Secrets of Bearhaven (3 page)

Wiry grass lashed Spencer's bare legs as he sprinted across the field toward the trees. Behind him, Uncle Mark revved the engine, and with another shower of gravel, the Porsche tore off down the road.

He was on his own.

He was halfway between the road and the trees, heading straight into a forest that housed at least one bear.

Bears didn't usually live in packs, but Spencer's parents had always told him that they were “social animals,” just like kids at school: hanging out, doing things together during the day, but going home to different places, living separately. So that meant there was probably more than one bear in the forest ahead. He was just supposed to hope to find the friendly one first?

The roar of the Corvette reminded Spencer that no matter what he found in those woods, he needed to get into them, and fast. He glanced over his shoulder to see who he was running from, and the black car started to veer over to the side of the road.

Spencer dropped down onto his stomach. Whoever was in that car wasn't supposed to see him. He flattened himself
against the cold ground, his shorts, shirt, and sneakers immediately soaking up the damp of the grass. Evarita wasn't going to be very happy when he got home. She hated laundry.

Of course, he had to get home for that to even matter.

With his face hovering inches from the ground and his nose filling with the thick smell of dirt and whatever was crawling around under him, Spencer willed the black car to keep going.

No such luck—there was a screeching of brakes, the sound of rubber on gravel, and the car ground to a stop.

Spencer lifted his head just enough to see a hulking man muscle himself out of the passenger-side door of the Corvette. Roughly the size and shape of a refrigerator, the man's huge body was enough to make Spencer's breath catch in his throat. A white football helmet gleamed on his head, hiding his face, and the man's huge hands were clenched in menacing fists. Spencer couldn't imagine why a man that big would need a football helmet anywhere but on a football field . . . unless he made a habit of smashing into things. Spencer didn't have to know who the man was, or what he wanted, to know that he was definitely creepy, and probably dangerous.

Spencer turned his attention back to the forest. Bear or no bear, he decided he would be safer in the woods, where he could duck behind something and hide, than in the middle of a field with a giant in a football helmet stomping around looking for him.

From where he lay on his belly, he didn't have far to go, but he couldn't risk jumping to his feet and running for it. Spencer pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Staying in the lowest crawl he could manage, he scrambled forward.

He expected to hear a shout, or powerful footsteps pounding behind him, but neither came. Instead, after a few moments, a car door slammed, the Corvette's engine gave a booming cough, and the car pulled away, crunching gravel as it accelerated. Spencer leaped up and dashed the remaining yards to the tree line. Hurtling between two enormous pines, he landed in the shadowed woods.

As soon as he was far enough into the forest that he couldn't see the road through the trees, Spencer leaned up against the thick trunk of an old oak. “Welcome to bear territory,” he muttered, trying to catch his breath. This had to be better than the field with the football freak.

Spencer pulled out his cell phone. Great. No service. No chance of calling Uncle Mark or Evarita. He was really, really alone.

Spencer tapped the compass app and shoved his hand back into his pocket, grasping the jade bear. He needed all the help he could get. As he waited for the app to load, he listened to the sounds of the forest. Leaves rustled as a breeze blew through, chilling Spencer in his damp uniform. A bird dove down from a branch, and Spencer was so startled he almost dropped his phone, but the bird wasn't after him. Instead, it scooped a toad mid-ribbit from a root and carried it off. Spencer froze.
I am really in the woods,
he thought before shaking off the bird attack and refocusing on his phone. He knew that if the app didn't work without cell service he'd be in trouble, but he tried to push that thought out of his head. Without the compass he would never know which way north was . . .

Maybe he should have joined Boy Scouts with Cheng after all. Even Ramona would probably know something
about navigating in a forest, with all the camping she and her family did during the summer. Cheng and Ramona were probably at home right now, doing homework or watching TV, something ordinary that didn't involve bears and being ditched in the woods. They'd never believe this . . .

The compass on Spencer's phone finally calibrated, and he pushed himself off the tree. He didn't like the sound of the rest of this “emergency brake” plan, but his only chance of finding the mysterious safe place was to go north, bear or no bear.

The compass read 272° west. Spencer turned to his right, eyes glued to the bright compass as the numbers ticked up and the marker moved along the circle's edge. When the compass registered 0° north, Spencer looked directly ahead of him. “Okay, let's get this over with,” he muttered. Without looking back, he broke into a jog. He didn't want to still be in these woods when the sun went down . . . even if the only other option was meeting up with a bear.

Spencer wasn't sure how long he'd been running, but he'd referred to the compass over a dozen times. It said that he was still heading in the right direction, even though he didn't seem to be getting anywhere. The woods had gotten darker and more overgrown, but he hadn't seen any sign of the safe place Uncle Mark had talked about. No friendly bear had shown up to take him to safety, either, not that he minded waiting a little longer for
that
meeting.

The rotten feeling from that morning crept back into Spencer's stomach. He shouldn't have hung up on Mom and Dad, but he never thought anything would happen to them. They'd tried to call back! What if they'd wanted to tell him something important? What if he could have helped them get out of whatever trouble they were in now?

