Rex

by Cody B. Stewart

  Chapter Five

  Adrenaline burned in Sam and TJ’s blood as they burst out of the woods, onto the shoulder of the two-lane road that linked Greenmarsh with the highway. Their timing was a bit less than perfect considering they nearly ran straight into the side of a beat-up, rusty pick-up truck cruising past.

  “Seriously?” TJ cried as he watched his mother, only moments from arriving at their house and realizing he wasn’t there, drive away. “The world is being a real jerk today.”

  TJ and Sam set off at a run again, through trees and side yards, taking all the shortcuts back to his house. They stopped behind a gnarled tree at the edge of the Beaumont yard just as Ellen pulled into the driveway. They hunched down, melting into the shadows like ninja warriors and waited for Ellen to reach the front door.

  As soon as she was inside, TJ made his move with Sam following hot on his heels. Their muscles screamed as they climbed the rope ladder, still hanging from TJ’s window. The moment Sam’s feet touched down on the floor of TJ’s room she spun around and began pulling up the ladder—tough work for one person.

  “Aren’t you going to help?” she growled at TJ, who was just standing there staring like a zombie. “No? That’s cool. Not like it’s your rope ladder and your mom who’s about to flip her lid or anything.” She finally hoisted the last bit of ladder and turned on TJ with every intention of chewing his ear off. Instead, she froze, just like her BFF, and stared zombie-like at the devastation.

  ***** ***** *****

  Ellen dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and untied her apron. She threw the soiled garment in the general direction of the kitchen counter, but was much too tired to care about picking it off the floor when she missed. She stuck her head in the fridge and breathed in the cold air, letting it clear her head. It had been a long day, and she wanted nothing more than to lie on the couch and have someone shovel chocolate cake into her face. The handsome stranger with the scar popped into her mind. She lets him linger there for a bit and, for the briefest of moments, it was just the two of them, laughing and smiling at each other in the refrigerator. Then a loud thud from upstairs snapped her back to reality.

  “Better go evaluate the damage,” she sighed. Ellen’s bones ached as she lumbered up the stairs.

  When did climbing the stairs become such a chore? When did life become such a chore?

  Her head sank further with each bang and frantic whisper that came from behind TJ’s door.

  I can ignore it just this once, right? Pretend they aren’t obviously doing something they shouldn’t be? Am I allowed to take the night off?

  As if to answer, something slammed on the backside of the door, nearly sending Ellen tumbling backward down the stairs. “TJ, what’s going on in there?”

  “Just a sec, Mom.” After some last minute shuffling—hiding evidence, no doubt—TJ opened the door and flashed an innocent smile. “You’re home early. How was work?”

  “Slow.” Ellen tried to poke her head in and look around, but TJ closed the door tighter. “What are you two doing?”

  “Studying. The American Revolution. We’ve been reenacting it, you know, really trying to experience the history. Things got a bit out of hand.” He scanned her face for some indication that his story had found a perch. “You look tired, Mom. Why don’t you go relax on the couch for a while? We’re about to fight the Battle of Yorktown, but we’ll try our best to keep things mellow.”

  Ellen thought for a moment. Wow, he’s good. Too good. But she was always on him about his schoolwork. How could she possibly admonish him now…if schoolwork was, in fact, what they were doing in there.

  “Alright,” she said, happily taking his suggestion. “Let me know if the French don’t show. I’ll come lend a hand.”

  Ellen headed back downstairs. TJ closed the door and fell back against it. “Whew! That was close.”

  ***** ***** *****

  His room was in shambles. In fact, it looked like the French had already marched through. Then Genghis Khan and the Huns on their way to conquer China. Then came Darth Vader and the Imperial Forces for good measure.

  TJ’s room had been completely and utterly torn apart. His pillows and blankets had been shredded, their insides dragged across the floor. Posters were ripped off the walls. His desk looked like it was laid to waste by an army of tiny siege weapons—catapults blasting everything to smithereens and battering rams smashing their way into Spike’s terrarium.

  Spike had disappeared somewhere in the carnage.

  Sam scanned the warzone, clueless. “What the bejeezus happened in here?”

