by David Fulk
He stared at them with a menacing leer as Martin held the door just a foot or so off the ground, and he and Audrey slipped underneath it. Rufus ducked down and tried to follow them, pushing his head against the door. But they both pushed back from outside.
“Rufus, wait,” Martin said firmly. “We’ll be right back.”
The door was heavy enough that they could get it closed before Rufus could squirt through. Then they trotted across the patio and went in the back door of the house, into the kitchen.
When they opened the fridge, some of the sights and smells that came out almost made them gag.
“Ewww, look at that one,” said Audrey, pointing to a purplish lump in a back corner. “He must be doing some of his science experiments in here.”
“I don’t see any meat,” said Martin.
“Maybe there was some, but it mutated into something else.”
“Wait…what about this?” He unwrapped the aluminum foil from a brownish chunk of something and took a sniff. They both studied it closely.
“Meat loaf?”
“I’m thinking yeah. Let’s go.”
They made a beeline for the door, but Audrey stopped short.
“Oh!” She pointed to a phone sitting on the counter. “I’m gonna call Daddy and tell him we’re okay.”
She reached for the phone, but Martin had a thought. “Wait. He’ll see the number, and they’ll figure out where we are.”
Grimly, she took her hand off the phone.
They both stiffened as there was a thunk outside. At first Martin thought maybe Rufus was up to some kind of mischief, but then he realized the sound was a car door shutting, and it came from the front of the house, not the back.
“Mr. Eckhart! He’s back!” Audrey exclaimed.
Now smiling, they ran for the door again, but Martin grabbed her arm and they froze once more as there was a second thunk…then a third…then a fourth. Something was not right.
There were voices outside. Adult voices. And they seemed pretty worked up.
Wriggling his fingers nervously, Martin tiptoed across the room and slowly peeked around into the living room. He flinched and pulled back as there was a loud banging on the front door.
“Hello!” came a familiar voice. “Sheriff’s department. Anyone home?” Bang bang bang bang!
“How did they know?” Audrey whispered intensely.
“I might have mentioned Mr. Eckhart…”
She winced as Sheriff Grimes banged on the door one more time; then the voices started up again. There must have been seven or eight of them out there. One of the voices—the one that seemed most agitated of all—belonged to Ben Fairfield.
Some of the people outside started walking up the driveway. Martin and Audrey ducked down low, making sure they’d be out of sight in case anybody got the idea to peek in any windows. But now Martin recognized two more voices—his own parents!
He and Audrey scurried over to the back door, stooped low, and pushed the curtain aside just enough to see Martin’s mom and dad arriving in the backyard with a pair of deputies. They explored the yard and patio, as though they were somehow expecting Martin, Audrey, and Rufus to just drop out of the big oak tree in the middle of the yard.
Then they gathered right next to the garage and started talking. His dad was only three feet away from the small window on the side of the garage.
Martin squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears, as though that would somehow make him and Audrey—and Rufus—invisible. “Please be quiet, Rufus,” he whispered. “Please be quiet, please be quiet…”
When he opened his eyes again, he saw the others still standing there—nobody had thought to look through that garage window.
But now there were some loud footsteps headed straight for the kitchen door. Martin and Audrey plastered themselves low against the wall, holding their breath.
Bang bang bang bang! “Peter Eckhart, please come to the door.” It was Ben Fairfield, and he was right above them, just outside. Bang bang bang!
Martin and Audrey looked up and saw the doorknob start to turn.
“We can’t just walk in there, Ben.” Sheriff Grimes’s voice seemed to come from nowhere.
“Who says so?”
“We’ve gotta have a warrant. It’s the law, buddy.”
“Here’s my warrant.”
With impossibly quick reflexes, Audrey snapped her hand up and gave the locking switch in the doorknob a little twist. The knob rattled back and forth, and then the whole door shook loudly. It seemed like it might come loose from its hinges.
“I’m telling you, Ben. Can’t do it,” Sheriff Grimes insisted.
