Trapped! (3 page)

When they reached a spot where the undergrowth was sparse, they stopped. “I think this is where we went into the woods yesterday,” Alex said.

Rocky agreed.

The foursome left the road and headed into the trees.

“The trap was over that way,” Rocky said, pointing to his right. “Watch where you step.”

They moved cautiously, scanning the ground ahead of them.

“There it is!” Alex said. “It’s been reset!”

They looked down at the steel trap.

“There’s no ID tag,” Mary said.

“Whoever is doing this has been here since we came yesterday,” Rocky said. He glanced nervously around, as if expecting the trapper to spring out from behind the bushes and rush toward them.

“I found a clue,” Benjie said. He opened his backpack, removed a small plastic bag, and used it to pick up a cigarette butt.

“Anyone walking in the woods might have dropped that,” Alex said. “It wasn’t necessarily the person who set the trap.”

“It was him, and I’m going to save it for evidence. The police can get DNA from a cigarette butt.”

“Whether it’s evidence or not,” Mary said, “it’s proof that someone stupid was here.”

“Stupid for setting this trap?” Rocky asked.

“That, too, but I meant stupid for smoking in the woods when we’re having such dry weather. He could have started a forest fire.”

“Smoking wrecks your lungs,” Benjie said. “We learned about it in school.”

Alex found a thick branch and stuck it in the trap, making the trap snap shut.

Before Benjie put the cigarette butt in his backpack, he removed the cookies and handed two to each person. The chocolate chips had melted slightly, making the cookies taste as if they had just come out of the oven.

After eating their cookies, the kids looked for more traps but found none.

“We’d better start back,” Alex said. “Mom and Dad will be home soon.”

They made their way out of the woods, then started down the gravel road with Alex and Benjie in the lead.

As they approached a curve in the road, Rocky called, “There’s a car coming.” He and Mary both moved as far to the side of the road as they could.

Alex heard it, too. It was headed down the hill toward them, and it sounded as if there was a problem with the engine. He took Benjie’s hand, and they stepped onto the road’s narrow shoulder.

A black pickup truck with slatted wooden sides that went up to the top of the cab careened around the curve.

“He’d better slow down,” Alex said. He no sooner got the words out of his mouth than the driver hit the brakes, causing the tires to skid briefly. Gravel flew into the air and clattered back down.

Alex grabbed Benjie’s sleeve and pulled him farther off the side of the road, into the brush.

The back end of the truck swung sideways when the brakes grabbed, but then the driver sped up again, and the truck lurched forward. The driver never looked at the four children standing beside the road. As the truck sped downhill past them, the rear of the truck fishtailed again. Dust billowed around the kids, making them cover their noses and mouths to keep from inhaling it.

Alex squinted to avoid getting dust in his eyes, then blinked as something large fell off the back of the truck and landed in the gravel. It was a pig!

“Hey!” Alex shouted, waving his arms over his head and running a few yards down the road behind the truck.
“Stop! You lost your pig!” He saw three other pigs in the back of the truck and feared they would fall out, too.

The truck’s brake lights came on for a couple of seconds when Alex yelled, and Alex thought the driver was looking in his rearview mirror, but instead of stopping, the driver hit the gas. The engine roared louder, and the truck sped out of sight.

The pig squealed loudly, tried to stand up, then flopped back down.

A
ll of the children
rushed toward the pig.

“Those pigs weren’t tied to the side or anything,” Alex said. “They couldn’t keep their balance, and there was nothing to hold them in the truck except that low tailgate.”

“The way that guy was driving, it’s a wonder all of them didn’t fall out,” Rocky said.

“Don’t touch the pig,” Mary warned. “Injured animals can be dangerous.”

“We need to get help,” Alex said.

The pig made a high-pitched squealing sound.

“Gramma will call the rescue group,” Mary said. “Why don’t Benjie and I stay here, to be sure no other vehicle comes around the curve and hits the pig. Alex, you and Rocky run back and tell Gramma what happened.”

“I want to go, too,” Benjie said. “I want to tell about the pig.”

“We can run faster without you,” Rocky said.

“But . . .”

“I need you to stay here,” Mary said, “to help me with the pig.”

Alex didn’t like leaving Benjie with Mary and the pig, but he knew it was the best plan.

