Trapped! (8 page)

“I read about that,” Rocky said. “Pig livers are used in humans, too, and pig cells have been used to treat diabetes.”

Alex wondered how many pigs had given their lives so that sick people could have a new mitral heart valve or a liver transplant or some other life-saving treatment. Ordinarily, Alex was against using animals for research. His parents supported a group called Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine that encouraged medical schools to use computer images instead of dogs and other animals in their laboratories. They also lobbied against cruel and unnecessary testing on animals for cosmetic products.

He thought about the ethics of using pig parts to save people. He wouldn’t want Piccolo to be killed, but he wasn’t sure how he would feel if someone in his family needed that kind of medical treatment. You can’t get a liver from a computer.

Alex moved his fingers back and forth as he ran his hands down Piccolo’s back, scratching her with his fingertips. Pete loved it when Alex did that to him, and the pig seemed to like it, too. Mary was right; this was a friendly, good-natured pig, and Alex was glad she had jumped off the truck and escaped.

“Gramma told me about a blind woman who has a trained pig instead of a Seeing Eye dog,” Mary said. “She
calls it her ‘Seeing Eye hog’ and says it’s as efficient as a dog, and more visible.”

“It would get noticed, that’s for sure,” Rocky said.

When Alex quit scratching the pig’s back, Piccolo made low, grunting sounds and put her head under Alex’s hand. He laughed, and massaged her some more.

Benjie came down the driveway and approached the pen. “I don’t think they’re going to show up,” he said.

“Who?” Alex asked.

“The television people. I’ve been in my spy station watching for their truck.”

“They came,” Alex said. “They tried to interview Hogman, but he wouldn’t talk to them. They left about ten minutes ago.”

“They were here?” Benjie cried. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I thought you knew. You said you were going to watch for them.”

“I was! Were they driving a big truck with the station’s letters on the side?”

“No. They were in a minivan. I don’t think there was any sign on the door.” Alex looked at Rocky. “Did you see a sign?”

“No,” Rocky said.

“I was looking for a big truck,” Benjie said. “What happened? Did they interview all of you?”

“Hogman got angry that they were here. He covered up
his face and threatened to sue the station if they put pictures of him on the news.”

“Wow!” Benjie said. “I’ll bet he’s hiding from someone! Maybe he moved without paying his rent and that’s why he doesn’t want his picture taken. Maybe he murdered someone in another state!”

Alex smiled at his brother’s inventive mind. No matter what happened, Benjie always had a theory about it. “Could be,” Alex said.

“I should have stayed here,” Benjie said. “I missed all the excitement. I saw Hogman’s truck come and I saw him leave without Piccolo, but I stayed at my spy station ’cause I didn’t want to miss the TV truck.”

“Nothing much happened,” Rocky told him. “The camera guy took some shots of Piccolo in her pen and we told about seeing her fall off the truck, and that was about it.”

“The most action was when Pete got in Hogman’s truck,” Alex said. “It really made him angry when Pete jumped out of the truck and went tearing off.”

“Pete practically knocked Hogman over when he ran between Hogman’s legs,” Mary said.

Alex and Mary laughed as they told about Pete, but Benjie looked worried. “Why did Pete go in the truck?” he asked.

“You know how curious he is. Maybe he smelled food inside.”

“Remember when those burglars came to our house,” Benjie said, “and Pete got in their truck and ate a bag of french fries and the burglars kidnapped him?”

“I remember,” Alex said. “It was horrible.”

“Pete should stay out of trucks,” Benjie said, “especially when they belong to bad guys.”

“I have to leave,” Rocky said. “Mom’s going to take me and Rufus to the off-leash dog park this afternoon.”

“I’m going home, too,” Alex said. “I promised I’d mow the lawn.”

“Let’s meet at five o’clock,” Mary suggested, “and watch the news together, in case they show Piccolo.”

“My house, five o’clock,” Alex said, and everyone agreed.

When Alex and Benjie got home, Pete was waiting for them by the back door.

Alex held the door open for him, but instead of going in, Pete said, “Follow me!” and headed toward the ferns.

Benjie went inside.

Alex stood by the door, watching Pete.

The cat stopped partway across the yard and waited, looking back, as if expecting Alex to follow him.

Sometimes Alex wondered if Pete understood more than most cats do. It was uncanny, how Pete seemed to find important information and get Alex to notice it. It was almost as if Pete knew exactly what Alex’s family and
friends talked about and then tried to help them solve their problems.

That’s ridiculous, Alex told himself. Pete was a great cat, but that’s all he was: a cat. He was a bit more adventuresome than most cats, and he was certainly entertaining, the way he had cat fits and leaped to the top of the entertainment center, but Pete had no concept of life beyond his own small cat world.

When Alex didn’t follow him, Pete trotted partway back to the house, stopped, and called again. “Come on, Alex, I have something to show you. I have evidence of a catastrophic crime.”

“Get back here,” Alex said. “I’m going in, and you’d better come in, too.”

