Chances Are...: Chance, #4

By Jude LaHaye

Do you put your friends and family in mortal danger simply by existing? How do you protect your protectors?

Chance Bonner remains the principal target of the negative forces residing in his own psyche. But he attracts external forces as well. The universal negative forces are drawn to him and his incredible luck. They wish to assist Chance's own demons in kidnapping and neutralizing the creature who protects Chance: the avatar, Lucky, Chance's dog. Lucky has a mission to support and defend the special boy, Chance Bonner. Some of those forces are human, many are not…and some of them may actually be former foes working inside enemy lines for the benefit of the boy they have come to admire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: May 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613094921

Jude LaHaye

Jude LaHaye is a Buddhist. Buddhists believe that the highest form of sentience is the human being. They also believe that the meaning of life is...Life. LaHaye struggles with his belief system and the evidence of his own human interactions and observations. His books are born of this struggle.

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Wings ePress, Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS 67114

Dedication

For Frank, even though he won’t read any of the nonsense I write. Thanks for your consistent, excellent support,

my friend!

***

The ten directions are the environment, and living beings are life. To illustrate, environment is like the shadow, and life, the body. Without the body, no shadow can exist, and without life, no environment. In the same way, life is shaped by its environment.

(from The Lotus Sutra and Its Opening and Closing Sutras by Nichiren Daishonin

The Record of Orally Transmitted Teachings)

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One

Mutant Ninja Tapirs?

Chance was in a deep sleep, his conscious self deeply buried within a twisted dream. It was a recurring dream of sorts, one in which Chance was searching, desperately looking for...something. He could not remember what he was looking for. While he searched, he became lost and couldn’t find his way home. He felt vulnerable. He had no keys in his pockets. He carried no identification of any kind. This worried him even more because he should have been carrying his new wallet with his learner’s permit.

The voice intruded into his worrisome dream. Who is this Chance, Chance Bonner, anyway? he wondered. The distraction this new mystery presented caused him to awaken. Slowly and tortuously, he clawed his way up and out of the dream and back into his own reality.

It was still dark. He looked at the clock on his night table: four A.M. Chance sighed and turned onto his other side, nestling back onto his pillow, and hoping to be able to drift back off to sleep for a couple of more hours.

That’s when he saw him: a little brown man, dressed all in brown, crushing the rim of a brown bowler in the grip of his nervous hands. Chance wasn’t frightened, a fact that worried him. What normal person wouldn’t be startled by the sight of a strange man at his bedside in the middle of the night? Chance was too busy trying to remember this man―he was sure he knew him from somewhere. Am I still dreaming? is what he wondered. He must have said it out loud because the little man answered him.

Chance. Chance Bonner, he repeated. He looked worried―and frightened. He kept looking over his right shoulder as if afraid of being caught. Caught doing what, exactly? You must help your friend, Arthur Dillow. He is in big trouble. Hurry.

Whoa, Chance said, reaching out to grab the sleeve of the little man’s trench coat. Who are you? How do you know where Arthur is? I haven’t seen him in weeks. A memory tickled at Chance’s fuzzy brain. It was a memory of Arthur. A heroic Arthur twirling a flaming rope of some kind.

Jump rope, he said out loud. The little man started and then clapped his hands together in glee.

Yes, yes! he cried. You’re remembering—

His words were interrupted by the advent of something truly remarkable. Well, two somethings, actually. Chance could not believe his eyes, but two furry balls of considerable size flew through his bedroom, swiftly rolling and coming to stops in opposite corners. As they ceased their twirling motion, both of these objects snapped into martial arts offensive poses, landing squarely on their hind legs. Their front legs were held out and up, their paws curled into fists. They wore black ninja-yoroi complete with black cowls from which their fleshy noses protruded. Each of them uttered a sharp call that sounded like Nnn-Geo! as they brandished their fists.

As shocked as Chance was, the little man became even more gleeful. He stood and applauded. Marvelous! he exclaimed. Glorious!

"Are you, ummm, tapirs? Chance stuttered. He couldn’t be sure. He’d only seen tapirs in pictures. It was the long snouts that gave them away―that and their stout solidity. Are you ninjas?" he asked, piling question upon unanswered question.

Be quiet, boy, said one of the tapirs. The other merely nodded in concurrence. They both looked dangerous. How much have you told him, Denny? the first tapir spoke again.

I’ve only just managed to awaken him, the aforementioned Denny replied. I just told him to help Arthur.

Listen up, human boy, the same tapir spoke again. The noble creature known to you as Arthur Emmett Wilfred Dillow can be found in the University of Washington Arboretum. Go there. Go now. Bring your human friends. All of them.

We chased the wild pigs away for now, the second tapir interjected. But that won’t keep them away from him forever. Rise, human. Rise and roust your friends. Hurry.

