“What kind of uniform was he wearing? What did the car look like?”
“It was a Florida City uniform. The car said Florida City, but that’s all I know.”
“Where is Emmet now?”
“That’s just it. I tried to run back into the hospital for help. The cop … Dr. Catalyst was chasing me. With all the people rushing out, I was having a hard time getting in. He was closing in on me, when Emmet smarted off at him and made him stop for a second. It gave me enough time to get into the crowd and get away. But I think he took off after Emmet.”
“Okay,” Lieutenant Stukaczowski said. “You did really well. Right now, my wife, my son, Riley, and Raeburn are waiting in the car downstairs. Your parents have been transported to Miami General.”
“But what about Emmet?”
“We’re going to find him. My guess is Emmet is still on foot and somewhere in the area. But if Dr. Catalyst is using a real FCPD car, it will have a transponder in it. We’ll be able to track him. Even if he managed to catch Emmet, we can follow them.”
“But what if he’s using a fake car?” Calvin asked.
“We’re going to set up a perimeter with roadblocks. I’m betting on Emmet. I’m betting he’s stayed away from Dr. Catalyst long enough for you to get help.”
“You have to find him, Lieutenant Stukaczowski. This is all my fault. All of it. And now … even when … he knew it was my fault, he still tried to save my life.” For the first time he could remember in a long time, Calvin felt tears forming in his eyes.
“Calvin, you listen to me. This is not your fault. None of it. Most of what we know about this creep we got from the two of you. You’re two of the most amazing kids I’ve ever seen. So stop blaming yourself.” He put his arm around Calvin’s shoulders. “Now come on, we’ve got to get you to your parents, and I’ve got a perp to catch.”
“You’ve got to find Emmet, sir. You’ve got to.”
“Don’t worry, Calvin. We will,” he said.
As they headed back down the stairs, Lieutenant Stukaczowski pulled his cell phone from his pocket and started issuing orders.
The manhunt was on.
EMMET WOKE UP WHEN THE CAR HE WAS RIDING IN jolted over a big rut in the road. It was still dark. His face hurt. It hurt a lot. His vision was blurry. He would have tried to touch his face to find out what was wrong with his eyes, but his hands were restrained somehow. He thought one of his eyes might be swollen shut.
As he slowly came to, Emmet realized he was lying in the backseat of a car. Another big jolt in the road both hurt and further brought him awake. Emmet rose up, peering out of the one eye that he could open all the way. He was in a police car. There was a cage between himself and the driver.
“Dr. Catalyst, I presume?” Emmet said. He tasted a little blood in his mouth. He must have split his lip when he collided with the pole. “I’ve always wanted to say that. Once you were caught.”
There was just enough illumination from the dashboard to see the driver’s dark eyes glare at Emmet from the rearview mirror. Then he laughed. It was kind of a snort, really.
“I’m not the one who’s caught.” He sneered at Emmet.
“It’s only a matter of time, Doc. Is it okay if I call you Doc? It’s a lot less formal. And Dr. Catalyst … well, as villain names go, you could have done better. You should have went with Extremo, or Nut-Job-a-Tron, or something. Most people think a catalyst is a house cat. Like a tabby or a calico.”
“Shut up,” Dr. Catalyst spat. “Just shut your mouth.”
“Why? What are you going to do? Stop the car? Teach me a lesson? I just thought we might as well get to know each other. Before the cops get here.”
“The cops aren’t coming,” he said.
“Geez, you really aren’t very bright are you? Ever since you kidnapped my dad, I’ve been wearing a tracker. So has Calvin and everyone on the task force.” Emmet looked out the window. “Probably a helicopter following us right now.” He was lying. He was supposed to keep his cell phone with him at all times. It could be tracked. He had screwed up, leaving it at Calvin’s house.
Dr. Catalyst stared at Emmet in the rearview mirror. Emmet could tell from his smug expression that the man sensed he was lying.
“You’re not wearing a tracker. I swept you for any device and there was nothing on you. I have tech better than anything the task force has. You’re clean. Now shut up.”
