But this time when Emmet and his dad entered the house, Apollo didn’t engage in his regular routine. He barked in happiness, but in the middle of the first belly rub, sprang to his feet and raced to the back door. He lifted his head and howled. His howl was high-pitched and sounded funny. It was usually reserved for when he spotted a jogger on the street, or the mailman delivered the mail, or an unauthorized leaf had the gall to blow across the front yard.
“What’s gotten into him?” asked Emmet’s dad as they followed him into the kitchen.
“Beats me,” Emmet said. He looked at Apollo’s water dish. It had been full when they left, but was more than half empty now.
“Maybe he really has to go,” he said.
Emmet’s backyard was securely fenced in to keep alligators out. They lived in Florida, after all, a place where you had to consider the possibility that a two-hundred-million-year-old species of killing machine might casually stroll into your backyard if it was left unfenced. Especially if you had pets. People who didn’t live there did not have to think about this. Emmet himself still wasn’t used to it.
The yard had a small stone patio and three cypress trees. Dr. Catalyst had kidnapped Apollo from it not too long ago. Since that happened, they had motion-sensor lights mounted on the wall on either side of the door. Anytime Apollo went outside for his nightly ritual, either Emmet or his dad made sure to watch over him.
Apollo was acting really weird. He was anxious to get outside, running back and forth between Emmet and the door. Emmet nearly tripped over him several times on the way. As he pulled it open the first few inches, with Apollo desperately trying to squirm his way through the tiniest opening, it suddenly registered that the yard lights were shining brightly. They shouldn’t have been, unless something in the backyard … something moving around … had turned them on.
Emmet had his hand on the doorknob. Apollo was still howling. His dad had stopped paying attention and was sorting through the mail. The door was open about a foot wide when something big and brown and furry catapulted into it so hard it knocked him to the ground.
“Emmet!” He heard his dad shout. Or at least he thought it was his dad. He was a little stunned, what with the falling to the ground and banging his head on the floor. Slowly, Emmet raised his head up to see Apollo crouched with his back low to the ground, his teeth bared, and the fur on his back standing almost straight up.
The screen door had saved them. Whatever had launched itself at Emmet and Apollo was now tangled up in the screen. All Emmet could see was a head peeking through the open space where the door had gotten lodged against his feet.
A terrifying head. Or more accurately, giant, sharp teeth that happened to be attached to a head. It had a furry face and a snout and muzzle kind of like a dog. And it alternated between a mewling growl like a cat and a weird laughing sound.
But it was mad and hungry and trying to get inside.
“Apollo! Off! Off!” Emmet heard his dad shout. That was Apollo’s command to stop and stand down. But he was beyond that. Most of the time he obeyed. But this was different. His personal space was about to be invaded by a … giant, toothy … thing. He leapt at the head and was about to land right inside its mouth when Emmet found the strength to reach up and snatch his hind leg, pulling him backward. He was twenty-five pounds of fury.
Emmet kicked hard at the door with his foot and heard the creature snarl in anger. Then his dad flew into his field of vision, throwing his shoulder hard into the door. Whatever was trying to get in yowled in pain, but did not retreat.
“Push!” Emmet shouted. He lifted both feet and jammed them firmly against the door. Luckily it was made of thick, sturdy cypress planks, because whatever this thing was, it was clearly ferocious.
Emmet pushed with his legs as hard as he could, but this was one strong animal. For a second Emmet swore it locked its eyes on his. It howled that weird combination of barking and growling sounds. It was a sound like a cat and dog mixed in a blender. He felt like it stared at him forever, and in that gaze Emmet became truly afraid. The beast’s eyes were cunning. It knew him, and it wanted nothing more than to kill him. When it snarled, its face kind of changed. One moment it looked like some kind of wild cat, and another like a hyena. How could that be?
“Push, Emmet!” his ever-helpful dad yelled.
“I am!” Emmet shouted. He was also holding a very angry little schnoodle by the hind leg, who was doing everything in his power to get loose and jump into the fight.
Even with its neck stuck in the door, the creature refused to withdraw.
