Invasion of the Road Weenies

by David Lubar

  And that’s how Charlie found himself in the only family in town that had a goose for a pet.

  Charlie never paid much attention to Honker, except to keep out of the goose’s way. But one day, as he was walking through the backyard, he noticed something strange. Usually, Honker would chase him, biting at his legs as he walked past. But today, the goose was just sitting in the middle of the lawn.

  Maybe it’s sick, Charlie thought, unable to keep from smiling at the idea of the goose getting ill. “Your goose is cooked,” he said out loud. Then he laughed.

  Just as Charlie spoke, Honker stood for a moment, then settled back down. During that brief time, something glittered in the sunlight. What was that? Charlie wondered. He wandered closer to Honker, but the goose glared at him and hissed.

  Charlie backed up. But he had to see what was under the goose. He waited for the bird to move. It stayed where it was.

  “Whatcha doing?” Cliff asked when he wandered into the yard.

  “Your goose is sitting on something,” Charlie said. He really didn’t want to tell Cliff, but maybe his brother would be able to get the goose to move.

  Cliff walked over and reached beneath the goose. “Wow. An egg,” he said, pulling out the object from under the bird.

  Charlie just stared. It wasn’t any ordinary egg—it was a golden egg. Unbelievable. He opened his mouth. Then he closed it.

  “Look, Charlie, it’s a golden egg,” Cliff said. He didn’t seem to be surprised. Charlie had noticed that about little kids—they pretty much accepted anything that came along. They didn’t know that, despite what they read in books or saw on TV, dogs didn’t talk, fish didn’t grant wishes, frogs didn’t turn into princes, and geese certainly didn’t lay golden eggs.

  Charlie walked over and held his hand out. Cliff gave him the egg. “We have to hide this,” Charlie said. He knew that he couldn’t go around showing the egg to people. Gold made adults do funny things. He’d read stories—true stories—about people who’d done bad stuff to get gold. Charlie turned the egg slowly in his hand, then said, “We need to put it in a safe place.”

  “Where?” Cliff asked.

  “My bottom drawer,” Charlie said. The other drawers were for clothes. But the bottom drawer of the dresser was all Charlie’s, and nobody else went there.

  He hurried inside, carrying the egg upstairs to his room. “Don’t tell anybody,” he warned Cliff after he put it in his drawer.

  “I won’t,” Cliff promised.

  There was another golden egg beneath Honker the next day. And another the day after that.

  “We can be kings,” Cliff said as he held up the newest egg. “Or princes.”

  “I don’t want to be a prince,” Charlie said, taking the egg from his brother. He brought it upstairs and hid it with the others.

  Honker kept laying golden eggs. Charlie kept putting them in his drawer. After three weeks, his drawer was almost full.

  That night, as Charlie was going to bed, Cliff said, “I’ve been thinking about it. You’d be a good prince.”

  “Whatever,” Charlie said, trying to ignore his brother. He had other things on his mind. He had to do something with the eggs. Charlie thought about it as he went to brush his teeth. Maybe he should tell his parents. It was a wonderful secret, and he hated the thought of sharing it, but he didn’t know what he was going to do with all the eggs.

  Cliff was still in the room when Charlie got back. “Go to bed,” Charlie told him. He watched his brother leave the room. Then he went to bed, too.

  He closed his eyes and started to fall asleep. I’ll tell them about it tomorrow, he thought as he drifted off.

  His path toward sleep was disturbed by a clinking sound.

  Charlie sat up, wondering what had made the strange noise.

  There was another clink—like someone tapping a nickel with a spoon. Charlie stood and turned on his light.

  The clink was coming from his drawer.

  Charlie opened the drawer.

  One of the eggs was moving—it shook with each clink. After a moment, a tiny crack appeared on the smooth, golden surface.

  Why would a goose lay golden eggs? Charlie wondered. There had to be a reason.

  What would people do with golden eggs?

  Charlie realized they would do exactly what he had done—hide them out of sight in a drawer or a closet. They’d bring the eggs into their houses and keep them safe. It was a perfect place for something to wait until it was ready to hatch.