“So tell me, Dr. Cat Litter, what’s the endgame here? Going to drug me and put me in a cage like you did with my dad? Give me a couple of Pterogators as prison guards? That really worked out well, didn’t it? How is your arm, by the way? ’Cause when that beast of yours took a bite … wow … I’ll bet that stung. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re a really lousy kidnapper. I mean, you couldn’t even hold on to my dog. Some genius environmentalist whacko you are.” As Emmet talked, he kept looking out the windows, hoping he could figure out where they were. The road was definitely not blacktop. He heard gravel pinging against the bottom of the car, and there were trees and bushes close to the road. They were in the middle of nowhere.
“Oh, there won’t be any prolonged kidnapping this time. In fact, I’m going to give you a chance to escape. All you have to do is pass a little test. The instructor who is running it has a particular interest in you. Well, actually, it’s more an interest in how the meat on your bones tastes. I believe you’ve already met your instructor. A couple of times this week, in fact?”
Emmet had to admit that made him a little nervous. The face of the creature that had now twice attacked him, its mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, flashed in his memory. For a second, Emmet was overcome by a fearful shudder that ran through him.
He had to keep Dr. Catalyst off his game. The angrier he could make Dr. Catalyst — the longer he could keep him talking — the more likely it was that the loon would slip up and reveal something about where they were going. It could give Emmet a clue about which direction to take when he escaped. If he escaped.
No. When he escaped. Think positive, Emmet told himself. Calvin has the cavalry on the way.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Emmet said. “I dozed off a little at the beginning there. Something about a test? Speaking of … that reminds me, I’ve got an algebra test this week. I should study for that if we’re going to be gone for a while. You wouldn’t mind making a quick stop to pick up my homework, would you?”
Dr. Catalyst didn’t answer. They kept driving down the rutted road. Each bump sent Emmet bouncing in the seat. The farther they went, the more disheartened Emmet became. Wherever this place was, it had to be way off the grid.
“Geez,” Emmet said. “Two words: shock absorbers.”
Still nothing.
“So back to this plan of yours,” Emmet said. “What have you got? I mean, you’ve screwed up everything else so far. The park service has captured almost all of the Pterogators. From what I hear, the Muraecudas haven’t been seen in weeks, and the Blood Jackets are dropping out of the sky. All you’ve done is make everything worse —”
“Keep talking,” Dr. Catalyst snapped. “Once you’re alone with my newest creation you’ll see just how much worse it can get. If I’m lucky, the first thing the Swamp Cat bites off is your smart mouth.”
“Ha, good one!” Emmet said. But in truth he looked out the window and winced. He’d already met this new creation, and it had nearly clawed three fully grown adults to death in a matter of moments. The idea of getting up close and personal with this “Swamp Cat” again terrified Emmet.
The car slowed down, and they turned off the road onto an even more narrow lane. A few yards in, an automatic gate opened, and they pulled up to a large barn. A door on the barn rose, and Dr. Catalyst pulled the car inside.
“We’re here. I’m going to bring you out and lock you up. Don’t bother trying anything. There’s no one anywhere nearby that can help you. No one even knows where this place is.”
Emmet didn’t say anything as D
r. Catalyst climbed out of the car and opened the back door. Emmet sat still and made the man reach inside to pull him out. Dr. Catalyst had wrapped plastic flex-cuffs on Emmet’s hands, and they were now digging into his wrists.
“What’s the matter?” Dr. Catalyst asked. “No snappy comeback? No insulting comments? No witty one-liners? Has the ‘cat’ got your tongue, Emmet? If it doesn’t now, it will soon enough. And the rest of you, too.”
He shoved Emmet toward a door.
“Isn’t that funny. All your bravado. Your smart mouth. Now you’ve got nothing to say?” Dr. Catalyst was gloating now. Time to put an end to that.
“Oh, I’ve got something to say, all right,” Emmet said as Dr. Catalyst opened the door and shoved him into a small, windowless room. He stood in the doorway, glaring at Emmet.
“And what is that?” Dr. Catalyst said.
Emmet stared back at him, doing his best not to appear scared or nervous.
