Rex

by Cody B. Stewart

  Doc took a sip of tea and stared off like he was looking into the past. “The last time he brought Rufus to me, I just couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe a bit of the wolf inside me came out. Maybe more than a bit. I told him that I was taking Rufus, that he had no right to him anymore. He tried to stop me. I hit him.” Doc blinked the past out of his eyes and came back to the present. “Not something I’m overly proud of. Hitting him, that is. But I’m proud every day that I look at Rufus and see the dog he is now.” The old dog fell against Doc’s leg as Doc scratched behind his ears.

  “But taking Rufus was the easy part. Keeping him, that was hard. There was once, early on, when I saw his wolf side. I mean I really saw it.” Doc rolled up his sleeve and showed TJ the scars on his arm. “I almost took him to a shelter after that.”

  “Why didn’t you?” TJ asked.

  Rufus lay down at Doc’s feet. “That man who raised Rufus, he raised him to be angry and mistrustful, but I knew there was more to him underneath that. Just like every dog has that wolf inside, every wolf has a dog inside, too. The potential to be a companion, a friend. I knew that was still there inside Rufus. I just had to decide whether I could commit to helping him find it again.”

  TJ tried to stand, but Doc put a stern hand on his shoulder. “I need to go find Rex,” TJ said.

  “You need to sit until you get your color back.”

  Sam pushed away from the table. “I’ll go look for him, TJ. You rest.” She looked as though she still felt on the verge of collapsing in a weepy heap. It was easy to see that she wasn’t completely sure she was doing the right thing by not calling the police, but she knew that TJ would never forgive her if she did. She thanked Doc, told TJ that she’d be back soon, and raced out the door.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gossip spread through Greenmarsh like mosquitoes over a swamp. But Ellen Beaumont had vowed in the seventh grade not to allow gossip into her life. She tuned it out at work and while waiting in line at the grocery store. She wouldn’t even watch daytime television. It had become a habit.

  So avoiding the news of what had happened at Greenmarsh Middle School wasn’t accidental but the result of decades of practice. She finished her shift, blasted Kiss the entire drive home, and stepped into her house with her head in a fluffy white cloud. She was actually in a good mood too, because today was TJ’s birthday, and she couldn’t wait to give him the most amazing birthday present he had ever received, or would ever receive in his entire life.

  She was lost in a daydream about TJ totally losing his mind and didn’t notice the handle on the back door turn or the door slowly creak open. She pulled dinner out of the fridge, humming to herself. A moment later, meatloaf soared through the air and hit the kitchen floor with a wet slap when she turned around and saw Sam standing there.

  “Holy crap!” Ellen yelled.

  Sam jumped, but strangely—totally out of character for Sam—she seemed sluggish. She stood like a tree swaying in a gentle breeze. A slightly heartier gust would have knocked her over for sure. “Hi, Ms. Beaumont. Um…” Sam stood with her mouth open as though she couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Ellen studied Sam’s pale face. Sweat rolled down her brow. Her eyes looked like they were going to close any second. “Are you okay?” Ellen asked as she scooped up the meatloaf with her bare hands and dropped it into the garbage.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t really like meatloaf anyway.” She pulled a chair out from the table and gestured for Sam to sit. Worry fluttered in her chest watching Sam all but collapse into the chair without a word. It was so weird to have Sam quiet, Ellen wondered for s second if she’d stepped onto the set of a Doctor Who episode. “Are you sick? And where’s TJ?”

  Sam’s pale, tired face scrunched up in an expression Ellen hardly recognized. She seemed to be thinking. Ellen sighed and began to put her hands on her hips—universal Mom code for “your time is up”—but before she could really get into it, Sam blurted out, “Diarrhea.”

  Ellen shot upright. “Excuse me?”

  Sam winced at the word, unintentionally adding a layer of believability to her story. “Diarrhea. I have a…condition. I don’t like to talk about it. TJ went to get my medicine from my house. Should clear up once I take it.”