Alex and Rocky ran faster than they ever had before, all the way down the hill, past Hilltop, and into Valley View Estates. They were out of breath when they got to Mrs. Sunburg’s house, and had to take turns talking, to tell her what had happened.

“What did the truck look like?” she asked.

They described it.

“Did you get a license-plate number?”

Both boys shook their heads no. “It all happened so fast,” Alex said. “I was trying to get the driver’s attention. I was looking at him, not at the license plate, plus there was a lot of dust blowing in my face.”

“I was watching the pig,” Rocky said. “I was afraid it would be killed, falling out like that.”

Mrs. Sunburg called the animal rescue group. She repeated the boys’ story, gave driving directions, and said, “I’ll meet you there.” She grabbed her bag of animal first-aid supplies, motioned for Alex and Rocky to follow her, and rushed to her car.

“The rescue group is sending a truck,” she said as she drove out of Valley View Estates. “They’ll notify the police, too.”

By car, it didn’t take long to reach the end of the pavement and start up the gravel road. “It isn’t far now,” Alex said, and Mrs. Sunburg drove slowly.

The pig was still lying in the middle of the road. Mary and Benjie stood in the road about twenty feet from it, one in front of the pig and one on the other side. They waved when they saw the car approaching.

“No other cars came,” Benjie said.

“There’s a lot of gravel embedded in her skin,” Mary said, “and I think one of her legs is hurt. Whenever she tries to stand up, she squeals and flops back down.”

“Her name is Piccolo,” Benjie said. “Piccolo Pig.”

“How do you know that?” Rocky asked.

“Because I named her.”

Alex gazed at the enormous pig. Beneath her bristles, the taut skin was as round as a barrel. Clearly this pig had not gone hungry. Thinking of how delicate a piccolo is, he said, “She looks more like a kettle drum than a piccolo.”

“She makes a high, shrill noise, like Aunt Jenny’s piccolo,” Benjie explained and, as if to prove his point, the pig did exactly that.

Mrs. Sunburg slowly approached the pig. The closer she got, the more agitated the pig became. “Easy, girl,” Mrs. Sunburg said softly. “We’re here to help you.”

The pig tried to struggle to her feet, then gave up.

“Pigs are social animals,” Mrs. Sunburg said, “but this one is scared and hurt. I don’t want to make her
injuries worse by having her try to get away from me.” She backed away from the pig. “I’ll wait for the rescue truck,” she said. “Those people are more experienced than I am.”

Half an hour later a big white enclosed truck, with graphics of animals painted on the sides, chugged up the hill and came to a stop. Two men hopped out. Both wore caps and navy blue jackets with white lettering that said
FOOTHILLS ANIMAL RESCUE
.

One man was about the age of Alex’s dad. His dark hair was gray at the temples, and his face had a leathery look as if he’d spent years working outdoors. He carried a rope.

The other, younger man had so many rings in his ears that he looked as if he had a spiral notebook on each side of his face. His green hair stood up in short spikes all over his head. “Hey!” he said. “Awesome animal!”

“She’s a big one, isn’t she?” the older man said.

“Hi, Eric,” Mrs. Sunburg said to the older man “Hi, Jacob.” She quickly introduced everyone as the two men knelt beside the pig and gently felt for injuries.

“There’s no way we can hoist this baby by hand,” Eric said. “We’ll have to turn the truck around and load her with the lift.”

“What can we do to help?” Alex said.

“Stay out of the way, and watch for traffic. Not likely any vehicle will come along, but we need to be alert.”

As they talked, the men got the rope tied around the
struggling pig’s middle, a feat that took ten minutes and all of their strength. Then Jacob held the end of the rope while Eric turned the truck around.

It wasn’t easy to maneuver a U-turn on the narrow gravel road, but Eric managed to do it. Fortunately no other vehicles came along while all this was going on.

Jacob stood beside the pig, his feet braced in the gravel and his hands gripping the rope, trying to control her while the truck backed closer, making a
BEEP-BEEP
sound that scared the pig even more than she already was.

“Don’t be afraid, Piccolo,” Benjie said. “He won’t hit you.”

Alex and Rocky held their hands up, moving them closer together to show Eric how far he was from the pig.

The truck stopped two feet from the pig. Eric got out, rolled the back door up, and pushed a button, which lowered a metal platform down to the gravel. The platform didn’t look much bigger than the pig, and Alex wondered how much weight it could hold.