“Whatever it is you’re going to do? Just get on with it. I’m bored.”
Dr. Catalyst smirked and slammed the door. Then Emmet heard the door lock shut.
He was trapped.
AS THE HOURS PASSED, CALVIN GREW MORE WORRIED. Lieutenant Stukaczowski had gone ahead with his roadblocks. With the assistance of the Dade County sheriff’s department, he had searched every inch of the blocks surrounding the hospital. They had failed to turn up Emmet. Calvin couldn’t explain why, but he felt that they were too late.
Lieutenant Stukaczowski suggested that since Dr. Catalyst had dressed as a police officer, and it was still dark, Emmet was staying hidden. When the morning light broke, and Emmet could see clearly, he’d come out of hiding.
But Calvin didn’t believe it. In his bones, he felt Dr. Catalyst had Emmet. His friend hadn’t been able to escape.
The OR waiting room at Miami General Hospital was a lot like its counterpart at South Miami. It was full of uncomfortable chairs, old magazines, and worn carpet. Stuke’s mom had taken Riley, Raeburn, and Stuke down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. It was past midnight now, and Calvin wasn’t hungry. He was too nervous to eat. He had to find Emmet. For some reason he felt like he was the only one who could.
Calvin started thinking about the Everglades, picturing the massive River of Grass in his mind. When his mom told people that Calvin was the best Everglades guide under eighteen around, she wasn’t just bragging. He knew the swamp as well as anyone could. He tried to think of a place Dr. Catalyst could keep his new creature a secret. It would need to be a spot with solid ground. Wild cats, even feral house cats, were hunters. There were Florida panthers in the swamp, but they needed solid ground to catch the deer and other creatures they hunted. They couldn’t chase prey through the water or swampy marshland.
So it would be a place with dry ground, but that remained accessible to the Everglades. There were potentially hundreds of locations like that. Calvin needed to narrow the scope. Emmet didn’t have much time, if any. There was only one person Calvin could think of who might know where to search.
His uncle Yaha.
Who right now was lying in intensive care, unconscious and unable to talk.
If Uncle Yaha had treated Dr. Catalyst’s wounds after the Pterogator bite, perhaps he’d told Yaha something about where he was living and working in the Everglades. It was the only thing Calvin could think of that might help. The question was, how would he get to Yaha, to ask him? And would Yaha even be able to answer those questions?
Calvin thought some more about it. Then he had an idea.
This OR waiting room had a front desk, much like the one at South Miami, but here it was staffed by an elderly lady in a white coat. She was probably a volunteer. Calvin walked slowly up to her.
“Can I help you, young man?” She had silver-gray hair and kind of reminded him of Mrs. Clawson a little bit.
“I need to see my great-uncle; his name is Yaha. He’s in intensive care,” Calvin said.
She nodded and tapped a keyboard for a few seconds.
“I’m very sorry, young man,” she said. “But according to my screen, your uncle cannot see anyone yet. He’s still unconscious.”
“I know, but he’s a … we’re a … my uncle and I are Seminoles. He needs to be given a special prayer. It’s a tradition in our tribe when someone is sick. Don’t you have to let him have his religious … needs … and things … given to him?” Calvin tried to look serious, but he was a horrible liar. If Emmet were here, they would already be inside, getting the information out of Yaha somehow.
The lady sat back in her chair. It was clear he had caught her by surprise.
“Well, yes, there is a hospital policy for that, but usually we have a priest or someone —”
“I can say the prayer. I’ve been through the ceremony many times.” Calvin looked at her with sad eyes. “So many times. My family is very sick.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Uh. You can … I don’t … we don’t allow anyone under sixteen in the intensive care unit without an adult present.”
“I understand. But Seminole boys go through a ceremony at my age and are considered men.” Calvin was starting to get the hang of lying. He had to do it to save his friend. It got easier the more you did it. “So you have to recognize me according to our treaty with the United States government.”
Calvin felt horrible, because the kind lady’s face was growing more confused and alarmed as he talked.