We will await you in the woods, the first one took back the narrative. Hurry. And with that, the tapirs left the way they had entered, leaving Chance with his mouth agape. He looked around himself, appearing dazed. Feeling confused.

Hurry, boy, Denny said before he, too, disappeared. He simply vanished without any theatrics. Call your friends, his disembodied voice cried.

Chance staggered to his feet and threw on his clothes, most of which he picked up off the floor or from the back of his chair. Socks. Shoes. He grabbed his hooded raincoat―he could hear the spattering of rain against his window. Then, fully dressed, he picked up his cellphone and pulled up his contacts. He decided to call Kelly first. She was the furthest away, having moved in with an aunt on Queen Anne Hill. She’ll need a head start, he told himself.

Chance placed calls to Stefan Schultz, Millicent Lee, and Sarah Stengler. He told them all Arthur was in trouble and they had to rescue him. Meet me at the corner of Twenty-fourth and Boyer―across from ‘Arcade’, he told each of them. We’ll go to the arboretum from there.

Yes, they were all asleep. They were all groggy. But they would, each of them, hasten to report to their meeting place. This is what they did for each other...they were friends.

~ * ~

The meeting place was only a few blocks away from Stefan, Millicent, and Sarah. It was just up the block from Chance’s own home. But it was quite a haul for Kelly O’Hara. As the friends anxiously waited for her to arrive, an old Ford Pinto screeched up to the corner of Twenty-fourth and Boyer in Seattle’s Montlake District and disgorged a Kelly O’Hara who had obviously slapped herself together in such a hurry her high-top tennies weren’t even tied yet.

Kelly waved good-by to the car’s driver and crouched over to lace up her shoes. Sorry it took me so long to get here, she said, glancing at each of her friends in turn. That was my aunt. She was heading for work in Redmond anyway, so she offered to drop me off here. She straightened up and shrugged her coat fully on―it had been hanging off one shoulder like she couldn’t decide to wear it or not. The light rainfall made the decision for her once she lost the shelter of her aunt’s car: on. The coat was pulled all the way on. So what’s up? Kelly asked Chance. Where’s Arthur?

All I know is he’s somewhere in the arboretum, Chance admitted. And if I told you how I found out about that, you wouldn’t believe me, so don’t ask.

Ooooh, Millicent cooed, moving in closer to Chance and grabbing him by the front of his rubbery coat. Tell us! Tell us!

Yeah, Sarah chimed in. Perspiring minds need to know!

They all chuckled at this. The laughter dispelled the little tension that had built. It came to me in a dream, Chance finally admitted. I think it was a dream. It was too weird to be real.

Oh, I don’t know about that, Stefan Schultz said. He shared a look with the rest of the group before adding, you’ve had quite a few bizarre adventures that were quite real.

And we’ve always been brought in on them eventually, Millicent adds primly. We’re your ‘go-to’ team, Chance. You can depend on us.

Oh, I do, I do, Chance assured them. Do you all remember that little brown man with the trench coat and fedora?

His friends were nodding but looking like they were struggling to make their memories clearer. Millicent spoke to correct Chance on one detail. It’s a bowler, she said.

What’s a bowler? a puzzled Chance asked.

His hat. Well, if it’s brown it’s a bowler. If it’s black, I think you’re right, that would be a fedora.

It was brown, Chance conceded. He shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs. Well, he woke me up this morning and told me Arthur was in trouble and needed our help. Chance started walking down Boyer toward the arboretum. His friends fell in step as he continued. And he wasn’t alone.

Was there some skinny nervous lady with him? Sarah asked, her face creased with concentration.

Or some huge guy in a suit? Stefan asked. With a valise?

I wish, Chance said. But no. There were two of them, though...but they were tapirs.

Tapirs? Stefan repeated. The girls just gasped and put their hands up to cover their gaping mouths.

In ninja costume. Chance finished. He decided to leave it there. He could only hope the ninja tapirs would be as good as their word and show up to meet them once they got to the arboretum. He needed to restore his friends’ faith in him.

Okay, we’re here, Stefan announced a minute later. This place is huge. What direction should we take?

The sun had come up and the beautiful vista that was the University of Washington Arboretum greeted them in glistening splendor. The rain was finished, at least for now, and the clouds parted to allow the sun to paint the glorious scene in rose and gold.

Let’s head to the Japanese Tea Garden, Chance hazarded. I mean, they were ninjas, after all. What better place than the Japanese Tea Garden?

It won’t be open at this hour, Millicent pointed out. They don’t open until ten.

None of the friends challenged Millicent on this point. The girl was full of all kinds of knowledge, trivial and otherwise. If Millicent said the tea garden opened at ten, then it opened at ten. Period.

But as they reached the garden, the gate was not only open, it was ajar.

