The Hunted (7 page)

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.

S
oaring 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 tugging 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.”

Sure enough, the little bear's eyes were opening. Frightened, it began to yowl, at first in a little whimper, then louder in a hooting noise as it came more fully awake.

“I'm sorry, little baby,” Ashley crooned. “We'll get you out real soon.”

“We'd better. If it starts thrashing around, we're in big trouble. We need wire cutters.” Jack tried to visualize the various things in the tailgate of the Jeep—cooler, battery cables, ponchos, two folded-up tarpaulins, a bucket, a roll of paper towels—but he couldn't remember seeing his dad's toolbox. “Ashley, go inside the trailer and check the compartment under the bench. If the toolbox is there, bring it.”

The awakened baby bear was now howling up a storm, protesting louder and louder, making so much racket its sibling had begun to stir.

“Jack—the other one's waking up, too. It's starting to move.”

“Hurry, Ashley. Get me those wire cutters!”

Before she could move, they heard it. In the trees behind them, a rustling, snapping, then a shaking as if a storm were blowing through, except, Jack realized, there was no wind. The air was still and hot. The sound started up again, louder this time, as if a car were rolling toward them.

Miguel, eyes wide, stared in the direction of the noise and whispered,
“Dos hombres.”

“I see something,” Ashley said shrilly. She seemed rooted to the ground, unable to move even when the crashing grew louder, as though an armored tank were breaking through the brush.

“There—where the branches are—ohmygosh! I think it's the…. It is! It's the
grizzly!”

A shock like electricity jolted though Jack. Instantly, he was on his feet. “Into the Jeep!” he yelled. He grabbed Ashley's arm and yanked her hard.
“Go, go, go!
Miguel—the Jeep!”

“Run!” Ashley screamed. Her sneakers churned underneath her as she shot toward the Jeep. Praying that at least one of the doors was unlocked, Jack ran one step behind, commanding his legs to go faster, but his body felt trapped in a tangle of muscles and joints that wouldn't work together. The Jeep seemed a mile away. He heard the bear breaking through brush, and then she reached the clearing. Their camp.

Ashley ran full force into the Jeep: Her hands slapped the window to stop her headlong dash. She yanked on the back passenger door, but it wouldn't budge. In a split second she moved to the front, wrenching the handle and leaping inside in one continuous motion. Jack dove into the driver's seat and slammed the door hard behind him. Over the pounding of his heart he could hear the baby cubs cry in a cacophony of high-pitched cries and lower-pitched hoots. The mother grizzly roared her response. She barreled into the fire pit, teeth bared. Still drugged, staggering, she lurched out of the pit, her head wagging on her massive shoulders, guttural sounds exploding from her throat. She was less than ten feet away.

Ashley's hand gripped Jack's so hard he almost cried in pain. “Miguel! Where's Miguel?”

In the rearview mirror, Jack spotted him. Miguel was still beside the cubs, unmoving, frozen with fear.

Opening the door a crack, Jack screamed, “Miguel! You can make it! Come to the Jeep! Get in Ashley's side!”

Ashley's shriek was loud enough to penetrate her unopened window. “
Miguel! She'll kill you! Come on!”

If he'd run toward Ashley's side, he would have made it. But, he ran in another direction, his feet kicking puffs of dirt as he raced toward the woods.

How many times had Jack been told that a human couldn't outrun a bear? “No human alive can run faster than a grizzly”—he'd heard it repeated since his first trip to Yellowstone, when he and Ashley were just toddlers. But Miguel didn't know that. Who would have told him? So Miguel raced, agile, wild, his arms pumping the air like pistons, his feet beating into the ground, his black hair flying.

Rising on her hind feet, her front paws dangling in front of her, the grizzly watched Miguel. Then, with an infuriated roar, she dropped on all fours and headed after him.