Fetch

by Scott Cawthon

  “Stop! STOP!” yelled the employees, but Oscar was already to the front door of the Emporium, which was suddenly clear now that the crowd had moved inside.

  “Dude, what’re you doing?!” called Raj, but he was nearly beside Oscar, so it was clear that whatever he was doing, he wasn’t doing it alone. Oscar could hear Isaac’s short legs working double-time to keep up behind them.

  “That way!” the clerk yelled, still too close to Oscar to be comfortably far away. “They took it. They stole it!”

  “Stop!” yelled another voice, and this one somehow sounded more authoritative.

  “Oh man, it’s security!” Isaac wheezed, and suddenly, he was faster than Oscar and Raj, sprinting ahead of them and leading the way out of the mall, the east entrance now in sight.

  “We’re dead,” Raj said, but he was keeping pace with Oscar. “We’re so incredibly dead.”

  Oscar couldn’t say anything. He could hardly process what his body was doing. His mind had completely left the building.

  Suddenly, Isaac swerved, and it only took Oscar a second to see why. Emerging from a restroom doorway to the right was a confused mall security guard hiking up his pants, watching the scene in front of him unfold with slow recognition of the problem.

  Oscar and Raj sped past him just as the guard behind them yelled, “Stop them!”

  The east entrance glowed ahead like a beacon of safety, and Isaac burst through the door first, holding it while swinging his arm to Oscar and Raj.

  “Hurry up hurry up hurry up!”

  Oscar and Raj raced through, and the boys ran like a speeding arrow, Isaac at the head, while they made a hard right toward the private eucalyptus grove, but the parking lot was a wide expanse of obstacles before the trees.

  Isaac hesitated, and Oscar took the lead, weaving past minivans and SUVs like they were playing a human arcade game, the obstacles in security uniforms likely to come out of every corner.

  Except it was still only the two voices Oscar could hear behind them, and when he ventured a brief look over his shoulder, it was indeed still just the two, and at least the one from the restroom doorway looked like he was starting to run out of steam.

  “Get …” he huffed between strides, “Back … Here!”

  “We’re losing them, c’mon!” Oscar finally said, his voice sounding like someone else’s. It was like he’d left his body entirely, and this thieving, criminal escape artist had taken him over. He wasn’t Oscar. In this moment, he wasn’t anyone he recognized.

  “We’re almost there,” Raj gasped, and they all knew he meant the eucalyptus grove. The menthol air was upon them, and the strong smell coated the inside of Oscar’s burning lungs.

  “That’s private property!” Oscar could hear the other security guard yell, but he sounded farther away now. It was almost like he was telling himself that, not Oscar, so he wouldn’t have to chase the boys once they’d crossed the tree line.

  Oscar threw the box over the fence and followed it, tumbling to the ground and rolling through the leaves that had begun to shed now that fall was here. Isaac tumbled over the fence next, followed by Raj, and they took one more collective look through the slats in the fencing to confirm what Oscar already knew—the security guards had abandoned their pursuit, with the larger one resting his hands on his knees while he bent, huffing and spitting.

  The boys weren’t done running, though. It was private property, and they shouldn’t be there, either, but it was more than that. It was wrong. They knew everything about what they’d just done was wrong. Especially what Oscar had done. Instead of facing that, he tried to outrun it.

  He ran all the way to his street, even as Raj and Isaac pleaded with him to slow down, that the danger was over, that he was being crazy. They pleaded angrily, in fact, and Oscar knew that maybe it was because he’d gotten them into this mess. He’d been the one to grab the Plushtrap Chaser. He’d been the one to run like a bear was chasing him. He’d been the one to make them decide to run with him or leave him to his own terrible decision and all of its consequences.

  When they finally arrived at Oscar’s house, lungs burning and necks sweating, their legs shaking hard enough to be useless, they collapsed on the floor of Oscar’s small living room, splayed in a circle around the three-foot-long box that was damp with perspiration and decorated with stuck-on dead leaves.

  “Technically, it wasn’t stealing,” Oscar said, first to regain his breath and possibly his wits.

