Ultimate Attack

by Michael P. Spradlin

  Staring through the chain links, he could no longer spot Emmet. There were too many trees and shrubs in the way. He still had no idea what was happening or what was the best way to help Emmet. Why had Dr. Catalyst shoved him out the door of the barn? Was he letting Emmet go?

  His question was answered when a small metal door on the side of the barn slid open and the cat creature immediately slinked through it. Calvin couldn’t believe his eyes. Dr. Catalyst was sending the beast after Emmet. Emmet would never stand a chance.

  Calvin pulled out his cell phone and hit the emergency button. It would send a distress signal to the task force, and they would send help immediately. But it would take them time to get here. He had to do something.

  He slung the backpack off his shoulder and dug inside, removing a pair of bolt cutters. The same bolt cutters he and Emmet used to break into Undersea Land and rescue Apollo not long ago.

  He had an idea.

  With the bolt cutters, he went to work on the chain-link fence.

  Snipping away.

  AS HUNGRY AND FURIOUS AS THE SWAMP CAT WAS, IT didn’t launch itself at Emmet immediately. There must have been something in its predatory brain that forced it to pause to take stock of its prey before it attacked. It stood ten yards away, snarling and howling. Emmet could tell from its crouched posture that an attack was imminent.

  Living in Montana and spending time outdoors with his dad had taught Emmet a little bit about wild animals. Montana had grizzlies, mountain lions, and wolves. The big difference between Florida and Montana predators was that the ones in Montana couldn’t hide under the water or fly down on you from the sky. Or both. Usually you could see them coming.

  One of the things Emmet’s dad taught him that might prevent an animal from attacking was to make a lot of noise and try to make yourself appear bigger. Raising your hands over your head and jumping up and down screaming could sometimes scare it away. It was all he had. That and a stick with a nail tied to it.

  Emmet yelled with everything in him, raising his arms over his head. His primitive spear was in one hand, and he banged it against the fence, screaming at the top of his lungs.

  The Swamp Cat crouched lower to the ground. Its eyes bored into him.

  “Get away! Get away! Yah! Yah!” Emmet shouted.

  It only bought him a few seconds. The animal leapt forward. Its forelegs were extended and it seemed like every claw on its paws was at least a foot long. Emmet was amazed at how far it could jump. It felt like time slowed down and the creature was floating in the air. One swipe from its paw would likely take his head off.

  Emmet almost didn’t react in time. Right when it was about two feet away, Emmet dropped to the ground and stabbed up with the spear. The point of the nail struck the Swamp Cat in the shoulder, and it crashed face-first into the fence. It howled in pain and confusion. Emmet tumbled out of the way.

  He came to his feet and held the spear out in front of him at the ready. The animal slid down the fence and rolled back onto its feet, shaking its head. There was a small trickle of blood on its shoulder. The sight of it made Emmet feel just a tiny bit better.

  “Come on, you giant bag of teeth!” he shouted. “If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging. Or stabbing. Whatever!”

  The creature growled and shook its head one more time, stalking toward him. Emmet decided he needed to show the Swamp Cat he would not be an easy meal. He backed up a few steps, then gave a loud war cry and rushed forward, brandishing the spear.

  “Hah! Hah!” Emmet shouted, stabbing at the creature. It batted at the stick, as if they were playing some deadly game.

  Emmet tried to find an opening, but with each lunge of the spear the beast darted out of the way.

  As he was backing up to prepare for another lunge, Emmet tripped over something, landing flat on his back and losing the spear. The animal was on him in an instant, pinning him to the ground with its paws on his shoulders. One of its claws pierced his flesh, and he cried out in agony.

  All Emmet could think to do was put his hands around the Swamp Cat’s throat, trying desperately to cut off its air supply. But the massive, muscular creature was far too strong. It was taking every ounce of his strength to keep the jaws from reaching his throat. In desperation, Emmet let go with one hand and scooped up a handful of muddy soil, shoving it into the beast’s eyes.

