Secrets of Bearhaven (4 page)

Releasing Spencer's shirt from its mouth, the bear deposited him back on his feet.

“I assume you would prefer to walk,” it said gruffly, and lumbered off before Spencer could reply. If the alternative was being carried by the scruff of the neck like a cub, Spencer agreed, he'd probably be better off walking. As long as he could keep up . . . The bear had already disappeared into the trees ahead, and Spencer had to break into a jog to catch up. Some guide this was. If he wasn't careful, he'd be left alone in the woods again.

Falling into place beside the bear, Spencer had to take three steps for every one of the enormous animal's.

“So,” Spencer started awkwardly, a little winded but determined to hear more out of the BEAR-COM. “What's your name?” He stole a sideways glance at the green light of the device.

The bear suddenly stopped, staring straight ahead at what appeared to be an even denser wall of trees. Its nose twitched rapidly and it rose up on its hind legs, huffing and slowly turning its head from side to side.

Spencer had never seen trees growing so closely together. Their roots were fused, turning the ground into a treacherous
knotty maze, and their trunks seemed to block every opening. How would they possibly get through? It would take forever! And Spencer was getting cold, his stomach starting to growl . . .

“I'm B.D.” The bear interrupted Spencer's thoughts. “And now we're going up.”

Spencer gulped. “Up?” He ran his eyes along the tall trunk of the tree in front of them.

“Yes,” B.D. replied, and then dropped lightly to all fours and walked a few paces down the line of trees before singling one out and approaching it. “As in, up this tree.”

The sight of B.D. scanning the dark canopy of branches and leaves far above made Spencer forget everything except the height of the tree and the hard rockiness of the ground.

“How far . . .
up
?” This was way worse than any rope-climbing class. At least in gym there were mats to soften the fall. “I don't think I can.”

“Of course
you
can't,” the bear huffed. “It's designed that way.” B.D. lowered his body to the ground. “Climb on.”

Spencer stared at the crouching bear. He couldn't decide which was worse, climbing the tree himself or holding on to a bear for dear life while the animal did the climbing.

“I am going to carry you up. Now, step on.” B.D. extended one thick paw along his side.

Spencer shuddered. Uncle Mark hadn't mentioned anything about “up.” Giving his jade bear one last squeeze, Spencer put both hands against B.D.'s massive flank. He stepped onto the thick black pad of the extended paw and, in one quick sweep, was hoisted up onto the bear's back.

For a moment, Spencer was able to imagine that he was little again, riding on the back of Ramona's Bernese mountain
dog, Sheep. B.D.'s fur was just as soft as Spencer remembered Sheep's being, but those rides had been just for fun; this was very, very different.

“Grip my fur and hold on tight. You won't hurt me.”

Clamping his legs against B.D.'s taut sides, Spencer grabbed fistfuls of the bear's fur, feeling the warmth of B.D.'s skin underneath. Then Spencer's body jolted forward as the bear launched himself at the tree.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the fur at the nape of B.D.'s neck. He didn't want to know how far below the ground really was. The thought of falling kept his whole body tensed in terror. He tried to take a deep breath, to make the fear go away, but his lungs were frozen and his mouth was filled with the bear's fur. Sputtering, he was about to ask B.D. how much farther when they lurched forward into what felt like a sudden burst of wind.

Opening his eyes, a scream immediately tore out of Spencer's mouth. The bear had leaped off the tree and into the open air!

Treetops spread in every direction, and a web of leaves and skinny branches obstructed his view. There was nothing for them to land on. Nothing to keep them from plummeting . . .

Thump.

They landed on something solid. Spencer gasped, his pulse thundering through his body. Peering over B.D.'s shoulder, he looked down. The bear's massive paws seemed to disappear beneath a layer of leaves, but through gaps in the leaves Spencer could see the ground far below. Which would mean they were standing on . . . thin air.

“What the . . . ?” Spencer started.

“All right. You can climb down now,” B.D. said, crouching.

No way. Spencer was
not
about to find out if there was something real to stand on or not. “But there's nothing—”

“It's perfectly safe. Just slide off my back and stay close.” B.D. shook his body, as though trying to shimmy Spencer down himself. Spencer clung to the bear's fur and swung around onto his stomach, slowly lowering himself toward . . . well, toward nothing. But then his sneakers touched a surface. He flattened his feet against it and looked down. “Whoa!” He couldn't see his feet anymore at all. They were covered by thick foliage, but he couldn't feel the leaves that surrounded his ankles.
What in the world?

