by Dann Gershon
Bucky spit out a mouthful of chili and shoved the bowl aside. The nurse followed suit. Big Al aimed his blaster at them. “Uh-uh. Keep eating.”
Nurse Knockwurst and Bucky exchanged an uneasy glance. The ax had just fallen.
“Make a plate for yourself and join them,” Big Al said to Curly.
“The chili is laced with salt tablets,” Curly repeated as he filled his plate.
“I know,” Big Al said. He kept the blaster pointed at them until they finished every drop. Big Al tossed them the carton of spiked Twinkies. “Who wants dessert?”
“I think you’re being unfair,” Nurse Knockwurst grumbled.
“I agree,” Bucky added. “It was Curly’s fault, not ours.”
“Take it up with the kidnappers union,” Big Al replied, mo-tioning with his blaster for them to eat. A few seconds after they finished the last Twinkie in the box, the salt tablets kicked in. Big Al watched his crew members grimace in pain as their transformation began. For a brief moment their alien bodies appeared and then their DNA combined with their costumes, locking them into their human forms. “Once the mission is com-plete, Nurse Knockwurst will distribute the antidote and you’ll get your share of the loot. One more screwup and I’ll leave you to rot in those bodies. Do we understand one another?”
His crew shook their human heads as Big Al got up from the table and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. Nurse Knockwurst and Bucky glared at the cook.
“Okay, so it wasn’t one of my best meals,” Curly said sheepishly.
15
Cha p te r
I
Day Seven — 9:45 P.M. ’m worried about Greeley,” Einstein said as he paced back and forth across the cottage. It was his turn to stand watch while Roxie tried to get some sleep. They had agreed to alter-nate every three hours. Einstein stopped at the window and scanned the area around the barn for any sign of activity. Satis-fied that they were safe, he moved away from the window and resumed pacing.
“Greeley knows what he’s up against,” Roxie replied softly. “He’s been through this before.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Over forty years ago Greeley was faced with the same situation. Big Al won that round. The kids were abducted and Sleepy Time was destroyed. Two years later Big Al came back and killed him to make sure that there were no loose ends.”
“I wondered why Greeley was involved in this.”
“Well, now you know,” Roxie said, her voice tense. “Greeley has a score to settle.”
Suddenly, Einstein had an idea. “If Greeley can get inside the ship, we may have a chance,” he told Roxie. “All he has to do is stick to Big Al like glue until he receives the coordinates. Once we have the location, IMPS can handle the rest.”
“Mucho Fahn is far too clever to be fooled that easily,” Roxie said, shaking her head. “If he doesn’t hear from Big Al exactly five minutes before the wormhole opens, Mucho Fahn will automatically move the zoo to another location. I intend to sneak aboard the ship and hitch a ride through the worm-hole, the same way that I got here. IMPS isn’t going to help, Fleet. I’m flying solo on this one.”
“What are you talking about?” Einstein asked.
Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks. “IMPS dropped the investigation over two years ago. Mucho Fahn bought them off. This is Big Al’s last mission. If it’s aborted, I may never find Mucho’s monster zoo. That’s a risk I’m not willing to take. Greeley isn’t the only one with a score to settle with these gangsters.”
“What do you mean?” Einstein asked.
“They kidnapped my little brother!” Roxie cried. “Three years ago they came to my planet and took him. He’s out there somewhere, Fleet. I can feel it.”
Einstein lay down beside Roxie and held her gently in his arms. “I’m sorry. What can I do to help?”
“I want you to get out of here in one piece,” Roxie sobbed. “I’ve already lost one person I love. Losing another would be too much to bear.”
Einstein held her closer and squeezed her tight. The mo-ment was suddenly broken by a rustling sound coming from outside the cottage. Einstein sat up and it stopped. “Did you hear that?” he whispered to Roxie.
