Page 34 of The Nook for Brooks (Mulligan’s Mill #6)

brOOKS

The forest felt wrong.

It happened slowly, so much so that I wasn’t even aware of the building sense of danger, but when it finally hit me, I got the distinct feeling I was a frog that had been sitting in simmering water for the last half hour.

I came to a halt and listened.

I realized the birds had stopped chirping.

The insects had stopped humming.

Hell, even the wind had stopped blowing.

Everything was too still, too watchful.

I tried to tell myself it was fine, that silence was good, that silence meant no more wasps, no more poison ivy—not that poison ivy makes noise—no more…

Crack.

I froze, my breath caught somewhere between my chest and my throat.

Slowly I turned my head, asking myself if I really wanted to see what had just made that sound.

Then I heard another noise.

A low, guttural huff.

A terrified whimper escaped me…

And then, out of the trees lumbered the thing that would be listed as my cause of death.

A bear.

A black bear.

A very big black bear.

Its shoulders rolled with muscle. Its eyes fixed on me like it was scanning a menu. Its fangs trickled with drool.

And all I could think was, “It’s the Boneclaw Behemoth.”

Milton had been right all along. Dragons did exist. They just happened to be covered in fur and roaming the forests of Wisconsin.

I did the only logical thing a man of intellect could do in such a moment of mortal peril… I raised a trembling hand and tried to reason with it.

“Well, hey there, you cuddly little thing. I’m Brooks Beresford. Lovely to meet you. I own a bookshop. It’s very neat, very tidy, and I’m very much looking forward to returning to it… alive.”

The bear gave a low rumble and licked his lips.

“Oh no. You don’t wanna do that. You don’t wanna eat me. I taste of chamomile tea and crippling anxiety. I’m stringy and bitter and my neuroses are enough for you to choke on.”

The bear huffed again.

It stepped forward.

That’s when I bolted—not away, but up.

I grabbed for the nearest tree. My shoes skidded against bark, my fingernails scraped wood, and with panic for rocket fuel I launched myself halfway to the heavens, clinging to a branch that I hoped was high enough to keep me safe… at least until I figured out what to do next.

The bear stood below, eyeing me like it was wondering whether I was worth the effort.

It turned and walked a short distance away.

Then stopped, sat on its ass, and waited.

I guess it was waiting for me to try and make my escape… or slip off the branch… or fall out of the tree from sheer exhaustion. In all three of those scenarios, I feared the bear had the advantage over me.

“Think, Brooks,” I panted. “What did Milton say? The knight doesn’t fight alone. He calls his comrades, and together they make themselves look bigger, louder, fiercer, to frighten the dragon away.”

Up in the tree, I spread my arms wide and bellowed, “Begone, beast! I am the tyrant of tidiness! Tremble before my pedantic ways!”

The bear blinked. Then licked the dripping saliva off its lips.

“Oh god,” I muttered. “I always thought I’d go quietly in an armchair with a book in my lap. Not death by brunch!”

Suddenly the bushes thrashed. “Oh no, not a another one. I don’t want them arguing over the menu!”

I heard the pounding of footsteps. Human footsteps.

And then—

“Brooks!”

Cody burst into the clearing, mud-streaked and chest heaving.

“Cody! Cody!” I shouted with so much joy I almost did fall out of the tree. “I’m up here!”

He jerked his head, looking up at me, thrilled. “Oh my god, you’re alive! I found you! I followed the bow ties!” Then, confused. “What the bloody hell are you doing up there?”

Words failed me and all I could do was point.

Cody turned, then gasped, then froze on the spot. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “That’s a bear.”

“Excellent deduction, Sherlock!” I screeched from my branch.

The bear didn’t move from its spot on the grass, but its tongue slid back and forth across its lips like some cartoon bear the moment it spotted Cody.

I could hear the clack of Cody’s gulp from my perch.

“What do we do?” he whispered hoarsely, not taking his eyes off the bear.

“I think we’re supposed to act bigger and scarier than it is,” I offered… from the safety of the tree.

“Seriously? And how do we do that.”

“Wave your hands in the air, jump up and down, shout at it. Anything to frighten it away.”

Cody inhaled, exhaled, and nodded as he mustered his courage. “All right, then.” He squared his shoulders, spread his arms wide. “Oy! Rack off! Gawn, get! Bugger off, ya mongrel.”

“Cody, what are you doing? It doesn’t speak Australian.”

He shot me a glare. “Well, what language does it speak then, Brooks? Because my bear-ese is a little rusty.”

Before I could answer, the bear gave a roar so loud it rattled the bark beneath us.