“As an adult member of a sovereign nation, you have to let me in to say the prayer. If something happens and my uncle passes, he will not be able to cross over to the spirit world. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for that, would you?” Calvin tried to keep his hands from shaking. He was certain she would see right through the tall tale he was spinning.
“I … No, of course not.” The lady leaned forward in her chair and reached for the phone. “I’m going to have to check —”
“Ma’am,” Calvin interrupted her. “We don’t have much time. My uncle was gravely wounded. He might not make it. I need to see him. Or I’ll bring shame on my family.”
The lady got a confused and worried look on her face. Calvin tried to keep a somber expression on his face, but on the inside he was shaking like a leaf. He felt horrible for deceiving the poor woman.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll take you back. But you can’t take very long. It’s not allowed. And …”
“I’ll be quick,” he promised.
The lady stood and waved him around he desk.
“Follow me,” she said.
Calvin did.
THE ROOM WAS ABOUT TEN FEET BY TEN FEET, WITH A single low-wattage lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. With his hands still bound behind him, Emmet searched over every inch of the room. It was constructed of plain, unpainted drywall, built and framed in an open space of the old barn. Maybe Dr. Catalyst had planned to use it as an office at some point.
On the drive here, he told Emmet that he had to pass a test. The instructor was going to be the Swamp Cat. Emmet didn’t care for the sound of that one bit. There was no telling what Dr. Catalyst had in store for him. Hopefully it didn’t involve opening the door to the room he was in and shoving the Swamp Cat inside. That wouldn’t end well.
Emmet sauntered over to the door and turned his back to it, trying the knob with his bound hands, just to make sure it was locked. It was, but you never knew. If he’d sat against the far wall and the door had been unlocked the whole time, he would have felt pretty foolish.
Emmet walked the perimeter of the room one more time. The light was so dim it made it nearly impossible to see anything, but he looked all the same. There was no way to reach the roof that he could find. He checked the drywall in the corners and thought about trying to kick his way through, but that would make a lot of noise. No doubt Dr. Catalyst would frown on escape attempts before the “test” had begun.
A strange odor reached Emmet’s nose. It smelled like … he wasn’t sure exactly … maybe like an animal. Which made sense,
what with him being trapped in a barn. But he had lived in Montana and been around horses and cattle. This smell wasn’t like a barn animal.
From someplace close by came the uncanny roar of the Swamp Cat. It was so sudden and unexpected that Emmet yelped in surprise, the two noises echoing together in the barn. The creature roared again and again, whipping itself into a frenzy. Try as he might to keep focused on escaping, the continuous caterwauling of the beast was unsettling.
“Do you hear that?” Dr. Catalyst’s voice came through the door. Emmet wasn’t expecting him and he involuntarily jumped.
“Your instructor has arrived and he is quite anxious to begin the test,” he said. “He has been created especially for you, Emmet Doyle. I took the time and expense away from my crusade to save the Everglades, to create a hybrid specifically for hunting you down. You should feel honored.”
Emmet didn’t say anything — A) because Dr. Catalyst was crazy, and B) because he was terrified. But he was determined not to let the creep know it.
“What’s the matter, Emmet?” Dr. Catalyst crowed from behind the door. “Where’s your smart mouth now? Nothing to say?”
“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” Emmet said. “I was actually busy playing Hacky Sack and you interrupted me. I was up to thirty-seven. That’s a personal record. Hacky Sack is a lot harder than it looks.”
Now it was Dr. Catalyst’s turn to not say anything. He probably wasn’t used to dealing with smart-alecky twelve-year-old kids. Despite all of his little manifestos and press releases and videos he sent to the media claiming to be this crusader saving the environment, he wasn’t any of that. He was a terrorist, a bully, and a criminal. He didn’t know what to do when people didn’t fear him. Which isn’t to say that Emmet didn’t fear him, because he did. But he’d let the Swamp Cat eat him before he’d give an inch to this loser.
“By the way, if I have to take a test,” Emmet said, “give that creation of yours a bath, will ya? It stinks to high heaven. I like a clean work environment, not instructors who smell like rotten meat. Makes it easier to concentrate.”
Ultimate Attack Page 7