  “You’re an idiot,” Isaac said, and he meant it.

  “I left our money on the counter,” Oscar said, but he knew it was laughable, and Raj punctuated that fact by laughing mirthlessly.

  “You’re an idiot,” Isaac said again, just to be sure it registered this time, and Oscar nodded.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  This time they did all chuckle, not quite a laugh, and none of them meant it, but it was enough for Oscar to know that even though they hated what he did, they didn’t hate him. And besides, now they had a Plushtrap Chaser, regardless of how they got it.

  But now that he could catch his breath, Oscar had time to reflect on the hushed conversation he’d heard between the Emporium employees. What was it they’d said? Something about the parts looking too real? It was hard to see why that would be a problem. The more lifelike the better, right?

  Still, the way they’d all backed away from the toy … something definitely wasn’t right about it.

  Raj and Isaac knelt next to him. They were staring at their illegally obtained Plushtrap Chaser.

  Raj glanced up at Oscar. “Are we going to open it?”

  Were they? They’d come this far. Was Oscar really going to let some disgruntled employees at the saddest toy store on earth keep him from the Plushtrap Chaser now? After he’d finally seized the day? After he’d finally plucked the fruits of all his labors?

  “Dude, are we opening this thing or not?” asked Raj.

  “Okay,” Oscar said. “Let’s see what this beast can do.”

  It took some doing to get the thing out of its box. The molded plastic case that should have formed a protective shell over the toy had been crushed along with the rest of the packaging, and was now almost one with the toy itself, the plastic wedged into every joint of the rabbit’s arms and legs. The twist ties that secured it to the mold had bent to hard knots that needed to be carefully unwound. And between the smeared and tired marked lettering, the instructions were essentially illegible.

  Once the boys had finally freed it from its packaging, Oscar stood the Plushtrap Chaser on its oversize feet and straightened the joints at the knees to stabilize it. The toy was relatively light considering the machinery that had to be behind it. The heaviest parts of the rabbit were its weighted feet (presumably for ease of movement and balance) and head (presumably for ease of chomping).

  “I don’t know why, but it’s not exactly how I’d imagined it,” Raj said. Oscar and Isaac were quiet, which meant silent—if reluctant—agreement.

  They didn’t mean it in a snobbish way, though. Oscar had received more than his share of lightly damaged or refurbished toys, the byproduct of having more wants than money. And though Raj and Isaac could afford more, they never held that over Oscar’s head.

  It was more like nothing could possibly live up to the hype that had preceded the release of this toy that—let’s face it—didn’t do much of anything. It ran … fast. And it chomped … fast. The simplicity, the plainness of its functionality, had appealed to Oscar, but more than that, the Plushtrap was wanted. It was what everyone would have that year. It was what only the unlucky, the consistently passed over, would have to go without. Oscar couldn’t be that kid again. He just couldn’t.

  “Um, is it just me or do the teeth look wrong?” Isaac pointed at the straight, slightly yellow, human-looking teeth that were visible through Plushtrap’s partly open mouth.

  “No doubt about it. They look … real.”

  Oscar had to admit the teeth looked a little off, de
finitely not like the ones he’d seen in the ads or in the one he saw Ms. Beastly buy.

  “Yeah, they’re not pointed,” Raj said. “Why aren’t they pointed?”

  Oscar didn’t volunteer anything.

  “They’re not pointed, but they’re creepy,” Isaac said. “They look”—he swallowed—“human.”

  “Yeah,” Raj said. “They do. Weird.”

  “And what’s with the eyes?” Isaac said. He reached out and poked one of the cloudy green eyes. “Ew!” He whipped his hand back and flicked his finger. “It’s squishy!”

  There was no denying it. Whatever was wrong with this Plushtrap Chaser’s teeth and eyes was definitely what the employees were discussing in the back of the store.

  Still, Oscar thought, there’s no way the parts could be real.

  He’d seen the eyeball when Isaac touched it, though. There was the tiniest give, like if he’d pressed on a peeled grape. There was no tap from his fingernail like there should have been on hard plastic.

