They Call Me Creature (8 page)

I called Ellen right away. And in a trembling voice begged her to come over.

She and Stevie Palmer had made up, and she was supposed to go biking with him and a couple of other guys. But she said she'd tell them to go without her.

A few minutes later she showed up. I pulled her up to my room. “Laura, what's wrong?” she asked, dropping onto the edge of my bed. “You sounded so weird on the phone.”

“It's Dad. He's sending me away!” I cried. “I—I heard him on the phone. With Mom. He asked if Mom could take me. He—he said he had to get me out of here.”

Ellen jumped to her feet. “I don't believe it.” She shook her head. “He can't send you away just like that. What's wrong with him?”

“I—I don't know,” I stammered. “Maybe it was because of the animal that attacked me.” I told Ellen about the little pig. Then I showed her my neck.

“Oh, gross.” She gasped. “Does it hurt?”

“No, but Dad said I can't go into the woods anymore. He thinks it's too dangerous,” I said, running my fingers over the raw stitches. “But then he called Mom and … and … ” A sob burst from my throat.

“How could he do that?” I wailed. “He just wants to get rid of me. He called my mom without even talking to me about it. How could he, Ellen? He doesn't even care about me anymore.”

Ellen hurried across the room and hugged me. “Of course he cares about you,” she said. “He was upset that you were attacked. He just wants you to be safe. That's why he called your mom. But he's not serious. He'd never send you away.”

“He's serious,” I insisted. “He's very serious, Ellen. He wants to get rid of me.”

I took a deep breath—and a new thought came to me. One that sent a shiver down my spine. “I know why he's doing this. He checked the film in his camera on the shed. He saw that I was in there.”

“Whoa. Slow down.” Ellen raised a hand. “Your father has a camera on the shed now?”

I nodded.

“And you went inside? What was in there?” she asked.

“His instruments and stuff. That's all,” I told her. I didn't want to talk about the journal I had found. I didn't know if my father was killing animals or not. And I didn't want to say anything to Ellen until I was sure.

“What about the animals? What about the one we heard howling?” she asked.

“There weren't any animals inside. I don't know what happened to them,” I said.

I plopped down on my bed. “I'm not going to Chicago. I'm not!” I declared.

Ellen's chin trembled. “I sure hope not,” she said softly. I could see she was really upset, too. But then a smile crossed her face. “At least, not until after my birthday party!”

We both laughed.

She always knows how to make me laugh.

“I have to make him change his mind,” I said. “And the only way I can do that is to find out what is making him act so strange. If only—”

I stopped when I heard a sharp cry from outside.

We both turned to the open window.

“What was that?” Ellen asked.

A horrifying howl rang out. A shrill cry of pain.

And then I heard a different sound.

An animal screech.

I dived for the window and peered out into the evening darkness.

A hunched figure darted toward the woods. I could see it loping away on four legs. It was about the size of a large dog.

As it reached the edge of the woods, it stopped—and I gasped. It stood up. Stood on two legs—and charged into the trees.

My eyes searched the backyard—

And on the ground …

… on the ground …

Lying on his side on the ground …

“Georgie!” I screamed. “Oh, no! Georgie!”

 

Ellen and I flew out of my bedroom and down the stairs. I pushed open the kitchen door and tore across the grass.

“Georgie! Are you okay?” I cried.

The poor dog lay on his side whimpering. His legs twitched. His chest heaved up and down.

“Georgie? Georgie?”

I dropped beside him. I started to pet his head. His eyes rolled crazily. His tongue fell limply from his mouth.

“Ohhhh. Look. His leg,” Ellen moaned. “Ohhhhh. Sick.”

I followed her gaze. Georgie's leg … oh … Georgie's leg …

The creature had practically chewed it off.

The fur had been ripped away. Chunks of flesh had been torn off. Blood flowed onto the grass. I could see veins pulsing in the chewed-up mess, and a white bone poked out.

My breath caught in my chest. I couldn't stop myself. I started to gag. I could feel my dinner lurch up to my throat, and I struggled to choke it back.

I forced myself to turn away from the horrifying wound. “Georgie,” I whispered, petting his head softly. “You'll be okay. You'll be okay.”

The dog whimpered softly, too weak to raise his head from the grass.

I looked up to see Ellen running, bringing my dad, pointing furiously to Georgie. “He was attacked!” I shouted to Dad. “His leg—it's pretty bad.”

Dad's mouth dropped open when he saw the chewed-up leg. “He's losing a lot of blood. I'll slow the bleeding.” Dad took off his T-shirt and shredded it.

“Laura, go in the house and get the bandages,” he said as he wrapped Georgie's leg in a strip from his T-shirt. “We'd better get him to a vet—fast. He's going to need surgery on this leg.”

Dad and I carried poor Georgie to the van and set him down gently on the backseat. He stared at us with those big, dark eyes and didn't move. We were covered in blood.

“I'll call you later,” I told Ellen. I climbed into the van beside Dad.

“Hope he's okay,” Ellen said, shaking her head sadly. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Call me!”

As Dad backed the van down the driveway, Georgie whimpered softly behind us.

“I think I saw the animal that attacked Georgie,” I said.

“What was it?” Dad kept his eyes on the road.

“Well, I'm not really sure. It was too dark to see clearly. But it was about Georgie's size—” I told him.

