RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET (20 page)

"Nuts," said Justin. "Guess they've forgotten about their cubs."

"How's that possible?" asked Janie.

"They're bears," said Rachel. "I'm afraid their maternal feelings are only instincts."

"Sows love their cubs," Janie protested.

Rachel nodded. "Yes, but they have short memories."

"At least they don't eat their offspring like some of the boars do," said Justin.

Rachel said, "Yeah, like Bruno. Remember how he used to threaten his own cubs?"

"I remember," said Justin.

9
Umbriago's Valley

Justin shuddered as he stood
with the twins looking down on the valley where, with a can of bear repellant and an air horn, he'd confronted Bruno the boar and to a lesser extent Big Bertha herself over the safety of Umbriago and Little Bertha. What an idiot he'd been. There was no logical reason why his bones shouldn't now be drying in the sun, waiting for the buzzards to finish their work. But here he stood, alive and well, pondering whether he should share what he'd done. He decided against it, primarily because he suspected that Rachel's disapproval would be almost as dangerous as Bruno's teeth and claws. He'd keep the adventure to himself—at least for now.

"Don't see anything," said Janie. "Even the black bears are hiding somewhere."

"Umbriago's smaller than Little Bertha," said Justin, "about twelve to fifteen pounds. Could be behind a rock or in a cleft or in the tall grass." He started to suggest that to cover more ground they separate as they descended the hill, but a glance from Rachel reminded him of her promise to Janie not to leave her alone under any circumstance. "Well, let's fan out a bit—that'll help," he said.

When they had climbed halfway down the slope, two rifle shots rang out from the next valley; and before the shots had stopped echoing, a third followed.

"Oh no!" cried Janie, "…Umbriago—"

"No one's going to shoot a cub," said Rachel. "There's no glory in that." She spoke with confidence, though inside she wondered about foolish macho men who might take delight in shooting at anything that moves…even a helpless little spring cub who might raise his head at any sound or smell to see what was going on. But there was no way she was going to share her fears with Janie. If such a horrible thing occurred, they would find out about it soon enough.

Justin said, "I'm worried about Big Bertha. If those clowns have killed her, I'll—"

Rachel raised her palm. "We're worrying too much. Three rifle shots, that's all. We'll finish our search here, then climb the next ridge to see what's happening."

Janie and Justin nodded.

The outfitter Marco Bilboa lowered
his binoculars and looked down at the two kneeling young hunters who had accompanied him on the excursion. He masked his irritation at their decision to fire without waiting for his go ahead. It was clear they had downed a sow—and one who was wearing a GPS collar. That could mean trouble in this bear-management region if they didn't hurry to the kill to remove and bury the collar. Also, it would probably be best to skin and clean the carcass as soon as possible, just in case the sow was nursing cubs—which would lead to double trouble. But the dead bear would also bring a significant bonus, so he didn't wish to raise any unnecessary alarms or concerns for his two hunters. Now if his partner Jacob Barnes and his young hunter, wherever they were, could bring down a grizzly, this could be a profitable day indeed. He only hoped Barnes and his boy would find a boar.

The two hunters jumped to their feet, their faces flushed with excitement and victory. "Got him," said the youngest, tucking his rifle under his arm. "I put two slugs in him."

"I got him, too," said his partner. "One in the neck, I think. We both hit him."

"Her," said Bilboa.

The gunfire produced an unexpected
dividend for the interns, for soon after the third rifle crack stopped reverberating, a small head rose from inside a crevice in a clump of rocks.

"Umbriago!" shouted Janie, as they all raced down the hill toward the curious little bear.

"Careful," Justin yelled, "watch where you're running. Don't turn an ankle." He recalled the descent when he was on his way to protect the cubs from Bruno. "There's a lot of pockmarks in this area."

Rachel looked at him with a puzzled expression. "And how do you know that? You been out here before?"

"Just be careful," he repeated.