  And then there were the teeth …

  “That’s why they were so freaked out,” Oscar mumbled, and he only realized he’d said that last bit aloud when Raj and Isaac turned to stare at him.

  This is my punishment, Oscar thought. This is what I get for being an idiot and stealing this stupid toy.

  “Okay, so I’ve gotta tell you something I overheard in the store,” Oscar said at the end of a long, pained sigh.

  “How did you overhear anything in there?” Isaac said, focusing on the wrong question.

  Oscar shook his head. “Near the back room. These employees … they were all standing around the box talking about how it’d been returned, and how they should call the cops because …”

  “Because the eyes and the teeth are HUMAN!” Raj blurted, as though his wildest morbid imaginings had come true.

  “Uh, yeah,” said Oscar. “I guess when you say it out loud, it sounds a little ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, completely ridiculous,” Raj said, eyeing the Plushtrap Chaser.

  “Totally,” Isaac said, scooting a couple inches from the toy.

  “I mean … it’s not like any one of us got a really good look at one close-up,” reasoned Oscar. “They’re probably all—”

  “Nightmarish?” guessed Isaac.

  Raj turned to Oscar. “You managed to steal us the only Plushtrap Chaser that looks like a half-human hybrid.”

  “I think its eyes are following me,” said Isaac.

  “Maybe if we see it in action, we’ll feel better,” Oscar said, trying to reboot everyone’s enthusiasm.

  Raj shrugged. “Why not?”

  Isaac shrugged, too, but then he held up the marred instructions. “I think we’re on our own.”

  “Let’s see what those human teeth can do,” Raj said.

  Isaac shivered. “Stop calling them that.”

  Oscar tried pulling at the Plushtrap’s chin, but the jaw wouldn’t budge. The mouth was only open enough to glimpse the humanlike teeth, but it wouldn’t open any farther.

  “Maybe if you push from its nose,” Raj said, gripping the top half of the rabbit’s face while Oscar continued to pull on the jaw.

  “Here, you need more leverage,” Isaac said, taking the rabbit’s whiskers in his fists and yanking.

  “Dude, you’re gonna rip its face off,” Oscar said, and stopped pulling a little too fast, sending Raj and Isaac rocking back on their heels.

  “We just need something to pry it open,” he said, trotting to the kitchen to grab a butter knife from the drawer. When he returned, he jammed the flat end of the knife into the partially opened mouth. But when he pressed on the knife, the thin metal gave suddenly, and the tip of the knife broke off inside the rabbit’s mouth. The pointed end seemed to be stuck in its weird teeth.

  “Whoa,” Raj said. “Tell me it didn’t take a bite out of a knife.”

  Oscar looked at him, once again tiring of the struggle the toy was bringing. The payoff of his actions was becoming more elusive by the minute.

  “It didn’t bite the knife, Raj. I broke it.”

  “Maybe it just needs to be turned on before it’ll open,” Isaac said, and finally, one of them was thinking clearly.

  Oscar and the boys parted the fur on the back of the rabbit, searching for a switch to indicate it was off. All they found was a line of Velcro closed over a battery compartment, complete with one rectangular 9-volt battery tucked into its place. Below the battery compartment was a pattern of small holes.

  “Is that a speaker?” asked Isaac. “Hang on, it talks?”

  “Nah,” Raj dismissed. “Not in any of the ads.” His brow crinkled. “What does a rabbit even sound like?”

  “Gentlemen, focus. We’re looking for the power switch. Check its feet,” Oscar said, and sure enough, when they turned it over, a little black switch pointed to the “on” position.

  “Okaaaaay,” Isaac said, and he reached for the switch, flicking it off, then on, then off again.

  “Maybe it needs another battery,” Raj said, and that sounded like as good a reason as any.

  Oscar returned to the kitchen and rummaged through the junk drawer, sifting past rubber bands and orange juice coupons until he came upon an opened package of 9-volt batteries, with one left in the box.

  “Try this one,” Oscar said, hustling back to the living room.

  The boys plucked the existing battery from its place, scraping away the little bit of white crust that had corroded the inside. They placed the new battery in the compartment and closed the cover.

