by David Fulk
They raced straight past a petrified lady at a rear checkout counter (“Sorry,” Martin said sheepishly), barreled into the storage room, and immediately spotted the service door in the back wall. Only one thought ran through Martin’s head: Please, please don’t be locked!
As he reached for the bar handle, a loud CRASH made them all jump. They looked back through the opening into the main store to see Ben Fairfield, Ollie, and the deputy in a tangled mess in the center aisle. The tranquilizing gun had caught on a post and all three of them had slammed into each other, tumbling against a shelf and sending glass souvenirs cascading down on them from all sides. The shelf tipped over and started a chain reaction of collapsing shelves and flying glassware, leaving the hapless customers scrambling to get out of the way.
When the poor lady behind the counter saw what was happening to her store, her jaw sagged, her eyes rolled up—and she dropped straight to the floor.
“Holy mama,” Martin muttered.
“She’s okay,” said Audrey as the lady made it back to her knees. “Keep going, Martin. Go!”
Martin grabbed the bar and pushed—and was hugely relieved when the big door swung open. Maybe, he dared to think as they ran outside, with their pursuers hung up now, they might actually have a chance…?
They ran down a short stretch of alley and came out on Elm Street, which wasn’t quite as crowded as Green Bay, but the furor that erupted there was exactly the same.
They hadn’t gotten far when the sound of screeching tires startled them. Down toward the end of the block, a pickup truck skidded to a halt, narrowly missing a panicky tourist. The driver and passenger jumped out, and Martin knew exactly who it was before their feet even hit the ground.
“Martin! Hold up!” Mr. Tinker shouted. He and Mrs. Tinker charged toward them, struggling against the flow of fleeing people.
But Martin did not want to give up, not to his parents, not to anybody. He and his loyal companions turned and ran one more time, heading down still another street as Ben Fairfield and his crew, having extracted themselves from the Spotted Otter, appeared again.
The three fugitives kept on running straight through the heart of Menominee Springs, causing a sensation everywhere they went, and somehow staying ahead of the posse chasing after them. They ran past St. Jude’s Church, kept on going past the fancy houses on Chelten Lane, and cut diagonally across Pfister Park.
By the time they were running past Menominee Springs Middle School—where they were supposed to be this morning—their tanks were just about empty.
“Martin,” Audrey wheezed, “I can’t run anymore. We can’t make it. Maybe we better—”
“No!” Martin snapped, although he was every bit as spent as she was. “We have to keep going!” By now any actual plan or expectation of a real escape no longer existed in Martin’s brain. They had to keep going because…well, because they just had to.
Sheriff Grimes’s squad car came to a stop just a half block ahead, cutting them off yet again. They looked back the way they had come: Mr. Fairfield’s gang was bearing down on them. Fast.
There was only one way out, and Martin didn’t hesitate. “Through here,” he panted, and they scurried through the gate onto the school’s athletic field.
As they chugged across the field, lungs aflame, feet heavy as anvils, Martin’s mind started to drift. Time seemed to wind down to a crawl, and he felt like he was running in slow motion through empty space. The only sounds he could hear were his own labored breathing and throbbing heartbeat. How did it come to this? I’m just a regular kid, trying to help a defenseless animal. Why is everybody treating us like criminals?
He thought of the seventh-grade classroom across the way, where right now Mrs. Sanders was probably quizzing the class on math or geography or grammar, with empty chairs where he and Audrey would normally be. Did anybody realize they weren’t there? Did they even care? Didn’t they know how important it was to save Rufus from a terrible life under the thumb of Ben Fairfield?
Martin’s eyes drifted over to the school building and fixed on the row of open classroom windows. Was that Donald Grimes pointing at them through the window, jumping up and down and shouting something to the rest of the class?
“Get away from us! We’re just trying to help him! Go away!”
Wait a minute. It was Donald, all right, but it wasn’t his voice.
Snapping out of his dreamy state, Martin realized the voice was Audrey’s, and she was shouting at Ben Fairfield’s gang and the police officers who were now right on top of them.