  Ellen nodded and slowly pushed away from the table. “Oh, well…good. Feel free to lie down. Just let me know if you need anything.”

  Ellen wandered upstairs, her one hand on her stomach as if she were suddenly feeling a bit off. She didn’t have time to focus on it, though, because just then a bang echoed through the house as someone pounded on the front door.

  Sam did a quick scan of the house, looking in every crevice and corner big enough to hide a rapidly growing dinosaur.

  Nada. No Rex.

  She texted TJ to tell him that he needed to come home ASAP and filled him in on the excuse she had used with his mom. Then, she decided to take Ellen’s advice and lay down on the couch. Her phone buzzed with TJ’s response the moment her head hit the cushion. It contained just one word. Ewwwwwwwwwww!

  The world started to blur around the edges. Her eyelids got heavy. A wave of calm washed over her… Until it crashed against the rocks.

  Someone was pounding on the door.

  ***** ***** *****

  Ellen came bounding down the stairs, the pounding on the door igniting an odd sense of urgency in her, In Ellen’s experience, you could usually tell a person’s intention by how they knocked on your door. This person didn’t sound like he was stopping by for a cup of sugar.

  Several questions raced through Ellen’s mind when she opened the door. Who is this unpleasant looking man in black? Who’s the grumpy one at the back? And why is my future boyfriend with them?

  Brock looked everywhere other than at Ellen. The man in black looked like he wanted to Vulcan Death Pinch her. The grumpy guy just stood there and stared. Sam squealed from the couch. Ellen prayed Sam wasn’t having a flare up of her condition—all over her couch.

  Words dribbled out of Ellen’s mouth, letters splattering across the floor. “What is…how…can I help you?”

  Brock parked himself between Ellen and suit man. She got the sense he was doing her a favor. “I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you, Ellen,” he said.

  The man rolled his eyes.

  “Okay,” Ellen said, scanning each man’s face. “About what, exactly?”

  Brock, who had always seemed a sure and steadfast man, had a flutter in his voice. “About who I am.”

  Ellen had nothing but glass in her voice. She had a longstanding hatred for dishonest men that did not take much to ignite. “You didn’t tell me much of anything about who you are. So why don’t you save yourself the trouble, keep those details to yourself, and be on your way.”

  The man in black pushed Brock aside and used his arm to bar the door as Ellen tried to shut it. “My name is Agent Osborne, ma’am. We need to speak with your son.”

  Ellen quickly put away the glass and took out her claws. She grabbed a vase from a nearby end table and wielded it like a club, dumping the flowers and water on the floor without a second thought. The three men stepped back and Ellen followed outside onto the front steps. “Like hell you do. I don’t know a damn thing about any one of you. If you think you’re going to come in here and talk to my son, then you’re going to have shards of glass in your face and my foot up your—”

  “Ellen, wait!” Brock pulled Osborne out of the doorway by his collar. “TJ isn’t in trouble. We have a question about something he might have found in the swamp.”

  Ellen gripped the vase tighter. And you… You’ll get a special kind of beating, she thought as she glared at the man formerly known as her almost-boyfriend.

  “Look,” Brock said, taking an ID folio out of his pocket. The others did the same. Ellen studied it closely, glancing from the oversized leather ID wallet to Brock’s face.

  Sam stepped outside behind Ellen, her curiosity ap
parently more powerful than her irritable bowels.

  “We’re doctors,” Brock said. “I’m Dr. Horne. These are my colleagues, Dr. Ferguson and…” He gestured to Osborne and coughed over his name. “Dr. Peckerneck. We’re with the Herpetological Society.”

  Sam grimaced. “There’s a society for that? That’s disgusting.”

  “What?” Brock’s brow creased. Then a shock of realization lit up his features. “No, not that. Reptiles. We study reptiles.”

  Sam scoffed.

  Ellen looked at her son’s best friend, confused by her skepticism. Then she lowered the vase. “And what does the Herpetological Society want with my son?”

