Raising Rufus (18 page)

“Holy mama,” Martin rasped.

Now the front door of the house opened and a lady in giant hair curlers and an avocado face mask stepped out. “Fritzie, what on earth is going on out—” Seeing the tall beast standing only three feet away, staring coldly at her, she froze.

Everybody—including
Rufus—stood there, rock-still. Martin dreaded the thought of what would come next. And after three seconds, he found out: the lady let out an eardrum-shattering SCREAM that they could probably hear all the way in Milwaukee.

The sound so alarmed Rufus that he hopped back, slipped on the porch step, and lurched face-first into a big American flag hanging on the post.

“No, Rufus, no!” Martin cried out, but he and Audrey could only stand there like rusted robots as Rufus stumbled back out into the yard, blinded by the flag that had come loose and was now draped over his head. The lady kept screaming as she retreated back inside and slammed the door—though it was still loud and clear as she kept carrying on in there.

Martin and Audrey tried to grab at the flag, but now Rufus was in an all-out panic, jerking around every which way. His foot landed on a tricycle, which shot out from under him—and he went airborne like an Olympic diver, hitting the ground flat on his side with a resounding
thud.

Audrey grimaced. “Oooooooh,
ow!
”

“
Please,
Rufus,” Martin cried hoarsely, trying vainly to get his arms around him. “You're only making it worse!”

Luckily, the flag came off as Rufus struggled to his feet. But now he was even more shaken up than before.

He darted out of the yard and straight into the street—just as a big green Land Rover zoomed up. The car came to a screeching, swerving stop, barely missing him. Rufus jumped up in the air, gave a husky bark, and took off down the street as fast as his beefy legs would carry him.

“No!” Martin yelled one more time. He could feel his thigh muscles burning as he desperately tried to keep up. “Come back!”

The man driving the car jumped out and stared, slack-jawed, as Rufus charged down the road. The lady in the house was now leaning out an upstairs window, hollering “Call the police! Somebody call the police!”

None of which was doing a darn thing to slow down Rufus—who was now charging straight toward the center of town.

G
age Park was a pleasant little patch of grass and trees where, on a normal day, you might see kids playing tag, couples holding hands, or older folks standing in the middle of the park admiring the statue of Philippe Dumont, an old-time explorer looking gallant on his high-stepping horse.

There were no people in the park this morning, but a few dozen pigeons were making themselves right at home on the statue when a very large, very agitated creature came bounding on the scene, with two equally unnerved young humans following not too far behind.

“Rufus, you have to
stop
!” Martin called.

Rufus lunged at the pigeons, and Martin and Audrey had to duck as they were suddenly surrounded by a cloud of flapping, fluttering birds. Rufus slashed and snapped at them, but somehow they all managed to escape.

Flustered, Rufus jumped at the statue, chomping right down on the leg of Monsieur Dumont's horse.

“Get away from there, you big bonehead!” Audrey hollered.

“Shhhh! You're making it worse,” said Martin.

He tentatively reached toward the twitchy dino. “Rufus, calm
down,
” he said, stroking Rufus's left thigh as though he were a skittish stallion. Rufus let go of the statue—though his eyes were still blazing. For just a fleeting moment, Martin was afraid maybe those teeth were about to be turned on him and Audrey. But Rufus actually did start to calm down a bit, or at least, he didn't seem like he was ready to bolt again.

“That's it, good boy.”

“Now what?” Audrey said.

Martin looked all around. “If we can…there's a shortcut. We can get back to the garage.”

“Okay,” Audrey said, though she sounded pretty unsure.

“Come on,” Martin said, trying to act like it was all under control.

They had barely gotten to the edge of the park when they spotted something and stopped cold. Just a half block ahead, a dark Lincoln crawled along like a prowling panther, then came to a stop. Martin stood there, paralyzed. He knew whose car it was.

The passenger door opened, and out stepped a familiar but unwelcome face: Ollie Thwait, the Trout Palace guard. He scowled at them as the driver's-side door opened and a man with a gleaming bald pate got out, throwing them a menacing glare of his own. In one hand, Ben Fairfield had a walkie-talkie. He reached back into the car with the other and pulled out a long, dark object that Martin recognized instantly: another tranquilizing rifle.

