They Call Me Creature (4 page)

“Oh, I've got to go,” Ellen interrupted. “My brothers are fighting upstairs, and I'm in charge.”

She clicked off before I could say another word.

I set the phone down and stuck my hand back in the chicken.

A short while later dinner was ready. I'd made a green salad, baked potatoes, and string beans to go with the chicken.

I carried everything to the table, then glanced at the clock. Nearly seven, and still no Dad.

What was he doing? Did he completely lose track of the time?

I stared out the kitchen window at the shed. I didn't want dinner to get cold. And I was so eager to tell Dad about the strange bat attack and the creepy finger I found.

I pulled open the back door, cupped my hands around my mouth, and called to him.

No reply.

Two robins lifted their heads and stared at me. I started to jog across the grass, and they flew away.

“Hey—Dad?” I called, stepping up to the shed door. A sharp, chemical smell floated out from the shed. Like the smell in a doctor's office. I heard a soft, whimpering noise coming from inside.

I tried the door. To my surprise, it wasn't locked.

“Dad?” I pushed the door open just a crack.

I glimpsed a lot of equipment, stacked to the ceiling. What was Dad holding between his hands? What was making those noises?

A small pink animal.

He gripped the animal in one hand—and was about to give it an injection with an enormous hypodermic needle.

“Dad? What are you doing?” I called.

He spun around, and his expression turned to rage. “Get out!” he screamed. “Out! Get out of here! Don't ever open that door!”

I backed away with a gasp and pulled the door shut. I'd never seen him become so furious.

My legs trembled as I stepped away from the door.

Why did he yell at me like that?

Why was he acting this way?

My eyes filled with tears.

In the past few weeks my father had become a complete stranger to me.

I felt so alone. So totally alone—and frightened of my own father.

 

Dad and I ate in silence for a while. He kept his eyes on his plate and shoveled down his food quickly, as if trying to get dinner over with.

The only sounds were the clink of our silverware and the raspy
caw caw caw
of the injured crow in my bedroom.

“I'm sorry.” Dad finally raised his eyes to me. “I didn't mean to shout at you.”

I took a deep breath. “Why
did
you scream like that?” I asked.

He scratched his graying hair, studying me. “I'm doing very important work,” he said. “And I can't have any interruptions. The timing is so important.”

Dad stood up to clear the table. “I know I've been very tense lately. I know I haven't been paying much attention to you. But things are going to get better. I promise.” Dad smiled for the first time in weeks. “How about a game of Scrabble?”

Dad and I moved into the living room and set up the Scrabble board. He started making up crazy words, and I did, too. And suddenly everything seemed back to normal again.

So I thought it would be okay to ask him a question. “Dad, exactly what kind of work are you doing?”

He swallowed. His cheek twitched. “I can't talk about it.”

“Why not? Don't you trust me, Dad?”

“I can't talk about it. Until it is completed, I can't discuss it with anyone.” He sighed.

“But—” I started to protest.

He pulled off his glasses and placed them down on the table. “No more questions, okay? There's nothing more to say,” he said softly.

“I'm not a baby,” I said, my voice trembling. “If you're doing some kind of secret work, you can trust me.”

“I'm sorry, Laura. I really can't discuss it with you.”

Dad leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes as if he was suddenly exhausted. Then he opened them. “Want to finish this game?” he asked.

I nodded, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

When we finished playing, Dad helped me put the game away. “Laura, it might be a good idea if you lived with your mother for a while,” he said. He kept his eyes down on the Scrabble box.

I grabbed my chest as if I'd been stabbed.

Those words hurt so much.

“You—you want to send me away?” I choked out.

“It might be best.”

“I have to move away because … because I asked you what you're doing in the shed?” I said, trying to force back the tears.

“You'll understand someday,” he said quietly. He pulled his glasses back on. “It's for your own good.”

“No!” I screamed. “No! How can it be for my own good? You know I don't want to live in Chicago. I have to be near the woods. And what about my school? And all my friends? I can't just leave them because you have some kind of stupid secret!”

“Laura—” Dad raised a hand to silence me. “I'm your father. I have to do what's best for you. Believe me, I don't want to send you away. I love you more than anything, but … ”

I pressed my hand over my mouth to hold back a sob.

I can't believe he is saying this, I thought, unable to stop my whole body from trembling.

“Okay, okay,” I finally choked out. “I won't go near the shed. I promise. And I won't ask any more questions. No more questions about your work.”

Dad squinted at me. “You promise?”

“Promise,” I said.

But there was no way I was keeping that promise!

I'm going to learn his secret, I decided. I'm going to find out what's the big deal. What's so secret that he'd send his own daughter away?

