Moon Bear Page 16

It was only then that I realized I hadn’t said good-bye.

  Back at the bear farm, I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I kept out of the way of the Doctor. I hoped he wouldn’t see my nerves. I hoped he wouldn’t suspect anything. I cleaned the floors and the buckets. I brushed the yard and cleaned the toilets the tourists used. The late evening sun slid through a gap in the clouds and lit the rooftops in gold. I looked through the office window. The Doctor was still there. He didn’t usually work so late. It was almost dusk. In my head I was willing him to go.

  Sôok-dìi had woken from the sedative, but he was dull and seemed thick with sleep. I wondered how easy it would be to get him to move. I wouldn’t be able to carry him, and I couldn’t imagine Talin wanting to help, either. I looked along the line of cages. Who would look after Biter and Jem and Jep, and Mama Bear’s son and Hua and Mii? It would be hard leaving them. I wanted to take them all.

  I left the farm to pack my things. I’d have to be ready to leave when Talin came for me. Kham followed me into my room.

  He watched me roll my clothes.

  “You’re leaving,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.

  I pushed my clothes into the bag. “I’m taking Sôok-dìi. I’m taking him to the forest.”

  “How?”

  I straightened up. “It’s better that you don’t know,” I said. “When I am gone, please thank your mother and father from me.”

  Kham leaned against the door frame and let me pass. “Come back one day, Tam. Come back and see us.”

  I smiled. “One day, Kham. Yes, one day.”

  Kham switched off the light, and we stood staring at each other in the dusk light. He slapped my shoulder. “You’d better go,” he said, grinning, “before Ma sees you and makes you sit down for supper.”

  I slipped out along the deep shadows and crossed the street. When I looked back, Kham was standing in a pool of light, watching me. I saw him wave and walk toward his house.

  When I reached the bear farm gates, they were locked. The Doctor must have left. I took my keys and slipped through the gate. A light in the office had been left on, but it was empty. I pushed open the door. Papers and a pack of newly printed labels with a golden bear lay scattered on the desk. I opened the small cupboard and took a packet of the sweet biscuits the Doctor liked to eat. Sôok-dìi might need them later. I slipped in through the sliding doors of the bear barn and closed them behind me. I switched on the lights, and the neon strips flickered into life. The bears shuffled in their cages, but they settled when they saw it was me. Sôok-dìi lay in his cage, curled up, his paws wrapped around his nose. He groaned in his sleep. His breathing was fast and shallow.

  I opened the cage and reached in. “Sôok-dìi!” I ran my hands along his fur and tickled behind his ears. He wrapped his paws more tightly around his nose. “Sôok-dìi, we are leaving tonight.” I waved a biscuit under his nose, but he didn’t seem to want it. I raised my voice. “Sôok-dìi!” I gave him a prod, and he grunted and turned away. I’d waited for this moment for so long, and now I couldn’t get him out of here.

  I paced up and down the cages. When would Talin get here? Would he even come at all? If he didn’t, what then? I tried to shove Sôok-dìi, but he was too heavy to move. I slipped the head collar on him and tied it to pull him around. In the next cage, Biter sat up. His ears swiveled toward the sliding doors, and he lifted his nose to sniff the air.

  “Psst! Tam.”

  I hid the biscuits under my shirt and walked to the doors. Talin was standing in the shadows. He shifted on his feet, looking back over his shoulder.

  “Are you ready?” he said.

  “Almost,” I said.

  Talin wiped his sleeve across his forehead. He eyes flitted beyond me into the barn. “I’ll be parked down the street. When you come outside, I’ll drive and pick you up.”

  “I’ll be there soon,” I said.

  Talin nodded and turned. I watched him slip through the gates, closing them behind him.

  I walked back to Sôok-dìi. “Come on,” I said. I prodded him in his haunches. “Come on, Sôok-dìi. You have to do this.”

  He lifted his head and looked at me, then dropped his head on his paws again.

  “Just one more time, Sôok-dìi,” I said. “Please.” I reached into my bag for honeyed nuts. “Hup! Hup!”

  Sôok-dìi’s ears pricked up; he shifted onto his feet.

