No. 383

Will checked his phone for messages. There were none. The clock said 8:53. He made up his mind and leaned forward to speak to the limo driver. “She’s not coming. I can still make it in time if we leave now.”

The driver tipped his cap and started the engine. “Perhaps she wasn’t right for you, anyway,” he offered from the front seat.

“Maybe,” said Will. “Maybe you’re right.”

When the car began to move, Will didn’t look back.

No. 382

“We yawn so that the little aliens who live in our brains can get some fresh air,” Jocelyn told her little brother, Caleb, after repeated questioning.

“That’s not true,” he replied.

“Really? Because you’re the one who asked me, so you’re the one who doesn’t know.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he admitted, then returned to playing with his truck.

 

“She’s on to us,” said the alien commander. “Prepare to evacuate!”

 

“Hey, what was that?” said Caleb.

“What was what?” said his sister, annoyed at being interrupted again.

“Something just flew out of your ear.”

She waved nonchalantly. “Probably just a bug. Stop bothering me.”

“I bet it was the aliens.”

“Are you kidding me? I just made that up.”

No. 381

AJ didn’t like the look of the rash on his right hand. It had started small, a few days earlier, but had now grown to cover everything but his thumb.

“You should probably get that checked out,” his roommate, Shawn Raymond, told him, as AJ left for work.

“Yeah, I think so. I’m busy today, but I’ll try to fit it in,” said AJ on his way out the door. He flexed his fingers experimentally. The dull itch had turned into a worrying burning sensation.

As he drove in to the office, the pain began to intensify. When he arrived, it was only to throw his bag on his desk and let his boss know he was going to the doctor.

 

AJ never made it that far. He pulled his car to the side of the road and tucked himself into the foetal position. He’d never experienced such agony, and the inflammation had reached his elbow. He used his opposite arm to claw at the wound.

He was horrified to see the flesh flake away, disintegrating into a sandy texture. He closed his eyes in misery. Once rid of the tissue, though, the pain slacked.

When he opened his eyes, he regarded his limb curiously. The skin and muscle that he expected to see were gone. Underneath was shiny pistons and cables. He opened and closed his hand with a faint whine of gears propelling the metal skeleton.  

“What is this?” he gasped at the sight. Then, worryingly, his left little finger began to itch.

 

AJ threw the car in drive and sped home, hoping desperately that Shawn was gone for the day.

He was in luck. The apartment was empty when he came through the door with a sweater over his arm. He hurried to his room and, after leaving a message for Shawn that he’d be away on business, closed the door and didn’t leave for a week.

 

When he emerged, he was reduced to a technological framework, completely machine.

“Hey,” he greeted Shawn, who didn’t turn around.

“What’s up?” Shawn asked.

“I’m a robot, apparently,” replied AJ.

Shawn kept his focus on the TV. “Yup. We all knew that,” he said without a reaction.

AJ was floored by the news. “What do you mean, ‘you knew’? And who is ‘we’?”

"Almost everyone. It was pretty obvious."

No. 380

Jack moved his chair to follow the umbrella’s shadow. He’d been watching people walk past the patio and hadn’t noticed how far the sun had moved. Reaching for his glass, he was annoyed to find that the ice had melted. He shook the condensation off of his hand and looked back toward the shop. He wondered if he should buy another drink, or live with the warm one he already had.  

He didn’t see Amy until she sat down beside him.

“Hi,” she said. “How’s it going?”

“Yeah, fine,” said Jack, startled by her sudden appearance. “I’m just killing time.”

Amy worked at a restaurant across the street, and knew who Jack was waiting for.

“When’s Kelly done?” Amy asked.

“Ah, should be soon,” Jack replied. “It was supposed to be twenty minutes ago, but I think something came up.” He’d told Amy about his feelings for Kelly the week before. Now Amy made sure to ask him about her every day.

“I see,” said Amy. She leaned over and stole Jack’s cup. “Does she know you’re here for her?” she asked with the straw in her mouth.

“I think so,” said Jack. “I said something yesterday.”

Amy smiled. “What exactly did you say, yesterday?”

Jack slid back further into the shadow. “I said we should do something, sometime.”

“I’m going in to see if she’s still here,” said Amy.

Jack didn’t say anything. Amy stood up and walked around the table to Jack’s side.

“Get up,” she told him, grabbing his arm, and lifting. “You’re coming, too.”

“But—,” Jack protested.