  But what would be hatching from these eggs? A small piece of the egg fell away. Charlie looked inside. A bird was hatching. Charlie froze. He’d never seen a bird with a whole beakful of long teeth. He’d seen birds with claws, but never with claws like these.

  The bird paused for a moment and looked at Charlie. Charlie looked back and remembered what he’d learned in school. Animals were usually hungry when they hatched. Lots of creatures laid their eggs where their young would have an easy time finding something to feed on.

  What do people do with gold?

  Charlie knew he had to get rid of all the eggs, and he had to do it quickly, before anything hatched. Once those creatures got free, they’d be dangerous. And hungry.

  He grabbed a box from his closet and quickly filled it full of eggs. There didn’t seem to be as many as he thought there’d be. Charlie checked the drawer again, making sure he hadn’t missed any of the eggs. He knew it would be a disaster if he left even one.

  They were all shaking now. Clinks filled the air, like someone was shaking a tray filled with silverware. It didn’t seem to matter how long ago they’d been laid—they all looked like they were ready to hatch at once.

  There was a storm drain outside by the curb. Charlie lugged the box down the steps and out the door. He reached the drain. The roar of water greeted him from below.

  “So much for being rich,” he said as he turned the box over and dumped the contents into the drain. As the eggs fell, the first hatching creature screamed at him, trying desperately to get free of the golden shell.

  It didn’t make it. The heavy eggs sank quickly in the rushing water. They tumbled far beneath the surface. The current carried the unhatched birds to their doom.

  Charlie went back to bed.

  He tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. It had been too close. There was no telling what might have happened if he hadn’t gotten rid of those eggs. When he closed his eyes, he could still see the head of that bird, with those awful teeth.

  “Charlie,” Cliff said, walking into the room.

  “Go to sleep, Cliff,” Charlie said.

  “Maybe you can be a prince,” Cliff said.

  “Let it go,” Charlie said. “Forget that nonsense.”

  “But you’re awake,” Cliff said. “That proves it.”

  “Proves what?” Charlie asked.

  “Like with the princess in that story,” Cliff said. “You know. They wanted to see if she was a real princess. They put a pea under her mattress. The pea kept her awake. I couldn’t find a pea, so I used some eggs.”

  For a fraction of a second, Charlie didn’t manage to put it all together. He had no idea what Cliff was talking about. During that instant, the birds ripped their way up through the mattress. During the next fraction of a second, as Charlie realized what Cliff had done, it became too late.

  “Only a prince would feel anything,” Cliff said.

  Now Charlie felt them. He felt them all around as they burst through to the surface, scratching their way out from beneath the mattress, clawing and tearing their way to freedom. Newly hatched, they rushed into the world in search of their first meal.

  FRESH FROM THE GARDEN

  Mom, can I have a garden?” Judy stood in the backyard of the new house, looking at the wonderful space that stretched out in front of her.

  “I don’t see why not,” her mom said. “As long as you do all the work. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Judy said. “Can I put it there?” she asked, pointing to a sun
ny spot next to a small bird feeder.

  “Sure.”

  Judy got right to work. She dug up the grass, raked the soil, and removed all the stones. She’d learned about gardening from helping her neighbor in their old apartment in the city. Mr. Calderone had made a small garden at the back of the building between the parking lot and the fence. But this would be her very own garden.

  The next day, Judy bought seeds for carrots, beans, and lettuce. She was glad they’d moved into the new house at just the right time for planting. Judy enjoyed working outdoors and spent most of each day in the backyard. Her room was nice, but it smelled a little strange. The odor reminded her of a hamster cage. Judy kept the windows open as much as possible, and eventually the smell went away.

  Tending the garden helped keep Judy busy during those first weeks before she made any friends. Even after she’d met Ruth and Katie and the other girls in the neighborhood, Judy didn’t talk about her garden. It was sort of a secret—something special she didn’t want to share just yet. The other girls were nice enough, but Judy still felt like an outsider. She knew they’d accept her in time, as long as she didn’t give them a reason to dislike her.