  “Come on!” I yelled. “Hup! Hup!”

  Sôok-dìi stood up and put his paws on the edge of the cage.

  “That’s it!” I scattered nuts on the floor for him to follow. He jumped down. I could see his legs were weak. He swayed as he walked, but followed me, his nose sniffing for more food. I slung my bag on my back and walked toward the doors.

  The sliding door was ajar. Talin must have come back. He stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed against the doorway.

  But it wasn’t Talin.

  It was the Doctor. He stepped out into the light, and whacked his metal bar against the nearest cage. The echo ran around the barn.

  “Mountain Boy,” he said. He looked at Sôok-dìi beside me. “You’re not thinking of going anywhere, are you?”

  The Doctor slid the door shut behind him. He took a step forward. “It’s a good thing I decided to come back, isn’t it?”

  I backed away. Sôok-dìi stayed close, pressing himself against me.

  The Doctor took another step, tapping the bar against the palm of his other hand. “You are taking my bear. Maybe you think you can sell the Golden Bear for a good price?”

  I shook my head.

  “Did you think you could make money from my bear?”

  I took another step back. “I’m taking him to the forest. I’m setting him free.”

  The Doctor stopped, his mouth curled in a smile. “Free? Setting him free?”

  The metal bar tapped against his hand

  “I’m taking him back and you can’t stop me.”

  The Doctor laughed. “Brave words, Mountain Boy.” He leaned forward. “Or maybe just very stupid ones.”

  I curled my fingers into Sôok-dìi’s thick fur.

  “Put him back in the cage, Mountain Boy, before I lose my temper.”

  I stepped back toward Sôok-dìi’s cage, pulling Sôok-dìi with me as I went. The Doctor just stared. He clenched and unclenched his hand on the metal bar. “Go on,” he said.

  If I put Sôok-dìi back, I knew he would die. Maybe the Doctor would be so mad he’d kill me, too.

  Biter grunted in his cage. I turned to look at him. He was strangely still, watching us. He pressed his head against the bars and stared deep into me and held my gaze.

  “Put the bear back!” the Doctor shouted. He was walking toward us now, banging the metal bar against his hand.

  I reached up to Biter’s cage instead. I unclipped the lock and turned to face the Doctor.

  The Doctor stopped and stared. “What are you doing? Don’t be so stupid.”

  I dropped the lock, and it hit the floor with a metallic clunk.

  I put my hand on the bolt.

  The bar stopped tapping against the Doctor’s hand. He stepped toward me, one step and then another, his eyes fixed on mine. “Back . . . away . . . from . . . the . . . cage, Mountain Boy.”

  I had no choice. I slid the bolt and swung Biter’s cage door wide, wide open.

  Time stood still.

  We all stood still.

  Except for Biter. He reached his nose through the opening and sniffed the air, then dropped down from the cage, his paws making no sound at all.

  He was a big bear. He shook himself, shaking out the years of being trapped, unable to stretch or turn. He reared up on his hind legs, nearly twice as tall as me. I could feel him, smell him, and feel the heat from his body. He’d be able to push me down with one paw. Sôok-dìi, too. We were closer to him than the Doctor.

  I held my breath and wound my fingers into Sôok-dìi’s fur, willing him to be still.

  Don�
�t move. You cannot outrun, outclimb, or outswim a bear. You must become still. You must become like a spirit, too.

  The Doctor turned and ran. Biter let out a long snarl and exploded into a charge.

  The last I saw of the Doctor, he was crumpled on his knees, Biter rearing up above him and pummeling him down.

  I pulled Sôok-dìi through the doors and slid them shut behind me. The night air was hot and sticky. It pressed in, muffling the sound of the city, of radios and cars and motorbikes. If the Doctor died, I’d be in big trouble, and if he lived to tell the story, I’d be in even worse.

  I pulled Sôok-dìi out onto the sidewalk and scanned the road. Where was Talin?

  Headlights caught us and a white sedan pulled alongside. The driver’s window opened, and a blast of cold air-conditioned air hit me.

  Talin was in the driver’s seat. “Get in,” he said through gritted teeth. “I have seen the Doctor walk along here not long ago. Get in.”