Amy was having none of it. She hustled him forward toward the door. “Move! At the very least, you can buy your sister something for her parched throat on this ridiculously hot day.”

“Fine, whatever,” Jack mumbled. “But it’s only going to be a small since you just finished mine.”

 

Amy burst into the lobby with Jack in tow. “Kelly?” she shouted across the counter. “Are you still here? My brother has something to tell you.”

Kelly was nowhere to be seen. A man behind the till spoke up.

“Kelly’s gone home,” he told Jack and Amy.

“Who are you?” asked Amy. “I’m here all the time and I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’m new,” said the man. “This is my first shift at this store. I’m Mike.”

 

“And so, four years ago, that’s how Mike and my sister met. I’m going to take credit for it.” Jack finished his speech. He raised his glass. “To the bride and groom.”

He sat down when the applause was over.

“Hey,” Kelly whispered in his ear. “You never told me that story before. If I remember correctly, it wasn’t until a month after Mike started that you asked me out.”

No. 379

The Tower dominated the landscape. It had been built when the forest had been a flat plain. Now, the trees had grown full and tall, and it still dwarfed its leafy neighbors.

Princess Alana could see the Tower looming above her as she chopped her way through the underbrush. She tried not to look up very much. Although it was her destination, the Tower frightened her.

But there was a prince at the top, and he needed her to rescue him. She had to press on.

No. 378 - No. 368 Part 2

Part 1: http://aroundgray.blogspot.ca/2013/04/no-368.html

Emma swung and missed the ball completely.

“Yup,” Wayne noted.

“Can you tell me what I did wrong, there?” she asked, spinning to face him.

Her direct eagerness surprised Wayne. He wasn’t ready with a reply.

“Almost everything,” he finally managed, with a laugh.

Then he tried to remember the last time he’d laughed. It wasn’t recently.

He showed her how to line up properly and had her hit a few more times. She was a quick learner, for sure.

 

By the end of the lesson, he had yet to get a good read on her, though. He was usually able to size somebody up quickly, but Emma seemed to prove the exception to his rule. Short of asking her directly, he’d tried everything he could to figure her out.

“Should I come back at the same time tomorrow?” she asked as she put her clubs back in her bag.

“Whatever works best for you,” Wayne told her. It wasn’t like he was going to be busy.

“Alright,” she said happily. “Same, then. Sounds good. See you tomorrow, Wayne.”

Then she left.

 

Wayne stood still for a moment. Then he walked back inside to the front desk. His wife met him at the counter.

“How was she?” his wife asked him.

“Good,” said Wayne. “For a beginner,” he added.

His wife looked at the clock on the wall. “You were out there for a while.”

Wayne shrugged. “First lesson.”

“Yes,” his wife agreed. “We could use the business.”

“Right,” said Wayne.

“Is she coming back?”

“Tomorrow.”

There was an awkward silence.

“You know, you sent her out to me,” he told his wife abruptly.

“I most certainly did not,” she said with her arms crossed.

No. 377 - The Return of Fangy

Part 1 - http://aroundgray.blogspot.ca/2012/06/no-132.html
Part 2 - http://aroundgray.blogspot.ca/2012/07/no-164-fangy-part-2.html

After a particularly violent attack on a mailman, Fangy had been sent to live at the zoo. But Nicholas had been given a free pass, so they still saw each other regularly.   

Despite the frequent visits, however, Nicholas was unhappy with the arrangement. It was his opinion that Fangy had been unfairly blamed for the mauling. The neighbors had recently bought a new dog, a vicious one, by all accounts, and it had been seen running free on the same day of the alleged incident.

Because of this suspicion, Nicholas spent most of his time at the zoo looking for ways to break Fangy out of his exhibit.

Fangy had spent his time in captivity trying alternately to burrow his way out, or to sneak through the open doors at feeding time. His constant activity and inquisitive-yet-deadly nature made him popular with zoo visitors, and with his keeper, Mr. Marsh.

 

“Hello, Mr. Marsh,” said Nicholas as he walked by the “Staff Only” entrance to the velociraptor pit.

“Hi, Nick,” Mr. Marsh said, waving at the boy. “Fangy’s been in a little bit of trouble since you came the other day.”

Nicholas gritted his teeth. He had a plan to bust Fangy out that evening, but when Fangy got in trouble, that usually meant he wasn’t allowed in the outside part of his pen for a few days. “What did he do this time?” he asked casually, trying not to show his nervousness.