11 She sat up and drew her blaster. Roxie put her finger to her lips and motioned for Einstein to be still. There was definitely someone or something outside the cottage, moving slowly to-ward the window. It was tapping softly against the pane of glass. The first tap was at the top. The next one was on the bot-tom. The frequency increased as the tapping grew louder. The drumroll echoed throughout the cottage and then stopped. The silence was deafening, but not as deafening as the roar that followed. Suddenly, the window shattered into pieces, sending shards of glass flying through the cottage. One by one, ten black Tootsie Pop eyes poked through the window and peeked into the cottage, all of them staring at Einstein.
“Move back, Fleet!” Roxie warned him, but it was already too late. The gloka had him by the ankle and was dragging him across the floor. Roxie aimed at the scaly red tentacle and fired twice. The gloka released its grip and retreated.
Einstein jumped up and ran to Roxie. They moved to the farthest point away from the window and waited for the gloka to make its next move. “I thought we killed all the glokas,” Einstein said, his voice trembling with fear.
“Must have missed one,” Roxie whispered. “I guess the campfire stories about Godzilla were true.” The female roared again, rattling the walls. Suddenly, she burst through the side of the cottage. Before Roxie could fire a shot, the gloka was on top of her. “Run, Fleet!” she screamed.
Einstein ignored her and picked up a piece of wood. He clubbed the gloka over the head as hard as he could, hoping it would release Roxie. He swung again, but the female was too fast. Godzilla’s powerful jaws turned the two-by-four into a toothpick, leaving Einstein defenseless. The female tossed Roxie across the cottage and turned her complete and undi-vided attention to Einstein. Roxie’s head hit the wall hard and she didn’t get up. Einstein couldn’t t
ell if she was alive or dead, but there was no way to get to her. Godzilla slowly moved for-ward. Einstein closed his eyes, hoping that the end would be quick and merciful. A barrage of blue beams suddenly filled the cottage, striking the female all over her body. Einstein could smell her burning flesh.
As Godzilla backed away, he could hear Big Al shouting, “Keep firing, you idiots!” Bucky and Nurse Knockwurst were both crouched military style with their blasters blazing, while Curly stood there and threw dirt clods. Godzilla roared at them and cautiously backed away. The blasts bounced off her thick metallic scales. It was like throwing rocks at a tank. While she was distracted, Einstein took advantage of opportunity. He turned tail and ran, quickly putting some distance between himself and the cottage. Curly watched as Einstein disappeared into the desert night. The female seemed to have lost her taste for the blaster battle and retreated in the same direction.
“I thought you said she was dead,” Big Al said, glaring at Curly. “Can’t you do anything right?”
Bucky nudged Big Al and pointed at the rubble. “It’s the girl,” he said.
“Is that the IMPS agent?” he asked Curly. The cook nodded, afraid to speak. Big Al picked up the blaster and tossed it to him. “I believe this is yours.”
“She’s still alive,” Nurse Knockwurst said. “Do you want me to finish her?”
1 Big Al shook his head. “Take her to the spaceship. We’ll lock down and spend the night there in case the female decides to return. I’m not taking any more chances.”
“What about Fleet?” Bucky asked.
“If the female doesn’t get him, the desert will,” Big Al re-plied. “Either way, he’s dead.”
Cha p te r
5
W
Day Eight — 10:53 A.M. e deserve to be locked up,” Shirley moaned.
“What are you talking about?” Norman wondered if his wife had cracked under the pressure after spending the night in jail. He had read about such things but had little practical experience in the matter, being a first-time offender.
“We’re bad parents,” Shirley said, looking him dead in the eye. “Who sends their son to camp for the summer without investigating it first? Now he’s missing. Einstein is going to end up as one of those kids with his picture on the side of a milk carton, and it’s all our fault.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied. Norman had never seen his wife act so irrational. She paced across the eight-by-ten cell like a caged animal, inspecting every nook and cranny. Sud-denly, she stopped at the window and clawed at the stucco beneath the bars. “What are you doing?” Norman asked.
“I’m busting us out,” Shirley whispered. “Don’t just stand there, help me.”
“Are you crazy?” he said. “That redneck sheriff will put us away for life if he catches you.”
“Either you’re with me or you’re against me, Norman,” Shir-ley said, tugging at the steel bars. “It’s time to choose sides.”