“Well, that could be anything,” Dad interrupted.

“I know,” I said. “But here's the weird thing. It was running on four legs. And then it stopped and stood up, and ran into the woods on two legs.”

Dad swallowed. “Two legs?” He didn't take his eyes off the road.

“Yes. Isn't that strange?”

Dad didn't reply.

I glanced out the window. Most of the houses we passed were dark. Georgie cried softly in the backseat.

“Hey, wait!” I cried. “This isn't the way to the animal hospital! Dad—turn around!”

“I'm not going to the animal hospital,” Dad said softly, still avoiding my stare.

“But—but—” I sputtered.

“There's a good place in Walker Falls,” he said. “I know the doctors there. They will—”

“Walker Falls? But that's two towns away!” I shrieked.

“It's a good place,” Dad insisted. “They're experts at this kind of surgery.”

“But, Dad—”

Finally he turned to me. To my shock, his eyes were cold. His expression remained hard. “Don't argue with me, Laura. I know what I'm doing.”

“Okay. Fine.” I sighed. I turned away from him and stared out the window.

We drove the rest of the way in silence.

Dad won't go near the animal hospital, I realized. Even in an emergency like this one.

Why won't he go there? I wondered.

What did he do that he can no longer face Dr. Carpenter?

What horrible thing did he do?

 

We had to leave Georgie in the hospital. The vet cleaned and stitched up the wound. But he wasn't sure if Georgie's leg could be saved. We'd have to wait and see.

When we got home, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned all night, thinking about Georgie, thinking about the weird animal that attacked him. So many strange things were going on in the woods.

I had to find out what was going on there. And I couldn't do it from Chicago.

My whole life suddenly seemed out of control. I was afraid now of the thing I loved most—the woods. And I was angry with Dad. Angry because he didn't trust me. Or confide in me. Angry because he wanted to send me away.

I was afraid of him, too, I realized. I didn't know my own father anymore. I was afraid of what he might do next.

After school I hurried to the animal hospital. Dr. Carpenter greeted me in the waiting room. She looked really stressed. She had dark rings under her eyes, and her blond hair was unbrushed, falling in damp tangles.

Before I had a chance to say hi, she spotted the wound on my throat. “Laura, what happened? Did Georgie bite you?”

“No. I—I was bitten by a—” I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what had bitten me.

“What was it?” Dr. Carpenter asked.

“Well, it looked like a little pig. With really sharp teeth.” I let out a nervous laugh. “I know it sounds crazy…. ”

“Where was this little pig?” Dr. Carpenter asked. “Where were you when you got bitten?”

“In the woods,” I told her.

“A little pig with sharp teeth running around in the woods. It does sound crazy, doesn't it?” Dr. Carpenter frowned. “What does your dad think?”

I let out a sigh. “I don't know. He told Dr. Davis it was a chipmunk. He just said that because it was simpler than trying to explain what it really looked like.”

“Oh. Did your Dad see it, too?” she asked.

“I think so,” I answered.

Dr. Carpenter leaned close to me and studied the wound carefully. She smoothed her fingers gently around the stitches. “That's nasty,” she muttered. She raised her eyes to me. “Did your doctor give you a rabies shot? Or any kind of antibiotic?”

“We got my blood test results this morning. I don't need a rabies shot,” I said. “He did give me antibiotics.” And then I gasped. “Oh, no. Dad picked up the pills. But he forgot to give them to me.”

Dr. Carpenter put her arm around my shoulder. “Don't worry. The wound doesn't look infected. But it is a little swollen. I think I should give you an injection to stop the swelling.”

I had forgotten that Dr. Carpenter was a medical doctor as well as a vet. “Okay, but I guess I should check with my dad first,” I said.

“Tell you what,” Dr. Carpenter said. “I'll call your dad right now and ask his permission. Okay?”

“Well … yeah,” I replied. “Thank you, Dr. Carpenter.”

She disappeared for a few minutes, leaving me in the waiting room. When she returned, she had a smile on her face. “He apologized for forgetting the pills, Laura. He said it would be a good idea to give you the injection right away.”

“Okay. Great,” I said. I was trying to sound brave. I
hate
shots!

She led the way into the lab. Then she pulled some bottles from a cabinet and prepared the injection.

“How … how did my dad sound when you spoke to him?” I asked her.

“Fine.” She glanced up at me. “Well, maybe a little tired. Why? Is he not feeling well?”

“No. No. He's okay. Sort of,” I said.

“Is he still upset about leaving the animal hospital?” she asked.

“I—I don't think that's it,” I said.

“What is it, Laura? What's troubling you?” Dr. Carpenter sat down on a stool beside me.

“I have a feeling something happened here before Dad left. Something bad.” I let out a deep breath.

“Something bad?” Dr. Carpenter asked. “What would make you think that?”

I didn't want to tell her about Georgie. If I told her that Dad refused to come here, she'd feel terrible.

But I didn't have a choice.

“Georgie was attacked the other night and Dad took him to Walker Falls. He wouldn't come here,” I said in a rush.

Dr. Carpenter didn't say anything. She just nodded.

“Do you know why he wouldn't come here?” I asked.

She didn't answer. Instead, she stood up, rubbed alcohol on my arm with a wad of cotton, and raised the needle.