“Clawed a tourist who got too close to the edge while taking pictures. Tore him up real good,” said Mr. Marsh sternly. Then he winked at Nicholas. “But the tourist had it coming.”

That’s why Nicholas liked Mr. Marsh. He always took Fangy’s side.

“Is he locked up?” asked Nicholas.

“Well,” said Mr. Marsh. “We had to for a little while, until picture-guy left the park. But I couldn’t leave Fangy all cooped up like that all night, so I unlocked the gate before I left.” Mr. Marsh paused for a moment. “Come to think of it, though, I haven’t seen him out today.”

Nicholas thought the man was acting strangely, but didn’t want to draw attention to it, lest Mr. Marsh wonder why Nicholas seemed jumpy, too.

“We should see if he’s OK,” said Nicholas.

Mr. Marsh agreed, and they pair went together through the maintenance area to Fangy’s stall. To their surprise, the dinosaur wasn’t in his den. The straw on the floor in one corner had been disturbed, and sunlight shone through a large hole in the wall.

“Uh oh,” said Mr. Marsh loudly while he looked around. “It looks like he chewed his way out.” He pulled out a walkie-talkie and began speaking very quickly. “Code red, velociraptor escape. Code red, repeat, Fangy has escaped.”

Then he knelt down next to Nicholas and whispered. “Sorry, I had to make sure it seems real. Of course Fangy can’t chew through concrete, but they don’t know that. You should be able to find him down by the lake.”

“Thanks Mr. Marsh,” said Nicholas happily. The keeper’s plan had been much simpler than his. And now Fangy was free.

“A dinosaur should be with his boy,” said Mr. Marsh. “But be careful . If he eats anybody else, he’ll have to come straight back here.” He laughed. “Anybody that we like, that is.”

No. 376

 “You ate it? I can’t believe it!”

“Yeah, well. Not on purpose, obviously.”

“How did it taste?”

“Crunchy.”

“Crunchy’s not a flavor!”

“Do you really want to know what a bug tastes like?”

No. 375 - No. 372 Part 2B

Part 1: http://aroundgray.blogspot.ca/2013/05/no-372.html
Part 2: http://aroundgray.blogspot.ca/2013/05/no-373-no-372-part-2.html

A year went by.

The men at Station X had resigned themselves to the fact that the light would never illuminate.

Then, on a stormy winter morning, it did.

Bradshaw leapt to hit the button, throwing his chair aside.

Mitchell intercepted him halfway there. “Don’t,” he said, looking Bradshaw in the eyes.

“I have to,” said Bradshaw. “We can go home.” He strained toward his target.

Mitchell held him fast, and repeated his plea. “Please don’t.”

Bradshaw’s struggles subsided. “The light is on,” he protested in vain.  

He reached for the button again.

Mitchell drew his pistol and pointed it at Bradshaw. “You can’t.”

“What’s wrong with you? We’ll be here forever!” Bradshaw was becoming frantic. “Why?”

Mitchell kept the weapon trained on his companion. “Because I know what the button is for.”

The answer was too much for Bradshaw. He lunged forward, ignoring the gun.

 

A single shot from inside the hut echoed across the windswept landscape.

Mitchell sat alone inside the shelter. He did not press the button.

No. 374

“The boy tried to attack me,” the wolf told the excited pack that had gathered around him. “But I narrowly escaped.”

The other s “oooed” and “ahhed” appropriately.

The problem was, the wolf was lying. He’d seen the human at a distance, but at no point during his sheep-hunting was he ever threatened in the least.

“What are you going to do next time?” asked one of the other wolves.

“Oh, he won’t know what’s coming, that’s for sure,” the wolf boasted confidently. “Now that I’ve seen him, I know his weaknesses.  I’ll probably eat him.”

 

The rest of the pack was keen to see this and so, the next day, they all met on the hill opposite the sheep paddock.

“You show that boy who’s boss,” they told the wolf, and pointed him in the direction of the shepherd.

The wolf crept slowly toward the child, while at the same time trying frantically to work out just how he was going to make the kill.

“Go get him!” the pack urged him on when he looked back.

And so he moved closer and closer. But he made a grave mistake and allowed his tail to brush against a dry bush with a rattling sound.

The shepherd turned immediately and spotted the wolf.

 

“That’s too bad,” said the pack leader when the rest were safe in their lair, gunshot still echoing in their ears. “He had such potential. I suppose that’s what happens to the wolf who cries boy.”

