The Case of the Bone-Stalking Monster (6 page)

Chapter Ten: The Chuckie Chipmunk Episode

T
hose words went through me like a duck out of water. Ralph and I had gone down many happy trails together, but now . . . The tragic ex­pression that had etched itself on Wallace's ugly face suddenly vanished. All at once he didn't look sad at all.

“And now, pooch, it's time for you to run along. Me and Junior will take care of all the arrangements.”

“Wait a minute, hold on. Since when were you involved in emergency medical work?”

“Since I started chasin' wrecks, is since when—if it's any of your business, which it ain't. Now run along home.”

I gave him a stern glare. “I don't think so, Wallace. If you're a doctor, my name is Lulu.”

“Then your name is Lulu, 'cause I got my doctor's license from the Buzzard School of Medicine and Mortuary. We save the ones that can be saved and recycle the rest.”

I was about to go to sterner measures when Junior said, “P-p-a, I th-think h-he's w-w-waking up, waking up.”

Wallace spun his head around to Junior. “Who's waking up? Where's he at? What are you trying to say?”

He pointed a wing at Ralph. “The, uh uh, v-victim. Our p-p-patient!”

“Son, I already told you. He's gone. We lost him. It's a terrible tragedy but he didn't die envaned. We ain't had but rabbit scraps in three . . .”

Just then, old Ralph sat up and blinked his eyes. His gaze went from one buzzard to the other. He swallowed hard.

“Well, Ma always said I'd end up here, if I didn't change my ways, and here I am. Darn.”

Wallace shrank back as though he'd seen a ghost, but it didn't take him long to recover.

“There, you see that, pooch? Emergency Air­borne Medical has saved another life, yes we have, and you had the gall and the nerve to . . . Junior, we have done our job and we can be proud, very proud of our selfless devotion to duty, but life goes on and so does the rent on this stomach of mine. Let's get back in the sky and find us a better wreck somewheres else.”

I couldn't help chuckling. “See you around, Doctor Buzzard.”

“You better believe it's Doctor Buzzard, and don't you forget who saved that friend of yours and snatched him back from the very edge of the grave, and your name is Lulu. So there!”

They taxied into the breeze and began flapping their wings and rose into the sky.

“P-p-pa, I've g-g-ot c-c-cactus in m-m-my a-a-armpit.”

“Son, buzzards ain't got armpits 'cause we ain't got arms.”

“W-w-well, okay, th-then in m-my w-w-w-w-wingpit.”

“Son, I told you and told you. If you don't slow that thing down and stop driving like thirty-three drunk monkeys . . .”

I didn't hear the rest of the sermon, which was just fine. There's very little a buzzard has to say that I need to hear. I turned my attention to Ralph, who was staring at me with glazed eyeballs.

“Where am I? How many fingers am I holding up? Who's on first?”

“Take it easy, pal. You had a serious accident but you're going to be all right. Do you remember who you are?”

“Sure. I'm Chuckie Chipmunk and Miss Scamper's in love with me. And your name's Lulu. And I just bailed out of an airplane but my parachute didn't open.”

“Uh . . . listen to me. Your name's Dogpound Ralph. You fell out of the back of a pickup and landed on your head. You're suffering from a med­ical condition called Milk of Amnesia. It will pass, so don't panic.”

“I'm Chuckie Chipmunk.”

I heaved a sigh. “Fine. You're Chuckie Chip­­munk.”

“I'm a big chipmunk, aren't I, Lulu?”

“Yes, you're one of the biggest chipmunks in the world.”

“You reckon I could get a job in the circus?”

“Sure. There happens to be a circus right over there.” I pointed toward ranch headquarters. “Let's hike over and see if they're hiring . . . overgrown chipmunks.”

This conversation was kind of crazy, but I had decided to play along with him until his head cleared.

We started walking. I noticed that Ralph had a hitch in his get-along, but that was no surprise. He had taken a nasty fall.

He broke the silence. “You reckon they'll have elephants in the circus?”

“Oh sure. I'll introduce you to one.”

“Oh good. When I was little, I wanted to be an elephant.”

“No kidding? What stopped you?”

“Well, I was already a chipmunk, and once you're a chipmunk, you can never be an elephant.”

“Of course. I should have known. But tell me this, Ralph.”

“Chuckie. Chuckie Chipmunk.”