Umbriago's first response to the charging trio was panic. He scurried out of his hiding place and began to retreat across the valley floor. And why not? His mother was A.W.O.L.…and so was his scary father. His sister had disappeared and he was alone and frightened. There wasn't even a sympathetic sow in the vicinity who might take his mother's place. But after running for twenty or thirty yards, he halted and turned to stand on his little hind legs. He seemed to sense he had nowhere to go and maybe his best bet was to wait for the humans.

Janie reached him first and scooped him up into her arms as if he were a small stuffed teddy bear. "He's terrified," she said, "shaking like a leaf. And he must be starving by now."

Rachel said, "Let's find a spot to sit down and see if we can get him to take some of the milk we brought. I put a lot of sugar in it. Also, he might be ready to eat some other food. We can try different things."

They spread their blankets in a smooth, grassy patch, and Umbriago proved just how desperate he was for food and drink. Before he was sated, he downed a full bottle of sugar milk, half of Janie's tuna sandwich, and the largest portion of a bag of cashews.

Justin then tucked the little cub inside his flannel shirt next to his tee shirt. "There, my body heat will settle him down."

"I've got body heat, too," said Janie.

"Thought he might scratch you."

"He only scratches girls—is that it?"

Rachel gazed at the crest of the hill above the next valley. "After we see to Umbriago's needs, we'd better find out what those shots were all about."

Justin scowled. "Big Bertha better be okay."

Rachel said, "Odds are in her favor, but who knows? In any case, what can we do without Rex and Martha?"

"She'd better be okay," Justin said.

10
Bearskin

Marco Bilboa had expertly gutted
and skinned the sow and had removed and buried her collar by the time the interns arrived at the summit above the location of the kill. Bilboa looked up and then turned to his two clients. "Finished just in time. Those are the kids that were in the helicopter yesterday."

"What's the problem?" asked the younger of the two, a black-bearded young man with a pony tail. "We're allowed to take a sow—especially a big one like this. And no one mentioned anything about GPS collars in our orientation sessions."

"In special bear-management regions, they're keeping close track of sows for research purposes," said Bilboa. "Frankly, we should have covered that better—our fault. But we'll be all right. The collar's been shut off and buried three feet deep."

The two hunters watched their guide as he finished his work, both of them recoiled in horror at what they were witnessing.

Pony tail said, "Marco, what—"

"Have to do this," the guide said. "Either the vulva or the penis sheath has to be attached to the bearskin until the hide is sealed…Regs." He completed his work and then sewed the bloody flesh to the bear's right ear with a needle-like hook.

"Makes me feel like a savage," said pony tail.

The second hunter shook his head with an expression of disgust. "Savages may have done this to humans—but never to bears."

When the young people arrived
at the site, Justin went straight to the bearskin and exhaled with relief. "It's not Big Bertha…but it's one of ours." As Justin pronounced judgment, Umbriago stuck his head out of Justin's flannel shirt and appeared ready to nod in agreement.

Rachel went to examine the hide. "You're right. Come over here, Janie."

At that point all three interns took note of what was pinned to the bear's right ear, but only Justin mentioned it, more to the twins than to the hunters. "Required," he said softly. "That or the penis sheath. Don't worry about it."

Bilboa tried to lighten the mood. "Cute little fella you've got there."

Rachel came right to the point. "Where'd you bury the GPS unit?"

"Don't know what you mean, dear," Bilboa said. "This sow had no collar. It's a clean kill."

"Sure," said Justin. "You can still see the indentation around her neck where you ripped off the collar—even though you tried to fluff up the fur."

"Your imagination, young man."

The older of the two hunters said, "We would've preferred a boar, but this was a pretty big sow. Thought she was a boar to tell the truth."

"She was caring for cubs," said Janie.

Pony tail motioned toward Umbriago. "You mean—"

"No," said Janie. "He's not hers."

The three hunters looked perplexed. Bilboa asked, "Then where are her cubs? There's none around here. We wouldn't have brought her down if we'd seen any."

"They're in Denali," said Rachel.

"I don't get it," said Bilboa. "You tell us she's caring for cubs and then tell us her cubs are in Denali. What's she using—email?"

"Long story," said Justin. "But Rex and Martha Carlson won't like what you've done here."