Spencer's thoughts were quickly brought back to the woods as he realized that he was running into a thickening fog. Wispy at first, it curled around Spencer in waves. There was something weird about this fog, though; it tingled a little, just like salt water did when it dried on his skin at the beach in the summer.

The fog hung so tightly around Spencer that he had to slow to a walk. He couldn't see the trees or even the ground anymore. He had to hold his phone close to his face to read the compass, its glow dulled by the murkiness around him.

Spencer's mouth filled with metallic mist. Coughing, he tasted the sharp tang of chemicals. Something was seriously wrong with this fog.

He pushed on, even though every step felt like walking through sticky mud, until his own voice surprised him. “I have to go home
right now.
”

No, that wasn't right . . . He
couldn't
go home. He had to go north—so why was he suddenly also sure that he needed to turn back? And why couldn't he make that thought go away?

Spencer tapped his flashlight app. The small beam of light popped on, but it only turned the fog into a wall of blinding white.

The fog again filled Spencer's mouth and lungs, making him double over in a fit of coughs. This time, though, Spencer realized that with his head bent toward the ground he could see better. The fog was thinner down there.

Crouching, he lifted his phone again, pointing the beam of light in front of him. The flashlight illuminated a clearing not far away with a tightly packed clump of trees beyond it. Would the bear be in there, waiting for him? Spencer wasn't sure it mattered anymore. At this point, whatever was in that clearing had to be better than the fog that was trying to suffocate him.

The fog prickled the back of his neck, but he stayed low and moved forward, keeping the flashlight trained on the path until he finally broke through the sheet of heavy gray mist.

At the edge of the clearing Spencer straightened. The nagging sense that he needed to go home was suddenly gone. He checked that his jade bear hadn't slipped out of his pocket, then looked at the compass. Dang! He was facing east now. The fog had him all turned around. Spencer turned to his left, his eyes locked on his phone screen.

After a few paces, the compass read 0° north. Ready to take off again, Spencer looked up. And there, across the clearing, looking him straight in the eye, was an enormous bear.

Roooaaaaarrr!

If that was the bear he was waiting for, there was no way he was going to stick around for an introduction. And if it wasn't—

Roooaaaaarrr!

And that's when Spencer turned and ran.

“Spencer Plain,” the bear growled. “We have been expecting you.”

Had he finally gone crazy, or had that bear just
said
something?

The dead weight of the bear's massive paw kept Spencer pinned in place as its snout prodded and sniffed at his arms and legs. Spencer wanted to close his eyes. He didn't want to see the bear's lethal-looking claws get even an inch closer, or its jaw open to reveal a mouthful of teeth, but he couldn't seem to look away. Fear kept his eyes open.

In the fur at the base of the bear's enormous neck rested a round device. Glowing green, the strange piece looked sort of like a speaker from the computer Spencer was supposed to repair by Monday.

The bear pulled back and looked Spencer over once more before removing its paw from Spencer's shoulder.

“Spencer Plain, are you injured?”

Now he was sure. That grave voice
had
come from the bear. No . . . the voice was coming from the machine at the bear's chest, and the words had followed a series of grunts, grumbles, and growls from the bear. It was some sort of technology—
some very cool technology,
Spencer
found himself thinking—but he'd never heard of anything like it.

“Spencer Plain, have you injured your vocal cords?” The bear kept its eyes fixed on Spencer, and to Spencer's surprise, seemed to look impatient.

“How . . . how are you doing that?” he answered, and stared at the green light, waiting for it to reply.

The bear tapped his neck and growled.

The translation followed: “This is a BEAR-COM. Battery-Enabled Animal Reinterpreting and Communication device.”

A bear language translator?
No way! Did his parents know about this? Spencer wanted a closer look, but stopped himself from leaning toward it. It may be an awesome invention, but it was still attached to a bear.
A black bear
, Spencer thought.

A jagged furless patch ran the length of the animal's tan muzzle, and its nose, constantly sniffing, looked soft and leathery.

“If you aren't injured, then we had better be off.” The bear stood on its hind legs and towered over Spencer.

“Wait—” Spencer protested, remembering the roar again. “If you're Uncle Mark's friend, then why did you—?”

“Apologies,” the bear interrupted gruffly. “Our introduction did not go as planned. For security purposes, my BEAR-COM was off. I had intended to turn it on in time for our meeting, but it seems the fog was a problem for us both. I had
attempted
to say ‘Don't run. I am here to take you to safety and am not interested in a chase at the moment,' but
clearly
it did not translate, so all you heard was my roar.” With that, the bear bent down and began to open its mouth. The closer it got,
the wider its jaws opened, until right above Spencer's head it revealed its forty-two gleaming teeth.

Spencer tried to scramble away, but before he could get his feet beneath him, the bear had clamped the back of his muddy shirt between its teeth and was lifting him off the ground.