The three of them had made it to the far end of the field, but they came to a skidding stop in a corner of a high, unforgiving chain-link fence. The gate Martin had been hoping to fly through was locked tight. They were trapped. No place left to run.
Fairfield and his men quickly surrounded them, and Ben raised his dart rifle. Sheriff Grimes had one too, and he struggled to load in a cartridge.
Rufus seemed to know what was coming, and he danced and growled menacingly.
“All right, you kids,” Mr. Fairfield wheezed, “you had your fun. Now get away from the animal.”
“You can’t have him!” Martin yelled as he and Audrey shuffled back and forth to keep themselves between Rufus and the gun.
“He’s my property. Legally bought and paid for. Now step out of there.”
“We’re not moving!” Audrey snapped.
Mr. Fairfield tried to follow Rufus’s movements with the rifle, but he couldn’t get off a shot without risking hitting one of his human protectors.
Now Martin’s mom and dad caught up with the group and rushed straight at the cornered trio.
“Martin, what in the bloody blazes are you doing?” Mr. Tinker hollered.
Rufus let out a growl and went into a menacing crouch, causing them to quickly back away and take a safer spot behind Mr. Fairfield.
“Martin, you come away from there,” Mrs. Tinker commanded. “Right now, I mean it!”
Martin felt a burning sensation in his throat that spread all the way up to his forehead. “I can’t, Mom. I can’t!”
His dad looked like he might explode at any second. “What do you mean you can’t? You heard your mother. Get over here!”
“Look,” Sheriff Grimes interjected, “just come out of there like your folks are saying, and this’ll be over in a flash.”
“You’re not shooting him,” Martin fired back, his jaw firmly set. “You’ll have to shoot us first!”
“Yeah!” Audrey shouted.
“Take it down a notch, will you?” Mr. Fairfield scolded. “It’s just a tranquilizing dart.”
“Ben!” Mrs. Tinker snapped. “Don’t you dare shoot with them there!”
“I’ve got this, Ann,” Fairfield said, still trying to get a good aim. “You need to stay out of it.”
“Really, Ben? I’m thinking you need to stay out of it.”
There was a commotion across the field, and everybody looked over to see a mob of middle-schoolers running toward them. Martin and Audrey recognized them immediately: their seventh-grade classmates. They were completely ignoring Mrs. Sanders, who was chasing after them with a look of utter horror on her face.
“No, no, no! We cannot come out here! Everybody back inside, now! Michael! Hannah, no! Oh, dear lord…”
“Whoa, hold on there!” the sheriff shouted, suddenly awakened to the situation. “You kids stay back. Back!” He and his men did their best to herd the group away from Rufus, and it turned out he didn’t need much help: Rufus suddenly hissed and snapped at the approaching mob, sending everybody into a quick about-face. Some screams and yips flew out of the crowd, and Martin threw his arm in front of Rufus. “Shhh, shhh, shhh, steady…”
The kids didn’t retreat far; they turned right back around again, pressing against the thin line of policemen’s arms holding them back.
In the middle of the pack, Donald Grimes jumped up and down, pointing furiously at Rufus. “There, see what I mean? I’m not cra
zy! I told you! I told you!”
Mrs. Sanders turned around and raced back toward the building, struggling to make headway in her high heels. “Mr. Clayborne! Mr. Clayborne!”
“Hey, Martin,” Max Mitchell called out. “Is that really a dinosaur?”
“Where’d you guys get that?” said Alyssa Belden.
“Does he bite?” said Michael Tripp.
“No. Well…” Martin felt a bit thrown by the sudden burst of attention from his classmates. It felt really odd having all those eyes zeroed in on him, and it was distracting him from protecting Rufus. Trying to focus, he kept shuffling back and forth with Audrey to block Ben Fairfield’s aim. They jumped up and down too, waving their arms.
“Frank,” Ben said impatiently to Sheriff Grimes, “are you gonna get those two out of there, or what?”
The sheriff looked lost, and so did his deputies. He didn’t have a good angle to shoot from either, and obviously had no desire to get any closer to Rufus. Finally, he took a halfhearted step forward.
“He’s in a really bad mood,” Martin warned.