  TJ slid to the floor, sighing with relief the whole way down. If his mom had stepped foot in here, he’d have been grounded for eternity. Maybe longer.

  “Did Spike do this?” Sam said, investigating the terrarium. “Does he have a history of violent and erratic behavior?”

  TJ shuffled through the tattered remains of his bedspread. “No way. And look,” he leaned in close. “The broken glass is on the inside of the tank. Spike didn’t bust out. Something busted in.”

  “Oh,” Sam flashed an impressed smile. “Someone’s been watching cop shows.” Her smile faded quickly. “So, what exactly would do that?”

  TJ shook his head. He was more worried about finding Spike than whatever had made this mess. Without Spike, who would help him when he was up late finishing the homework he should have finished days ago? Who would slip into his backpack and sneak out of the house with him? Who would he put in the bathtub in the morning before TJ’s mom took her shower? Spike really loved that prank.

  Who would he talk to when he was home alone all the time because his mom was at work?

  Sam nudged TJ’s arm and pointed to a pile of clothes on the floor. “Uh, TJ? Your sweatshirt has come to life.”

  Something wiggled under the clothes.

  Goblins, TJ thought. Wart-covered little beasts that steal your socks and ransack your cupboards. They probably took Spike to make into soup. Not on my watch!

  TJ pointed under his bed. “My bat,” he whispered to Sam. “I pull, you smash.”

  She nodded, grabbed the bat, and took her attack position. “Like the Hulk.”

  TJ held up three fingers and began his silent countdown.

  Three. Sam raised the bat over her head.

  Two. TJ took hold of the sweatshirt.

  One. TJ yanked the sweatshirt back, and Sam brought the bat down with bad intentions. Only—

  “Wait!” TJ yelled.

  Sam barely managed to stop the bat in mid-smash. Spike, flipped over on his back, kicked his little legs helplessly. TJ scooped him off the floor and began caressing the back of his head with his pointer finger. He got the immediate urge to put Spike in his mom’s underwear drawer to celebrate. They both loved that joke, too.

  “TJ, look,” Sam whispered from under the desk. She held something out to him.

  A large shard of sheer white eggshell.

  TJ gulped. “Uh-oh.”

  ***** ***** *****

  Ellen spread out the food she had brought home from Lulu’s. TJ and Sam could pick at it when they got hungry. She didn’t have it in her to wait on anyone else tonight. All she wanted to do was take a hot shower, climb into bed, and binge watch some schlocky sci-fi TV shows. Some zombies or genocidal cyborgs disguised as humans…or maybe some British time travelers. Any of those would be fine. Just something to get her out of Greenmarsh for a while.

  She remembered lying on the couch when TJ was a baby, him fast asleep on her chest. That was the only way he’d sleep for the first few weeks. She would watch those shows for hours and hours. She chuckled to herself. And I wonder where TJ gets his wild imagination.

  She missed the days when TJ would fall asleep on her chest. He’d probably suffocate her now, he was getting so big.

  The bathroom filled with steam. Ellen breathed it in deep, letting it wash away the smell of deep fried food, which was stuck in her nose. She poked her head into the shower to make sure it was
clear of reptiles. The last thing she needed was to slip on a turtle and be out of work with a broken leg.

  She let the water fill her ears, hoping to drown out the thumping and scratching on the floor above her. She didn’t even want to know what those kids were up to. Because as soon as she knew what they were doing, she’d be forced to do something about it. They’re just fighting the Battle of Yorktown. It’s not like they’re doing any real harm.

  The bathroom transformed into a lush, humid jungle as Ellen stepped into the tub. She lay back and floated down the river, watching the blue sky pass overhead. She’d never have to put on another apron or cut another piece of pie. She’d just see the world, be an actual part of it instead of feeling like she was constantly fighting against it. Explore the hidden corners of every place there is. Meet people who had never heard of Greenmarsh and who would never ask her to refill their coffee mugs.

  She looked from the sky down to her toes and saw that her peaceful river had suddenly become a rampaging waterfall only feet away. Her fantasy shattered along with what sounded like a plate in the kitchen.

  “Now that, I can’t ignore,” she grumbled as she climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. She threw on her comfortable sweats, the closest thing she’d probably ever have to that blissful fantasy, and marched into the kitchen.