“Oh, hell no,” uttered Cody.

And with that, he abandoned his post on the ground and scrambled for the tree, hauling himself up beside me like a man possessed. His boots slipped, his shirt snagged, he swore the whole way up—but in record time he was wedged onto the branch, clinging on for dear life.

The bear didn’t follow. It stayed right where it was, sitting back on its haunches as if amused by the whole spectacle.

Its black eyes glinted. It scratched an itch behind its ear with claws like talons.

It was like a patient customer at a restaurant, happy to wait for his meal because he knew when it arrived, it would be an absolute feast.

“Wonderful,” I muttered. “Now I’m brunch and you’re lunch. In a tree. I wonder who’ll be afternoon tea.”

At that moment, the brush behind us rustled.

Branches snapped.

And then a quavering, exhausted voice called out, “Sugar-pie! Where are you? It’s time the curtain fell on this box office flop.”

Cody and I looked down, and there, staggering into the clearing, came Aunt Bea.

Or what was left of her.

Her zebra-print gown was torn up one side, her black-and-white turban was barely clinging to life with twigs sticking out like cocktail skewers, and she’d lost the heel of one thigh-high boot, forcing her to limp like a bride-to-be at the end of a hen’s night she’d forever regret.

She staggered into the clearing, breathing hard, hair sticking out in frayed strands from under the turban tornado.

She paused, swaying in her boots as she pressed the back of one hand dramatically to her brow and declared to the forest, “I can’t take another step.

I’ve sweated out the last of my gin reserves. I’m afraid it’s goodbye, cruel world.”

“Pssst! Bea!” Cody and I hissed from above.

“Hark, do I hear angels?” Bea craned her neck. She blinked, squinting into the branches. “I do! My darling cherubs, have you come to rescue me… or did you swing too low and crash your heavenly chariot into that tree?”

“Bea, it’s us,” I said urgently. “Brooks and Cody.”

Her face lit up, her eyes spinning with pure exhausted delight.

“Oh, praise the Lord! Brooks! Cody! You’re alive!

Both of you! What a relief. This jungle is a deathtrap.

I was with Mitch and Gage, but they stopped to check the map and I stopped to reapply lipstick.

When I looked up, they were gone. Since then, I’ve been lashed by ferns…

“Bea!”

“Fallen into a creek…”

“Bea!”

“And had an extremely unpleasant encounter with a raccoon that may take years of therapy. Oh, and don’t even ask about my nails. I look like I’ve tried to scratch my way out of a Columbian prison.”

“Bea! Stop taking!” Cody shouted, even more frantically now. “Behind you!”

Finally, she turned. “Oh look. A bear. That’s some hallucination. It looks so real .”

“That’s because it is real,” I said.

To confirm my warning, the bear let out a long, deep growl.

Bea gasped. “Oh heavens! I wasn’t trained for this. Unless a bear is wearing a leather harness, I have no idea what to do! Should I try to dazzle it?”

“To what?” I asked.

“Dazzle it,” Cody said. “Like a herd of zebras.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked both Cody and Bea.

“If I run back and forth,” Bea explained. “The stripes on my dress will dazzle the beast, giving us time to escape.”

“I think that only works if there’s a lot of you,” Cody pointed out. “The dazzle effect only works if there’s a bunch of you running back and forth. One zebra on its own isn’t a dazzle… it’s dinner.”

“Oh god, are you telling me I’m going to die with a broken heel?”

The bear roared again.

“No,” I said. “We’re telling you to climb! Now!”

Bea didn’t have to be told twice.

With a shriek, she hiked her gown to mid-thigh and launched herself at the tree.

Branches cracked, fabric ripped, and her turban began to unravel in slow motion, spooling down like a sad party streamer at a dud New Year’s Eve party.

She clawed at the bark, cracking the last of her nails, and gave a very unladylike grunt as she flopped onto a limb a few feet below us, gown shredded, lipstick smeared, clinging with both arms and legs to the branch.

All the while, the bear just sat there, grinning at all three of us now.

Bea cocked her head in our direction. “If anyone asks how I got up here,” she said firmly. “I floated.”

At that moment, we heard another sound coming from the bushes.

It was a strange, exhausted chirp.

No, not a chirp… it was more of a slow, strained squeak.

In, out.

Up, down.

In, out.

Up, down.

Squeeeeak-squeeeeeeeeeak.

That’s when Maggie came stumbling out of the bushes.

Her camouflage was ripped at the seams, her boots were caked in swamp muck, and zip-lock bags of puppy chow swung off her rucksack like the saddest Christmas ornaments you’d ever seen.