“Sorry. Tell me this, Chuckie. You mentioned Miss Scamper. Is she a chipmunk too?”

“Nope. She's a beaver, only she was wearing a dog suit to disguise herself. Pretty smart, huh?”

“Oh yeah. You bet.”

Was there a pattern here? If so, I couldn't find it. It appeared to me that Ralph had lost his marbles. I just hoped he would find them again. One weird dog on the ranch was about all I could stand.

I'm speaking of Drover, of course.

We made it into headquarters and I led him over to the storage tank, next to which we had a pan of fresh water. I told him to drink. He did. When he was done, he ran his tongue over his lips to sop up the drips.

He was quite a drippy drinker. I had picked up that clue right away.

“Well, Chuckie, how are you feeling now?”

He glanced around. “Who you talkin' to? My name's Ralph, Dogpound Ralph, and I'm supposed to be fishin' with Jimmy Joe.”

It appeared that the water had cleared his head. Did I dare try to explain the business about Chuckie Chipmunk? I decided to skip it. It was getting along toward sunset and I had things to do.

I suggested that he stay the night at our place and strike out in the morning to find his master. We had plenty of room under the gas tanks and he could share my gunnysack. Or Drover's. Yes, we had plenty of room and he could certainly share Drover's gunnysack.

“Come on, Ralph, I've got some very important business to take care of before dark, and you might as well tag along.”

He followed me down the hill, past the old cellar, past the overflow of the septic tank, through that grove of big elm trees, and to the gate of Sally May's garden. Here, I stopped and glanced around in all directions, to see if we had been followed.

Everything looked normal, but just to be on the safe side, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Ralph, you may not realize it, but on the other side of that fence lies a fortune in buried bones.”

His ears jumped and he licked his chops. “I sure love bones, especially ones that have been aged.”

“Yeah, well, we need to talk about that, Ralph. Since you're here as a guest, I don't mind giving you a peek at the bones, but only if you swear never to reveal the secret. Do you solemnly swear?”

He did.

“Good. Now, the next challenge, Ralph, is that we have to scale this hogwire fence. Watch me and then we'll give you a shot at it. Here I go.”

I made a giant leap upward, hooked my front paws over the top wire, dragged and heaved the rest of my body over the top, and tumbled over the other side.

Ralph watched this with his big basset eyes, then gave his head a shake. “Can't do it. I think I'll just use the gate.”

I laughed at his ridiculous statement and . . . hmmm . . . watched as he nosed the gate open with his . . . well, with his nose, of course, and came pad­ding into the garden.

I beamed him a glare. “For your information, this is a Secured Area and that gate wasn't supposed to be unlatched.”

“Uh-huh, but it was.”

I made a mental note of this clue, little realizing that it would soon become a very important detail.

I glanced over both shoulders, just to be sure we hadn't been followed, then made a dash to the northeast corner of the garden. There, I began a furious digging process to unearth the first of my Precious Bones. I dug so hard and so fast, I didn't realize that I was spraying Ralph with dirt.

“Reckon you could point that dirt somewheres else?”

“No, but you can always move.”

“Too much trouble.”

“Fine. Sit there and eat dirt. I'll be finished in just a second.” At that very moment, my claws scraped against something solid. “Ah ha, here we are. Wait until you see this bone, Ralph. You'll be . . .”

HUH?

I stared at the object I had just unearthed with my furious digging. It wasn't a precious T-bone. It was a . . . you won't believe what it was, so I won't even bother to tell you.

My heart sank. I couldn't believe this was hap­pening to me. I went plunging across the garden to the northwest corner and began digging in Loca­tion #2. I already had begun to suspect what I would find there, but I had to know for sure.

I was right.

Little needles of fear moved down my spine. I found myself noticing every shadow and every sound around me, and also that darkness was falling fast. My body wanted to run away and leave this place, but my mind prevailed. I had to know what lay in that third hole.

I swallowed my fear, my growing sense of dread, and ran to Location #3. I dug with the energy of a maniac, until at last I heard my paws make that familiar sound.

I gazed into the hole. My bone was GONE, and in its place I saw . . .

I turned to Ralph. “Ralph, I don't want to alarm you, but we've got a Bone Monster running loose on this ranch. My guess is that he's watching us at this very moment. On the count of three, we will run for our lives. One!”

Ralph was already gone. He didn't wait for two or three. And you know what? Neither did I.