“Hang on!” Emmet’s dad yelled. He turned his back to the door and shoved as hard as he could. With his left hand his dad reached over toward the corner where they kept a broom. It was just out of his reach.
“What are you doing?” Emmet yelled at him. His legs were starting to shake. He was losing strength. The creature kept wiggling and squirming, hammering its body against the door, desperate to get in.
Emmet’s dad must have managed to get ahold on the broom, because in the next moment Emmet heard a whistling sound and a loud crack as the broom handle connected with the creature’s snout. It howled in rage. The broomstick hit it again and this time it jerked back and they were able to jam the door shut. Emmet’s dad flipped the lock. The animal was furious, throwing its body at the door over and over, scratching and clawing while Apollo answered each attack with a bark and growl of his own, daring the monster to come inside and face schnoodle justice. Then, eventually, it was silent.
His dad raced to the front door and locked it, then shut the doors to all of the bedrooms, in case it crashed through one of their windows. Emmet wasn’t sure the interior doors would hold it. No, with his luck, it had opposable thumbs and could turn doorknobs.
His dad came back to the kitchen and fell to his knees beside him, cradling Emmet’s head in his lap.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I think so,” Emmet said.
His head was spinning and his legs were throbbing. Apollo stopped barking and turned his attention to licking Emmet’s face, as if he was trying to revive him. His dad used his cell phone to call 9-1-1. His voice sounded like it was a million miles away.
As Emmet lay there staring up at the ceiling, he could only think of one thing.
How much he hated their backyard.
DR. CATALYST COULD HARDLY CONTAIN HIS GLEE. AS soon as the creature left the van he closed the rear doors and drove away from the neighborhood. Steering into a nearby shopping center parking lot, he pulled up a screen showing the tracker for his hybrid on his tablet. The program he used showed a small red dot moving along a map of the surrounding area. The red dot was the animal’s transmitter location.
The GPS program was accurate to twenty-five feet. Swiping the screen, he zoomed in on the locator. He almost clapped his hands when he saw it blinking in the backyard of the Doyle home. It was already there. The creature could find and follow a scent better than he could have imagined.
It had taken some doing to train it to focus on Emmet Doyle. In order to provide the animal with the boy’s unique aroma, he returned to Tasker Middle School a few days after the Blood Jacket incident. The school had remained closed for several days after the attack. Late at night he sneaked passed the very lax security post and broke inside. Checking records in the school office, he found Emmet’s locker number and combination. There he found a jacket, a pair of tennis shoes, and a treasure trove of other materials he would need for his experiment.
Dr. Catalyst had purchased a four-hundred-acre farm to train the creature. The farm had originally been intended for use as an ostrich ranch and was equipped with a suitable barn and sufficiently high fences to prevent the creature’s escape. It was well out of the metropolitan area, at the end of a long dirt road with no neighbors close by.
It was more than enough space to train the fast-growing hybrid. Dr. Catalyst used the odors embedded in Emmet’s clothing to teach the hybrid to focus on
that smell alone. Whenever it followed the scent to an article of Emmet’s clothing, it was rewarded with a specially prepared, uniquely rich mixture of food. Soon the creature grew to crave the special food it earned. When it followed the wrong scent, it received nothing. After a few weeks, the beast would bypass everything from raw meat to other types of prey placed in its path to get to its target.
Like his Pterogators, Dr. Catalyst had trained it to respond to a homing beacon. When he was in an appropriate place he would activate the beacon. There was no sense in risking the animal being destroyed or captured before it completed its mission.
Now it was in the Doyles’ backyard. Dr. Catalyst wished he were able to attach a video camera to the animal somehow. He knew from kidnapping the Doyles’ stupid, yapping, tablet-stealing, leg-biting dog that Emmet let it out into the backyard every night before going to sleep. Since he had captured the mutt, they installed some primitive security measures — motion-sensor lights and such — but they would not deter the monster he created. It would be the last door Emmet ever opened.
Dr. Catalyst watched the blinking light for a while. It remained in the backyard. A few minutes later it began moving. It was now trailing along the canal that ran behind the house. The Doyles’ home sat on a dead-end street and he would need to be careful. But he could not resist driving by and at least attempting to get a glimpse of the carnage.