  The Battle of Yorktown seemed to have spread south. The food she’d lain out had been demolished rather than eaten, like it had been attacked by a pack of rabid hyenas. Well, maybe just two hyenas. Traces of it were splattered on the walls. A glob of cherry pie oozed down the refrigerator. Everything else that had been placed carefully on the counter, including the now broken plate, was scattered across the floor.

  For a moment, Ellen felt like she had been transported back into her fantasy, back to the jungle, only now she was a furious lioness looking to put the bite on a pair of hyenas.

  ***** ***** *****

  TJ, armed with his trusty slingshot, and Sam, still clutching the bat, were on the hunt. They scoured every crevice of the small bedroom for the mysterious former egg in habitant until TJ came to a terrifying conclusion.

  “It’s invisible,” TJ said with a flash of concern-slash-excitement.

  Sam crinkled her eyebrows and hoisted the bat up onto her shoulder. “Seriously?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Any idea would be a better idea than that one.” Sam pointed the bat at the window as if she were calling a home run swing. “For example, I was thinking it may have escaped through the window that’s been wide open for the last few hours.”

  TJ nodded in consideration. “Yeah, or that,” he mumbled. “I guess that does kinda make more sense than invisibility.”

  “You think?”

  “Of course, that would mean it has hands. You know, to climb down the ladder. Then again, it could have suckers.”

  “Suckers?”

  “Sure, like an octopus.”

  “You think the egg hatched an octopus?” said Sam with incredulity.

  “I’m just thinking out loud.” TJ scratched his chin in thought. After a moment, “I guess it could have wings.”

  Sam nodded. “I’d say wings would be more likely than suckers.”

  TJ’s eyes bulged. “Wings with suckers!”

  Sam sighed. “TJ, you really scare me.”

  TJ shrugged. “Either way, I’m gonna need my helmet.” He opened his backpack and began digging through it. Not finding what he was looking for, he turned the pack upside down, dumping the contents on the floor. “Rats! It must have fallen out of my bag when we were running from that alligator—or the guy who shot that alligator.” He slumped onto his bed, defeated, and looked down at his hands. “This has been a really weird day.”

  Sam rested her hand on TJ’s shoulder. “But it’s been awesome, too, hasn’t it?” TJ looked up at Sam’s wide eyes and beaming smile and felt his face start to match hers. Her enthusiasm had always been infectious. “I mean, something cool is actually happening right here in Greenmarsh. All the stories we’ve dreamed up and games we’ve played… This is what we always hoped for! So load up that slingshot, and let’s go find whatever creature we’ve unleashed on the world.”

  Reinvigorated, TJ jumped to his feet, his slingshot locked and loaded. “Heck yeah!”

  But then, “Thomas James Beaumont!” boomed from the stairs. Oh God, he thought. The monster knows my name! Even the you’re-in-big-trouble version my mom uses when I make a mess or—

  Impending doom made TJ’s hand slip from the slingshot. The marble ricocheted around the room, and both TJ and Sam quickly dove to the floor to keep from being struck. The small Hulk lamp on the nightstand beside TJ’s bed—one of the few remaining survivors left in the scattered debris—wasn’t quite as lucky; the marble shattered Hulk’s left arm.

  And just like that, I defeated the Hulk.

  TJ leaped back to his feet and pulled Sam behind him. “C’mon!” They rushed out of his bedroom just in time to meet Ellen, who scowled at them with a death stare to rival all death stares, at the top of the stairs. Man, TJ thought. She is really perfecting her technique.

  “There is no excuse for this kind of behavior. I know you don’t appreciate it, TJ, but I work hard day and night to keep this roof over our heads. The least you could do is try not to destroy it.”

  TJ wasn’t entirely sure that this was actually his mother, who was normally much more levelheaded than this, and not some evil shape-shifting swamp mutant. After all, she hadn’t even seen the mess in his room yet. And there was a monster on the loose though, so…. “Mom, it’s not—”

  She instantly shut him down with a point of her finger, which did not transform into a death claw or anything but was just as terrifying. “You are not talking your way out of this one, mister. Now, both of you get downstairs and clean up that mess.” Ellen marched down the hall and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

  TJ and Sam stood silent and still, too afraid to move or make a sound. “Wait a second,” TJ finally said. “Mess downstairs? We weren’t downstairs.”