  Talin looked more frightened than before. I pulled open one of the back doors. The white leather of the seats was clean and spotless. I threw some nuts along and half shoved and half carried Sôok-dìi in. He sprawled along the backseat, filling it. I slid in beneath him and let his head rest in my lap. I had to move a bag of clothes. They tipped out, and I pushed a hat and long scarves onto the shelf behind the backseat.

  “Don’t let the bear get those,” said Talin. “They’re my mother’s. She bought them on a trip to Thailand.”

  I slammed the door as Talin’s foot hit the accelerator, and we lurched forward. He glanced back at me. “This is my mother’s car,” he said. “Don’t let the bear mess it up or I’m dead.”

  I leaned back against the seats. They were soft and cool. Sôok-dìi was still. Too still. He felt hot despite the air-conditioning, and his mouth hung open gulping air.

  I watched the city pass in a blur of markets and buildings. It was the evening of the boat festival, and people lined the streets, holding up candles in a river of light. Music pumped out onto streets. I was glad that we could slide along with other cars, unnoticed. Talin’s hands tightly gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He pulled a cigarette from a pack on the seat beside him and lit it with the car’s lighter. The coil of wire glowed red hot in the darkness of the car.

  We soon left the city and climbed the hill road. I saw Savanh’s house and wondered how she was. I almost wanted Talin to stop to bring her, too, but he glanced once at her house and drove straight on. At the top of the hill Talin had to slam his foot on the brake. A line of cars snaked forward.

  “Trouble,” said Talin. He pulled on the cigarette and blew a steady stream of smoke. “Check point.”

  Ahead, two soldiers were bending over checking cars.

  I gripped my fingers into Sôok-dìi’s fur. “Have they heard about our escape already?”

  “Doubt it,” Talin said. “I think they’re checking cars for smuggled goods for the festival.” He looked back over his shoulder as if looking for a way out, but several cars had pulled up behind us. Maybe it would be too obvious if we turned and drove away.

  “Let’s hope they only want to look inside the trunk,” said Talin.

  The car edged closer. I watched the soldiers opening car trunks and checking cars. I had one idea, one plan, and I didn’t like to think what would happen if it didn’t work.

  Talin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He lit another cigarette and muttered to himself. In the rearview mirror I could see the tight furrows in his brow.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

  Talin didn’t answer.

  “Whatever happens, I want to thank you for doing this for Sôok-dìi.”

  “I’m not doing this for the bear,” snapped Talin. “I’m doing this for Savanh.”

  A soldier tapped on the window. It was our turn.

  The soldier jerked his head to the back of the car. “Open the trunk.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. It gave some time for my plan, at least.

  Talin pulled the lever for the trunk lock and I heard them walk behind the car and look inside. They slammed it shut and walked back to the window.

  “Who are you traveling with tonight?” said the soldier.

  Talin glanced back, but had to take a double look.

  He turned to the soldier. “I’m taking my cousin to see some relatives in the country.” He paused before he spoke. “I’m taking my aunt, too.”

  The officer scanned the backseat with his flashlight. The beam lingered on me for a moment and then on a figure wrapped in scarves, a hat, and dark glasses.

  Whether or not he saw an aunt or a bear dressed in finery in the backseat, he chose to believe what he wanted to see.

  He tapped the side of the car with his hand and waved us on.

  Once beyond the city, the car fell into the steady rhythm of the road, the hum of the engine, the rumble of tires on uneven tarmac, and the steady beat of Thai pop music from the CD player.

  I must have fallen asleep because I woke to the car lurching over rough ground and rain hammering the windshield. The wipers thumped side to side. Pooled water sloshed beneath the tires, spraying up against the sides of the car. The headlights shone forward into reflected raindrops, needles of lights firing at us in the darkness.

  I didn’t know how long I’d slept. I could only have been asleep for a few hours, but it felt like days. Judging by the cigarette butts crushed into the ashtray, it had been some time. The air-conditioning had dried my throat and nose. I was cold, too. It was like sitting in a freezer. I shifted in my seat and sat up. My legs were dead and cramped from Sôok-dìi’s weight upon them. I felt his stomach. It had lost the heat and tightness, but Sôok-dìi groaned. Despite the cool air, he panted and grunted with each breath.