“We have to move quickly now,” B.D. growled, and started forward. “It only covers the wooden bridge we're standing on.”

“What does?” Spencer asked, and bent over to touch one of the leaves. It didn't feel like anything, like it wasn't even there, but Spencer's hand appeared distorted when he put it where the leaf seemed to be.

“The hologram. It's projected over the bridge to make it look like part of the canopy. This access point can't be located from above.”

Of course! A hologram! Spencer had never seen one up close. He didn't know they could look so real. “And from below?”

“This bridge crosses the wall of the perimeter. As you saw, the trees that make the wall are tightly packed. If an intruder were to get through them, below where we are now, there are
other lines of defense that would prevent them from looking up.” B.D. lumbered forward, across what Spencer now knew was a hidden bridge. “Stay directly behind me,” the bear went on, his impatience translating through the BEAR-COM. “We rarely use this entrance. Particularly with humans.” B.D. increased his pace.

After a few more yards, B.D. stopped and rose onto his hind legs. He tugged aside an enormous tree limb to reveal a huge knothole. Getting a bit closer, Spencer saw that the knothole was actually an entrance, and apparently one that B.D., nudging Spencer forward, wanted him to go through.

“What's next?” Spencer muttered, stepping through the knothole and onto a grated metal floor. “A tree-shaped rocket ship?” The tree trunk had been totally hollowed out, its walls smooth, and there was plenty of space for him and B.D. inside. He looked back through the knothole, expecting the bear to follow. Instead, the bear touched a claw to a yellow button atop his BEAR-COM and began to grumble. “Professor Weaver, we're all set. I'll stand guard.”

The floor beneath Spencer began to vibrate. “Wait!” he yelled, and tried to scramble back out of the knothole. B.D. was supposed to keep him safe! He couldn't just leave him now!

But it was too late. The platform was dropping down into the depths of the tree, taking Spencer with it into darkness.

The platform shuddered to a halt, throwing Spencer off balance. Putting an arm out to catch himself, he misjudged in the dark how far he was from the wall and toppled over onto the metal floor. Just then, a door slid open behind him, and the hollow tree was filled with a golden light.

“He's here!”

“Yes, but let's give him a moment. Looks like he's taken a spill.”

Spencer didn't move. He recognized the slight electronic twang in the voices behind him. More BEAR-COMs. Which meant . . . more bears.

“I'm going to see—”

“Kate Dora Weaver, you get back here!” Spencer heard a scuffle, and then the approaching
thump-thump, thump-thump
of footsteps. The light from the doorway was blotted out as the growing shadow of a bear rose up onto its haunches, blocking his only exit.

After everything he'd been through, Spencer wasn't about to be delivered like a fish fillet to a sleuth of bears. Leaping to his feet, he spun around to face the looming beast and raised his arms to defend himself.

To his surprise, it wasn't an enormous bear that stood at the tree's entrance at all, but a chestnut-colored cub. Dropping down to all fours and shuffling back a few paces, the cub seemed just as startled by Spencer's sudden movement as he was by its unexpectedly small size.

“Give him some space, Kate, dear,” a voice called. Spencer looked past the cub to a clearing lit by lanterns that reminded him of street lamps, and five bears staring back at him.

“I'm just
looking
,” the cub said over her shoulder. She loped back and forth in front of Spencer, then sat back on her hind legs and peered at him expectantly. Her BEAR-COM glowed green, and seemed to be sparkling. Spencer saw it was dotted with pink heart-shaped crystals. “I'm Kate and I smelled you an hour ago!” she exclaimed.

An hour ago?
If her sense of smell was that good, maybe she could help find his parents! Maybe if she could sniff them out . . . Dropping his arms, Spencer relaxed out of his defensive pose and stepped into the clearing, not taking his eyes off the boisterous cub. For the first time since leaving school that afternoon, he didn't feel afraid. Spencer could barely smell Kate's earthy animal odor now, and they were only a few feet apart.

A much larger black bear with tan jowls started toward Spencer. “Wait with your brothers now,” it murmured, passing Kate.

“But, Dad—”

“Now,” the bear replied firmly.

Kate dropped to all fours. “I just wanted to say hi.” She pouted and retreated to join the others, dragging her paws dramatically with every step.

The large bear turned to Spencer. “Spencer Plain, we're happy to see you've arrived safely. Welcome. I'm Professor Weaver.”

