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.