There was a police scanner installed in the van. He flipped it on. Sure enough, emergency vehicles were on the way to the Doyle address, including an ambulance. He started the engine and pulled out of the lot. Rolling down the driver’s-side window, he could hear the sirens approaching.
It was a very good night. A very good night indeed.
Dr. Catalyst sighed. His moment of victory was not as satisfying as he thought it would be. He thought he would feel triumphant, but instead he felt … confused.
For so long, he tried using his wealth and influence to focus attention on the plight of the Everglades and the entire South Florida ecosystem. But years of dealing with lobbyists, politicians, and bureaucrats had gotten him exactly nowhere.
It was the inaction of others that had forced him to take his brilliant scientific mind and put it to work on a solution. He’d concluded that introducing his own genetically altered creatures was the only option. Perhaps if someone — anyone — had listened to him, things might have gone differently. Now there was no turning back.
In the beginning, he had only meant to scare off Emmet and Calvin. To frighten them enough so they would stop interfering in his plans. But Dr. Geaux refused to back off. It was her fault he had to kidnap the lad’s father, to show everyone how serious he was. He was never going to harm the man. But the Doyle brat had taken things personally and caused everything to escalate.
As he drove, he began to feel better. Whatever fate had befallen that horrid child, he had brought it upon himself. Dr. Catalyst was not to blame.
The fault lay entirely with Emmet Doyle.
THE LIGHT WAS REALLY BRIGHT IN EMMET’S EYES. A doctor whose name Emmet had already forgotten was holding one of those tiny flashlights about an inch from his eyeball. The doctor asked Emmet to follow his finger back and forth without moving his head. Emmet was still hyped up from nearly being eaten by a gigantic, laughing, saber-toothed whatchamacallit. All the little tests were annoying.
“I don’t see any signs of a concussion, but there’s a nasty bump on the back of his head. I’d like to keep him overnight for observation,” Dr. What’s-His-Name told Emmet’s dad.
“Okay,” Dr. Doyle answered tiredly.
“But, Dad! I don’t want to stay in the stu —” His dad interrupted him by holding his hand up. Dr. Doyle was generally likeable and easygoing about most things. But when he was wearing his parent pants, he was not open to discussing anything. This was one of those times. When his dad held the hand up while Emmet was complaining, whining, or talking, the discussion was over.
“You’re staying. And I’m staying with you,” he said.
“I’m afraid that’s not allowed,” the doctor said. He was busy writing something in a chart hanging from Emmet’s bed. He wasn’t paying attention as Dr. Doyle strolled up to him, close enough to invade his personal space.
“Doctor,” he said quietly. “Tonight something tried to kill my son and me. It almost succeeded. If you think you’re getting me out of this room tonight, you’re going to need a lot more muscle.”
Dr. Geaux was standing off to the side with Calvin. They had met Emmet and his dad at the hospital. Dr. Geaux looked weary and worried. Calvin’s eyes were a little more wide open than usual. In Calvin, this meant he was alarmed and concerned. Otherwise he just seemed like regular Calvin, sitting in a chair not saying much.
“Ben,” Dr. Geaux started. “I can have a couple officers —”
Dr. Doyle gave Dr. Geaux the hand.
“No, Rosalita,” he said. Probably more sternly than he meant to, Emmet thought. “Thank you. If you want officers outside in the hall, fine. But I’m not leaving my son’s side.”
“That violates hospital policy. I’m afraid for the patient’s sake —” the doctor started speaking again, but Dr. Doyle stepped closer, his nose now inches from the doctor’s.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear: I’m not leaving.”
Truthfully, Emmet’s dad was kind of surprising him. This was a side of him he’d never seen before. Benton Doyle was not what anyone would call a tough guy. But he was an avid outdoorsman, really smart, and he loved Emmet. In Montana, he’d hiked all over the mountains and sometimes led search-and-rescue teams to find lost and stranded hikers. He kept himself in shape, and tonight the doctor saw something in Dr. Doyle’s eyes that made him step back.
