Feeding Frenzy

by Michael P. Spradlin

  “Let us go?”

  “Hardly. But your friend in the tank has given me an idea. I think you should join him for a little swim. It will be interesting to see how long the two of you can last….”

  “You talk a lot,” Calvin said. Dropping his arms, he kicked the chair between them at Dr. Catalyst, crashing it into him. Calvin spun around and pushed the Emergency Purge button. Loud alarms sounded. He could hear machinery humming to life and the pumps starting up, followed by the sounds of splashing water. He sprinted for the open door leading to the park. His first instinct had been to run toward Emmet. But if they split up, Dr. Catalyst wouldn’t be able to control them both as easily. Besides, he wasn’t going far.

  “No!” Dr. Catalyst shouted. He pounded on the console, flipping switches and punching buttons.

  Once Calvin cleared the door, he darted to the side of it and pulled the bolt cutters from his backpack. A few seconds later, he heard Dr. Catalyst coming after him, abandoning his efforts with the controls. It was just as Calvin hoped. When the arm holding the gun appeared through the doorway, Calvin swung the bolt cutters down like a club, connecting on Dr. Catalyst’s arm with a resounding crack.

  Dr. Catalyst screamed and dropped the gun. Calvin picked it up and stuffed it in his backpack while Dr. Catalyst fell to his knees, groaning in pain. Calvin scurried back inside, through the control room, toward the main tank. As he ran, he pulled his phone from his pocket and pushed the emergency button. His mom had the phone preprogrammed with numbers for all the agencies involved in the hunt for Dr. Catalyst. An operator answered on the first ring.

  “My name is Calvin Geaux. My mother is Dr. Rosalita Geaux, superintendent of the Everglades National Park. I’m at the old Undersea Land amusement park, south of Florida City. We need people here ASAP! Dr. Catalyst is here and he’s armed and there’s a fire and I think there might be a chemical weapon. I have to hang up now to help my friend.” Calvin didn’t want to leave anything to chance. His mom had said the county 9-1-1 operators were supposed to dispatch police to any Dr. Catalyst threat without hesitation.

  Inside he found the tank almost empty. Emmet was standing on the bottom, knee-deep in water. A ton of sea water had spilled over the sides and was now running into drains all around the concrete. Calvin could only guess, but apparently the Emergency Purge emptied the tank in case a trainer fell in or an animal was injured and they needed to get to it in a hurry.

  Emmet was still kicking and screaming at the Muraecudas that swam too close in the shallow water, but the remaining water drained rapidly. A few seconds later, it was too shallow for them to swim at all, and they flopped about on the floor of the tank.

  “Don’t move!” Calvin shouted. “Those things can still bite! And hold on to Apollo!”

  “What did you do?” Emmet shouted up to him. The noise of the pumps was deafening. They had to be extremely powerful to remove so many gallons of water so quickly.

  “I don’t know! I pushed the Emergency Purge button!”

  “Did you know that’s what it did?”

  “No!”

  “Good plan!”

  “I thought you’d like it!”

  “I DON’T REMEMBER, EXACTLY,” EMMET WAS SAYING to Dr. Geaux and his dad, as he sat in the back of an ambulance.

  “I went over the side. The water was way cold. Apollo popped to the surface, and I swam to him. Those creatures were confused at first. Probably all they’ve been fed is lionfish, and we don’t resemble them. It was like they didn’t know what he was, and I got to him before they could figure out we were food. I held on to Apollo with one arm and treaded water with the other. Those things attacked and attacked. I remembered that day in the ocean and just kept kicking them in the face whenever they got close. It was all I could think to do. I knew Calvin would figure out a way to save us.”

  Dr. Geaux was pacing back and forth. Emmet wasn’t sure, but he thought from the look on her face that he and Calvin were going to be in big trouble. His dad just looked relieved.

  She looked at Calvin. Then at Emmet.

  “You two!” she said. “What part of ‘Don’t get involved in this’ do you not understand?”

  Apollo was in Emmet’s lap, wrapped in a towel. He looked up at her and barked.

  “Don’t you start,” she said to Apollo.