Rufus must have recognized it too, because he jerked and grunted testily. Martin's heart rose directly into his throat.

“Ai-yai-yai,” Audrey squeaked as Mr. Fairfield raised the walkie-talkie and growled into the mouthpiece, loud and clear.

“Frank.”

“Yeah, Ben,” said the sheriff's crackly voice at the other end.

“Found 'em. Gage Park, on Chestnut.”

“Roger that.”

Almost instantly, a siren started wailing in the distance.

Something about the sound set off a voice in Martin's head, telling him they were done and it was time to give up. But as Ben Fairfield slowly lifted the rifle to his shoulder and took aim at Rufus, an even louder voice inside yelled,
Stop standing there, you idiot! Get moving!

“This way!” Martin exclaimed, taking off across the street at full tilt. Catching his energy, Audrey and Rufus followed.

Mr. Fairfield and Ollie tore after them, leaving the car sitting in the middle of the street, as Martin led Rufus and Audrey into an alley between two small buildings. They could hear Fairfield barking into the walkie-talkie behind them.

“Cutting across to Green Bay, heading east now. Got it, Frank? Cut 'em off!”

Any thought Martin had of making it back to Mr. Eckhart's garage was now a distant memory. Their only remaining hope was to somehow get out of there without getting caught. Maybe they could make it back to the woods and be safe there.

They came out the other end of the alley and found themselves right where they didn't want to be: on Green Bay Avenue, the busiest street in town.

Leading the way, Martin made a mad dash down the street, and people turned to look. At first they stayed strangely calm, as though what they were watching was some kind of bizarre street theater. When Fairfield and Ollie came barreling out of the alley, even that didn't cause any particular alarm. But when Rufus ran by an orange-haired lady and chomped the leather purse right out of her hand, she let out a hellacious
shriek!

That was everybody's cue to push the panic button.

Murmurs turned to screams. Drivers slammed on their brakes, causing three fender benders within seconds. Horns honked chaotically. Little kids screamed and cried as their parents tried to sweep them as far away as possible from this ferocious-looking creature on the loose.

Some people craned their necks to get a better look; others just sprinted right out of there.

Dogs barked up a storm. A guy on a motorcycle twisted his head around to check out Rufus—and took a fast header right into Tom Reavis Memorial Fountain.

Now, on top of everything else, Martin was afraid somebody might really get hurt. He felt like they had all been transported into one of those scary monster-on-the-loose movies, and Rufus was the monster. But Rufus wasn't attacking anyone—all he was doing was
running.
Martin just wanted to shout,
Everybody calm down! Everything's okay!

But for him and Audrey and Rufus, everything was definitely
not
okay. They felt themselves slowing down, and Ben Fairfield and Ollie, showing remarkable stamina for guys their age, were gaining on them.

A police cruiser, seeming to come out of nowhere, skidded to a halt just ahead of them. Now they were completely cut off. Martin looked all around, desperate for an escape route.

“Through there!” he shouted, pointing to a storefront across the street. He darted between two parked cars and raced across. Audrey and Rufus fell in right behind.

Mr. Fairfield took off after them, followed by Ollie and the officer from the squad car.

“What, through
there
?” Audrey rasped as they raced toward a row of shops.

“I've been in there. There's a service door in back,” Martin said. “We can make it to the woods.” He ran right up to the front entrance of the Spotted Otter, a big gift shop that was popular with tourists, and the automated front doors slid open. “Duck, Rufus!”

Rufus lowered his head, and the three of them rushed inside.

The place was packed from wall to wall with mugs, glass figurines, painted plates, cuckoo clocks, porcelain dolls, and thousands of other delicate knickknacks. So Martin and Audrey had to slow down and be extra careful as they led Rufus through the narrow center aisle, skillfully guiding him between the high shelves of pretty breakables.

“Sorry…sorry,” Audrey and Martin muttered as they made their way past the customers, who stood there, rigid and bug-eyed.