  But the garden grew well—it grew beyond her wildest hopes, and the time came when she was ready to share.

  “Can you come for lunch tomorrow?” she asked her new friends. “I’ve got a special treat for us.”

  “What is it?” Katie asked.

  “You’ll see.” Judy smiled as she imagined Katie and Ruth enjoying a meal at her house.

  “I can come,” Ruth said.

  “Me, too,” Katie told her.

  The next morning, Judy took her basket—a gift from her mother—and went out to the wonderful garden by the bird feeder. She pulled carrots from the soil and picked the most perfect beans and flawless lettuce she could find. By lunchtime, she’d made carrot sticks and a salad. Her mom had helped her cook the beans. Judy set the kitchen table, then put out small dishes of creamy dip for the carrots and bottles of three different dressings for the salad. Her friends arrived a few minutes later.

  “Wow,” Ruth said as she took her seat. “This looks great.”

  “Thanks.” Judy felt that she had passed a test. She was one of them now.

  “This is a lot nicer than when that creepy little Toby Mudmintz lived here,” Ruth said.

  “A boy lived here before me?” Judy asked.

  Katie nodded. “Yeah. He was weird. Had all kinds of pets. He had tons of fish. And you know what?”

  “What?” Judy asked.

  Ruth’s face scrunched up in disgust. “When the fish died, he didn’t flush them. He always buried them out back. Can you imagine that? He had this whole section of the yard filled with fish and hamsters and birds. Snakes and lizards, too. Maybe even a couple guinea pigs. The kid was really weird. There were little tombstones all over the place. His mom made him take them down before they sold the house.”

  Judy paused, her fork just a tenth of an inch from impaling a piece of lettuce, and thought about the smooth, white stones she’d cleared from the garden. “Out back?”

  “Yeah, out in the corner. I think there’s a bird feeder or something there.” Katie picked up a carrot stick. It seemed to wriggle slightly in her hand.

  Judy looked at the lettuce. The edges rippled, fluttering like the fins of a tropical fish.

  Crunch. . .

  She looked up as Katie chomped on the carrot stick. “Wow—this is really juicy,” Katie said after she’d finished chewing. “And very fresh.”

  “Yum, fabulous string beans,” Ruth said. She lifted a forkful. The ends waved slightly. “It’s so nice of you to share this with us. I’m glad you moved here. We’re going to be such good friends. Could you pass the carrots?”

  Judy slid the plate toward Ruth, happy to move it farther away from herself.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Katie asked. “There’s nothing wrong, is there?” She glanced down at her plate, and a frown crossed her lips.

  “No,” Judy said, quickly. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.” She plunged the lettuce into a puddle of dressing, covering the leaf completely, then lifted the fork to her mouth.

  Judy took a deep breath, then swallowed the lettuce whole. It seemed to wriggle as it went down her throat. She shuddered, but managed not to gag. She was pretty sure that with the help of lots of dressing, she could get through this one lunch. Then it would all be over. She clenched her jaw as a wave of nausea shot through her stomach. You can make it, she told herself. It would be worth it to have friends.

  “Let’s do this again,” Ruth said. She dabbed at the corner of her lip with her napkin.

  “Let’s do this lots,” Katie said as she stabbed a forkful of beans. They let out a squeaky little scream when the tines pierced their bodies. “I could eat fresh vegetables like this every day. They’re wonderful. So young and tender. Can we come back tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” Ruth said, snapping a carrot stick in half. A spray of juice splattered across the table. “Is tomorrow okay?”

  Judy nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth.

  THE COVERED BRIDGE

  There was only one way to get to town. Only one road that crossed the river. The river wasn’t bad, even though the water got a bit high and rough when the heavy rains came in early spring or late fall. The road wasn’t bad, even though it grew narrow in parts and twisted back and forth through the hills, sometimes in such a blind curve that Carol was sure her mom or dad would smash into an oncoming car before they got through the turn.

  But there was rarely anything on the road in the other direction, and they never met another car on the tight curves. No, Carol didn’t mind the road that much. But there was something about the bridge—the old wooden covered bridge that swallowed up the car and bathed it with shadows. There was something Carol hated.