  “Dr. Geaux, I’m sorry. And I understand why you’re mad. But Dr. Catalyst took my dad and my dog. And that kind of involves me. And if Calvin hadn’t come with me, I’d be dead. I say we call it a win and go home,” Emmet said. He was trying very hard to sound cheerful and nonchalant about the whole ordeal. Part of him felt bad for making them worry. But he couldn’t sit by, either.

  “Do you know what could have happened to you?” She had switched to angry-mom mode. Emmet and Calvin said nothing. They just looked down at the ground. Finally, Emmet looked back up at her.

  “I could have gotten eaten. Or chewed up pretty good. But we stopped him again,” Emmet pointed out.

  “Don’t think that gets you off the hook,” Dr. Doyle said. “Rosalita is right, you could’ve —”

  “And if you’d called us, we might have been able to apprehend him. Instead he got away again, and who knows what he’s going to do next!” Dr. Geaux said.

  Apollo barked and jumped out of Emmet’s lap. He ran off, disappearing around the Princess of Atlantis ride.

  “Where’s he going now?” Emmet asked.

  The four of them trotted after him, and were met by Apollo coming back toward them, a ten-inch tablet computer in his mouth.

  He laid it at Dr. Geaux’s feet.

  “What do you suppose this is?” Dr. Geaux said, picking it up carefully by the edges with just her forefingers.

  “I don’t know,” Emmet said. “But I’ve got a pretty good idea who it belongs to.”

  STUKE’S DAD LED THE POLICE INTO DR. NEWTON’S HOUSE. When he heard Emmet’s story, his police car practically flew to the address. Emmet and Calvin followed in Dr. Geaux’s car, with Dr. Doyle riding shotgun. Apollo refused to leave Emmet’s lap.

  They waited out on the street while Lieutenant Stukaczowski and three other officers went up to the front door, guns drawn, ready to confront Dr. Newton. Everyone finally believed he was Dr. Catalyst. Emmet admitted to having seen an identical tablet in Dr. Newton’s briefcase, which was the clincher for Dr. Geaux. She even overlooked the fact that Emmet had been poking around in Dr. Newton’s private stuff.

  Police cars were scattered all around the street, their lights flashing. The four of them waited for Stuke’s dad to reappear with Dr. Newton in handcuffs.

  Calvin had been unusually quiet during the ride, like he was thinking very hard about something. Emmet had come to recognize the look.

  “What’s on your mind?” Emmet asked quietly. Dr. Geaux and his dad were talking on cell phones to other task-force members.

  “Dr. Catalyst. He … his right arm was injured. I noticed it right away. His ring and pinkie finger were curled up, like the ligaments had been damaged. And he held the gun in his left hand this time,” Calvin said.

  “So?” Emmet said.

  “So he wasn’t wearing a cast on his arm. It was obviously injured, but no cast. Not like Dr. Newton.”

  Emmet thought about this for a minute.

  “Maybe the cast was removable. To throw people off. Like in the movies. It makes a good disguise,” Emmet said.

  “Maybe,” Calvin said. He went back to thinking.

  The policemen didn’t come back for several minutes. When they did reappear, none of them was leading Dr. Newton along in handcuffs. Much to Emmet’s chagrin.

  “Where is he?” Emmet asked.

  “He’s not here,” Lieutenant Stukaczowski said. “Dr. Geaux, I called the FBI and had my men pull out of the apartment.”

  “The FBI? Do you think he’s on the run?” Dr. Geaux asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think he left by choice.”

  “What do you mean
?” Emmet said.

  “There are signs of a struggle inside. Chairs tipped over, books and magazines pushed off tables and onto the floor. And worse, there’s blood on the kitchen counter … like someone hit their head or was injured in a fight,” he said.

  He removed his uniform hat and ran his hands over his short red hair.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say Dr. Newton has been kidnapped.”

  NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR MICHAEL P. SPRADLIN was born in a small Michigan town. Growing up he loved reading books, baseball, and the Rolling Stones. Not the rock band. There was a hill near his house and he liked to roll stones down it because it was fun rolling stones down a hill. He is the author of the international bestselling Youngest Templar trilogy, the Wrangler Award winner Off Like the Wind! The First Ride of the Pony Express, and several other novels and picture books. He holds a black belt in television remote control, and is fluent in British, Canadian, Australian, and several other English-based languages. Sharks swim in the other direction when he steps into the ocean and he is not afraid of clowns. Wait. Yes he is. Afraid of clowns. Come on. Clowns are scary! He now lives in a slightly bigger Michigan town and can be visited on the web (the Internet, not the spider kind) at www.michaelspradlin.com.

  IT HAD COME TO THIS.

  Dr. Catalyst piloted the boat silently through the Aerojet Canal outside of Florida City. It was nearing midnight, and the sky was full of rain clouds. He was moving through the water on low power with no lights. Though it was unlikely his enemies would ever manage to capture him, he was still a wanted fugitive and took every precaution.

  His advance planning and well-reasoned strategies had led him to this moment. A few weeks ago, his latest efforts at combating the invasive species infesting South Florida had been thwarted again by Emmet Doyle and Calvin Geaux. Dr. Catalyst glanced down at his mangled right hand, something else he had Emmet and Calvin to thank for. In the Everglades, Emmet had induced a Pterogator to attack him, and its bite had nearly severed his arm. Now he had lost access to his Pterogators and Muraecudas. And not only that, Emmet’s stupid dog had bitten him. Repeatedly. He was tired, aching, and angry.

  Dr. Catalyst was through with subtlety. He was finished with taking a measured approach. Those in power did not see the value of his methods. Man had introduced vile, destructive creatures into the fragile ecosystem and the only way to heal it was to create a new level of predators to eliminate them. All he was asking was to be left alone to save the environment.

  The boat slowed to a stop, floating gently in the middle of the canal. A few weeks ago, he had come to this very spot to kidnap Emmet Doyle’s dog, Apollo. The Doyle home backed up to the canal and was close to the Everglades. Remembering that night made his damaged hand and dog-bitten calf muscle ache, reminding him of his failure.

  On the boat’s rear deck was a large Plexiglas construct, roughly the size of a phone booth. Small holes were drilled in the sides to allow in oxygen for the creatures inside. Dr. Catalyst put on a helmet with a clear plastic face shield. He was wearing thick gloves and canvas overalls. As he approached the container, the animals within it flapped leathery wings and a chittering rose from inside.

  He placed his gloved hands on the clear plastic, and the captured creatures swarmed at them, thumping against the side. Loud screeching sounds replaced the chittering. Dr. Catalyst could make out one of the creatures in the din, flapping wings with long, sharp claws at their end. Its face was a horror of small sharp teeth and huge dark eyes, plus a pair of insectlike antennae. The creature’s wings tucked in as it stretched toward him, revealing not four spindly limbs, but six. There were hundreds just like it in the container, small in size, but very belligerent. And they were hungry.

  Unbelievably hungry.

  Once again he had combined two species into one. Each was aggressive in its own right. The vampire bat was a nocturnal hunter that required drinking over 60 percent of its body weight in mammalian blood each night in order to survive. The baldfaced hornet was among the most aggressive members of the yellow-jacket family. They could bite as well as sting, and would protect their nests with utmost ferocity. With his revolutionary gene splicing, growth hormones, and his technique for recombining DNA from divergent species, Dr. Catalyst had created the ideal invasive species.

  Yes.

  An invasive species.

  He was releasing his own nonnative animals into South Florida. His Pterogators and Muraecudas had served a specific purpose: to rid the Everglades and the ocean of snakes and lionfish.

  But his newest creations were here for only one reason: to create havoc.

  If no one would willingly accept his methods, he would show them the negative impact of an invasive species firsthand. And before long his latest creations would find sustenance from the most prevalent warm-blooded mammals in Florida.

  Humans.

  Dr. Catalyst stepped inside the cabin of the boat. He had rigged a cable release, attached to a pulley system, which allowed the creatures to be set free from inside where it was safe. Still, he wore the helmet and thick coveralls as a precaution.