  Temporarily blinded, it jumped backward, shaking its head and trying to clear its vision. Emmet’s shoulder was screaming in pain, but he didn’t waste any time, jumping to his feet and clutching the spear with his good arm. He took off running.

  Emmet had no illusions that he could outrun the creature. Besides, he was wounded and was feeling a little light-headed. Despite that, Emmet sprinted as fast as he could along the fence. Instinct told him to stay by the fence. It gave the creature one less direction to attack him from. There was a very loud, very angry growl coming from somewhere to his rear.

  The bushes and grasses behind him rustled as the creature plowed its way through them. It growled again. It was gaining. It had to be almost upon him. There was nothing else to do but face it.

  Emmet whirled around and held the spear out in front of him. The Swamp Cat was closing fast. He was about to shut his eyes and plow ahead with his weapon when the fence flew forward all on its own. The beast crashed into it with a surprised yelp.

  Somehow Calvin was there, standing ankle-deep in muck, and he was pushing a rectangular section of the fencing back toward the fence, trapping the Swamp Cat within.

  “Emmet!” he shouted “Help me!”

  Emmet couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Calvin was there. Somehow he’d cut out a big rectangular section of the fence and he was struggling to push it around the thrashing Swamp Cat.

  “Emmet!” Calvin shouted, and Emmet jumped. The Swamp Cat was growling and snarling but it was tangled up in the fence, temporarily caged. “Hurry!”

  He joined Calvin and together they kept pushing until the fence had folded all the way back on itself with the beast trapped inside. They dug into the ground with their feet and shoved.

  “What did you do?” Emmet shouted.

  “Push now. Talk later,” Calvin grunted. The Swamp Cat was incredibly strong. It was flopping all around, snarling and clawing, but with the fence folded back on it, it was like a horse in a stall. It couldn’t go anywhere.

  Calvin pulled a bungee cord from around his shoulder and tied the cut piece of fencing to one of the support poles. The Swamp Cat was trapped as long as the cord held.

  “First I was just trying to cut an opening so I could get inside,” Calvin huffed. “Then I saw you running along the fence and I figured you were looking for a way to climb it. When this thing came out of the barn, I knew you were in trouble. So I cut out a section, hoping we could trap it. I’m just glad you stayed by the fence.”

  Emmet couldn’t believe it. His mind was racing, making it hard to think. They were safe. Also, his shoulder really hurt.

  “Come on, we’ve got to go,” Calvin said. “This trap won’t hold for long. I’ve got the boat right over —”

  “You’re not going anywhere, grandson,” said a voice from behind them.

  Emmet and Calvin turned around, and there stood Dr. Catalyst.

  And he had a gun.

  “SO YOU LIED?” EMMET SAID.

  Emmet had to admit, even though Dr. Catalyst had given his hair a really bad dye job, he looked a lot like Calvin’s dad. At least from the picture Emmet had seen. It must have shaken him up.

  “You lied!” Emmet repeated. “You said if I survived, you’d let me go.”

  Dr. Catalyst shrugged. “So I lied. But I’m glad you’re here, Calvin. You have disgraced our family, helping these people who have been systematically destroying your ancestral homeland. What a disappointment you are.”

  Emmet looked at Calvin. Most of the time his expression rarely changed. A lifted eyebrow or a shrug was it when it came to showing his emotions. But now Emmet saw something
on his friend’s face that he didn’t think he’d ever seen before. Calvin was angry.

  “What did you say?” Calvin asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “I said your behavior has disgraced your family name,” Dr. Catalyst said.

  “I’m not the one who lost his way!” Calvin shouted. “I’m not the one who polluted the River of Grass with your abominations of nature! Don’t try to push your failures off on me! If your son were alive to see what you’ve become, he would hang his head in shame. Then he would turn you in himself!”

  Wow. Go Calvin. Emmet was going to pipe up, but it sounded like a family matter. Best to let them work out their issues.