Be careful, Chance cautioned them. This doesn’t look right. The words had barely cleared his mouth when, with a nasty snort, a very big, very dirty, very mean feral pig trotted out of the garden through the open gate.

The gate had been damaged, Chance noted. It had been battered.

He didn’t have time for a more thorough inspection. The first wild pig was joined by another. And another. Soon the teens were facing a group of six large, smelly, snorting animals.

And then they arrived: in twin balls of fur and fury, the ninja tapirs somersaulted into view from apparently nowhere, rolling to a stop between the young humans and the undaunted feral pigs.

Nnn-Geo! a voice rang out.

Nnn-Geo! a second voice repeated.

As they made these declarations, both tapirs unfolded and planted their rear feet on the gravel path leading to the garden. Their offensive stances made, they immediately flew into action, pummeling and kicking the wild beasts which quickly morphed from undaunted to daunted: they ran. Avoiding the damaged entrance, all six of the feral pigs ran off into the deep woods behind the gated garden. Their grunts of surprise and pain could be heard for many moments before they moved out of hearing.

Well, that was strange, Stefan opined in his usual understated way.

It still is, a dazed Kelly pointed out. It’s strange.

The ninjas turned to face each other and exchanged deep bows. Then they repositioned so they faced the humans.

Did I miss anything? a voice rang out. Its owner soon manifested. It was that little brown man. He still sported his brown trench coat, but the black fedora was perched on his head this time. He looked around wildly as if certain an attack was imminent.

We have defeated them, the ninja tapir on the left advised him.

For now, the tapir on the right said.

For now, the first tapir concurred.

Where did they go? the little man asked.

The woods, the tapirs replied simultaneously.

The woods? the little man queried. This place is nothing but woods...could you possibly be more specific?

The furry, rotund little ninjas did not have a chance to respond. Their conversation was interrupted by another arrival.

Denny! the arriving creature cried, popping into existence at the very moment her voice could be heard. What in the worlds are you doing?

Lucinder, dear, the little man replied, taking his fedora from his head, and wringing its brim with his stubby hands. I was just chatting with the King’s guard―you know, his tapirs?

The skinny, nervous little woman addressed the tapirs next. May I ask, she said, what in the seventh heaven are you supposed to be? Those costumes: what do they represent?

While she conversed with the ninjas, the little man smiled at the young people and made a little shrug which seemed to communicate something like, give us a moment, will you? We’ll be right with you.

We spent a lot of time coming up with these costumes, the tapir on the left told her. He sounded hurt and defensive.

And learning the martial techniques which go with them, the tapir on the right said, not as plaintively as his fellow. We have become quite adept field agents, he added, straightening his spine and looking the woman in the eye.

Oh, that’s marvelous! the woman exclaimed. Is fieldwork everything you imagined it would be? She leaned in for the answer, completely absorbed with the conversation.

Oh, yes! the tapir on the left said, losing his defensive stance and responding with naked enthusiasm. We’ve practiced and practiced...

...in between performing our regular duties for the King, of course, amended the tapir on the right. We still have our court duties, as I’m sure you well know, Lucinder.

She adopted a sympathetic tone in response to this confidence. Well, that doesn’t seem fair, does it? she asked them. "The King should find new bookends―sorry, I meant guards―don’t you think? I mean, if you’re that good at field work, I would think a permanent reassignment should be made."

Oh, do you? the tapir on the left gushed. Do you really think so?

Maybe you could put in a word? the tapir on the right said with both a pleading look and voice. With the King? Do you think you could?

Denny cleared his throat, successfully diverting the trio’s attention, first to him, and then to the group of humans toward which he jerked his head. The woman and the tapirs started when they realized they had an audience. The woman nodded her appreciation at the little brown man and then turned to address the young people standing stock still in front of her and the ninja tapirs.

She opened her hands and released hundreds of little black flying things. You will forget you ever saw anything here, she said in a commanding tone of voice.

This time Stefan was ready for her. Oh, no, you don’t, he said, pulling a plastic tarp from a Velcroed pocket in his lab coat. He held the tarp by two corners and snapped it open. He then draped himself and his friends with it, holding the bottom of the tarp flush with the ground using his feet. He gestured for his friends to do the same with the tarp ends near them, and they quickly complied.

They heard the impact of the flying objects on the tarp. Then they heard nothing more.

Chance lifted the tarp away from his head and peered out. They’re gone, he advised his friends. The coast is clear...I think.

Stefan efficiently refolded the tarp and returned it to his pocket, ripping Velcro sounds accompanying his actions. I just thought of bringing a tarp this morning, he said, congratulating himself. He smiled―a somewhat rare occurrence―and looked at his friends. Their hair and headgear had been severely disarranged by the application and subsequent removal of the tarp. Stefan reacted to their appearance by opening another Velcroed pocket, removing a black plastic comb, and applying it to his own heavily shellacked blond hair. He acquired a small mirror from the same pocket and reviewed his results. With one last minor adjustment, he was satisfied and returned both mirror and comb to the pocket, and smoothed the Velcro back down.