  Taking a breath, he pushed a lever forward, and through a hole drilled in the cabin wall, the cable pulled open the top of the cage. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a rush of wings and loud piercing squeals, they exploded into the night sky. Dozens of the creatures threw themselves at the cabin window, then more followed, trying to reach him through the glass. Their savageness caused Dr. Catalyst to draw back from the sight of them. Unable to breach the cabin, they finally gave up and flew upward, joining hundreds of their brethren in the sky.

  From here they would spread out and begin nesting. Colonies would form and they would terrorize the population of Florida City.

  They would own the night.

  A few of the things about dogs is they eat a lot, sleep a lot, and if they were Apollo — with a sense of smell and hearing he considered superior to every living creature, including other dogs — they were obsessive about needing to go outside a lot. Ever since he was taken captive by Dr. Catalyst, Apollo woke up several times a night, wanting to investigate the backyard. It was as if he had a score to settle with his onetime captor.

  It was almost midnight, according to the clock on Emmet’s bedroom desk. Apollo was standing on Emmet’s chest, licking his face and making a soft growling sound. Emmet tried rolling over and burying himself with pillows and blankets. No use. Apollo dug through and found Emmet’s face again, where he went to work licking and yipping quietly. Either he had to go, or he’d heard something outside that needed investigation. And Emmet would get no rest until Apollo was sure the backyard was secure.

  Sitting up, Emmet rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Apollo sat back on his haunches, pleased that Emmet now understood what was required of him. He ran his hand over Apollo’s ears and scratched gently. Next to food of nearly any kind, this was the dog’s most favorite thing. Emmet felt Apollo’s collar, making sure it was securely attached, and checking the special “dog license” medallion secured to it.

  After Dr. Catalyst kidnapped Apollo, Dr. Geaux had gone to the FBI and obtained a unique fob for Apollo’s license. It looked like a regular dog license, but it contained a special chip in it that would allow them to track Apollo, were he to be captured again.

  “I don’t suppose I could talk you out of this, could I?” Emmet asked. Apollo cocked his head and gave a quiet yip.

  “Couldn’t you at least bark loud enough to wake up Dad? Then he could take you outside,” Emmet grumbled. “Come on.”

  He stood up, stretched, and stumbled groggily for his bedroom door. Outside he heard thunder rumble off in the distance. The wind was making a weird sound on the roof of the house. A storm must be coming. Apollo ran ahead of him to the backdoor and scratched at it eagerly.

  “Hold your horses,” Emmet groused. “You shouldn’t drink so much water before you go to bed. I’ve got school tomorrow, you know.”

  There was a brand-new alarm syste
m pad next to the door. Emmet entered the code, and it beeped as it was deactivated. When he opened the door, Apollo catapulted through it and rushed across the small patio to the grass, nose down, working the ground like a bloodhound. Emmet often wondered what it must be like to have the millions of scents in the world pulling you in a different direction every few seconds.

  Ever since Dr. Catalyst had snatched Apollo, Emmet stood in the doorway and watched over him while he was outside. He still had nightmares and horrible flashbacks of Apollo tumbling into the tank full of Muraecudas. He was determined that madman would never get his hands on Apollo again, so the little black mutt got a wingman whenever he had to visit the backyard.

  Apollo sniffed his way along the ground to the first of the three cypress trees that grew in the yard. Emmet watched him through hooded eyes, still groggy with sleep. The wind picked up, and off to the west the sky lit up with lightning. Over the breeze, he heard a whispering sound above his head on the roof of the house. For a moment he thought it sounded like bird wings. I need sleep, Emmet thought. Hurry up, Apollo.

  Now the dog was sniffing hard at the trunk of the tree. He went up on his hind legs, his forepaws planted against the trunk of the tree. Emmet groaned. He hoped it wasn’t a raccoon. He could be out here all night. He flipped on the outdoor lights.

  “Apollo, come,” he said. Apollo ignored the command.

  And barked. Loudly.

  “Apollo,” Emmet hissed. “Come on, let’s go!”

  Apollo was unmoved.

  Emmet left the doorway, the screen door slamming behind him, and trotted to the tree. Apollo darted away.

  “Oh, come on!” Emmet complained. The strange whispering noise was louder now. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something dark fly low across the ground, from the tree toward the roof of the house. It must have been a bird. Nothing drove Apollo nuts like birds.