“What are you talking about? We’ve been married for twen-ty years.”
“Prison changes people.”
The Fleets were so preoccupied that they failed to notice Chief Chester standing in front of the cell, observing the do-mestic dispute with amusement. A large man stood beside him, trying not to laugh.
“Enjoying your stay in Saugus, folks?” the chief asked pleas-antly, dangling a large silver ring of keys like a prize.
Shirley rushed at the chief. She reached through the bars, desperately trying to rip the key ring from his grasp. The chief was surprisingly agile for a big man and easily eluded her. “You can’t keep us locked up in this cell like animals!” Shir-ley screamed.
“Don’t intend to, Mrs. Fleet,” the chief said calmly as he opened the door to the cell. “You’re both free to go.”
Norman and Shirley eyed the chief with suspicion.
“Who is that?” Norman asked, pointing at the large man next to Chief Chester.
“This is Mr. Armstrong. His son, Billy, is also missing. He got the same brochure in the mail that you folks did and came here to check on his son.”
“Just call me Joe,” the big man said, extending a hairy, cal-loused hand that smelled like fish. “I haven’t spoken with my boy since he left, so I decided to drive up to Camp Creepy Time to make sure that he hadn’t killed someone. Figured I’d check in with the police department first. Billy’s spent more time in jail than he has in school. The kid’s a menace, but he’s all I got. His mom ran off with a traveling salesman a few days after he was born and left him behind. She must have been psychic.”
Mr. Armstrong looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. His clothes were a mess and his hair hadn’t been combed in days. Despite the fact that he was tall and lanky, his belly bal-looned over the top of his black leather belt. As far as personal hygiene went, the man had none. He smelled like he’d been wrestling in pig slop.
“We think the kids have been kidnapped,” Norman said, walking out of the cell.
“That’s not all,” Shirley added. “Our son said that the nurse was conducting medical experiments on the campers and turn-ing them into mindless zombies.”
“You don’t say,” Joe replied, clearly interested.
“Are you a scientist?” Norman asked.
“I’m a freelance photographer. I snap paparazzi shots to pay the bills, but the big bucks are in the weird stuff.”
“Tell him about the ghost,” Shirley said to her husband.
“The camp is haunted?” Joe said, rubbing his hands together. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go check it out.”
Chief Chester shook his head and sighed. “That’s the prob-lem, I’m afraid. You folks were right. I checked it out and the camp doesn’t exist. Your kids could be anywhere.”
“What about Sleepy Time?” Norman said. “The old guy at the filling station said there used to be a camp out here by that name. Why don’t we drive out there and check it out?” “That camp was shut down before I was even born.”
“Call Warner and ask him for directions,” Norman demanded.
“I don’t know if he’s going to be of much help,” Chief Ches-ter replied. �
�He’s still pretty pissed about you running off without paying for your gas.”
“This should cover the gas,” Norman said, handing the chief a twenty-dollar bill. “Tell Warner that I’ll give him another twenty for directions.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?” Chief Chester replied. “You owe him over a hundred dollars.”
“For a tank of gasoline?” Norman asked. “That’s high-way robbery.”
“Take it up with OPEC,” the policeman suggested.
“I hope Warner takes credit cards.” Norman sighed. He looked at his wife and shook his head. “Remind me to trade the Volvo wagon in for a hybrid when this is over.”
1
Cha p te r
T
Day Eight — 12:06 P.M. he sun beat down on the back of Einstein’s neck like a red- hot branding iron. He was tired and thirsty and his muscles were cramped. Worst of all, he was lost. In retrospect, he should have paid more attention to the survival techniques that he had been forced to endure as a Cub Scout, but who knew that it would one day be a matter of life or death? In truth it didn’t matter. Whether the sun rose in the west or set in the east, Einstein had no clue where he was going. The near-est town was at least twenty or thirty miles from the camp as the crow flies. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a crow. He was a boy who was hopelessly lost in the desert and suffering from heatstroke. Suddenly he realized that his odds of survival were slim at best. He sat down in the sand, unzipped his pack, and removed a couple of Twinkies.
