-7-
Moments later, PJ was at his father’s desk with the phonebook open, dialing the telephone. “Hi, animal control…?”
PJ listened for several seconds, then recited the station address and hung up.
“The answering machine said they respond to after-hours messages within sixty minutes,” PJ told Sam. “With any luck, my dad won’t be back for seventy.”
Just then, the front door swung open.
PJ and Sam stood up, each expecting his own father to walk through the door. Instead, two pale figures in long, dusty cloaks stepped inside—a young woman and an albino man. The pair tugged back their hoods and squinted in the light of the room, shading their huge pupils. Their cloaks were slate gray and covered their entire bodies except for the primitive boots on their feet. If they stood against a stone wall, Sam thought, they would blend right in.
The albino man was perhaps twenty years old. His skin, hair, and eyebrows were white, almost translucent. Even his pupils seemed colorless.
The woman was slightly younger, seventeen or eighteen —about PJ’s age, Sam guessed. Her black hair was bound by a thick metal ring at the back of her head and shot straight down her neck until it disappeared into her robe. In contrast, her complexion was nearly white and smooth as milk. Her lips were light colored too, almost imperceptible against her skin, yet in the middle of her pale face sparkled two alert green eyes.
“Let me guess,” PJ said, “animal control?”
The pair looked at one another. The man motioned for the woman to remain silent and spoke with an accent that sounded almost Canadian. “We are indeed here for the…animal.”
Sam whispered to PJ. “Dogcatchers usually wear white coveralls, not gray robes.”
“I don’t care,” PJ said, “as long as they get this thing out of here.”
“Are you expecting anyone else?” the man said.
“Man, I hope not,” PJ said. “Come on, it’s back here.”
The man and the woman followed PJ. Sam tried to get PJ’s attention. “They’re early too,” he said, “really early.”
“So I’ll give them a break on their low budget uniforms for being prompt,” PJ said. “Now shut up if you please and let me get us out of this mess.” He walked the man and woman to the cell.
When the furry creature caught sight of the robed strangers, it began to hop around the cell. It tore at the bars and pounded the walls as though looking for an avenue of escape.
“Do you know what it is?” Sam asked.
“Yes,” the man replied, offering no explanation.
“Magnifico,” PJ said “because it’s all yours.”
The woman met eyes with the creature. “It is ready to fight,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s got a little anger management problem,” PJ agreed.
“Does it have any weapons in there?” asked the man.
“It swings a mean Funny Foam bat,” PJ said. When the strangers didn’t smile, he rolled his eyes and explained.
“Don’t worry, the bat’s not dangerous, just annoying.”
“We shall take care of this,” the man said.
PJ put the key in the lock. “Good, because I…”
“Arrgh!” The thing in the cell growled and charged up to the bars, snatching the key from PJ. It was out of the cell so fast that PJ hardly had time to turn around before it slammed into Sam with its stout body. Sam flew backwards, hitting the wall with a dull thud. He dropped to the floor, stunned.
The creature turned and snatched a fire axe from a hook near the back door.
PJ grabbed the first object he could reach to face the snarling beast. He whirled and held up the Funny Foam bat. The axe swung at his head. PJ threw himself to the ground just as it clove the foam bat in half and whistled past his ear.
From the corner of his eye, Sam saw the strangers reach into their robes.
Shiink! Shhhhink!
The man and woman yanked long, thin rapier swords from hidden scabbards. They moved so fast that he only caught a glimpse of their blades as they swung them in glittering arcs.
Thunk-thunk!
The creature froze. Black fluid began to spurt from two wounds in its midsection. The dark goo sprayed straight out like syrupy gunk from some sort of grotesque garden fountain, splattering Sam and PJ. Sam tried to scramble to his feet, but he slipped in the rapidly forming puddle and fell belly-first into the sticky muck.
The robed strangers stepped away, their quick and devastating work completed.
The gooey substance continued to spurt and spurt and spurt from the swaying creature. It smelled like hot mud, and the creature looked like a tree about to fall. The thing’s yellow eyes locked on Sam, but they were vacant. It began to shrivel as its vital fluids drained, its skin folding, creasing, and shrinking, and Sam realized that the thing was emptying out. Finally, its legs bowed and collapsed, and it fell to the ground, where it curled up like the limp skin of a deflated balloon animal.
PJ and Sam rose carefully, dripping black goo and eyeing the sword-wielding strangers. “I don’t think they’re from animal control,” Sam whispered.
“You killed it,” PJ said to the strangers.
“Only because you allowed it to arm itself with an axe,” snapped the albino man.
“These upworlders shouldn’t have seen any of this,” the woman said to him.
“Quiet,” the man frowned, “I need to decide what to do with them.”
Sam didn’t like what he was hearing. They still hadn’t lowered their swords.
PJ stood next to Sam and held up the remaining half of the foam bat. “Whoa there,” he said. “You aren’t going to get all medieval on us too, are you?”
“Of course not,” the man snorted. “We’re here to keep you safe.”
“We are servants of mankind,” the woman added.
PJ glanced at the limp skin of the creature and the globs of dark blood spattered all over his father’s office. “Then are you gonna clean that up?” he asked.
– End Chapter Seven –