  “That bridge gives me the creeps,” she said to her friend Jackie one evening as they sat on Carol’s porch.

  “That’s not creepy,” Jackie said.

  “It is to me,” Carol said.

  Jackie shook her head. “I’ll tell you what’s creepy. Marigots. Those are creepy.” She shuddered.

  “What’s that?”

  “My grandma told me about them. She said they come out once every fifty years, if the conditions are right. They only come out for an hour. They’re like fat earthworms. But they eat meat. They have teeth. She said they’re about due to come back.”

  “That’s crazy,” Carol said, feeling a slight shiver run down her shoulders and along her arms. She didn’t want to hear any more about such nonsense. Even made-up stuff could be spooky after the sun went down.

  “It’s true.” Jackie jumped up and pointed toward the yard. Her eyes opened wide. Her mouth moved for a moment, but no sound came out. Finally, the scream broke free. “THERE’S ONE!”

  Carol leaped from her seat and pressed her back against the wall next to the front door. “Where?”

  “Got you.” Jackie started laughing.

  “Jackie! That’s not nice.” Carol tried to relax, but she could feel her heart slamming against her ribs.

  “Sorry,” Jackie said. “I couldn’t resist. You should have seen your face. Come on. I’ve got to go. Walk me partway.”

  “Just as far as the bridge,” Carol said.

  “Not across?”

  “Nope.” She’d tried to keep her fear hidden so nobody would make fun of her, but she had a feeling her friend might have guessed her secret.

  Jackie shrugged and got up. Carol followed her down the road to the bridge.

  Twice, Jackie stopped and shouted, “THERE’S ONE!”

  Both times, Carol jumped. Both times, Jackie giggled.

  “Well,” Jackie asked when they reached the bridge. “You going to walk me any farther?”

  Carol shook her head. If she went over the bridge with Jackie, that meant she’d have to go back across by herself.

  Jackie sprinted ahead to the middl
e of the bridge. She was nearly lost in the shadows. All Carol could see was a vague form.

  “Come on. Just walk a few steps with me. I wouldn’t make you go across by yourself.”

  Carol took a deep breath. If she walked just a little way with Jackie, she’d be able to keep her in sight when she went back to her own side. “Stay right there,” she said, hating how timid she sounded.

  She stepped onto the bridge. The wood, built to take the weight of cars and trucks, didn’t creak beneath her feet. “Jackie? You there?” The form didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Carol walked, bracing herself, expecting Jackie to jump at her and shout Boo! any moment.

  “Jackie?” she called again.

  There was no answer. Carol froze, unsure whether to go ahead and search for Jackie or to run back. She took another step, and another. Finally, ahead, she saw dim light. The night, dark but brighter than the inside of the bridge, revealed Jackie standing to the side of the road about ten feet away.

  Carol ran forward, pausing at the very edge of the bridge. She was too angry with Jackie to join her on the ground. “You didn’t wait for me.”

  “Hey. I did you a favor. You made it. Now you know there’s nothing to be scared of. So you can stop being such a baby about the bridge.”

  Before Carol could answer, something caught her eye. All around Jackie, small mounds pushed up in the soil. At first, Carol thought it was a trick of the shadows. She realized it was no trick when she saw hundreds of slimy, wriggling creatures bursting from the holes. Even in the dark, their teeth gleamed bright.

  “Jackie! Look out!” Carol screamed, reaching out toward her friend. “Hurry!”

  “Yeah. Ha, ha. You got me,” Jackie said, taking a step away from the bridge. “Oh boy, am I scared. Nice try.”

  Those were the last words she ever spoke. Carol stared in horror as the marigots swarmed over Jackie, dragging her down. She froze, terrified, unable to turn away from the sight, unable to run.

  It wasn’t until well after the marigots slithered back into the ground that Carol’s brain began to function again. I’m alive, she realized. That was her first thought. Her second thought brought a strange smile to her lips. There was a reason why she had survived. The marigots had something in common with her. They, too, must have been afraid of the bridge.