Under a Bear Moon (15 page)

She felt laughter boil up her throat, but a terrified scream broke her hysterics before they started. The youngest boy crouched under the window, his fist jammed into his mouth. A high pitched, wordless wail pulsed around his knuckles, filling the room. The other two boys looked from the bear to their leader and back again before bolting through the splintered door. Lynda would've joined them, but their leader stood between her and freedom. His eyes promised death if she moved.

He held her gaze, then turned, picked up the nearest chair, and threw it at the bear's head.

The bear reared and batted the chair away. It wasn't a large bear, Lynda realized, probably not yet full grown. On its hind legs, it stood as tall as the young man.

The screams grew louder. “Lay down. Play dead,” Lynda called to the frightened boy. “The bear won't hurt you if you don't fight or run.”

He threw her a frantic look before throwing himself on the floor behind the table. Lynda stayed on her feet and inched toward the corrugated metal door. If she could slide it up, even a foot, she could slip under and run away.

The young man reached into his jacket and flicked open a knife. Lynda recognized the blade she'd felt along her throat. She gasped and felt an irrational urge to warn the bear. “Look out. He has a knife.”

The gang leader held the blade before him in his left hand. The point sketched slow circles while he sidled around the bear. He moved like a panther, quiet and deadly. When his quick, silent steps brought him near Lynda, he lashed out. The back of his hand struck her across the mouth, knocking her down.

“You next,” he said, eyes never moving from the bear.

Without warning, the bear dropped to its feet and charged. The gang leader held his ground. Bear and man collided and rolled across the cement floor in eerie silence. The only sound in the room was the whimpering from the boy behind the table.

Lynda scrambled to her feet. Her ears rang and the room spun from the impact of the blow. A flat, metallic taste filled her mouth. She wiped blood from her lip and blinked back tears before she realized the bear had the gang leader pinned to the ground. Grabbing her chance, Lynda raced through the open door.

Lynda ran down the alley as fast as she could. Not pausing at the curb, she darted blindly across 47th Street. Brakes squealed. Cabbies cursed. She never slowed. Blind panic had taken over, and she didn't stop to consider there might be a faster way to get home until she passed the third corner with its University phone.

She stopped. Pulling in ragged gulps of air, Lynda tried to slow her racing heart, turned, and stumbled back to the corner. Picking up the receiver, she put it to her ear.

“Campus security,” a crisp voice answered.

“I ... I need...” Lynda couldn't get the words out.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Yes,” she gasped when she realized the dispatcher couldn't see her nod.

“My board shows you are at the corner of Ellis and 49th Street, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“The unit's on its way. Can you tell me your name?”

A siren shattered the rain soaked silence before Lynda had finished answering. Within seconds, a maroon and white campus police car appeared, blue lights flashing, wheels screeching. It tore around the corner and stopped, front wheels wedged against the curb in front of Lynda. Two officers leapt from the car, a tall, balding man, and a shorter man with black hair and a military-style mustache. While the tall policeman scanned the area, the other officer stepped up to Lynda. “Are you all right, Miss?”

She nodded and shivered. Frowning over his shoulder, the tall officer called, “Get her in the car before she freezes.”

Nodding, the policeman took Lynda's arm. He unlocked the back door, and Lynda slid in. Getting behind the wheel, he reached forward, and turned up the car's heater. Blasts of hot, oily air soon raised the temperature in the squad car to tropical levels. Lynda stretched her feet toward the heat and sighed.

The tall officer returned to the car and took out a notebook. With professional detachment, he took down Lynda's address and started writing up a report. She did her best to answer his questions, but her mouth hurt when she tried to talk, and her tongue tripped over the words. Finally, he set the notebook down, and turned to her. “Take it easy, Miss Malone. We'll have you home in no time.”

Lynda sat back in her seat, and a movement outside the car caught her attention. A bush rustled near the corner of a tenement. A bristly bush, with shaggy brown foliage. A bush with blue eyes. The bear. It held the car in fixed regard, its gaze burning through the glass. Lynda realized it must have followed her from the garage. Before she had a chance to decide what, if anything, she should do, the bear disappeared around a corner of the building. She stared after it until the police car drove her away.