No. 373 - No. 372 Part 2A

Part 1: http://aroundgray.blogspot.ca/2013/05/no-372.html

The years went by.

In the Capital, an archivist found reference to a “Station X”. He brought the discovery to his superior’s attention.

“Sir, there’s no record that these men were ever relieved.”

The commander examined the documents. “Send a team.”

 

The transport landed just short of the windswept outpost. The archivist and two soldiers disembarked and approached the entrance.

A single old man was there to greet them. “You finally came,” he whispered.

“Where’s the other one?” asked the archivist.

The old man was silent. He pointed at a rough pile of rocks.

“I see. In any case, you can stand down. We’ll take you back home.”

The man from Station X’s eyes welled up. “This is my home.”

“As you wish,” said the archivist. He motioned for the others to follow him back to the transport.

“Wait,” said the man. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“What was the button for?”

The archivist shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s classified. Just be grateful you never had to push it.”

The old man nodded once, and then returned to his post.

No. 372

Station X was on the far side of the middle of nowhere. Visitors never came, and the two men assigned to guard it had long since exhausted every topic of casual conversation. There was nothing to do at Station X but wait.

Indeed, the men had never been told what they were waiting for. On one console of the barren shack that comprised the entire base was a large red light. If the light ever turned on, the men were to press the yellow button on the opposite wall. Under threat of treason, and the firing squad, they were not allowed to leave before completing the task.   

“They’ve forgotten us,” said one man.

“Maybe,” said the other.

Time passed slowly.

No. 371

Initially, Conner didn’t notice anything different. He brushed his teeth, like usual. He ate his cereal, like usual. He fed his fish, like usual.

It wasn’t until he left his house to catch the bus that the first hairs stood up on the back of his neck. Nothing seemed out of place, but he didn’t recognize anybody in the street.

Shaking off the strange feeling, he hustled to the bus stop. The 8:55 was always on time and he only had a few minutes to get there.

“Good morning,” he said to the only person waiting in line.

“Hi,” she said, dismissively.

Conner didn’t pick up on the clue, and pressed the conversation. “I can’t believe it’s already May, can you?”

The woman looked at him oddly. “Yeah,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

He returned the look. “What do you mean, ‘tomorrow’?” he asked.

“You said it was May,” she told him. “It’s not May.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s May.” Now her tone was making Conner feel defensive.

“Whatever,” she said with a shrug.

They both spent the next minute ignoring each other, waiting for the bus to arrive.

Conner couldn’t leave the subject alone, though. “What day do you think it is?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Really? It’s April 31^st.”

“That’s not even a day,” Conner laughed. “I thought I was going crazy for a moment there.”

Before he could explain the many reasons that the woman was wrong, his watch beeped. He looked at it. It read “9:00”.

Then he noticed something else. It also said “04 31”.

He made a closer inspection of his surroundings. He felt his stomach drop as he realized they were all very familiar but, also, quite different from the ones he knew.

He knew, in that moment, that he was very far from home.

No. 370

She was perfect, in the videos.

Every night before Nick went to sleep, he would stop at his computer and watch. He was in love with her.

He didn’t know who she was, exactly, just that she would occasionally post brief updates about her life on her blog. Every time she added a song, or said “goodnight”, he wished it was about him.

Even though there was a link on the page that said “Contact”, he was too scared to click it. What if she didn’t feel the same way?

Once, she didn’t update for three weeks. Nick feared that she was gone forever. It turned out that she’d been on vacation. He was relieved when she returned.

The break spurred him to make a move.

 

He set up his camera and stared into it. He was about to speak when he realized that it wasn’t recording yet. Fumbling with the buttons, he turned it on.

“Hi, my name is Nick,” he said nervously. “If you’re watching—I don’t think you are, but— if you are— I want to say hello, I guess.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

 

Of course, she never saw his introduction. If she had, she would have thought nothing of it. She wouldn’t have known it was for her.

 

Nick understood, later on, the impossibilities.

No. 369

The Noise had descended on the town four days earlier. Oddly, no one could agree on a description. Some called it a “buzz” while others insisted that it sounded more like a whistle. A faction dedicated to keeping the peace between the two camps labeled it a “hum”.

Tensions ran high, as people struggled to cope with the constant din. A meeting in the community hall was called.

“When will it end?” somebody shouted from the crowd.

Silas Barry, the mayor, had no answer.

“How far does it extend?” was another question. “Can we escape?”