“I’ll clear it with the hospital administrator, Doctor,” Calvin’s mom said. “This is now officially a Dr. Catalyst task force case. The usual rules no longer apply. There will be two officers stationed outside Emmet’s room at all times. No one is allowed inside without proper hospital identification. And Dr. Doyle will be staying here tonight with his son.”
“But … that …” the doctor sputtered.
“That will be all, thank you,” Dr. Geaux said.
The doctor tried to leave the room with a bit of dignity intact and failed. He scurried away and it was just the four of them.
“Well, he’s back,” Emmet said.
No one said anything. When the Muraecudas showed up, everyone gave him grief about how Dr. Catalyst had died in the swamp. And Emmet kept insisting he was alive. Eventually he was proven right. Dr. Catalyst had faked his death. Then he kept releasing more and more genetically altered species, and the only thing they all had in common was really big teeth. Huge teeth. Sharp. Quite pointy. Emmet had a suspicion that perhaps Dr. Catalyst secretly wanted to be some sort of evil dentist.
“There’s no sign of the creature anywhere nearby,” Dr. Geaux said. “Lieutenant Stukaczowski found some tracks near the canal behind your house. The photos we ran through the database don’t match any animal we have on file. Which is pretty much any animal that leaves a track. The paw prints indicate it has retractable claws like a cat, but the rest of the footpads look canine. Canines don’t catch food with claws. Cats do. This one looks like it can.”
“Well, that’s just great,” Emmet said. “Teeth and claws.”
“What’s he trying to do this time?” Calvin piped up from the corner.
“What do you mean, son?” Dr. Geaux asked.
“I mean he made the Pterogators to eliminate the snakes. The Muraecudas were created to go after lionfish. Then he said the Blood Jackets were to show us what it was like when an invasive species was unleashed on humans. What is this creature after?” he asked.
“That’s a good question. I wish I knew the answer,” Dr. Doyle said.
“It’s obvious,” Emmet said. “Dr. Catalyst has one last invasive animal he wants to get rid of.”
They all looked at him, waiting for clarification.
“Me.”
DR. CATALYST DROVE HIS CAR SLOWLY THROUGH THE streets near the canal that ran behind the Doyle house. His tracking device showed his predator was slowly stalking along the waterway, stopping now and then and occasionally circling around to reverse course. Almost as if it wanted to return to finish the job.
But the Doyle home was undoubtedly a swarm of police and emergency vehicles. Now that Emmet was eliminated, Dr. Catalyst could retrieve the creature and return to his important work. He watched the monitor closely. It was vital to recapture his predator before the authorities discovered it.
Dr. Catalyst was overjoyed. Emmet Doyle was finished. Finally. Once Dr. Catalyst gathered up his new hybrid, there would be no one left to bother him. Hopefully the predator had finished Dr. Doyle as well. But even if not, he would be so distraught at the loss of his son, it was unlikely he would further interfere.
The red dot on the monitor moved south along the canal. Dr. Catalyst was on the other side. He needed to find a street with a bridge where he could cross over. Then he could activate the homing beacon and return the creature to his truck. After that, he would think on his next moves. Perhaps it could be retrained and used to curtail the spread of some other invasive species. He pondered that thought for a moment.
The night was quiet, and the streets deserted. Whatever else he might have done, Dr. Catalyst and his hybrid creatures had had a chilling effect on nighttime activity in Florida City. As he tracked the beast, he paused to tune the radio to an all-news station. The reporter was talking about an animal attack in the city. As he listened, Dr. Catalyst’s smile turned to a frown.
“Here at WFCR we have learned that an unidentified animal has attacked a family in their home in Florida City. Details are incomplete, but we have confirmed that one person has been taken to a nearby hospital. The identity of the victim has not been revealed, but it is believed to be a young boy. Our sources indicate that he is in serious but stable condition. Authorities report that this as-yet-unidentified creature is extremely vicious and still at large. All Florida City residents are advised to remain indoors until further notice. We’ll update our listeners as soon as we’ve learned more.”
Ultimate Attack Page 2