Chapter Eleven: The Bone Monster Turns Out to Be Real

I
mean, if a guy's life's in danger, if he's being watched by a horrible red-eyed Night-Stalking Bone Monster, why should he stick around for the full count?

We didn't, fellers. We went into Rocket Dog Mode and got ourselves out of that creepy place. I never would have dreamed that Ralph could run so fast on those stubby legs of his, but he was picking 'em up and laying 'em down.

We went streaking to the gas tanks. Drover had been sleeping, but his head came up as he heard the roar of our rocket engines and the screech of our brakes.

His ears were crooked and his eyes were crossed. “Mirk snork snicklefritz, who's that?”

I was panting for breath. “Drover, this is Dog­pound Ralph. Ralph, meet Drover, my assistant.”

They exchanged nods while I caught my breath. “Drover, I'm afraid we're in for one of the longest and scariest nights of our lives.”

His face wilted. “I don't think I want to hear this.”

“I'm sorry, son, but it's my duty to tell you the facts.”

“I hate facts, especially scary ones. Oh Hank, don't tell me that it's the Bone Monster.”

I stared at the runt. “How did you know? Did you see him too?”

“Well, I . . .”

“That makes two of us who caught a glimpse of him. How about you, Ralph? Did you see him too?”

“Well . . . I saw something.”

“There you are! That makes three out of three. We all saw the Bone Monster, so there's no question that he's on the loose, out there somewhere in the black darkness of night.”

Suddenly I heard an odd sound. Then I realized that it was coming from Drover. His teeth were chattering.

“Drover, do something about your teeth.”

“I can't take 'em out. What should I do?”

“I don't know, but stop clicking them.” I began pacing back and forth in front of my troops. “All right, men. I feel it's my duty to give you all the information in this case.”

Drover moaned. “I don't think I can stand it!”

“Hush. As you already know, the Bone Monster entered our Garden Vault and stole all three of our bones.”

Drover stared at me with empty eyes. “Garden Vault? What . . . I thought . . . I think I missed some­thing.”

“Exactly, which is why you should pay attention once in a while. But the crucial fact here is that, after stealing my . . . that is, our bones, the Bone Monster LEFT SOMETHING IN THE HOLES.”

I heard Drover gasp. “You mean . . .”

“Exactly. He stole the bones and left a carbolic object in their place. Bone Monsters always do that. It's part of their routine, their pattern.”

There was a long throbbing silence. Then Drover said, “Gosh, I wonder what he left.”

I stopped pacing and whirled around. “I'll tell you what he left, Drover. In each of the holes, he left . . . a Vienna sausage can. Do you see what this means?”

“Not really.”

“It's very simple, if you understand the mind of crinimals and monsters. They take something of great value—a bone, for example—and leave some­thing that contains a secret coded carbolic message. Ralph, would you care to guess the secret car­bolic message of an empty Vienna sausage can?”

“Well . . . let me think.”

I waited. Time was slipping away. “I'm sorry, Ralph, but we're out of time. The secret carbolic message is . . .” My eyes flicked back and forth, from one terrified face to the other. “The secret message is that the Bone Monster intends to
make
sausage out of us
.”

Drover keeled over. “Oh my gosh, I'm too young to be a sausage, and this old leg is killing me!”

“Get up, Drover, this is no time to show your true colors. It happens that I have a plan. We'll make our stand here at the gas tanks. We'll need someone to stand guard. I'm looking for a volunteer.”

No paws went up, so I turned to Ralph. “How about it, Ralph? You've had valuable experience as a jailbird. You just might be the right dog for this job.”

“I don't think so. We don't have monsters at the dog pound, and besides, my legs are so short, I'm kind of nearsighted.”

“Hmmm. I hadn't thought of that. How many fingers am I holding up?”

He squinted at me. “Let's see. Fifteen?”

I turned to Drover. “Ralph's out. I guess it's down to you and me. Or to put it another way, Drover, congratulations. You get the job.”

“Yeah, but I saw fifteen fingers too. My eyes are terrible.”

“They'll get better with practice.”

“And this old leg of mine . . .”

“Never mind the leg, Drover. You'll take the first watch. Ralph and I will go into Bunker Position. If you see anything suspicious, you can give us a call.”

Drover whimpered and cried, but I ignored him.