“There’s nobody here, Ben,” Mr. Tinker called from across the patio. “Let’s go, they can’t have gotten far.”
Martin and Audrey sat there, stone still, as the footsteps headed back down the driveway, the grumbling voices faded, car doors slammed, and at least three vehicles drove off.
By some miracle, Rufus never made a peep.
The two of them sat there for a good five minutes, not daring to move, or even speak. Finally, Martin got up and slipped quietly into the living room. He made his way across the room and carefully peeked out a small window next to the front door, scanning as much of the yard as he could see, then jogged back into the kitchen.
“They’re gone. Let’s go.”
He picked up the foil-wrapped chunk and they headed out the back door.
“How do we know they won’t come back?” Audrey said as they crossed the patio toward the garage.
“We just have to hope Mr. Eckhart gets here first.”
“That could take hours. Days, even.”
“It’s not that far. Anyway, he’s supposed to be at class today.”
“I don’t know, Martin. Maybe we should…think of something else or something.”
“What else can we do, Audrey? The whole town is probably looking for us,” Martin said, pulling up on the garage door handle.
“I’m just trying to help. You don’t have to get all snippy.”
“I’m not being snippy.”
“Yes you are. Snippy, snippy.”
“I’m not snippy, all I’m saying—”
Bang! The door suddenly flew all the way open, nearly lifting Martin off the ground with it. They both watched, dumbfounded, as Rufus—having rammed into the door in just the right spot and at just the right moment—shot out of the garage and took off down the driveway.
Aghast, Audrey and Martin stood there rigidly, watching their big dinosaur scamper off like a school kid on recess. For a good five seconds they just stood with their mouths hanging open.
“Noooooooooo!” they bellowed in unison, then sprinted after him. But by the time they got to the end of the driveway, Rufus was already halfway down the block.
“Rufus, stop!” Martin hollered.
“Rufuuus!” Audrey cried. But their desperate calls seemed to evaporate in the cool morning air.
They kept after him as best they could, but Rufus was a faster runner than they were, and soon he was a good two blocks ahead of them. He turned a corner onto another street, and now Martin was starting to worry that they might actually lose sight of him. And even worse, somebody was going to see him now for sure.
Martin felt about a dozen knots forming just below his diaphragm. “Oh, man…oh, man…oh, man…”
When they got to the corner, they stopped and looked down the street where Rufus had gone. No sign of him.
“Ai-yai-yai-yai-yai,” Audrey moaned.
They charged ahead, desperately looking in all directions. Then Martin stopped in his tracks.
“There!”
Just a few houses up the street, there was Rufus, intently sniffing at a plastic flamingo in somebody’s front yard. He seemed not to know whether to eat it, make friends with it, or run the other way.
“Rufus, come here!” Martin shouted, and he and Audrey ran straight toward him. But he didn’t seem to hear them at all; deci
ding the big pink bird must be breakfast, he clamped his teeth down on it, jerked it out of the ground, and started chewing.
Then he was startled by a sharp yapping sound. He spat out the flamingo and spun around to see a little gray Scottish terrier, barking furiously at this alien beast in his yard. The dog danced and darted around, seeming to want to charge Rufus—but making it a point not to get too close.
“Rufus, come! Now!” Audrey called as she and Martin finally made it to the yard. But Rufus’s eyes were fixed on the annoying little creature at his feet—and his predatory instincts kicked right in. Spreading his jaws wide, he let out a giant hiss and lunged at the dog, who promptly took off in the other direction.
“No!” Martin and Audrey both shouted as the Scottie flew up onto the porch and—just as Rufus snapped his jaws shut with a loud thwock!—barely escaped into the house through a doggie door.
“Holy mama,” Martin rasped.
Now the front door of the house opened and a lady in giant hair curlers and an avocado face mask stepped out. “Fritzie, what on earth is going on out—” Seeing the tall beast standing only three feet away, staring coldly at her, she froze.
Everybody—including Rufus—stood there, rock-still. Martin dreaded the thought of what would come next. And after three seconds, he found out: the lady let out an eardrum-shattering SCREAM that they could probably hear all the way in Milwaukee.