  “Don’t you mention my son,” Dr. Catalyst hissed.

  “Why? Because I spoke the truth? My father loved the Glades. All you’ve done is try to destroy the people who are working to save it. What is it, Grandfather? Do you feel guilty because you were taken from the reservation and were raised in wealth and privilege? Upset that when you returned to the Seminole Nation no one there would accept you? You didn’t fit in, so you faked your death? You say you fooled with Mother Nature to save the Everglades? You’re destroying them!”

  Behind Emmet, the Swamp Cat was still struggling and thrashing. The fence was holding for now, but he wasn’t sure how much longer it would cage the cat.

  “Destroying it? I’m single-handedly saving it! And I’ll continue to save it. I don’t care if you’re my grandson or not. You’ve interfered long enough. I’m through talking.”

  Dr. Catalyst raised the gun, pointing it in their direction. Neither of them had a chance to even say anything. This was it.

  Rifle shots exploded in the ground in front of Dr. Catalyst. A helicopter burst over the horizon, and then another and another.

  “Drop the weapon!” a voice shouted through a loudspeaker.

  Emmet heard a poof sound from behind them, and the Swamp Cat snarled. He turned to see a tranquilizer dart sticking out of its side. The creature laughed — the strange, manic cackle of a hyena — for a few seconds before collapsing to the ground. Nighty night, Emmet thought deliriously.

  “Drop the weapon and get down on your knees! Last warning!” Emmet now recognized the voice as Stuke’s dad. Dr. Catalyst tossed the pistol aside and dropped to his knees. Two helicopters landed nearby. An FBI tactical team burst out of them and had him in handcuffs in seconds.

  Emmet couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy. Two men got out of one of the choppers, Lieutenant Stukaczowski and another man, who had shaggy hair and was limping a little bit. His face was covered with scratches and what looked like bite marks.

  “You boys okay?” asked Lieutenant Stukaczowski.

  Emmet didn’t answer because he was looking at the other guy.

  “Dr. Newton?” he said. It was him. The Newt.

  He pulled a wallet out of his back pocket and held it up. Out flashed a bright, shiny badge.

  “Actually, it’s Special Agent Newton of Interpol,” he said.

  “Agent who of what?” Emmet said.

  Newton laughed.

  “You’re too much, Emmet,” he said. “I’m an undercover Interpol agent. Interpol is an international law enforcement agency that deals in cases like this, involving the international import and export of exotic animals. When you started accusing me of being Dr. Catalyst, I thought you were going to blow up years of work. I’ve been after this nut job for a long time. But I guess if I’m honest, without you I never would have caught him.”

  “We thought you died,” Calvin said.

  “I almost did. A couple of times,” he said.

  “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Emmet said. For some reason he couldn’t pin down, he still didn’t quite trust him. But he did look like he’d recently been put through a meat grinder.

  Newton laughed again. “I know. But right now we’re going to get you guys home. Emmet, you need to get that shoulder treated. One of these choppers will take you to Miami to your parents. I’ve got to stay with my team and gather evidence. But I promise we’ll talk, okay?”

  Emmet looked at Calvin. You wouldn’t know it unless you knew him like Emmet did, but he was as confused as anyone.

  He shrugged.

  EMMET’S DAD WAS FINALLY UP AND AROUND. A COUPLE of more days in the hospital and he would be able to come home. They were both in Dr. Geaux’s room with Calvin. They’d even brought along Apollo, telling the nurses he was Emmet’s therapy dog. Right now his “therapy” was lying on Dr. Geaux’s bed, getting a belly rub from her one good hand. She was on a lot of pain-killers, but not enough to miss out on a scolding.

  “I can’t believe you two!” she said. “What does it take to get through to you? What you did was dangerous and … and … you’re both just lucky that I can’t get out of bed.”

  “Sorry, Dr. Geaux,” Emmet said. “But to be fair, Dr. Catalyst captured me. It was Calvin who took off again and disobeyed orders.”