  Brock put his ID away and let out a long, relieved sigh. “We believe he may have information about a rare species of lizard that’s been spotted in the area. We discovered a nest in the Everglades, but it was disturbed by the recent storm. We thought it was lost, but we think TJ may have seen it. He may have even taken it home. It stands on two legs and somewhat resembles a dinosaur… A Tyrannosaurus rex.”

  Ellen began to shake her head, but then her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Well, he did have this science project. But that was some robot model thing that he made to look like a Tyrannosaurus.” Her claws receded. “Why don’t you gentlemen come in for some coffee? TJ isn’t here right now, but he should be back soon. I’m sure he’d be glad to show you his project and then we can get this sorted out.”

  Brock smiled. “That would be wonderful.”

  ***** ***** *****

  Something that sounded like a dying pigeon began to sing in the woods at the edge of the Beaumont yard. None of the others seemed to notice, but Sam’s ears immediately perked up. She pushed past Osborne and Ferguson.

  Osborne grabbed her by the elbow. “Where are you going?”

  “Nature calls.”

  “Haven’t you heard of a toilet?”

  “I’ve got a stomach thing happening here. Best let go unless you want it to happen all over your shiny shoes.”

  Osborne recoiled in terror.

  Diarrhea. Works every time.

  Sam marched off into the woods and ducked behind a big tree. She made like she was pulling down her pants and squatting. “How’s your hand?” Sam said to the bushes.

  “Better,” the bushes answered, sounding exactly like TJ. TJ stuck his face out. “What’s going on? I came back like you said but saw the cars. Who are those guys?”

  “They claim to be herpes doctors, but I don’t buy it. The swamp cowboy is with them.”

  “Wait, herpes? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I think. The kind that study reptiles.”

  TJ snickered. “You mean herpetology.”

  “Isn’t that what I said?”

  “No. Well, sorta. Nevermind. What do they want?”

  “They said they’re looking for a rare lizard that walks on two legs and looks exactly like a T-rex.”

  TJ felt light-headed again but not because of blood loss. Rex was out there alone somewhere and the super spies were looking for him. If he didn’t find Rex soon, they would. And then he’d never see him again.

  TJ peered through the bushes at the two men on his front steps. He saw the bird-looking one whisper something to the grouchy one and nod toward the bushes where he and Sam were.

  TJ quickly ducked back into the bushes. “We’ll rendezvous in my room once they leave. You better get back. The suit is getting suspicious.” Leaves rustled and twigs snapped as TJ scampered off.

  Sam stood and marched out of the woods, holding her stomach to better sell her ruse. “I’d wait a few minutes before going in there,” she said to Ferguson before stepping into the house.

  Ferguson ignored Sam, marched across the yard, poked his head into the bushes, and took a long look. He returned a few minutes later.

  “Well?” Osborne asked.

  Ferguson shook his head. “Nothing.”

  They all went inside.

  Ellen stepped out of the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee. “How do you take it, Doctor?”

  Brock took it with a courteous nod. “Black is fine.”

  “Good, I’m out of milk.” Ellen gestured for everyone to take a seat on the couch. Brock and Osborne obliged, but Ferguson remained standing by the front door, periodically peeking out the front window to scan the yard and the woods. “So you think TJ’s science project has something to do with this rare reptile?”

  Osborne interrupted before Brock could answer. His patience was getting dangerously thin. “Do you know a boy named Edward Figley, Mrs. Beaumont?”

  Sam’s blood went cold.

  “It’s Miss Beaumont,” Ellen replied, glancing at Brock with the hope that he was paying attention. “And yes, I know who he is. What does Eddie Figley have to do with any of this?”

  A thin smile spread across Osborne’s face. “You haven’t heard, then? About the incident at the Greenmarsh Middle School?”

  Ellen looked at Sam with an accusatory glare. “What incident?”

