A Bear Named Trouble (6 page)

"Why can't they just take him away, some place so far that he can never come back here?"

"Because they have a firm policy," his father said. "Once a bear loses his fear of people, he'll get into trouble wherever he goes. He's too dangerous to be allowed to live anywhere. Bears like that have to be destroyed."

Jonathan's head spun. For a moment, he thought he might be ill. But then he drew himself up and took a deep, wavering breath. "Good!" he said. He said it as though he meant it, too.

After all, Trouble would only be getting what he deserved. Wouldn't he?

***

Trouble stood outside the fence to Jake's enclosure and moaned softly. The older bear, apparently having tired of the nightly encounters, didn't respond. He didn't even emerge from his den. Trouble would have dug under this fence, too, but unlike the perimeter fences that were meant only to keep humans out, the fences enclosing the animals were set in concrete.

Finally, the young bear sat, then after another long period of waiting, curled into a ball right there, tight against the fence that kept him separated from Jake. He was miserable. He wasn't finding enough food, and his stomach roared at him. His broken jaw had never quit pounding from the instant the moose had kicked him.

But most fiercely of all, he still missed his mother. More than he wanted the pain to go away, more than he wanted food to fill his empty belly, he was still a very young bear, and he wanted his mother.

J
ONATHAN'S
house was so close to the zoo that he could see the parking lot and the entrance gate from the corner where he waited for the school bus. He watched both now.

He had told his father that he needed another day away from school. He'd reminded him, after all, that he was still terribly upset about seeing Mama Goose murdered.

His father had said, "Um-hmm," in that way he always did when he wasn't really listening, when he didn't think what Jonathan was saying was worth listening to, and then handed him his lunch bag. So now Jonathan was standing at the corner, waiting for the bus.

The hour was too early for the zoo to be open, but nonetheless a truck pulled up to the gate. On the side was written alaska department of fish and game. The man who emerged held a rifle in one hand.

Jonathan couldn't tell whether it was a real gun or one that shot tranquilizer darts, but he supposed it didn't matter whether they shot Trouble outright or tranquilized him now, then killed him later. Either way the dumb bear was going to be dead. Good and dead.

But was dead ever good? Jonathan didn't know. To keep himself from asking more stupid questions he turned his thoughts to Mama Goose again ... limp and silent, a pile of white feathers. Certainly there was nothing good about her being dead.

Jonathan walked a dozen steps away from the corner, then returned to his former spot, right where the bus always stopped.

It was what Trouble deserved, wasn't it? For someone to kill him the way he had killed
Rhonda's goose. Not an instant's thought, just
bam!
and the bear would be gone. After all, Trouble had no business killing Mama Goose just because she was making a little noise. She/he. Nothing made sense any more.

And now the whole world knew about Trouble's crime, and justice would be served ... exactly the way they always said in crime shows.

Another vehicle pulled up in front of the zoo, a white van with ktuu written on the side. A man got out and stood talking to the Fish and Game guy. After a while, he went back to the van and returned carrying a TV camera.

So, not only were they going to kill Trouble, they were going to film the event so everyone in town could watch it while they ate their supper tonight.

Jonathan's stomach did a slow flip-flop.

Would there be blood? Would there be lots of blood?

It wouldn't matter if there was, would it? Seeing Trouble die on TV would be like watching a bad guy get blasted away in a crime show. Nothing more.

He'd seen lots of blood on TV, lots of creatures and even people dying. But you always knew the blood you saw there—however red it might be—was really fake. The blood, the limp body, all of it was fake.

Trouble's death would be different, though. It would be real. Because Trouble was real. At least he would be for a little while longer.

Would he still be real after the Fish and Game guy finished with him?

Jonathan turned away from the men in the parking lot and looked down the road instead. Still no sign of the school bus.

Why had his father given that stupid bear a name? Everything would be easier if Trouble were still just "the bear." There were lots of bears out there. Lots and lots. But the moment you gave one a name—even a not-very-friendly name like Trouble—he became the only one. There was no other "Trouble." So did that mean that what happened to Trouble mattered?

