The Orphan of Awkward Falls (19 page)

Felix paced to and fro on the back of the sofa, giving orders like Davy Crockett at the Alamo. “They could hit us any second now!” the cat warned, addressing his force of three. “Anything we can do to slow them down could save our gizzards. I want every door and window locked tight. Nail ‘em shut if you can!”

“Right!” answered Josephine. “Dad, where’s the hammer?”

Howard was still too awed by Felix’s abilities to focus. “I don’t get it, Jo. The cat can talk? How is that possible? Is this a trick or something?”

Felix marched over to Howard and looked right at him. “Get over it, Pops. I can whistle ‘Dixie’ and tap-dance, too, if you’re interested. And if you think that’s weird, wait’ll you get a load of those hungry freaks outside. Now, where’s that hammer?”

Howard looked more puzzled than ever, but he obediently went off to find the hammer. The scruffy cat, with its swollen black eye and the gnawed-off nub where its tail used to be, was not exactly
inspiring to look at, but the voice that miraculously came out of its mouth was that of a leader. The cat was definitely in charge.

Howard quizzed his daughter as they worked. “Jo, I think it might be helpful to have a few more facts about what we’re up against here. Can you tell me a little more about the physiology of those creatures out there? What are they like?”

“I think they’re mutants of some kind,” she said. “Different species all mixed together, with some mechanical stuff thrown in. One of them has kind of a buffalo head, but the body of something else.”

Felix added gruffly, “Imagine grizzly bears, except bigger, uglier, and starved. Then imagine us as lunch, and you’ve got the idea. Where’s the door to the basement?”

“Right over there.” Josephine pointed.

“Good. Once we batten down the hatches, that’s where we’ll hunker down and make our stand, got it?” The cat hopped down and strode off to inspect the basement.

Howard and Barb watched in amazement as the cat reached up with its front paws, flung open the door, and disappeared down the stairs.

Josephine found some boards her mother had planned to make shelves with and began nailing them across the doorframe. As she hammered, she realized that her parents were in shock, still not fully accepting the reality of the situation. They wandered around looking dazed, hesitantly checking windows and doors, as if they still held out hope that this might turn out to be some crazy dream.

As Barbara closed the drapes she had hung on the parlor window the day before, she screamed, “Oh, my heavens, Howard, look!”

On the other side of the glass was the giant spiderlike creature Josephine had seen in the lab, its fierce baboon’s head peering in at them. It raised one of its eight long arms and smacked the window with its mechanical pincer. The thing opened its mouth and made an angry guttural hiss, its steel fangs dripping fluid. Behind the spider creature, the buffalo-headed beast stamped around the driveway, butting the station wagon over and over again until the window of the old car was caved in. Then it rammed its head inside and began eating the upholstery.

Howard caught his terrified wife as she dove into his arms. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Josephine’s heart jumped into her throat. The intense fear she had felt earlier that morning flooded back into her system as if a dam had broken. Watching the old station wagon being attacked by the bizarre monster shook Josephine to the core. Seen in broad daylight, the awful creatures were all the more frightening now that they had crossed over from the surreal confines of the lab into the “real” world of cars and parents.

Howard became a man possessed. “Find some more boards! We have to hurry!”

He shoved a chair up to the wall and began madly hammering boards across the window. Nails skittered on the floor as he grabbed handfuls of them from a coffee can. On the other side of the glass,
the spider creature snapped its pincers, confused and infuriated by the invisible barrier.

Felix appeared again and shouted, “Everybody down to the basement, pronto!”

Howard didn’t want to stop now that he’d seen the creatures. Josephine and her mother had to pull him away from the window. “Come on, Howard!” cried Barbara. He hammered a final nail and reluctantly hopped down from the chair.

As they all ran across the room to the basement door, one of the spider’s pincers crashed through the window and began swiping back and forth. Barbara, Howard, and Felix hurried down the stairs, with Josephine bringing up the rear. A second pane shattered just before she closed the door and followed everyone through the dark doorway.

In the basement, Howard found a pull string hanging from the low ceiling that turned on a bare lightbulb. The terror Josephine saw on her parents’ faces in the dim light frightened her almost as much as the beasts gathering outside.

Thankfully, Felix started barking commands immediately, giving them no time to dwell on their fear. “Okay, Pops, get busy with your hammer, and nail that door shut. Use anything you can to reinforce it! Pull boards from the wall if you have to.”

Felix paced in front of the terrified family. “I gotta feeling those things are chasing us just because we’re running from ‘em. Dogs are the same way. You run, they chase.”

“It’s true,” said Howard. “Pursuit is often a reflexive reaction to fear. The creatures may be as frightened as we are.”

Felix nodded. “Yeah, but they got fangs and claws. They might be so scared they’ll slice us to shreds. Now that we riled ‘em up, we gotta fight back. Sis, you look around for something flammable, like oil or paint thinner. Missus, I need brooms, mops, any kind of sticks you can find, and some rags.”

“Torches?” guessed Howard.

“That’s right,” said Felix. “Those things are basically dumb animals. My hunch is that they will be afraid of fire. If they break in here, we may be able to hold them at bay with torches.”

Josephine hurried around the basement, which was kept warm by the furnace rumbling in the center of the room. She looked through shelves stacked with a hundred years of junk. She found dozens of half-empty paint cans, jars, and coffee tins filled with nails; boxes of old magazines; lightbulbs; cleaning supplies; and, finally, a big jar of clear liquid labeled oil of turpentine.