Somehow, the three of them made it to the far end of the store without bumping a single item out of place—until, at the very end, the tiniest tip of Rufus's tail caught a little glass globe, knocking it off a shelf. But as before, Audrey's reflexes were lightning-quick—she stretched out and caught it just before it took a shattering nosedive.

They raced straight past a petrified lady at a rear checkout counter (“Sorry,” Martin said sheepishly), barreled into the storage room, and immediately spotted the service door in the back wall. Only one thought ran through Martin's head:
Please, please don't be locked!

As he reached for the bar handle, a loud CRASH made them all jump. They looked back through the opening into the main store to see Ben Fairfield, Ollie, and the deputy in a tangled mess in the center aisle. The tranquilizing gun had caught on a post and all three of them had slammed into each other, tumbling against a shelf and sending glass souvenirs cascading down on them from all sides. The shelf tipped over and started a chain reaction of collapsing shelves and flying glassware, leaving the hapless customers scrambling to get out of the way.

When the poor lady behind the counter saw what was happening to her store, her jaw sagged, her eyes rolled up—and she dropped straight to the floor.

“Holy mama,” Martin muttered.

“She's okay,” said Audrey as the lady made it back to her knees. “Keep going, Martin.
Go!
”

Martin grabbed the bar and pushed—and was hugely relieved when the big door swung open. Maybe, he dared to think as they ran outside, with their pursuers hung up now, they might actually have a chance…?

They ran down a short stretch of alley and came out on Elm Street, which wasn't quite as crowded as Green Bay, but the furor that erupted there was exactly the same.

They hadn't gotten far when the sound of screeching tires startled them. Down toward the end of the block, a pickup truck skidded to a halt, narrowly missing a panicky tourist. The driver and passenger jumped out, and Martin knew exactly who it was before their feet even hit the ground.

“Martin! Hold up!” Mr. Tinker shouted. He and Mrs. Tinker charged toward them, struggling against the flow of fleeing people.

But Martin did not want to give up, not to his parents, not to anybody. He and his loyal companions turned and ran one more time, heading down still another street as Ben Fairfield and his crew, having extracted themselves from the Spotted Otter, appeared again.

The three fugitives kept on running straight through the heart of Menominee Springs, causing a sensation everywhere they went, and somehow staying ahead of the posse chasing after them. They ran past St. Jude's Church, kept on going past the fancy houses on Chelten Lane, and cut diagonally across Pfister Park.

By the time they were running past Menominee Springs Middle School—where they were
supposed
to be this morning—their tanks were just about empty.

“Martin,” Audrey wheezed, “I can't run anymore. We can't make it. Maybe we better—”

“No!” Martin snapped, although he was every bit as spent as she was. “We have to keep going!” By now any actual plan or expectation of a real escape no longer existed in Martin's brain. They had to keep going because…well, because they just
had
to.

Sheriff Grimes's squad car came to a stop just a half block ahead, cutting them off yet again. They looked back the way they had come: Mr. Fairfield's gang was bearing down on them.
Fast.

There was only one way out, and Martin didn't hesitate. “Through here,” he panted, and they scurried through the gate onto the school's athletic field.

As they chugged across the field, lungs aflame, feet heavy as anvils, Martin's mind started to drift. Time seemed to wind down to a crawl, and he felt like he was running in slow motion through empty space. The only sounds he could hear were his own labored breathing and throbbing heartbeat.
How did it come to this? I'm just a regular kid, trying to help a defenseless animal. Why is everybody treating us like criminals?

He thought of the seventh-grade classroom across the way, where right now Mrs. Sanders was probably quizzing the class on math or geography or grammar, with empty chairs where he and Audrey would normally be. Did anybody realize they weren't there? Did they even care? Didn't they know how important it was to save Rufus from a terrible life under the thumb of Ben Fairfield?

Martin's eyes drifted over to the school building and fixed on the row of open classroom windows. Was that Donald Grimes pointing at them through the window, jumping up and down and shouting something to the rest of the class?

“Get away from us! We're just trying to help him! Go away!”

Wait a minute.
It was Donald, all right, but it wasn't his voice.

Snapping out of his dreamy state, Martin realized the voice was Audrey's, and she was shouting at Ben Fairfield's gang and the police officers who were now right on top of them.