The sound so alarmed Rufus that he hopped back, slipped on the porch step, and lurched face-first into a big American flag hanging on the post.
“No, Rufus, no!” Martin cried out, but he and Audrey could only stand there like rusted robots as Rufus stumbled back out into the yard, blinded by the flag that had come loose and was now draped over his head. The lady kept screaming as she retreated back inside and slammed the door—though it was still loud and clear as she kept carrying on in there.
Martin and Audrey tried to grab at the flag, but now Rufus was in an all-out panic, jerking around every which way. His foot landed on a tricycle, which shot out from under him—and he went airborne like an Olympic diver, hitting the ground flat on his side with a resounding thud.
Audrey grimaced. “Oooooooh, ow!”
“Please, Rufus,” Martin cried hoarsely, trying vainly to get his arms around him. “You’re only making it worse!”
Luckily, the flag came off as Rufus struggled to his feet. But now he was even more shaken up than before.
He darted out of the yard and straight into the street—just as a big green Land Rover zoomed up. The car came to a screeching, swerving stop, barely missing him. Rufus jumped up in the air, gave a husky bark, and took off down the street as fast as his beefy legs would carry him.
“No!” Martin yelled one more time. He could feel his thigh muscles burning as he desperately tried to keep up. “Come back!”
The man driving the car jumped out and stared, slack-jawed, as Rufus charged down the road. The lady in the house was now leaning out an upstairs window, hollering “Call the police! Somebody call the police!”
None of which was doing a darn thing to slow down Rufus—who was now charging straight toward the center of town.
Gage Park was a pleasant little patch of grass and trees where, on a normal day, you might see kids playing tag, couples holding hands, or older folks standing in the middle of the park admiring the statue of Philippe Dumont, an old-time explorer looking gallant on his high-stepping horse.
There were no people in the park this morning, but a few dozen pigeons were making themselves right at home on the statue when a very large, very agitated creature came bounding on the scene, with two equally unnerved young humans following not too far behind.
“Rufus, you have to stop!” Martin called.
Rufus lunged at the pigeons, and Martin and Audrey had to duck as they were suddenly surrounded by a cloud of flapping, fluttering birds. Rufus slashed and snapped at them, but somehow they all managed to escape.
Flustered, Rufus jumped at the statue, chomping right down on the leg of Monsieur Dumont’s horse.
“Get away from there, you big bonehead!” Audrey hollered.
“Shhhh! You’re making it worse,” said Martin.
He tentatively reached toward the twitchy dino. “Rufus, calm down,” he said, stroking Rufus’s left thigh as though he were a skittish stallion. Rufus let go of the statue—though his eyes were still blazing. For just a fleeting moment, Martin was afraid maybe those teeth were about to be turned on him and Audrey. But Rufus actually did start to calm down a bit, or at least, he didn’t seem like he was ready to bolt again.
“That’s it, good boy.”
“Now what?” Audrey said.
Martin looked all around. “If we can…there’s a shortcut. We can get back to the garage.”
“Okay,” Audrey said, though she sounded pretty unsure.
“Come on,” Martin said, trying to act like it was all under control.
They had barely gotten to the edge of the park when they spotted something and stopped cold. Just a half block ahead, a dark Lincoln crawled along like a prowling panther, then came to a stop. Martin stood there, paralyzed. He knew whose car it was.
The passenger door opened, and out stepped a familiar but unwelcome face: Ollie Thwait, the Trout Palace guard. He scowled at them as the driver’s-side door opened and a man with a gleaming bald pate got out, throwing them a menacing glare of his own. In one hand, Ben Fairfield had a walkie-talkie. He reached back into the car with the other and pulled out a long, dark object that Martin recognized instantly: another tranquilizing rifle.
Rufus must have recognized it too, because he jerked and grunted testily. Martin’s heart rose directly into his throat.
“Ai-yai-yai,” Audrey squeaked as Mr. Fairfield raised the walkie-talkie and growled into the mouthpiece, loud and clear.