  Sam scrambled for an excuse. Diarrhea! Say diarrhea! No, that won’t work. “Uh, well… TJ’s robo-dino may have gone a teensy weensy bit haywire and may have, and I stress may have, tried to kill Eddie.”

  Ellen shot out of her chair with her hands on her hips. But before she could say a word, Sam continued. “But only after Eddie attacked TJ and tried to destroy his project. Everyone knows you don’t throw rocks at King Kong. This is what happens.”

  Osborne rose from the couch. Brock tensed next to him, unsure of what he was about to do. To his surprise, Osborne took a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Ellen. “We’re just trying to gather the facts, ma’am. Please give us a call when TJ returns. If he has had contact with this reptile, we want to ensure that both he and the animal are safe.”

  Brock’s eyebrows arched so high they were almost on the back of his head.

  Ellen took the card with a cordial nod. Osborne followed Ferguson outside.

  Brock stopped at the door, a pained look on his face. “I’m sorry…about lying. We didn’t want to let word get out. It would have made it that much harder to find the reptile if the town was all worked up about it.”

  Something in Ellen’s heart urged her to forgive him, even apologize about jumping to conclusions, but something in her mind told her that he was still not being wholly truthful. “You’re just doing your job.”

  “After this is over, I’d like to see you again. Perhaps get a cup of coffee?”

  Ellen started to close the door. “I’m afraid this is all a bit too exciting for me. Not much room in my life for herpetologists and rare reptiles. I’m just a simple waitress and mother.”

  Brock stepped outside, smiling despite the door closing behind him. “Oh, I doubt that,” he said to himself.

  Ellen walked into the kitchen feeling hollow. Too complicated. I haven’t got time for complicated.

  Sam followed her. She kept a few paces back, unsure what she was supposed to do. Ellen sat at the table and spoke while looking down at her hands. “I suppose you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

  Sam stammered, but quickly realized Ellen wasn’t talking to her.

  TJ stepped in the back door. “You’re gonna laugh,” he said.

  “I seriously doubt that,” Ellen replied, her eyes doing a death stare at the bloody bandage on his hand.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The black Humvee raced through the back roads of Greenmarsh. Brock stared holes in the back of Osborne’s head. He was trying to look into Osborne’s brain to figure out what the man was thinking, but the brain was hard to find. Brock knew Osborne wouldn’t have pulled them out of the Beaumont house without a reason. Brock was expecting the order to black bag the entire family and prep for enhanced interrogation in the compound’s basement. Chills trickled down his spine at the thought. But not knowing Osborne’s plan made him even more uncomfortable.

  No one spoke until they were inside the repurposed missile base. Osborne g
estured for Brock and Ferguson to follow him into the briefing room. He rang Dr. Kruger on the intercom, and the three waited impatiently for the scientist to arrive. Once Kruger skulked in and took a seat, Brock finally spoke.

  “What the hell is going on? Why did you pull us out of there?”

  Osborne smirked. “I’d have thought you’d be happy I didn’t torture anyone.” He sat at the head of the table, his arms folded across his chest. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Brock. “Your method may have more merit than I originally thought. I read the situation. It’s clear the Redfield girl was lying to protect the boy. The mother seems to know nothing, but I’m not wholly convinced she’s not also lying to protect her son.”

  Brock’s impatience flared. “None of this explains anything.”

  Osborne’s eyes narrowed on Brock. “I told you, Colonel, I read the situation. There is a connection between you and the Beaumont woman. If she knows anything, it’ll be far easier for you to determine on your own.”

  Brock wasn’t convinced. “That’s it? That’s all we’re doing?”

  Osborne nodded. “The quieter we handle this, the better. Wouldn’t you agree, Colonel?”

  Brock said nothing. He tried to look past Osborne’s steely, company man exterior to determine his true intentions, but all he could see was a cold, black suit. He pushed away from the table and walked out of the room.

  Ferguson waited to be sure Brock was gone before speaking. “Is that really the plan?”