  Raj slapped his hands together and rubbed. “This is it!”

  Oscar picked the rabbit up and flipped the switch on, but the Plushtrap remained dormant, its mouth locked in a mostly closed position.

  “Oh, come ON!” Isaac complained, the stress of the day clearly beginning to have an effect.

  “Hang on, hang on,” Oscar said, doing his best to calm the room. He was turning the box over and over in his hands, and there in bold letters inside a comic book–style POW burst was a critical detail:

  WALKS IN THE DARK!

  FREEZES IN THE LIGHT!

  “Guys, it only works when the lights are off,” Oscar said, and his heart filled with the tiniest bit of hope that all wasn’t lost.

  “Oh,” Raj and Isaac said in unison, as though it made perfect sense. Of course. Somehow they’d all managed to forget this one crucial detail.

  The boys got right to work, pulling drapes shut and flicking lights off, surrounding the bunny in as much darkness as possible. But enough daylight still leaked through the curtains to illuminate the disappointment on their faces. The Plushtrap Chaser would chase nothing.

  “It’s just not dark enough yet,” Isaac said.

  “It probably has to charge or something,” Raj offered.

  But when neither Isaac nor Raj lobbied to take the Plushtrap home for the night, the last of Oscar’s hope evaporated, leaving his insides feeling dry and cracked. It was just like everything else. He’d had the nerve to think something good might come his way. He’d even done the one thing he swore to himself and to his mom and to anyone whose opinion ever mattered to him that he’d never do: he’d stolen. All for the tiny drop of what could have been a taste—just a taste—of good fortune.

  Now he was left without one third of $79.99, without one Plushtrap Chaser, and maybe even on the verge of losing the two friends who’d stuck their necks out for him when his thirst had become too great.

  Oscar’s mom called that night.

  “Anything exciting happen today?” she asked, the same question she always asked when she was at work and he was at home, feeding himself dinner and putting himself to bed while she worked the night shift and took care of the old people.

  “Nothing at all,” he said, just like he always did. Only this time, it hurt so much more to say it because something exciting had happened … and then it hadn’t.

  Oscar woke to the smell of coffee like he did most mornings. His mom prac
tically lived on the stuff. How she got home at three in the morning and woke up at seven Oscar had never been able to figure out.

  When he rolled out of bed, he was momentarily startled by the gooey-looking eyes swimming in the gaping hollows of a green furry face. They really did look human.

  “Whoa, hey there, creeper,” he said to the Plushtrap. The rabbit stood at attention by his bedside, right where he left it last night, the tiny shard of a butter knife tip still stuck between two of the visible incisors.

  But just like yesterday, it did absolutely nothing. Not that it should, given the daylight streaming in through the thin curtains behind Oscar’s bed. It was possible he’d gone to bed with the hope that a night in his dark room would charge whatever power source hadn’t been triggered by the boys the day before. It was just another stupid hope, though.

  Oscar shuffled down the hall in his flannel pants and kissed his mom on the cheek like he always did. If Raj or Isaac ever saw him do that, they’d never let him forget it, but Oscar knew what it meant to his mom, and he didn’t mind it so much. After his dad died, Oscar took up the habit without his mom ever asking. When he was too short to reach her head, he’d kissed her elbow, then her shoulder. It was just a peck, hardly even a kiss given that Oscar tucked his lips into his mouth, but disappointing his mom wasn’t really an option.

  After Oscar poured himself a glass of juice and a bowl of sugar flakes, he munched away as usual until he finally looked up and noticed his mom hadn’t said a word to him. She was looking down at the newspaper they still had delivered every morning because, as she put it, a subscription was cheaper than a smartphone plan. She hadn’t looked up even for a second.

  His stomach instinctively dropped.

  “What’s up?” he asked, his voice pitched a little higher than usual.

  His mom slurped her coffee slowly before pulling her mug away from her mouth, her head still down.

  “Seems there was some sort of incident at the mall yesterday afternoon.”

  Oscar didn’t think it was possible for his stomach to sink any lower, but it found a new depth in a hurry.