A chorus of voices rose, all asking variations on the same thing.

Mayor Barry held up his hand to quiet the rabble. “We don’t know,” he said.

The audience began to turn on him.

“Wait,” he said. “We tried to find out. I sent Oscar Landry to find out about that. He made it as far as Clarksville and he could still hear it. But when he asked the folks out there when the Noise had reached their town, they looked at him like he was funny in the head, and asked him ‘what noise?’.”

“What’s that mean?” Ellen Fairfield demanded from the front row.

“It means,” said Barry, with a worried breath. “That we might be the only ones who can hear it. And we may have to wait it out.”

There was a loud burst of shattering glass from the back of the room, then screams. Someone had broken a window in frustration.

The riot began almost immediately.  

“Please,” Barry implored. “Patience!”

But nobody was listening to him anymore. All they heard was the Noise.

No. 368

Wayne drove the ball downrange. He immediately felt something wrong with his swing and, without looking up, scooped another ball onto his mat to try again. This time his performance met his standards and he tracked the shot, watching it arc up into the distance and then drop near the target placard he’d been aiming for. Allowing himself half of a celebratory exhalation, he lined up his next drive.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” said somebody from behind him.

Wayne turned, annoyed, to face the discourteous speaker. It was a woman.

“But could you show me how to do that?” she continued.

Wayne evaluated her quickly. She was young and pretty, and her clothes and clubs suggested that she’d spent a good deal of money to be properly outfitted. Her nervous bearing, however, indicated that, although she might look the part, experience was severely lacking. He decided to forgive her error in etiquette.

“What’s your name?” he asked, before answering her question.

“Emma Conner,” she told him. “I’d like to learn,” she said. “The lady in the clubhouse told me that you occasionally taught lessons.”

“Did she, now?” said Wayne. “The lady behind the counter told you that?”

Emma nodded. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Wayne readjusted his hat. “She’s my wife,” he said.

“So, could you teach me?” Emma pressed. “I’m a quick learner.”

“I suppose,” Wayne agreed. “How about you set up in the box beside me, here, and try to hit a couple. I can take a look and see what we’re working with.”

She hurried to do so, while Wayne looked back towards the clubhouse. It was true that he’d once given lessons, but the last time had been ten years before. He wondered what his wife was up to with this suggestion.

“Ok, I’m ready,” said Emma excitedly, addressing the ball with an entirely incorrect stance.

Wayne returned his attention to her. “Go for it.”

No. 367

Every day at summer camp, after craft time, each boy was allowed to choose two pieces of candy from the snack window’s selection.

On Wednesday night, three days into his two-week stay, Josh Hill outlined his plan to his astounded cabin-mates.

“We rob the joint,” he told them. “Hit it fast and hard.”

Eyes widened in the flashlight-glow of the secret conference. “That’s brilliant,” said somebody in a top-bunk.

The rest of the boys agreed wholeheartedly.

Josh laid out the details of the heist. “Tomorrow, right after lunch, we’ll need a distraction. Two of you will head out on the lake in a canoe. At exactly 1:05, you’ll start shouting for help. I’ll have swiped the keys and four of us will go in through the back door while the counsellors are occupied with the rescue.”

“Sounds awesome,” said Robby Parker. “But there are twelve of us. What are the others going to do?”

“I’m not finished,” Josh assured him. “We’ll have three on standby, in case the canoe caper is resolved too quickly. One of them will have to fall into poison ivy. That’s nine. The other three are essential to the getaway. After the breach-team escapes, the alibi crew goes to work. You’ll plant a portion of the loot in the dogwood cabin, incriminating our rivals and throwing the fuzz off the scent.”

“It’s perfect,” Robby whispered. A chorus of satisfied murmurs from around the room affirmed his appraisal.

“Are there any questions?” Josh asked.

The conspirators were silent.

“Good,” said Josh. “Now get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day ahead. This time tomorrow night, we’ll be eating like kings.”

No. 366

 “The Australian Outback?” asked Betty Porter.

“No,” said her husband, Richard

“Why not?” Betty pressed.

Richard put down his book and looked up at her. “Snakes.”

“Alright,” said Betty. “Where do you want to go?”

Richard considered the question. “Antarctica, maybe?”

Betty shook her head. “Too cold.”

“Mexico?” Richard tried again.

“We’ve already been there.”

“Yeah, but we liked it.”

“That’s true. But we should go someplace new.”