By the time Ralph and I entered the Fortified Bunker, darkness had fallen over the ranch. Oh, and in case you're not familiar with Fortified Bunkers, let me describe this one. It consisted of one gunny­sack. To enter the bunker, we eased our heads be­neath the sack.

You may not believe this, but that layer of gunny­sack material provides excellent protection against, oh, incoming mortar shells, laser beams, you name it. It also has the extra benefit of shutting out a world that has become . . .

How can we put this? If a guy needs a break from the rigors of . . . he can find peace and quiet beneath a gunnysack, is the point.

I know, Drover often uses this technique to flee from Reality, but that's a different deal.

Anyway, Ralph and I entered the Fortified Bunker. He broke the long silence. “You reckon the monster'll come back?”

“We don't have an answer to that, Ralph.”

“I wish I was fishin' with Jimmy Joe.”

“Get some sleep, Ralph. This may be a long night.”

“I wish I was back at the dog pound. I wish . . .”

Just then Drover called in his first report. “Hank, I see something out there!”

Ralph and I froze. Perhaps we exchanged worried glances. It was hard to tell in the darkness of the bunker. I decided to break radio silence.

“Blue Moon, this is Dishpan. Go ahead.”

“I was calling for Hank. I must have got the wrong number.”

“This is me, you drip, but I'm running under the code name Dishpan. Your code name is Blue Moon. Go ahead, Blue Moon. What do you see?”

“Well, I'm not sure, but it moved.”

“Roger, Blue Moon. Keep your eye on it and let us know what happens, over.”

There was a minute or two of eerie silence. Then . . .

“Blue Dish, this is Moonbeam. It's still out there, and it's still moving.”

“Roger, Blue Moon. Can you identify that odd noise we're picking up?”

“It's my teeth again.”

“Roger, Blue Moon. We'd better go to Silent Teeth. Can you give us a description, over?”

“They're long and white and smooth.”

“What are you describing, Blue Moon?”

“My teeth, and I can't keep 'em still.”

“Blue Roger, Moonshine, but we need a description of the moving object, over.”

“Oh. Well, let's see here. Oh my gosh!”

“What is it, Blue Moon? Report at once, over.”

“It's a . . . he's . . . oh my gosh! Dishrag, this Blue Cheese, and it's a . . . it's a red hairy gorilla with three yellow eyes and huge claws and long bloody teeth and . . . and he's seven feet tall and he's . . . CRUSHING BONES IN HIS MOUTH!”

That last part sent a jolt of electricity out to the end of my tail. I tried to remain calm, but that wasn't easy.

“Holy cats, Drover, you've just described a Bone Monster.”

“I was afraid of that. What should I do?”

“Hang on, Cheese Ball. Give us a minute to think.” I sent an urgent message to Data Control.

Data Control sent back meaningless signals. We were on our own now. “Swiss Cheese, this is Grease Rag. What's the situation now?”

“I want to go home!”

“What's the Bone Monster doing, over?”

“Well, let me see. He's . . . oh my gosh, he's coming this way and he's . . . he's grinding his teeth together and he's . . . he just said he wants to eat a COWDOG!”

Yikes.

I switched off the radio and turned to Ralph. “Ralph, are you there?”

“Uh-huh, and if I ever get out of here alive, I ain't ever leaving the dog pound again.”

“How fast can you run?”

“Well, usually not too fast, but I think I can feel a burst of energy comin' on.”

“Good. We're surrounded. We've got to make a run for it. Drover, we're coming out.”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Of course I'm talking to you!”

“I thought I was Cheese Ball. I'm all confused.”

“Drover, do you want to be confused or do you want to run for your life? You can't do both.”

“I'll take Number Two.”

“Fine. Then quit squeaking nonsense. We're coming out.” We came flying out of the bunker. My eyes probed the darkness around us. “Where is he, Drover? Give me exact coordinates.”

“Well, first he was over there, then he moved over here.”

“Is that longitude or latitude?”

“I think so. Anyway, he was huge and ugly.”

“Got it.” I faced my little band of troopers. “Okay, men, we've got to bust out of here. It's our only chance. We'll make a run for the yard gate, regroup there, and scale the fence.”

Drover spoke. “I ate a fish scale once. Couldn't swallow for a whole day.”

“Exactly, so on this mission we must avoid all fish and swallows. Are we ready to move out? Let's make a run for it, and don't speak to any strangers. Good luck, men.”

And with that, we ran for our lives.