“Yeah. And hungry,” Audrey said.
That stopped the sheriff cold. The seventh graders chuckled edgily, but it turned to worried murmurs as he put down his tranquilizing gun and reached for his revolver.
“No, you’re not doing that!” Mr. Fairfield snapped.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Mr. Tinker shouted at the same time.
“Frank, no!” Mrs. Tinker yelled.
“Well, what the heck do you expect me—”
“Ah, for crying out loud!” Ben barked. “You guys do it.”
He was talking to Ollie and his other henchman, Jasper. Caught off guard, they stood there, and the color drained from their faces.
“What are you waiting for?” Fairfield growled. “Go!”
Ollie and Jasper must have found Mr. Fairfield even scarier than Rufus, because now they started edging toward Martin and Audrey—who took a step back, even closer to their restive companion. Rufus leered at the slowly approaching men.
Mr. Tinker was looking angry, worried, and strangely torn, all at once. “Ben, this is nuts.”
“When I want your opinion, Gordon, I’ll ask for it,” said Mr. Fairfield, still swinging the gun back and forth, looking for an opening.
Mrs. Tinker was scowling. “Ben Fairfield, who do you think—” She cut off and let out a gasp as Rufus made a lunge at Ollie, almost taking off his hand. Amid a swell of screams and alarmed whoops from the crowd, Ollie stepped back and looked over at Ben Fairfield imploringly.
Ben let out an exasperated breath and just kept holding the gun barrel straight out in front of him. “Martin,” he growled, “I’m not going to ask you again. You and your friend need to move your butts away from there now.”
That was the first time Martin could remember Mr. Fairfield calling him by his real name—almost as though he was an actual, thinking person, not just Gordon Tinker’s little kid. This caught him off guard. The rational part of his brain was telling him he should do what Mr. Fairfield said—act like a reasonable person. But another part of his brain—the angry, defiant part—was calling out pretty loudly too, and he wasn’t so sure he could ignore those calls. He exchanged a glance with Audrey, and, energized by their unspoken bond of solidarity, they turned their flinty gazes back to Mr. Fairfield, standing firm.
“Gordon,” said Ben Fairfield without batting an eye, “tell your kid to step away from there, and we can put an end to this.”
Martin’s dad stood there without saying anything. He shifted his feet and cleared his throat.
“Gordon?” said Ben Fairfield in a menacing drone.
Mr. Tinker pursed his lips and looked at the ground. The anger was gone from his eyes now, and he appeared more troubled and distant than anything else.
Martin wasn’t sure if he was purposely ignoring Ben or what. For the first time ever, he got the sense that his dad might actually tell Ben Fairfield to take a hike.
Finally, Mr. Tinker looked back up and spoke in a quiet, almost resigned tone of voice. “Come on, Marty. Let’s go.”
Martin’s heart sank. He felt angry, disappointed, and resentful all at once. “Why should I listen to you?”
“Look, the deed is done. It’s time for you to accept it. Come away from there, before somebody really gets hurt.”
All Martin’s emotions were welling up to the surface. He looked at his father, jaw muscles tight, holding back the tears that were desperately trying to break through. “You never take my side, not ever! You think I don’t measure up because I’m not like you. Well, maybe I don’t want to be like you. And if you don’t like that…well, tough cookies!”
He felt like he was standing outside himself, watching as some alien being took over his body and started saying things the real Martin never would. He braced for what he knew would come next—his dad blowing a gasket, and turning a very unpleasant scene into maybe a very scary one.
But it didn’t happen. Mr. Tinker just stood there, gaping at Martin as though he were some mysterious stranger instead of his own son.
Mr. Fairfield’s expression didn’t change one bit. “All right, Martin, you made your point. Now step…away…from the beast.”
Martin turned his angry gaze to Mr. Fairfield and spoke with the authority of an army general. “He’s not a beast. His name is Rufus. I found his egg, and I raised him, and he’s my friend. And the only way you’re getting him is over my dead body.”
“Mine too!” Audrey shouted.