  “Dude!” Calvin said. Emmet gave him a big grin, to which Calvin narrowed his eyes in response.

  “What matters is that you’re both safe,” Emmet’s dad said. “And Dr. Catalyst is in custody. We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  There was a part of Emmet that wondered about that. Dr. Catalyst was slippery and had a lot of resources. Was this really the end of him?

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Emmet said. He turned to Calvin. “But, hey, they said your uncle Yaha is in stable condition now. It was pretty brave of him to take on the Swamp Cat like that. I guess we all owe him our lives.”

  “I guess we do,” Dr. Geaux said.

  “I have to say, this is one weird story. I mean, your grandfather? After all these years?”

  “Emmet,” Calvin said. “I want you to know … I’m sorry I didn’t speak up sooner. If —”

  Emmet held up his hand. “Calvin, it’s okay. I get it. And you saved my life. A couple of times now. We’re even.”

  “But —” Calvin started.

  “You’ve talked more in the last twenty-four hours than you have since I’ve known you,” Emmet said. “I understand why you did what you did. We’re cool. Besides, there are more interesting things to discuss, like, say, Dr. Newton is an Interpol agent? The Newt? Everybody thought he died in the swamp. I wonder how he made it out?”

  Calvin, realizing he was out of trouble with Emmet, visibly relaxed. And then he shrugged.

  “See,” Emmet said. “The old Calvin is back.”

  “So what’s next?” Dr. Geaux asked.

  “Peace and quiet, I hope,” said Emmet. “And fewer teeth. Fewer teeth would be really good.”

  Emmet’s dad laughed.

  “We’ll do our best to limit your exposure to nature for a while,” he said.

  “I don’t think that’s possible in Florida, Dad. Everywhere you go there’s something with teeth. Alligators in your swimming pool, snakes in the trees. It’s impossible to go anyplace without a pretty good chance of something biting you.”

  Dr. Geaux had a serious, almost sad expression on her face now.

  “Benton, now that the crisis is over, what will you do?” she asked. “Will you go back to Montana?”

  Dr. Doyle was quiet a moment.

  “I don’t know, Rosalita,” he said. “There are still some Pterogators in the park. I think I need to help your team make sure they’re all rounded up before they cause more problems. But I need to discuss it with Emmet. We haven’t had a chance yet.”

  He looked at Emmet.

  “Emmet, what do you think? How do you feel about staying in Florida, at least for a while?”

  Emmet didn’t answer right away. In his mind’s eye he could see the snow-capped peaks of Montana. The roaring rivers and the soaring eagles. Emmet saw himself snowboarding and hiking the trails with his dad. Montana was where he’d lived after his mother died, where he’d mourned her. He’d found a kind of peace there. It was a peace that had been quickly shattered when they arrived in Florid
a City. He missed it.

  But then he looked around the room at Dr. Geaux and Calvin. And even at Apollo, who was happy right where he was. Emmet realized in all the craziness of the past few months that he hadn’t had much time to think about his mom. Maybe now, with life a bit calmer, he and his dad could focus on rebuilding their family. Or building a new one.

  “I don’t know, Dad. I guess it would be all right to stay for a while,” Emmet said. All four of them smiled. “Don’t go acting all relieved yet,” he said. “You haven’t heard my one condition.”

  “What’s that?” his dad asked.

  “I am never, under any circumstances, going back in that swamp.”

  Everyone laughed, and Emmet’s dad clapped him on the shoulder.

  “That’s a deal.”

  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.

  Hungry for more monsters? Check out Scare Scape!

  The house, when they finally found it, was like nothing Morton had ever seen in the city. Tucked away at the end of a winding gravel driveway and veiled in curtains of tangled ivy, it loomed behind a dense row of trees like an ancient lost monument.

  “Here we are,” Dad announced cheerily as they pulled up to the end of the driveway. “Eighty-eight Hemlock Hill. Our new home.”