  Their eyes met and they shared the same thought. They darted into TJ’s room, emerging a moment later, sufficiently rearmed with the slingshot and bat. Then, they snuck downstairs to assess the damage.

  When TJ saw the extent of the wreckage, he almost let another marble rip. His heart sank when he spotted the demolished cherry pie.

  “Hell-o Kitty,” Sam uttered, marveling at the mess. “I think your house is haunted, TJ. You have one of those polter-geese.”

  “Geist,” TJ corrected. “Poltergeist. Do you think a ghost hatched out of that egg?”

  “I don’t know what it was that came out of that thing, but I know it’s a huge pain in my butt. Since you found it, I’ve almost been eaten by an alligator, shot by a swamp cowboy, and now I’m stuck cleaning up its mess.”

  Sam and TJ grumbled at each other, and ghosts, and the whole world as they scrubbed the floors, wiped the counters, and picked up bits of broken plate and other unidentifiable things. Once the kitchen sparkled, Sam threw her dirty rag at TJ.

  “Not that this wasn’t a fun night or anything, but I’m going home before the ground splits open and we get attacked by mole people.”

  “You’re leaving?” TJ shrieked. “While there’s still a possible ghost goblin poltergeist thingy stalking around my house?”

  Sam shrugged. “Ghost goblin poltergeist thingies got nothing on my dad when I miss curfew. Call me if something tries to eat you.”

  ***** ***** *****

  Fatigue hit TJ hard. He yawned and didn’t stop yawning until he reached his bedroom door. His mind raced in circles. He couldn’t focus on any one thing long enough to even care about poltergeists or alligators or whatever. All he wanted to do was go to sleep with the hope that he’d wake up in the morning with all of his limbs still attached.

  Luckily, TJ’s reflexes were working just fine despite his mostly asleep brain. He opened the door and ducked just i
n time to avoid getting hit square in the face with a flying sneaker. He dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms. He peeked up when he was sure the other sneaker wasn’t going to follow. He instantly wished he had his helmet—and the swamp cowboy—because standing on his bed was the thing that had destroyed his room and the kitchen…

  A one-foot tall Tyrannosaurus Rex.

  Chapter Six

  To wish for your house to be haunted by ghosts or goblins or poltergeists seemed like a foolish thing. But that’s exactly what TJ did. For some reason the angry undead seemed like they would be easier for him to understand. Then again, if TJ actually were to see a ghost goblin poltergeist thingy standing on his bed, there was a good chance he’d wish that his house were being terrorized by a tiny T-Rex instead. Funny how things changed like that.

  As far as he knew, ghosts were typically just an annoyance. They’d make loud noises, bang on some stuff, rattle some chains if you happened to have any lying around, and maybe even possess you if they were feeling particularly mischievous.

  But they wouldn’t eat you.

  Not like this thing could.

  If anything about the movie Jurassic Park were true—and obviously, everything about it was true—that meant a T-rex was attracted to motion. Maybe if he sat really still, it wouldn’t notice him and therefore it wouldn’t try to chew his legs off. So that was exactly what he did: lay there without moving a muscle. He didn’t even blink.

  The tiny dinosaur cocked its head like it was studying him. Its eyes widened with the same sort of innocence you see in a puppy. The movement put TJ at ease a little. Perhaps it wasn’t the mindless killing machine he initially thought it was.

  Time to test my theory. It’s only an arm or two that I could lose. No big deal….

  TJ cocked his head in the other direction. To his amazement, the little dinosaur mimicked him. Moving as slowly as possible so as not to startle the small—well there was no other way of putting it, it was a small dino-flipping-saur— TJ got onto his knees. Incredibly, the T-rex moved with the same careful precision, as though it didn’t want to frighten TJ. They both stopped just a couple feet from one another. So close that TJ could reach out and touch it if he’d wanted to. Which meant the T-rex could easily leap onto his face and tear his nose off.