Good idea, Kelly allowed.

Yeah, seriously great, Sarah added.

World-class-smart, Millicent said, not sounding completely sincere.

Chance was examining the ground where hundreds of tiny black objects were evaporating in the bright sunlight. We’ve seen these before, he said. And we’ve seen that woman before, too.

He called her Lucinder, Millicent pointed out.

And she called him Denny, Kelly added.

But those tapirs? Chance said. We’ve not seen them before, at least I don’t think so. They’re new, aren’t they?

His friends both shrugged and nodded, their uncertainty certain.

Chance suddenly straightened and spoke again. Arthur, he cried. We’ve forgotten about Arthur! He looked around wildly as if said Arthur might be close by and hitherto unnoticed. It didn’t work. Chance knew he had to come up with a different approach.

Let’s check inside, he suggested. He began the walk which would take him inside the tea garden, his friends following close on his heels.

The garden was a shambles. Big chunks of green grass, red ornamental grass, and small trees and shrubs had been ripped from the ground and were strewn about.

Shhh, listen! Kelly exhorted. I heard something.

They went silent and listened hard. At first they discerned nothing, but after maintaining their silence for a few moments, they all heard it, a little snuffling sound.

It grew louder and was joined with words, actual words.

They’re going to blame me for this, the unmistakable voice of Arthur Dillow entered their ears. He also snuffled again, crying. He was crying.

Arthur! Chance called. Arthur, where are you?

Chance? Arthur’s querulous voice responded. Chance Bonner? His voice was approaching them. They stood still and allowed Arthur to come forward to engage them...which he eventually did.

When Arthur saw Chance was there, and he was not alone, his eyes flew open wide and his mouth gaped. What are you all doing here? he asked, his voice still shaky. He had dirt and assorted grasses hanging from his face, hands, and clothes.

We came to help you, Kelly said. Her voice also communicated she wasn’t sure why she would do any such thing, but it was subtle.

Although why we would do that is kinda lost on me, she added. Subtle she was not, was Kelly O’Hara.

Arthur, Chance interrupted, catching Kelly’s eyes with his own to make sure she would stop talking, we were told you were in trouble...that you needed help.

Who told you that? Arthur challenged. I was fine. Minding my own business. Doing armadillo things...you know, sunning myself. Helping myself to a grub or two. Hiding during the day when this garden fills up with filthy humans, and coming out in the late afternoon and evening when this place becomes mine, all mine. He stepped forward and addressed the group of people facing him. Who told you I was in trouble? He put his hands on his hips and stared at them, demanding an answer.

Well, that’s hard to say, Chance began softly. It might have been a dream.

No. No, it wasn’t, Millicent interrupted. You know we all saw that little man and that skinny woman. We’ve seen them before.

The Monkey and The Wasp? Arthur asked, his face going pale and his mouth and eyes going wide. Were they alone? Did they have any other demons with them?

Demons? Kelly asked. "Why do you say ‘demons’?

Arthur sputtered a bit before answering Kelly’s question. Because that’s what they are, he practically spat. Like me. A demon.

Kelly laughed. Oh, Arthur, she said. You’re kinda weird, but you’re no demon―at least not all the time. Her friends chuckled in response to her statement. Arthur simply delivered an impressive eyeroll and then returned to surveilling the damage the wild pigs had visited upon the tea garden.

They’ll blame me for this, he repeated, looking at Chance as he did. Help me. Help me put all of this stuff back where it belongs.

Chance looked around him at the wanton destruction. I don’t know if it’s possible, he said. But we can try. He looked at his friends, giving them a hopeful look.

Sure, Sarah said. Let’s give it a try.

They all began moving chunks of sod back over exposed ground; they replanted trees and tufts of ornamental grass. They uprighted overturned trash cans and policed up the trash. All of this took some time.

It’s almost ten o’clock, the ever-punctilious Millicent informed them. They’re going to be opening the garden for the public.

We’ve done what we can, Chance said. "Arthur...Arthur? He looked for the boy, turning around two or three times to do so. Arthur!" he cried.

Nothing. Arthur Dillow was nowhere to be seen.

Let’s go, Millicent urged them. We don’t want to get caught here. This garden is supposed to be closed.

Okay, Chance conceded. But I’m coming right back in once it’s open.

Okay, Millicent replied. That’s fair. Do you have four dollars?

They had all started walking toward the exit. Four dollars? Chance asked. Why do I need four dollars?

Admission, Millicent replied. It’s the cost of admission.

I didn’t bring my wallet, Chance admitted ruefully. And I don’t have my house keys, either, he added in