Brainrush 04 - Everlast 01: Everlast (12 page)

“Pigs?” Sarafina whispered.

“Wild boar,” Timmy said, sounding relieved.

“Quiet!” Ahmed said, his head turned as if listening to
something in the darkness.

A limb snapped and there was a deep-throated chuff. Ahmed inched
back, raising the pistol.

The bear’s head poked through the brush less than ten feet
from where Ahmed stood, its huge face illuminated by the torch. The animal
stopped, black eyes frozen on my brother, its shoulders hunched, black claws
curled into the earth. It was like a child’s nightmare come true and I could
sense my sister was about to scream. As I started to open my mind to help calm
her, I sensed something from the bear. Not anger, but fear. Ahmed raised the
pistol and the bear’s shoulder fur twitched.

“Wait,” I said too loudly. The bear chuffed and turned its
gaze in my direction.

Ahmed braced himself.

If he squeezed the trigger…

I rose, ignoring Sarafina’s gasp. I wrapped my mind around
the bear’s, doing my best to project a calming influence toward it. No, not
it
but
her
. Her head tilted to one side and I wondered if she felt me.

“Don’t shoot,” I said softly. “Lower the pistol and step
back. Move slowly.”

Ahmed hesitated. I prayed he’d trust my senses.

“Do as he says,” Sarafina said. She rarely questioned me
when I chose to speak. Plus, she had such a deep-hearted love of animals that I
knew she didn’t want to see the bear injured.

“What’s going on?” Timmy said.

“Shhh,” Sarafina said.

“It’ll be okay,” I said.

Ahmed lowered the weapon and edged backward. When the bear
made no move to follow, Ahmed stepped around the fire to join the rest of us.
We stood still as statues as I continued to project my thoughts toward the bear.
She stared back at me, and though I couldn’t enter her mind like I had with
Mississippi Mike, I had a growing sense she understood we were no threat. After
several moments, the tension eased in her neck and shoulders, and she raised
her snout and wiggled it from side to side as if sniffing the air. She let out
a low chuff and ambled toward the gear we had lined up on the tarp. Her muzzle
disappeared inside one of the open bags of brownies.

Ahmed sighed.

She pulled her nose from the bag and swung her head to one
side, licking her snout as she released two soft grunts. There was a rustling
in the darkness behind her and two more bears pushed into the light and brushed
up beside her. Ahmed and Timmy both tensed, but somehow Sarafina and I knew it
was going to be okay. Even though the two bears were nearly the same size as
the first one, I could tell they were cubs. The new arrivals glanced our way
but didn’t seem concerned, happy to follow their mom’s lead. Their snouts dug
through the MREs, one bear finding the second open bag of brownies and the
other gulping down the abandoned pound cake. After several failed attempts to
find other open bags, they snuffed and moved away. The cubs padded into the
darkness and the mother took a last glance at me before disappearing behind
them.

 “That was amazing,” Sarafina said.

All the strength left my legs and I dropped to my knees,
only then realizing how scared I’d been.

I
DIDN’T TALK MUCH
but I thought a lot, and at
this moment I couldn’t stop thinking about how long it would take to trek a
hundred and fifty miles through this jungle.

“If we had a road to follow,” Ahmed said, “we
might
be able to make ten miles a day.” He shouldered through some foliage and a
branch whipped back and nearly hit Sarafina.

“Watch it,” she said, grabbing it before it slapped her.
“And by the way, if we had a road to follow, we could catch a ride and make it
in a day.” She released the limb with care.

I was next in line and it barely scraped my head. Timmy was
behind me.

Ahmed stopped to check his compass. A tall stand of bamboo
blocked our path. It clicked and clacked as it swayed in a breeze we could
barely feel at ground level. “But finding our way through this jungle,” Ahmed
said, “we’ll be lucky to make four miles before sundown.”

It could be weeks before we find them, I thought. So much
could happen between now and then. The jungle was thick and the terrain rolled
sharply. Before setting out, Ahmed had climbed a ridge and charted what he
hoped would be the best course. We kept to the furrows. There were more insects
that way but it was better than climbing up and down hills.

The path widened a little and Timmy stepped up beside me.
“How you holding up?” he asked.

I shrugged. It had only been two hours since we left the
campsite and I seemed to have a lot more energy than usual. Even so, my shirt
was soaked from the humidity and my shoulders ached from carrying my backpack.
It was stuffed with MREs so it was much heavier than before. I’d made extra
space by tossing my Transformer and my tablet but I’d refused to get rid of
Uncle Marshall’s Spider. Keeping it gave me hope that things would return to
normal soon.

As if sensing my discomfort, Timmy reached for my shoulder
strap. “Why don’t I carry your pack for a while?”

I jerked aside. “No,” I said with a sharpness that was
unusual for me. The mini was tucked in the bottom of my pack and I wasn’t going
to let anyone else hold it.

Timmy looked at me funny and I could tell I’d hurt his
feelings, so I added, “But thanks.”

We’d walked another hour when two deep mewling sounds
stopped us in our tracks. Something thrashed around the next bend in the path.
We huddled together behind a thicket and Ahmed pulled out the pistol.