"And where are they?"

"Denali," said Justin.

Bilboa smiled.

While the teenagers were retracing
their steps up the slope, they were stopped in their tracks by the distant sound of two more rifle shots. They waited without speaking to see if any additional shots would be fired, but there was nothing but silence.

Umbriago stuck his head out of Justin's shirt to see why the procession had slowed, and finding nothing interesting burrowed back into his new home.

"Weren't there three hunters and two guides?" asked Rachel.

Janie said, "Yes, that means the second guide and the third hunter are out there shooting at our other sows."

Justin flinched. "No, not necessarily. There are other sows and even boars outside the preserve. Maybe they've found Bruno or some strange sow…doesn't have to be another one of ours."

"Might be wishful thinking, Justin," said Rachel.

"I know."

11
Deer Lodge Schemes

At the Montana State Prison
in Deer Lodge a group of elders from the now defunct Sheba Hill Temple huddled around the Prophet J.J. Flack in an isolated area of the prison yard.

"Astonishing," said Elder Biggars. "Your plan is intricate…flawless."

"Not my plan," said the Prophet, "God's plan—His plan to transport my young twin wives to our new God's Way Temple in Whitehorse. He wants them there waiting for me when I get out of here. A vision. He showed the entire operation to me in a vision." He raised his hatchet-shaped face to the heavens to express his thankfulness.

"Good idea to leave Seth Lemon out," said Elder Mobly. "His daughters after all."

The Prophet nodded. "Elder Lemon is a good man, but better to ease him into this."

"The cost must be huge," said Elder Biggars. "Four men for the Yuktapah portion, and all their equipment. Two extra men for the transfer in Fairbanks. A Hawker Siddeley cargo charter, crates, mining equipment."

"Not to mention actual mining leases in the Yukon to make shipping the equipment legitimate," said the Prophet, laughing. "God thought of everything. And money's not a problem. If they find one of our offshore accounts, we've got many more to tap."

"What about customs—drug smuggling searches?" asked Mobly.

The Prophet smirked. "Drug smuggling between Fairbanks International and Erik Nielsen in Whitehorse has hardly been an issue—no logic to it. Sure they'll give our crates a cursory exam, but the hidden compartments won't be found."

"When will all this begin?" asked Elder Riggs.

Flack said, "Already underway. As soon as we pinpointed the location of the cabin, we sent the fishermen up the Yuktapah. Justin Patrick will soon be eliminated and my twins will be drugged and crated."

Elder Riggs frowned. "The boy's body…won't there be a police investigation? Alaska State Troopers?"

"No body. The kids are to be dealt with while they're away from the rangers. Then it'll look like a disappearance. Rough country up there. Three teenagers lost forever in the wilderness. Air and land searches, of course, but no law-enforcement involvement. That's why it's so important that the boy's body be buried deep. We don't want a reoccurrence of the mine-shaft fiasco in the Bitterroots. Those bodies we dumped up there have been our albatrosses. Can't have that again…"

"Our appeal lawyers are screaming that we shouldn't have been tied to those deaths," said Mobly

"Yes," said the Prophet. "And those screams, the religious freedom issue, and a pile of money, will get us released."

12
Rumblings

Back at the cabin, Umbriago
decided he was part of the household and found a spot in the kitchen next to the stove that apparently reminded him of what it was like to cozy up to his mother. And getting him to eat was no problem whatsoever, in fact quite the opposite was true. He guzzled all the sugar milk he was offered and consumed so much people food that the kids thought they might be creating a problem bear—one who would love human goodies to such an extent he would hang around campsites when he was grown.

"Don't want him to be another Big Bertha," said Janie.

Justin made a face. "She's a good bear."

"Of course she is," said Janie, "but they did have to relocate her from Katmai. And anyway, we don't have to concern ourselves with such things at this stage in Umbriago's life. Now we just have to fatten him up and get him ready for his reunion with his mom."

Justin walked to the window. "If those last two rifle shots we heard toward the Yuktapah didn't end Big Bertha's life. I wish we'd have gone on."