Mr. Fairfield seemed about to say something, but then a bold kid named Ryan Lund darted out of the class group. “Hey!” Sheriff Grimes snapped, to no effect: Ryan ran right over and stood next to Martin and Audrey. “Yeah, mine too!” He showed no fear at all of Rufus—who tensed up for a second, but then, apparently sensing that Ryan was more friend than foe, turned away.
Now Kaitlin Mallory broke away from the group and ran over next to Ryan. “Mine too!”
What happened next left everybody over the age of twelve all but speechless. First it was Jared Muller, then Emily Sprowl. Then Mia Costello. One by one, the seventh graders sprang past the policemen and ran over to stand with the others in front of Rufus. “Me too!” “Same here!” “Mine too!” they shouted, one after the other, as they parked themselves in Ben Fairfield’s line of fire. Soon the whole class was on its way over to join the group.
Sheriff Grimes and his deputies tried to stop them. “Hey!…Hold it there…. No, you kids are going inside, you understand?” They managed to catch a few of them, but it wasn’t nearly enough to stop the wave of young bodies surging past them. Finally, a bewildered-looking Donald Grimes was the only one left standing where the rest of the class had just been.
The sheriff’s face was scarlet. “All right,” he bellowed, “when I say three, you will all step away from there and go inside the building. One— Donnie! What are you doing?” He looked totally aghast as his own son slipped around him and headed over to join the others.
“Sorry, Dad,” said Donald—being careful not to get too close to Rufus. “Sometimes you gotta go with the flow.” Rufus, clearly recognizing him, shot a glower his way and growled. “Yeesh,” Donald rasped, cringing, and took one more step away.
The sheriff just stood there with his mouth hanging open. Mr. Fairfield rolled his eyes, and the rest of the men looked lost. Nobody seemed to know what to do next—including Martin.
He glanced over at the school building, where Mrs. Sanders, Principal Clayborne, and some other teachers were struggling to keep a mob of kids from the other classes from pouring onto the field. This could get out of control, he thought.
Suddenly, there were three quick thunks that startled Rufus, and he reared back, letting out a piercing ROAR that echoed halfway across town. It made everybody flinch, and the kids around him shuffled and murmured nervously.
“Shhh, okay, okay,” said Martin, placing a calming hand on the big creature’s side.
The soun
d, he realized, was car doors slamming. Everybody looked over to see three people working their way through the small crowd that was starting to gather outside the gate at the far side of the field, held there by a lone deputy. At first Martin had no idea who they were, but when he noticed Audrey’s face light up, he recognized one of them.
“Mr. Eckhart!” she called.
Martin had pretty much forgotten about him ever since their downtown scramble. But here he was, accompanied by a tall, thin woman with thick glasses and an older gentleman who looked very distinguished in his charcoal-gray business suit.
Mr. Eckhart exchanged a few words with the officer, who allowed the three of them to pass through.
“Sweet Mother McGreevy!” said the tall woman breathlessly as they approached. “Am I dreaming?”
“Will you look at that!” said the man in the suit. “You weren’t lying, Peter. Well done!”
“Thanks,” said Mr. Eckhart. “I think.”
“This is beyond everything in all the history of…everything!” the thin woman said. “And those kids! Shouldn’t you be afraid?”
The schoolkids shrugged and mumbled, as though they hadn’t really thought about it that much.
“I never thought I’d live to see it,” the older man said. “Peter, you have made an amazing, amazing find.”
“Not me, actually,” said Mr. Eckhart. “Those two.” He pointed to Audrey and Martin. Martin felt as though a beam of light were shooting straight from that finger to his chest, and it tingled through his body.
“Uh, excuse me,” Ben Fairfield chimed in gruffly. “Who are you people?”
Mr. Eckhart gave an embarrassed smile. “Oh, sorry. You’re Mr. Fairfield from the Trout Palace, aren’t you?”
Ben nodded.
“I’m Peter Eckhart, the kids’ science teacher. This is—”
“Ohhh. So you’re Eckhart.”
“Um…yes?” He looked a bit lost for a moment. “Guess my reputation precedes me. Anyway, this is Dr. Sydney Mahler, chairman of the zoology department at the U.”
