racing up his spine and scorching his brain.

He rattled his skull, the only way to release some of the intensity surging through him. It gave him a little relief, though not enough, so he jumped once, then again, this time higher. He leapt over the drink cooler, landing smack in the middle of the canned peas and corn section.

Not for long.

Another tidal wave of vigor propelled him into the air so high it frightened him. After he came down, surrounded by tiny jars with pictures of human babies on them, he vowed never to do that again. That unnatural concoction he’d drunk had other plans, though. Internal lightning bolts forced involuntary spasms in his legs. One tiny twitch and
Bang!
he went airborne again.

In fast-motion, impossible to stop, he began ricocheting throughout the store. He found it great fun to curl up and roll into boxes stacked at the ends of aisles, sending them flying in all directions. After a half dozen, he made a slight miscalculation and barreled into a heap of canned baked beans—the tall cans.

In an act of revenge, it seemed each and every metal container somehow found a way to come down squarely on top of him. The initial direct hit, he might have been able to handle, even the second and third. When the fourth crash-landed, it was all he could take. The formerly soaring energy vanished. An ugly, empty queasiness filled the void. He tried to get to his feet and failed. A dark halo invaded the corners of his vision, growing and growing, filling his senses with silent blackness.