I'm going to find out the truth.

 

I went to bed a little after eleven. But I couldn't fall asleep.

I was too hurt to sleep. Too hurt and frightened and angry—all at the same time.

I reached for the phone on my night table and called Ellen. “Hello.” Her voice was groggy with sleep.

“Did I wake you?” I asked.

“It's okay.” She yawned. “What's wrong? You sound terrible.”

I told her about what Dad had said to me. “I can't sleep,” I whispered. “Every time I shut my eyes, a new horror scene appears in my mind. I keep picturing my dad in his white lab coat. Holding a helpless little animal in one hand and a huge hypodermic needle in the other. Injecting little animals with strange chemicals. Making them whimper and howl.”

“But your dad is a vet,” Ellen said. “He gives shots to animals all the time.”

I stared up at the shadows on my bedroom ceiling, my mind spinning. “But it's different now,” I said. “He won't tell me what he's doing. What kind of experiments would have to be a secret—from his own daughter?”

“I don't know. But your dad wouldn't hurt a fly. He could never torture an animal. It's impossible.”

“Ellen, he lost his job at the animal hospital. Maybe it was because he was doing something wrong,” I said.

“You don't know that,” she argued. I knew she was trying to calm me down. But nothing she said made me feel better.

I finally let her go back to sleep. Then I closed my eyes and fell asleep, too—but not for long.

A low rumbling sound floated in through my open bedroom window and woke me up.

I glanced at my clock radio. A little before two in the morning.

Rubbing my eyes, I crept to the window and gazed out at the woods. Darting lights flickered through the trees.

I forced back a yawn and stared hard. The lights swept slowly back and forth, floating eerily like ghosts. A shiver ran down my back.

There are no roads in the woods. And no other houses for nearly a mile. Who could be out there?

I'd better wake up Dad, I thought. I turned away from the window.

No. I changed my mind. I'm not going to wake him up. I don't really want to talk to him now.

But I had to find out who was out in the woods. I pulled on the jeans and tank top I'd worn during the day. A few seconds later I opened the kitchen door and stepped outside.

Clouds drifted across the sliver of a moon. A shifting wind made the grass bend first one way, then the other. Like ocean waves, I thought. It was a warm breeze, but it sent a chill down my back.

I carefully shut the door, listening for its soft click, making sure it was closed. Then I trotted across the lawn toward the woods.

I searched the trees for the lights. But they had vanished. The rumbling sound had also stopped.

“Weird,” I muttered.

I stopped halfway across the yard and listened. Silence now. Silence …

Except for a low cry.

A sad whimper.

I turned. The cries were coming from the shed.

The shed. I had to see what was inside it. This was the perfect time.

Dad kept a padlock on the door. But I knew where he hid the key. I crept back into the kitchen and pulled the key from the little cup where Mom used to keep her Sweet'n Low packets.

Then I sneaked back outside. I felt a chill of fear as I stepped up to the shed. I could hear the animals inside, groaning, crying. It sounded as if they were pleading with me to rescue them.

“I'm coming,” I whispered.

But I wheeled away from the door when I heard another sound.

A low growl. And then the pounding
thud
of heavy footsteps.

Running. Running rapidly toward me.

I was too startled to move. I froze as the big creature appeared from around the side of the shed.

It took a powerful leap. Leaped high. Caught me at the shoulders.

And knocked me hard to the ground.

 

“Georgie!” I cried. “Get off! Get off me!”

Tail wagging furiously, the big dog pinned me to the ground and licked my face. His hot breath steamed my cheeks. I was laughing too hard to roll away from him.

“Georgie—stop!” I pleaded. “Are you lonely out here? Is that the problem?”

Finally I pushed him away. I sat up and wiped the thick slobber off my cheeks.

A light washed over me. I turned to the window and saw the kitchen lights on. The back door swung open. Dad poked his head out. He held his pajama bottoms up with one hand and squinted into the yard. He didn't have his glasses on.

“Laura?” Dad called, his voice clogged with sleep. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“There were lights,” I said. “In the woods. And I heard some kind of rumbling sound. I—I wanted to see what it was.”

Dad scratched his forehead. His graying hair was sticking out all over his head. “You were probably dreaming,” he said, frowning.

“No. It was real,” I insisted. “The lights were moving around the trees, and—”

“Come inside,” he said. He squinted at me. “You weren't trying to sneak into the shed, were you?”

“No. Of course not,” I lied. I had the padlock key wrapped tightly in my fist.

For a moment his stare turned cold. I felt as if his eyes were stabbing me. “Come inside,” he repeated. “I don't want to hear about lights in the trees. I'm tired.”