Jacob tossed the end of the rope to Eric, who stood on the platform and pulled while Jacob pushed on the pig’s back. She had quit struggling and lay still, as if she had given up and would accept whatever happened. Her eyes still looked fearful, though, and no matter how hard the two men pushed and pulled, the pig didn’t budge.

“We’ll help,” Alex said.

“You kids push,” Eric said. “We’ll both pull.”

Alex, Rocky, Mary, and Benjie lined up along the back side of the pig while Jacob joined Eric on the platform.

“We’ll go on the count of three,” Eric said. “One. Two. THREE!”

The kids shoved as hard as they could. The two men pulled. The pig squealed her protest as she slowly slid onto the lift. “Now hold her steady,” Eric said. “Don’t let her roll off.”

Eric let go of the rope with one hand long enough to press the lift button; the lift slowly began to rise. Eric and Jacob stayed inside the truck, keeping the rope taut.

Alex knew that he and the others couldn’t do anything about it if the heavy pig started to roll off the lift, but he kept his hands firmly on the pig’s back as the lift rose. The other kids did the same.

Alex held his breath as the pig rode upward.

“Easy now,” Eric said. “Good girl.”

When the lift was level with the bed of the truck, it stopped. Eric pushed another button that made the outside edge of the lift tilt slightly upward. As soon as that happened, the men were able to drag the pig off the lift and onto the floor of the truck. The kids cheered as Jacob rolled the door shut.

“We did it!” Benjie yelled. All the kids high-fived one another while Mrs. Sunburg clapped.

In the midst of the excitement, a police car drove up.

“You the folks who saw a pig fall off a truck?” the police officer asked.

All four kids answered at the same time.

“We were right there, by the curve,” Mary said.

“The driver was going way too fast,” Alex said. “The back end of the pickup fishtailed when he went around the curve.”

“He had three other pigs in the truck, and nothing to keep them from falling out,” Rocky said. “This one tumbled right over the tailgate.”

“The pig’s name is Piccolo,” Benjie said, “because she makes a high, squeaky noise.”

“Wait, wait,” the officer said, holding up his hands. “One at a time.” He pointed to Mary. “You first.”

Mary told him exactly what had happened, trying to remember every detail.

“The driver didn’t see or hear you?” the officer asked.

“I think he saw me,” Alex said. “When I yelled at him that he’d lost his pig, he hit the brakes, and I thought he heard me and was going to stop, but he didn’t. Instead, he drove away.”

Eric spoke next, introducing himself and Jacob. “We’re with Foothills Animal Rescue,” he said. “We’ve loaded the hog in our van and we’ll take her to a veterinarian. Her injuries don’t appear life-threatening, but she’s pretty banged up; she’ll need treatment.”

“You call her a hog, not a pig,” Alex said. “What’s the difference?”

“When a pig weighs more than one hundred twenty pounds,” Eric said, “it’s considered a hog. This girl weighs at least twice that much.”

“Even though she weighs a lot,” Alex said, “I like the word pig better than hog.”

“So do I,” said Rocky.

“After she’s been treated for her wounds,” Jacob said, “we’ll need a place for her to stay. We’re mainly a wildlife rehabilitation group. We sometimes take in domestic animals, but our shelter isn’t really equipped for farm animals. That’s one big porker.”

“We’ll take her,” Benjie said.

“Where are we going to keep a pig?” Alex asked.

“At Mrs. Sunburg’s house. She’s a foster parent for the animals.”

“Pigs make wonderful pets,” Mrs. Sunburg said, “but I would need to have a pen built. A pig that size needs plenty of space.”

“We could build a pen for you,” Alex said.

“My dad will help,” Benjie said.

“We’ll all help.” Rocky looked hopefully at Mrs. Sunburg.

“Please, Gramma?” Mary said. “I’ll take care of her. I’ll muck out the pen and feed her.”

“The vet could probably keep the pig overnight,” Eric said. “Can you have a pen ready by tomorrow?”

“Yes!” the kids replied.

“A pen may not be necessary,” the police officer said. “There are only a few houses in this area; it shouldn’t be too hard to find out who owns this animal.”

“Surely you don’t plan to give the pig back to that truck driver,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “If you find him, it seems to me he should be ticketed for having an unsafe load.”