“What
is
that?” Sarafina whispered.

“It sounds like whining dogs,” Ahmed said.

“I don’t think so,” Timmy said, and I agreed with him.

“This way,” Ahmed said. He grabbed Sarafina’s hand and led
us off the path and up a rise.

The mewling sounds grew louder. They tore at my heart and a
part of me wanted to rush toward them. But I knew better. Timmy urged me
forward and we clambered up the slope. The ground steepened and we had to grab
exposed tree roots to pull ourselves up. Sarafina yelped when she stepped in a
nest of tiny, yellow snakes. There were at least a dozen of them and they
slithered away in all directions, blending into the brush and leaves.

“Come on,” Ahmed said. “We’re almost there.”

A minute later the four of us settled on a small plateau. We
plopped on our butts, breathing hard. Ahmed pointed and we all gazed down at
the source of the sounds. Below was a clearing, where a black bear swayed back
and forth inside a bamboo cage. Two more bears paced around it, their snouts
jutting upward as they vocalized their distress. The broad carpet of trees and
foliage dropped off to a valley behind them.

“I didn’t know bears could sound like that,” Ahmed said.

“They’re the ones from last night, aren’t they?” Sarafina
asked.

“We have to help them,” I said, rising to my feet.

“Whoa, pal,” Timmy said, pulling me back down. “There’s no
way I’m letting you go down there.”

“They won’t hurt me.”

Sarafina and Ahmed turned and studied me.

“Mama Bear won’t let them,” I added.

My sister scooted over to me and took my hands in hers. I
stared past her at the bears. The mother chuffed and clawed at the cage. I
could feel her confusion and her cubs’ anguish. All I’d have to do was lift the
bamboo panel that had slid down to trap her.

“They’re too agitated to risk it,” Sarafina said, squeezing
my hands. “I know it’s the right thing to do. I can feel their pain, too. But
you could get badly hurt.”

“Quiet,” Timmy said. “Do you hear that?”

It sounded like grinding gears and the rumble of a motor. It
was coming from somewhere beyond the bears. We ducked and fixed our eyes in
that direction, and a prickle started at the back of my neck. I had the strange
sensation someone was watching us. Then there was another gear change and I
sloughed it off. A motor revved and a puff of black smoke sprouted from the
trees. There was a flash of canvas and metal. A truck was climbing the hill.

“Yes!” Sarafina said, rising to her feet. The rest of us
were quick to join her.

The mama bear stilled, her head turned toward the sound of
the truck. She woofed and the two smaller bears disappeared into the brush. The
truck pulled into the clearing and stopped with a squeak of its brakes. A tarp
covered something in the rear of the vehicle. The cab doors opened and two men
jumped out.

“Let’s go,” Sarafina said, starting off.

“Wait,” Timmy said, pulling her down in the tall grass.
Ahmed and I ducked, too. Timmy pointed to the back of the truck, where a third
man had jumped out holding a weapon that looked like the AK-47s we’d left back
at the camp. “Let’s see what’s going on before we go charging down there asking
for help.”

Good idea, I thought. I didn’t like the look of those guys.
The men rolled back the tarp, sparking a chorus of growls and snorts, revealing
four metal cages about half the size of the bamboo cage in the clearing. Three
of them held angry bears, each of them swiping at the men as they walked by.

“Down,” Ahmed whispered, dropping to the ground. We
flattened beside him and watched.

The driver jeered at the animals, poking one of them with a
probe that sparked when it touched him. The bear jerked backward and mewled.
The men laughed.

“Creeps,” Sarafina hissed, clenching her fists in the dirt.

I was sickened by the pleasure the men took, and felt a
sudden desire to use the sparking stick on them to see how much they liked it.
I shook my head to clear the thought. I’d never wanted to hurt anyone before
and it made me uncomfortable. But when the man walked over to the bamboo cage
and did the same thing to the mama bear, I felt a tingle of energy from the
mini in my backpack and the emotion returned. I allowed it to linger and
finally understood what the makers of the pyramids had seen as the flaw of the
human race. Violence was a part of our nature, whether it was from nasty men
who took joy in the pain of a helpless creature—or in the children who
witnessed it.

I felt Sarafina’s gentle touch. “We’ll find a way to stop
them,” she said, and a part of me wondered if she was reading my mind. “We need
to follow the truck.”

“Yes,” I said, watching the men below as they backed the
truck up into the clearing and used a built-in crane to lower the empty metal
cage beside the bamboo cage. The bear roared and swiped at the men, her claws
slashing across the bamboo. But the men barely flinched. When the entrances
were lined up, they lifted the bamboo gate and used the prods to jolt the bear,
each touch rippling the muscles beneath her fur and triggering a whimper. She
lurched into the new cage and the door clanked closed behind her.

A few minutes later, the truck and its live cargo made its
way back to the road and disappeared into the trees. There was movement in the
surrounding brush and I caught a glimpse of the two younger bears running after
it.

“Hurry,” Sarafina said, taking my hand and starting down the
hill. The others followed, and when we reached level ground we ran as fast as
we could. We rushed across the clearing, through the trees, and onto the dirt
road, finding ourselves on a promontory overlooking a rolling forested valley.
Mountains rose in the distance. The road was mostly hidden as it twisted and
turned through the trees. The sounds of the truck were faint.