“Frank.”
“Yeah, Ben,” said the sheriff’s crackly voice at the other end.
“Found ’em. Gage Park, on Chestnut.”
“Roger that.”
Almost instantly, a siren started wailing in the distance.
Something about the sound set off a voice in Martin’s head, telling him they were done and it was time to give up. But as Ben Fairfield slowly lifted the rifle to his shoulder and took aim at Rufus, an even louder voice inside yelled, Stop standing there, you idiot! Get moving!
“This way!” Martin exclaimed, taking off across the street at full tilt. Catching his energy, Audrey and Rufus followed.
Mr. Fairfield and Ollie tore after them, leaving the car sitting in the middle of the street, as Martin led Rufus and Audrey into an alley between two small buildings. They could hear Fairfield barking into the walkie-talkie behind them.
“Cutting across to Green Bay, heading east now. Got it, Frank? Cut ’em off!”
Any thought Martin had of making it back to Mr. Eckhart’s garage was now a distant memory. Their only remaining hope was to somehow get out of there without getting caught. Maybe they could make it back to the woods and be safe there.
They came out the other end of the alley and found themselves right where they didn’t want to be: on Green Bay Avenue, the busiest street in town.
Leading the way, Martin made a mad dash down the street, and people turned to look. At first they stayed strangely calm, as though what they were watching was some kind of bizarre street theater. When Fairfield and Ollie came barreling out of the alley, even that didn’t cause any particular alarm. But when Rufus ran by an orange-haired lady and chomped the leather purse right out of her hand, she let out a hellacious shriek!
That was everybody’s cue to push the panic button.
Murmurs turned to screams. Drivers slammed on their brakes, causing three fender benders within seconds. Horns honked chaotically. Little kids screamed and cried as their parents tried to sweep them as far away as possible from this ferocious-looking creature on the loose.
Some people craned their necks to get a better look; others just sprin
ted right out of there.
Dogs barked up a storm. A guy on a motorcycle twisted his head around to check out Rufus—and took a fast header right into Tom Reavis Memorial Fountain.
Now, on top of everything else, Martin was afraid somebody might really get hurt. He felt like they had all been transported into one of those scary monster-on-the-loose movies, and Rufus was the monster. But Rufus wasn’t attacking anyone—all he was doing was running. Martin just wanted to shout, Everybody calm down! Everything’s okay!
But for him and Audrey and Rufus, everything was definitely not okay. They felt themselves slowing down, and Ben Fairfield and Ollie, showing remarkable stamina for guys their age, were gaining on them.
A police cruiser, seeming to come out of nowhere, skidded to a halt just ahead of them. Now they were completely cut off. Martin looked all around, desperate for an escape route.
“Through there!” he shouted, pointing to a storefront across the street. He darted between two parked cars and raced across. Audrey and Rufus fell in right behind.
Mr. Fairfield took off after them, followed by Ollie and the officer from the squad car.
“What, through there?” Audrey rasped as they raced toward a row of shops.
“I’ve been in there. There’s a service door in back,” Martin said. “We can make it to the woods.” He ran right up to the front entrance of the Spotted Otter, a big gift shop that was popular with tourists, and the automated front doors slid open. “Duck, Rufus!”
Rufus lowered his head, and the three of them rushed inside.
The place was packed from wall to wall with mugs, glass figurines, painted plates, cuckoo clocks, porcelain dolls, and thousands of other delicate knickknacks. So Martin and Audrey had to slow down and be extra careful as they led Rufus through the narrow center aisle, skillfully guiding him between the high shelves of pretty breakables.
“Sorry…sorry,” Audrey and Martin muttered as they made their way past the customers, who stood there, rigid and bug-eyed.
Somehow, the three of them made it to the far end of the store without bumping a single item out of place—until, at the very end, the tiniest tip of Rufus’s tail caught a little glass globe, knocking it off a shelf. But as before, Audrey’s reflexes were lightning-quick—she stretched out and caught it just before it took a shattering nosedive.