Jonathan took a deep breath, and just as he let it out he saw the top of a yellow bus rising out of a dip in the road. He tightened his hold on his lunch bag and hunched deeper into his jacket.

The bus rumbled to a stop and the door
shushed
open. Jonathan stared at the open door and at the metal steps climbing up into the bus, then he stepped back.

"Hi, Jonnie," Dorothy, the driver, said. "Missed you yesterday. Were you sick?"

"Uh," he said. "Uh. Yeah ... kind of." But he didn't move from where he stood, his shoes rooted to the half-frozen ground. A mew gull flew over, making its familiar sound that seemed almost like crying.

Dorothy said nothing more. She just waited, her round face smiling, her arms crossed, leaning on the steering wheel as
though she had all the time in the world.

Jonathan took another step back. "You know," he said, holding his free hand in front of his face as though to shield himself from the force of Dorothy's smile, "I guess I'd better go back home. I think I forgot something."

He expected the bus driver to argue, to tell him, as his mother would have, to get on the bus and quit being silly. If she had done that, no doubt he would have obeyed. He was not accustomed to ignoring orders from adults. But, her voice warm with concern, Dorothy said only, "Then how will you get to school?"

"My dad," he answered quickly. "My dad will take me."

And to his enormous relief—and instant despair—she nodded. "Okay," she said. "If you're sure." And she
whooshed
the door shut again. Jonathan stood perfectly still at the edge of the empty road as the bus rattled off, leaving him alone.

His breath came in short gasps. He was skipping school. He'd never done anything like this in his life. He flapped a hand at the diesel exhaust that hung in the air and turned toward the zoo entrance.

He needed to talk to his father. He had to make sure Dad knew that someone from Fish and Game was at the gate. And the TV reporter, too. A gun and a camera. Dad had to be told.

He had wanted something done about Trouble, to have him go away and never come back, and now they were going to kill him ... and show the killing in the middle of everybody's dinner tonight. That wasn't what he'd asked for, was it?

***

The voices woke Trouble. They moved toward him, floating on the cool morning air. First he looked toward the enclosure that held Jake, but the older bear was still nowhere in view. Then he rose on his hind legs, trying unsuccessfully to peer through the dense trees that
grew on each side of the zoo path. He dropped to all fours again. Where should he go?

He could smell as well as hear the humans, even if he couldn't see them. Although everything in this place was permeated with the smell of humans, he could make out distinctly the fresh scent of the ones moving toward him. The smell didn't put him on edge as much as it had just a few days earlier. He had grown almost accustomed to the way it clung to everything in this new territory, and accustomed, too, to the manner in which the disturbing smell seemed to be connected with food.

Soft food, easy to chew, to swallow.

Still, he wasn't so accustomed that he was going to stay here and wait for the humans to arrive. He'd go back instead to the place where he had dug in. He was all the way inside the zoo this time, inside both fences, but he had left a tunnel behind. He could still slip out easily enough.

And then ... there they were! He could see them. Three tall humans, walking on their
hind legs the way humans did. Coming toward him.

Trouble lumbered off the path and into the woods.

J
ONATHAN
made a wide circle around the television reporter and the Fish and Game ranger and arrived at the locked gate. Fortunately, Frank was in the gatehouse, getting set up for the day. The smell of popcorn already filled the air.

"Frank, I've got to see my dad. Do you know where he is?"

"Back by Jake's pen. They radioed me to say they'd found that wild brownie sleeping there this morning."

So Trouble was here, just waiting for someone to use a gun on him.

"Would you let me in?" Jonathan grasped the bars of the tall metal gate. He wanted to
shake them, but he resisted. "There's something I've got to tell my dad."

Frank looked skeptical. "I don't know as how he'd want you in there with that bear loose and all."

"Please," Jonathan pleaded. "It's important. Really, really important. My dad would want me to tell him."