“There,” Timmy said, pointing to an exposed hairpin turn.

The truck lumbered down the hill, and my mind’s eye tracked
its probable course into the endless canopy of trees. That’s when I saw it.

“Look,” Ahmed said, beating me to the punch. He pointed to
where columns of smoke snaked through the trees, drifting together to form a
faint cloud that stretched above the tree line.

Two hours later we were huddled on a ridge above a farm. A
grand, three-story, pagoda-style house with smoke coming from its chimneys was
situated on a slight rise overlooking a cluster of older wooden structures,
including a long building with wide entrances at either end that looked like a
kennel of some sort. There were also a barn, two barracks, and several smaller
shacks. An orchard of red flowers climbed up and over the hillside beyond, and
people were working the fields. Others milled around the buildings and most had
rifles strapped to their shoulders. Alongside the long building were scattered
vehicles, including a tractor, a couple older cars, an SUV, and two trucks,
including the one from the clearing.   

“The bears are still on the truck,” Sarafina said.

Ahmed said, “There are more over there.” He pointed to the
near end of the long building where several other bears were caged.

“Yeah,” Timmy said. “But it’s not like we can do anything about
it. There are armed guards everywhere.”

“Why are there so many?” Sarafina asked. “It’s not like the
bears are going to get away.”

“They’re not there for the bears,” Ahmed said. “It’s because
of the poppies.”

“Of course,” Timmy said. “Opium.”

“They grew poppies near my village in Afghanistan,” Ahmed
added. “And we knew never to go near. Poppy growers shoot first and ask
questions later.”

Sarafina sniffled. Her eyes were moist. “But what are they
going to do to the bears?”

A man and a woman wearing coveralls walked over to inspect
the four new cages. One of the men from the truck followed closely behind.
After a quick inspection, the woman nodded. The three men grabbed their gear
and rifles and strode toward the barracks. The couple put on gloves, turning
their backs on the truck and the other caged bears as they proceeded into the
long building. As soon as they entered, a chorus of mewling sounds echoed from
within.

The mama bear and the other three bears on the truck raised
their heads as one, all looking toward the building. They clawed and gnawed at
the bars of their cages.

 “Oh my God,” Sarafina gasped.

The mewling got louder and I could imagine rows of caged
bears inside. Their cries were agonizing. I spun around when I felt another
prickle at my neck but no one was there. My mind was playing tricks on me.
Under the circumstances, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“We have to do something,” Sarafina said. “Besides, we need
one of those vehicles.”

“We can’t,” Timmy said.

My sister’s expression flared but Ahmed shushed her before
any outburst could happen. He took her arm and urged her back down the hill.
Timmy and I followed. When we were out of sight of the farm, we gathered under
a stand of trees.

Sarafina put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean?”

“Do I really have to explain?” Timmy said. “Think about it.
Those are armed guards down there. Like your brother said, they’d shoot us,
dump us in a ditch, and think nothing of it. We have no clue what’s going on
inside those buildings, and even if we did, what could we possibly do about it?
Besides, we’ve got a mission of our own.” He pointed in the opposite direction.
“To hike that way and find your parents and Tony and the others. And in the
meantime, it’s
my
job to keep you safe. So mingling with a gang of
sadistic Chinese drug farmers in order to help some bears is simply not going
to happen. Just forget about it.”

But I could tell my sister wasn’t going to. It wasn’t in her
nature. If someone needed help, she’d be there for them. Ahmed wasn’t much different,
and I guess I wasn’t, either. It’s the way my mom had raised us while my dad
was in a coma, and it’s the way my dad had acted every day of his life since.
The three of us stood side by side in front of Timmy. He crossed his arms and
his lips became a thin line.

After several moments, Ahmed said, “You’re right. Sarafina
and Alex can’t go down there.”

Timmy blew out a breath.

“It’s not safe,” Ahmed said, facing my sister and motioning
toward me. “Especially for Alex. So you’re going to have to watch over him
while Timmy and I go down to take care of business.”

Sarafina sighed, but she nodded and took my hand.

“What?” Timmy asked.

Ahmed turned to face him. “I respect that you wish to
protect us, to stand with us as we face down the challenge that has been set
before us.” He spoke as if elders from his childhood guided his words, as if he
were still part of an Afghan warrior tribe determined to fight back against ill
treatment from the West. “The loyalty you have shown to our father and to us
does you great credit, and you have long since become part of our family
because of it. We are honored and fortunate to have you with us.”

He placed a hand on Timmy’s shoulder, standing slightly
taller than him, and it was in that moment I began to see my brother as an
adult.

“But don’t be fooled by our ages,” Ahmed continued. “We are
warriors in our own right and have proven ourselves as such in the past, each
of us using our different talents to do what was necessary, guided by our love
for one another and the lessons we have been taught by our father and mother.
Those lessons have served us well, and it is in situations such as this one
that we must rely on them the most. So I ask you,” he said, squeezing Timmy’s
shoulder, “what do you think our father would do?”