Much later, after Lynda was home in bed, the bear's image haunted her dreams.

THE BEAR faded into the alley. He knew she had seen him, had watched him from the screaming car. He'd left the pack leader to follow and protect her. Now that she was safe, he could worry about himself.

The night closed around him. The siren pulled away, and the normal sounds and scents returned. Rats rummaged, cats prowled, buses belched along thoroughfares.

He thought about the girl. She was safe. She was safe, and he had saved her. He wanted to sing, to howl, to announce to the world what he'd done.

Lacking redwood trees to mark, he reared up to his full height to rake his claws along the impervious brick wall, but his shoulder began to burn. Dropping to his feet, he flicked his tongue against the pain and discovered a thin gash where the knife had penetrated his fur. Licking carefully, he cleaned the blood away. Already he could tell it was closing, healing with the speed of all moonlight injuries. The cut would vanish with the sun, as did all but the most serious wounds.

Not wanting to aggravate the gash, he decided to forget the wall and head for his clothes and home. A call stopped him.

“Lynda!”

He recognized the voice. It was a good voice, a friend's voice, and came from further down the alley. Curious, the bear trotted toward it.

“I thought you said she was out back.”

“She was. Maybe she decided to leave.” The hair on bear's neck rose, and he growled. This voice he did not like.

“Think so? She asked me to drive her home.”

“Well, she's not here now. Don't worry, if she turns up later, I'll give her a ride.”

The bear could smell his anticipation a block away. This one thought he knew something and was pleased about it. He snuffled a laugh. What would he think if he knew Lynda was already on her way home?

“All right, if you're sure she won't mind.”

A door closed; the voices disappeared. A few minutes later he heard a heavier door shut. There were good-byes and the sound of engines starting, of cars driving away. The bear was very close when he heard the hateful voice again.

“Come on, Lynda. You can't hide forever. Come back in the house and I'll drive you home. No monkey business, promise.”

The smell of deception radiated over the fence. The bear suddenly realized that this one had driven Lynda into danger. Anger swelled within him, and he fought back the urge to tear down the fence and destroy the speaker. Then his eyes fell on a car parked behind the fence, a red BMW with a tan leather top. The bear's teeth parted in an ursine smile. This was his enemy's prize possession and a much more satisfying target than a brick wall.

HUNDREDS OF eyes rose through the darkness. They floated toward Lynda, indigo drops oozing from their corners. She fled across the tear-stained floor, and the eyes flew after her. Slipping on the blue-black slick, Lynda fell to her knees. She struggled to rise, but the eyes surrounded her and bombarded her like hail.

“Daddy!” she screamed, throwing herself out of bed. Lynda was halfway to the door before she realized she'd been dreaming.

Her father burst into the room. “Lynda! Are you all right?”

“It was awful,” she sobbed, losing herself in her father's embrace.

He patted her back while she soaked his shoulder. “Another dream?” She nodded. “Want to tell me about it?”

Lynda pulled back far enough to look into her father's face. “I only remember how scared I was. It's funny, I think I'm more frightened now than I was last night.”

“Poor Angel,” her father said, steering her back to bed. “Want me to stay with you?”

“No, I'm okay.” She climbed under her covers. The light from the hallway fanned across her floor, but didn't quite reach the bed. Lynda lay back on her pillow and sighed. “I wish I still had that night light. You remember, the teddy bear with a glowing tummy? It made me feel safe when I was a little girl.”

“Wait right here.” Her father hurried out of the room.

Lynda heard the swish of a box sliding across the wooden floor, and the sound of rummaging. A moment later her father returned.

He plugged the small plastic bear into an open outlet, and a warm, golden glow spilled across the room.

Face turned toward the light, she snuggled into her covers. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Thank your mother. She's the one who saved all your baby things.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Lynda murmured while her eyes closed. With the smiling bear to guard her, she tumbled into dreamless sleep.

“HEY LYNDA, wait up!” Ellen called.

Lynda stopped beneath the school's overhanging eaves and shook out her umbrella while she waited. It was Monday morning, almost time for class to start.