There was an awkward silence. By now, the vacation discussion had been lingering on for most of the evening. Both parties were getting annoyed with the other.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Betty. “Why don’t we just stay here?” she suggested facetiously.

Richard leaned forward at the suggestion, his interest piqued.

Betty’s eyes widened.

“Road trip?” they both asked at the same time.

No. 365

Kate Shaw finished the story. “The end,” she said.

“Can you tell us another one, Mom?” her two boys asked as she tucked them into bed. “Ranger must have plenty more adventures.”

“Not until tomorrow,” Kate told them. She gave them a kiss. “Goodnight.”

She turned out the lights and closed the door.

Making sure she wasn't followed, she tiptoed down to the basement and typed a code on a disguised keypad.

The wall swung open, revealing a hidden room.

Kate stepped inside and pulled on her mask. Then Ranger snuck out of the house to fight crime.  

No. 364

“Did you see that?” asked Officer Kelly Dale as she and her partner sped down the dark forest highway.

Brandon Irwin, who was driving, slowed the cruiser and turned on the spotlight. He turned around and retraced their path back down the road.

“What did you see?” he asked, peering intently into the night.

“Something was moving along the shoulder. It looked human, but it was kind of off, somehow.”

“You haven’t been reading the tourist brochures again, have you?” Irwin asked her. The forest around them was on the edge of an enormous park, and the locals liked to play up Bigfoot sightings.

Dale ignored him, and continued to scan the edge of the woods.

“Look!” she pointed. “There.”

Irwin slammed on the brakes. He couldn’t believe what was loping across the road in the beam of the headlights.

The creature was tall, and had a shaggy brown coat. It turned toward the two police officers and raised its arms.

Dale leapt out her side and braced herself against the open door. “Freeze!” she shouted at the strange animal.

Irwin followed her lead, but whispered through the car at her. “I don’t think it will speak English.”

“I do,” said the beast. It lifted off its head to reveal a teenage boy.

The police officers looked at each other.

“Step to the front of the car,” Irwin ordered.

The boy did as he was told, leaving the costume’s mask in the middle of the street.

Once the officers searched him and found nothing illegal, they began to question him.

“My name’s Mike Harmon. I live around here,” he told them.

“What are you doing so far from town?” Dale asked him.

“And why are you wearing that suit?” Irwin added.

“You’re not going to believe me,” Harmon told them.

“Try us,” said Dale.

“I heard there was a party on the other side of the hill. I wanted to see if I could get in.”

“A party?” said Irwin. “Who has a party out here?”

Harmon looked around suspiciously before he leaned in to whisper his answer. “It’s not a regular party.”

Irwin stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe we’ll have to check it out,” he concluded.

“You’re going to want this,” Harmon said, indicating his furry suit.

 

A short time later, Dale had changed into the Bigfoot getup. “How come I have to wear this again?” she asked Irwin.

“Because we flipped, and you lost.”

“Sweet,” she said. She was not amused. “Tell me where you think this party is,” she told Harmon.

“Like I said,” said the boy. “Just over this hill,” he pointed to his left. “There’s a valley on the far side. It should be close.”

Dale grabbed her radio and a flashlight and headed off into the trees. Struggling against the cumbersome suit, she made her way up the rise to where Harmon had indicated. Upon reaching the top, she dropped to her belly and inched ahead the last few feet.

 

“Irwin,” his radio crackled.

“Dale?” he answered.

“You’re going to want to see this,” she told him.

Irwin turned to Harmon and hustled the boy into the back seat. “Stay here,” he said, slamming the door shut.  Then he rushed up the hill to assist his partner.

She saw him coming and waved her arm for him to stay low, as well.

He crawled up beside her.

“What is it?” he asked, slightly winded from the climb.

“Look,” she pointed.

There, in a clearing in the small valley below, was the strangest gathering of beings Irwin could have imagined.

“Is that a—?” he asked, trailing off.

Dale nodded. “Yup.”

“And a—?”

“Uh huh,” said Dale.

“This has got to go in the brochures,” Irwin gasped.

 

Back at the car, Dale was on the radio back to base, while Irwin stood over a smug Harmon.

“That’s right,” Dale told her dispatcher. “A sasquatch, a fish-man, some kind of Loch-Nessy-looking thing, a giant bird, and what I’m guessing is a chupacabra.”

There was a garbled question from the other end.

“Yes, that’s right,” Dale clarified. “Real ones.”