  “You’re awake.”

  I could see Talin’s eyes in the rearview mirror, watching me.

  “How far now?” I said.

  “Not far,” said Talin. “We’ve been climbing for the last two hours. The roads are bad with this rain.”

  I scratched behind Sôok-dìi’s ear, and he pressed into me, snuffling my hand for food. He licked the salt sweat from my fingers. His tongue felt paper dry and rough, like tree bark.

  I stared back into the darkness. Far away, a pair of headlights appeared above us. They looked small at first, as if they were high in the sky. I watched them slowly descend. They slipped lower and lower, zigzagging back and forth. I could make out the edge of the mountain, high above us. I’d forgotten the mountains. I’d forgotten how vast and wild they were. It took a while for the truck to reach us. Talin pulled over to let it pass. It rumbled through, a monster truck piled high with logs.

  Somewhere out there were the mountains, tree-covered, rolling back and back and back. I wanted to wind down the window and breathe the mountain air and let it fill me. I wanted to smell the trees and the rain and the wet earth. I wiped the sleep from my eyes. We’d soon be there. I’d managed to get Sôok-dìi to the mountains. Maybe he would feel better when he felt the earth beneath his paws. I tried to think of all the things I’d try to find for him to eat. It was the time of year for ant egg nests and wild fruits and mushrooms. Maybe there would be a late bees’ nest to raid for honey.

  Talin pushed on, up into the mountains, climbing up the road the truck had come down. If I looked out the window beside me, I could imagine the road falling away into a deep void. The dirt road had been pressed flat by the army of logging trucks.

  The engine whined and strained as the car tires struggled for grip in the muddied track. As the road leveled out, a faint line of dawn appeared on the horizon. The sky was clearing above. A crescent moon shone through a cobweb of thin clouds spanning out across the sky.

  The logging station lay ahead, and beyond that the mountains of my home. The lights in the timber yards and from the workmen’s houses glowed in the bluish light of dawn as workers woke for the day. I could see the flicker of the TV i
n the bar, and already a few men sat on stools, beers in hand. The last time I’d been here was with Pa, selling honey. A few people looked our way. I didn’t want them questioning us, and neither did Talin. He drove on, fast along the road through the logging station and up into the hills.

  I was going home, really home. I knew our houses wouldn’t be there, but maybe I could build some form of shelter for myself. Maybe I could move deeper into the forest, and when I’d settled I could bring Ma and Grandfather and my sisters back with me. I scrunched my hands into Sôok-dìi’s fur. I’d promised him I’d bring him back. I’d promised that I’d make it happen. But all along it was Sôok-dìi who’d given me the courage to get here. He’d brought me here. It was Sôok-dìi who’d really made it happen.

  As we snaked upward into the first hills, I could see that the loggers had been busy. The hills here were bare; the cut ends of tree trunks dotted the hillside. I fixed my mind on the forests beyond our old village. I knew those forests. I’d teach Sôok-dìi how to survive there. I could already see the ridge above us. Beyond that ridge was home.

  The road to the ridge was steep and rutted. The car’s engine whined as Talin tried to push it on, but the tires slipped and spun in the mud. Talin slowed to a stop and rested his head on the steering wheel. He looked tired. His white shirt was crumpled. Three empty packs of cigarettes lay on the seat beside him.

  He turned to look at me. “This is it,” he said. He glanced at Sôok-dìi spread out on the seat. “This is as far as I can go.”

  I nodded. I pushed Sôok-dìi from my lap and pulled the handle of the door. The cool dawn air swirled around us, damp from the heavy rains. “Thank you,” I said.

  I climbed out of the car. My legs were cramped and numb. I shoved Sôok-dìi, and he raised his head. He sniffed the air, as if some long-distant memory was stirring inside his brain.

  “Come on,” I said. I scattered nuts on the seat to make him move, but he kept sniffing the air. He raised himself up and half jumped and half slid from the car. He pushed his nose on the red earth, snuffling and snorting at the mud, sending flecks into the air. I called him and turned toward the ridge.