Barbara quickly found two old mops hanging in a corner and used a handsaw to cut the handles off them. There was a box of dirty paint rags that she used to wrap the ends of the sticks.

“Perfect!” said Felix. “Now let’s soak the rags in the turpentine and get them ready to light. We’ll need matches, too.”

Howard finished nailing some two-by-fours over the door and ran down the steps to help with the torch making. He opened a
drawer in the worktable against the wall and found a rusty cigarette lighter that still worked.

Upstairs, it sounded as if a party for all the biggest, fiercest animals in the zoo was about to begin and the guests were all arriving at the same time. First, they heard a loud crash that sounded like the window had been completely knocked in and was now being used as a door. Then, a drumroll of heavy footsteps came stomping in the house upstairs. Felix and Josephine cringed when they heard the rumbling bellow of the buffalo-headed beast signaling his arrival. The house shuddered with several more crashes, as if the walls were being bashed in. The old floorboards cracked and popped under the massive weight of the things that were stampeding into the house. Josephine wondered if the floor itself was about to crash down on top of them.

Josephine was sure the things would soon sniff out their hiding place and come charging into the basement. Certainly no door was likely to stop them for long, if the huge things decided they wanted in. The basement suddenly felt more like a trap than a safe haven. With the creatures invading the house, the safest place to be was outside. She suggested as much, and Felix agreed.

“Good thinkin’,” he said. “Everybody look around. See if there’s a back door or a window anywhere.”

They all fanned out into the dark corners of the basement. As they crept around, looking behind piles of dusty furniture and under tables stacked with boxes, the riot above their heads grew louder and louder. The beasts were snarling and growling angrily, slamming
into the walls and floor. Josephine heard more glass breaking than seemed possible. It sounded like the creatures were literally ripping the house apart.

Josephine hurried around the basement, scanning the upper part of the walls for a window. It wasn’t easy, since the walls were mostly covered by shelves and stacks of boxes. She noticed a sliver of light leaking in above the laundry area and climbed on top of the rusty washing machine. When she pushed aside a stack of ancient canned tomatoes on a high shelf, she found what she was looking for.

“There’s a window over here,” she called. The glass was iced over, and she couldn’t see anything outside. “It’s small, but maybe we can get out this way.”

Felix hopped onto the shelf for a look, sizing up the opening. “It’ll be a tight squeeze for your folks, but it’s worth a try. Can you get it open?”

Josephine turned the small hand crank on the side of the window, and it slowly opened out like an awning. Snowflakes blew in on a gust of icy wind. The window was only intended as a vent, however, and stopped after about six inches.

“It doesn’t open wide enough!” she said.

Howard climbed onto the washing machine with Josephine to have a look. “I could remove the window frame,” he suggested. “Then we could climb out of the opening.”

“No, that’ll take too long!” Felix snapped. “We got minutes at the most. Just break the glass and get the heck out!”

Barbara tossed Howard the hammer, and he began knocking out the glass. Sheets of ice fell into the basement when the windowpane shattered.

“Hurry with the window, Howard!” Barbara called. “Something’s growling on the other side of the door! I can hear it!”

Josephine heard it too. Whatever it was began slamming into the rickety door, making it very clear that it would be joining them shortly.

“I think we should light the torches now,” said Barbara. “The door’s going to give way any second.”

“Light ‘em up!” Felix yelled. “And get ready to stand your ground.”

Howard passed the hammer to Josephine. “Here, Jo, you finish knocking out the glass. I’ll help your mother.” He jumped down from the washer and gathered the makeshift torches, holding out the ends for Barbara to light.

A huge paw plunged through the door, sending wood chips flying. The thing’s claws slashed wildly, searching for a target.

Barbara picked up the lighter with trembling hands and flicked at the little steel wheel. Sparks jumped from the flint, but no flame appeared.

The paw crashed through the door again, widening the hole. A snarling black muzzle appeared in the opening. With another punch, the door was history. The buffalo-headed creature came blasting through like a freight train, splintering the door, the boards Howard had nailed up, and a large chunk of the surrounding wall into a cloud
of tiny pieces. The massive beast’s momentum sent it somersaulting down the stairs, crashing into a tall rack of shelves against the opposite wall. A half dozen cans of yellow house paint toppled down from the upper shelves onto the thing’s head; one can broke open and spilled over the beast’s black fur.

The huge creature lay sprawled on its back only a few feet away from Barbara, chomping a piece of the broken door. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she fumbled desperately with the lighter, and it clattered to the floor. The creature writhed and flailed. It would be up in a moment. Barbara picked up the lighter and flicked at it repeatedly, but it refused to light.

“We need those torches now, missus,” Felix ordered. “Quick, before it gets up!”

Barbara’s heart drummed in her throat. “I think the lighter’s out of fuel!”

“Strike the flint close to the torch, dear,” Howard said. “The sparks should be enough to ignite it.”

The buffalo-headed creature grunted and shook its ugly head, flinging yellow paint this way and that. It rose to its feet. Barbara held the lighter next to the torch’s turpentine-soaked rag and flicked the roller. At the instant the spark flew from the lighter, the rag burst into flames, singeing Howard’s eyelashes in the process. He lit the other torch off the first one and handed it to Barbara. The beast reared up and bellowed as they thrust the flaming broomsticks at its face. It reluctantly began to back away from the fire.