On Professor Weaver's chest, right below his BEAR-COM, was a white patch of fur in the shape of a triangle.
A blaze mark,
Spencer thought, comforted by the familiar bear fact. Mom called these marks distinguished, and Dad called them bear tattoos, but either way, Spencer had always loved bears with blaze marks, knowing that they were rare. He looked hopefully back at Professor Weaver; maybe these bears really
could
help him.

“Hi,” he said tentatively. As soon as he'd spoken, another bear rushed forward as though drawn to the sound of his voice. Slightly smaller than Professor Weaver, this bear's fur shone silvery blue in the lantern light.

“Oh, Spencer,” the bear gushed through the BEAR-COM in a voice Spencer thought sounded female. “You're all grown up!” She tucked her head right beside Spencer's, lightly resting what would fit of her copper-colored muzzle on his shoulder for a brief moment. He couldn't help but think that people had it all wrong—
this
was a bear hug. “We haven't seen you in so long, dear.” She pulled back and looked him over.

“
Seen
me?” For the millionth time that day, Spencer got the feeling that everyone knew a whole lot more about his life than he did, and he didn't like it one bit. How could these bears know him?

“Of course, you wouldn't remember. You were so very, very young then,” the female bear rushed on. “I'm Bunny Weaver. You've met our youngest, Kate, and that's Winston and that's Jo-Jo, two of our boys.” When their mother said
their names, the two bears bobbed their heads in greeting. Kate had bounded forward at the sound of hers.

“Can we take him home now? Can we? Please?”

Home?
Was the safe place Uncle Mark had promised Spencer a cave full of bears?

“Yes, Kate,” Professor Weaver answered. “I think it's about time we did. You've had a long day, haven't you, son?”

Spencer nodded. He was exhausted and getting colder. At this point, a pile of leaves in a warm, dry bear cave didn't sound so bad. “Will Uncle Mark be there?”

“He'll be here soon, dear,” said Bunny as the bears turned to leave the clearing.

Without hiding his disappointment, Spencer looked to Professor Weaver, hoping for more information. The large black bear nodded and lifted up onto his haunches, his snout rapid-fire sniffing. He turned his head from side to side and then lifted a claw to the yellow button atop his BEAR-COM. “B.D., an update on Mark's location, please.”

Spencer held his breath, afraid of what he might hear next. What if Uncle Mark hadn't been able to get away from the giant in the Corvette?

Just then a gravelly voice transmitted through the BEAR-COM. “Smelled him at the northern port about an hour ago, Professor.” It was B.D. “Nothing since.”
Nothing since?

Professor Weaver didn't look concerned. “Thank you, B.D. I gathered the same. He's boarded the TUBE, then.”

“I can confirm,” came B.D.'s reply.

“Only if there's a problem. We're taking Spencer home now.” Professor Weaver dropped back to all fours.
“Your uncle's coming,” he said to Spencer. “Not far behind—”

“Come
on
!” Kate shouted, dashing out ahead to lead them down a path through the trees. The rest of the Weavers fell into step behind her, and wearily, Spencer followed.

The path, dotted with golden lamps every few yards, wound to the base of a steep hill. Up ahead, Kate let out a set of untranslated growls that reminded Spencer of the way Evarita would hum to herself. He'd never heard of bears humming, but after the day he'd had, Kate could pull out a ukulele and begin to play and it wouldn't surprise Spencer. The cub circled back to pad beside him. “Almost there!” she encouraged, nudging him forward with her muzzle.

In the darkening evening, the grass was slick with dew, making the hill nearly impossible for Spencer to climb, but he had made it almost to the top when he lost his footing and began to slide. Exhausted, he expected to slip all the way back down the incline, but with a sudden jerk, he felt himself reverse directions. Spencer was being dragged up, his shirt clamped roughly between Kate's teeth.

“Oh, honey, no,” cried Bunny Weaver when she turned to see Kate clumsily deposit Spencer on top of the hill. “You need to be gentle, remember?”

Kate looked from Spencer to her mother. “He was falling and I was helping,” she mumbled in protest, hanging her head.

Shaky and definitely bruised, Spencer got to his feet. “Don't worry, I'm fine.” Just then, Jo-Jo lightly headbutted Spencer's shoulder, directing him toward a space in the trees.

“Check it out,” Jo-Jo said, before lumbering through the space, Winston close behind. After an encouraging nod from Bunny, Spencer followed, but stopped short on the other side of the trees. A valley lit by moonlight stretched out before him, and in the valley, an entire town.