Exhausted, she spat the whistle out of her mouth and let it hang around her neck, wheezing with every breath as she staggered forward before stopping, hands on her knees, muttering to herself between gasps.

“I knew I shouldn’t have stopped to refill my canteen from that stagnant creek.

By the time I finished gagging, Bud and Pascal were gone.

Now it’s just me and forty pounds of puppy chow. ”

“Pssst! Maggie!” Bea hissed from the branch above, flapping her hand.

Maggie looked up, blinking hard. When she spotted us, her whole face cracked into a grin, standing with her back to the bear, completely oblivious to its presence. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’m not alone after all. What are y’all doing up a tree?”

Unfortunately, the bear was not oblivious to Maggie… nor the sweet smell that wafted from the bags of puppy chow attached to her backpack.

Finally, it rose to its feet, nose twitching in the air.

“Maggie!” Cody hissed urgently, jabbing his finger behind her.

She gave him a confused look. “What is this, charades?” Confusion turned to excitement. “Oh my god, I love charades. I’m the best at this game. Two words? First word—”

“No, Maggie, behind—” I started to say, as we all pointed frantically.

“Sh-sh-sh! That’s cheating. You’re not allowed to talk. First word—point. Point Break! Patrick Swayze! Ghost! Sex with clay!”

“Maggie!” I shouted. “Behind you!”

She turned lazily, annoyed at the disruption to the game. “What? What’s behind—”

The bear was already up, hulking to its full height, nostrils flaring as it caught the scent of puppy chow.

“Oh,” Maggie said flatly. “That.”

The bear bellowed and charged.

“Run!” I yelled.

“Climb!” Cody shouted.

“Fly, baby dodo bird! Fly!” Bea shrieked.

But Maggie was too slow.

She took one step toward the tree before the bear’s claws hooked the straps of her rucksack, yanking her backwards off her feet.

Maggie screamed and skidded across the dirt, rolling over onto her stomach like a turtle righting itself.

The bear seized her by the backpack again, nose twitching crazily at the scent of the puppy chow.

It picked Maggie up and whipped her side to side.

“Mother of Christ!” she screamed. “Take it easy, you stupid fuzzball!”

The bear slammed her against the ground, once.

“Ow! Motherfucker!”

Twice.

“What is this, the Revenant ? Now I know why DiCaprio got an Oscar!”

She bounced like a ragdoll for a third time before the bear flung her across the clearing again.

“We have to do something!” I shrieked from the tree.

But Cody was already jumping off the branch, hitting the ground with a roll.

I started clambering down after him, and Bea scurried down after me.

“We need to get the backpack off her,” Cody said.

“Why?” Bea asked. “Does it have cocaine inside? Is this one of those cocaine bears?”

“No, it’s the puppy chow,” I realized. “The bear wants puppy chow!”

“Brooks, we need to save Maggie,” Cody said.

“Why are you making that sound so easy?”

“Just shut up and help me. Bea, you need to create a distraction.”

“Sugar, I didn’t come dressed as a zebra for no reason. I’m on it.”

The bear dug its claws into the backpack once again, picking Maggie up off the ground. It buried its snout into one of the zip-lock bags and ripped it open. Puppy chow flew into the air like confetti.

“No!” Maggie howled. “That’s my best batch ever! I was gonna enter it in the county fair!”

Suddenly Bea began to zigzag back and forth to catch the bear’s attention, all the while warbling, “Dazzle! Dazzle! Dazzle!” like some deranged turkey.

The bear gave Maggie another shake, then paused, confused by the spectacle that was Bea’s bedazzlement.

“Now!” Cody said, grabbing me by the hand and racing toward Maggie and the bear from the other side.

We skidded across the dirt, then reached up and grabbed for Maggie’s straps as she hung suspended off the ground, kicking and flailing.

“Get the clips!” Cody said, our fingers fumbling with the buckles, both of us working on a strap each.

Cody managed to unclip his strap, but mine was jammed.

Suddenly the bear yanked Maggie backward again, dragging me with it.

“Brooks! No!”

The bear flung us.

Maggie and I landed with a heavy thud… heavy enough to unsnap the clip.

“Quick!” I said to Maggie, pulling her arms free.

The bear was lumbering toward us, but Cody and Bea got to us first.

Bea yanked Maggie to her feet while Cody hauled me up.

“Everyone move!” he yelled.

Ignoring every laceration, bruise, and broken boot heel, the four of us bolted into the trees, crashing through the undergrowth.

Behind us came a roar of pure bliss, as the bear buried its snout into a bag of puppy chow, happily demolishing its all-you-can-eat buffet.