"Well ... I don't know," Frank said, but even as he said it he opened the gate, just wide enough for Jonathan to slip through.

"Thanks!" Jonathan called, and he was off running toward the back of the zoo and Jake's pen before Frank could say another word.

He found his father and Pat Rawlings and Katie Doran, the education director, on the path in front of Jake's pen. Trouble was nowhere in sight.

"Jonathan!" his father exclaimed before Jonathan could catch his breath to begin to speak. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to tell you," Jonathan panted.
"They're out there." He bent over, his hands on his knees. "Outside the zoo. At the front gate."

"Who's out there?" The question was clipped, angry.

"The Fish and Game guy."

His father groaned. So did Pat and Katie.

"And somebody from the TV station, too."

His father cast a glance at the other two. Jonathan saw that Pat was carrying a gun, and it looked very much like the one the man from the Fish and Game department had with him.

"Just what we need," his dad said, speaking to the other adults, not to him. But when he turned back, his attention was fully on Jonathan. A hand clamped on each of Jonathan's shoulders.

"You don't belong here, son," he said. "That brownie is here again. Just as we came up, he disappeared into the woods. Right here." He waved an arm to indicate the large stand of trees just behind Jonathan. "And
we're trying to catch up with him. So go!" He released his hold on Jonathan's shoulders and gave him a slight but definite push.

Jonathan held his ground. "What will you do when you catch him?" He knew the situation was urgent, that the slightest delay would make his father angry, but he had to ask.

"Never mind about that." Dad waved his hand again in the direction he wanted Jonathan to take. "Just get out of here before you miss your bus. I don't want to see you again until the day is over."

Jonathan didn't move. "Are you going to kill him?" he demanded. "Just like the Fish and Game guy out there, are you going to shoot him dead?"

His father looked surprised. For an instant, Jonathan thought Dad was going to remind him that last night he'd said he wanted Trouble killed. But his father didn't say anything about that. Probably only because any discussion would take too much time.

He merely shook his head. "No ... no. We're not going to kill him. We'll dart him, put him to sleep. That is, if we can keep him from leaving the zoo. If he gets out the front gate or back out where he dug in, the ranger will have to kill him. Now, get out of here. I told you, you don't belong here. It's too dangerous!"

Strangely relieved, Jonathan turned and took off running.

He didn't go back to the bus stop, though. There was no point in that. His father hadn't checked the time, didn't realize he'd already missed the bus. As soon as the curving path had taken him out of his father's view, he stopped.

The three adults were going to walk this path—and probably the one on the other side of the stand of trees that Trouble had disappeared into—trying to herd the bear before them. But if they succeeded in getting Trouble to move, he might very well keep going until he ran out the front gate—to face
the ranger's gun!—before anyone on the inside could stop him.

For an instant, Jonathan could feel Trouble's terror make his own muscles go limp, could feel the great heart slamming against his own ribs. Trouble hadn't meant to kill Mama Goose. A bear didn't understand killing. He understood noisy and quiet. He understood hungry and full. He understood lonely.

Trouble had to be lonely. Why else was he using up so much energy digging into the zoo just to be near Jake?

And now his loneliness was going to get him killed!

But he, Jonathan, could help. Even if his father thought he couldn't. He could stay right here and head Trouble back toward the adults and their tranquilizer gun. The bear hadn't touched him the night they had met nose to nose on the deck. Surely he wouldn't hurt him now.

Checking to make sure none of the adults
had come far enough along the path to be able to see him, Jonathan stepped over the low wooden fence at the edge of the path and darted into the shadow of the trees. Once there, he stopped to take a deep breath and to look around carefully. There was a brownie in these woods, and he could be anywhere!

Jonathan knew about bear attacks. Brownies are often more aggressive than black bears, but very few of them will attack a human. All they want to do is to get out of the way. But even if it's only one bear out of ten that will—or one out of a hundred—your luck runs out when you meet up with the bear that attacks you. And Trouble was going to be scared and running, for sure. He could react to anything in his path the way he'd reacted to Mama Goose.