“What did Greg say?” Ellen's cheerfully nosy expression faltered. “God, what happened to you?”

Lynda shoved the umbrella into her backpack and grimaced. “Do you really want to know?”

Her lip had been torn, her jaw bruised, by the gang leader's backhanded blow. While she'd been too preoccupied to notice at the time, after the excitement died down, the pain and swelling had begun to bother her.

Horrified when they saw the injury, her parents had rushed her to the Emergency room at Michael Reese Hospital. The plastic surgeon on call had assured them that there would be no scarring, but with her puffy, stitched lip and her green and purple jaw, Lynda looked and felt like Frankenstein's monster.

Stepping through the big double doors, Ellen took Lynda's elbow and steered her away from the stream of students. “It was Richard, wasn't it?”

“Not exactly, but you sure were right about him. He got really aggressive Saturday night—wouldn't take no for an answer. I ended up kicking him and leaving the party by the back door.”

“The slime!”

“Totally. But that was only the beginning. I ran into a bunch of gang-bangers. They made me go with them to their hangout. The gang leader did this.” Lynda pointed to her bruised jaw. “I don't know what would have happened if a bear hadn't burst through the door and rescued me.”

Ellen's brow furrowed. “Bear? What do you mean ‘bear'?”

“I mean a bear. You know, brown, furry, big teeth.” A disturbing possibility flashed through her mind. “I bet that's what killed Rex.”

Ellen shook her head. “I can't believe you're still worried about that dead dog.” Her eyes narrowed “How much did you drink at the party?”

“I know it sounds crazy. My parents don't believe me either. But I wasn't drunk, and I wasn't hallucinating. A real, live bear ran into the garage where they were holding me and attacked the gang leader. I managed to get away while they fought. The bear must've followed me, because I saw it again before campus cops drove me home.”

Ellen shook her head. “That's too weird. What did the cops say when they saw it?”

“They didn't, and I didn't tell them about it either. I just told the officers some guys were hassling me and asked for a ride home. You know how the University is, they didn't ask for details.”

“Lynda!” a deep voice bellowed.

Both girls turned and watched Greg approach. He'd been walking down the corridor, but when Lynda turned, he started running, plowing a path through the students in his way. “Are you okay?”

She glared at him. “I'm fine. Now.”

Greg gently touched her bruised face. Lynda flinched, then relaxed. His warm fingers soothed the ache in her jaw.

Ellen turned on him. “I hope you're satisfied, letting her go to Richard's party alone.”

His gaze never left Lynda's face. “I wanted to take you to the party Saturday, but I couldn't. You know the girl you saw me with Friday night?”

He smiled and waited for Lynda's response. The smile faded when none came. “She's my cousin Megan, and—” The first bell rang.

“Just looking at her, I could tell how bratty she is,” Lynda snapped.

“Megan's a lot nicer than she was four years ago,” Greg said quietly. “But she's still my cousin. I begged Dad to let me go to the party, or at least to Saturday's show. I even offered to take Megan with me, but he'd planned the whole day. After dinner, we drove Megan and her mom to the airport and didn't get back until after eleven—too late go to the party.”

Lynda's her throat clenched and tears threatened to overflow the corners of her eyes. “Aren't you even going to ask me what happened?”

“Oh, Lynda.” Ignoring the students hurrying to class, Greg wrapped his arms around her. “Tell me what happened.”

Ellen muttered something about running late and left them alone. Fighting back tears, Lynda buried her face in his shoulder. She told him the whole story, only leaving out the part about the bear. “Poor baby,” he whispered after she finished.

Lynda looked up. Greg stared at her with frightening intensity. He lifted a hand, and his thumb brushed her injured mouth as lightly as a breeze. The other hand cupped the back of her head; his fingers laced through her hair.

Staring into his darkening eyes, she stood motionless except for a slight parting of her lips. He leaned toward her. Lynda could feel Greg's breath on her face, smell the mint from his toothpaste, see the individual grooves the comb had left in his thick, unruly hair. Ignoring the final bell, she shut her eyes and waited for his kiss.