Pete put his nose in the grass, as if he were sniffing at something. Then he raised his head, looked at Alex, and caterwauled. The shrill noise brought Mrs. Kendrill to the door.

“What’s wrong with Pete?” she asked.

Alex was already hurrying toward him. Before he got to where Pete was, Pete trotted farther away toward the clump of ferns.

Alex stopped. He examined the place Pete had sniffed, then looked toward the cat. “I’m not playing chase-the-cat,” Alex said.

“Is Pete okay?” Mrs. Kendrill called.

“Yes. He wants me to play with him.”

“I wish he would play more quietly,” she said.

Alex turned away from Pete, and headed back to the house.

Disgusted, Pete followed. If Alex refused to look at Pete’s important evidence, he might as well go inside, eat some crunchies, and take his nap.

•  •  •

Bick Badgerton filled his truck with gas, then pulled in to the drive-through line at Taco Time. It’s a good thing Ned had let him make out a new invoice on the spot. He had been down to his last fifty cents, he was hungry, and the truck was running on fumes. If he hadn’t been able to get cash for the pelts, he’d have been in big trouble.

Bick ordered his usual: a soft taco, a side of fries, and a large soda. Then, remembering that he’d had no breakfast, he changed his mind. Make that two tacos,” he said. “With extra salsa.”

He ate as he drove, thinking about the rabbit pelt that had been chewed. That thieving cat had cost him five dollars. Five bucks would have paid for his lunch. The more he thought about it, the more angry he got.

Soon his stomach was churning so much that he couldn’t enjoy his food. He left the second taco and half of the fries lying on the seat.

Bick drove past Valley View Estates, past Hilltop, to the narrow road that led to the trailer he called home. It wasn’t
really his; Bick didn’t know who actually owned it, but he had lived there for nearly two years now and nobody had noticed. The trailer sat well back in the woods, out of sight of the gravel road. It lacked indoor plumbing and electricity, but Bick didn’t mind. A small wood-burning stove kept him warm in winter, and there was plenty of free firewood. The site was secluded, there was room for him to raise a few pigs, and best of all, it was free.

Bick parked in front of the trailer, went inside, and got his wire cutters. He also tucked a handgun into the top of his jeans. Then he returned to the truck to go after his pig. This time he planned to keep an eye out for that cat. If the cat got in Bick’s truck again, it wouldn’t be leaving on its own four feet.

What he’d really like to do is take a potshot at those smart-aleck kids who had stolen his pig, but he couldn’t risk jail time. A cat was a different matter. The more he thought about it, the more Bick hoped the cat would come around and give him an excuse for some target practice.

He wondered if Ned had any market for cat pelts. That would be a fitting way to get revenge for the damaged rabbit skin, and pick up some extra money at the same time.

•  •  •

Rocky and Mary both arrived about fifteen minutes before five as Alex took popcorn out of the microwave and poured it into a big bowl. They all sat on the couch together.

Pete jumped into Alex’s lap. He leaned his head toward the bowl, trying to get close enough to take a bite of popcorn.

“No, Pete,” Alex said as he moved the bowl farther away. “You can’t eat out of the bowl.”

“I could if you didn’t keep moving it,” Pete said.

Alex lifted Pete off his lap and set the cat on the floor. Then he tossed one kernel of popcorn on the floor next to Pete.

Lizzy rushed over to see what it was, so Alex threw a piece of popcorn to her, too. Lizzy batted hers across the floor and chased it. Pete ate his, then asked for more.

“I’ve never been on TV,” Mary said.

“Neither have I,” Rocky said.

“We might not be on tonight, either,” Alex said. “Not every story that they make gets used.”

“Excuse me,” Pete said. “One piece of popcorn is not nearly enough for a half-starved cat.”

Alex tossed another kernel to Pete.

“Next time put more butter on it,” Pete said.

The newscast started, and everyone turned their attention to the Kendrills’ television set.

Everyone, that is, except Pete. He had thought of a new plan to show his evidence to the humans, and this was the perfect time to do it, while the kids were all together.

Pete had decided to retrieve only the invoice, and show it to the people. A piece of paper was easy to carry and it
wouldn’t leave fur in his mouth. Then, after they realized what he had brought them, he would get them to follow him to the fern grove, and show them the rabbit’s foot.

Even though the humans are not as smart as cats are, he was certain they’d be able to figure out where Pete had gotten the rabbit’s foot and the invoice.

All he needed now was a chance to slip out the door. It came when Mrs. Kendrill decided to empty the kitchen wastebasket. She opened the door, then left it open while she picked up the wastebasket and carried it to the garbage can, giving Pete plenty of time to bolt out the door, unseen.

He was running toward the ferns when he heard the noisy truck again. It had turned into Mrs. Sunburg’s driveway. Pete stopped. What did Hogman intend to do now? Was he going to cut the pen wire and take Piccolo?

Instead of grabbing the invoice and carrying it home, Pete crept toward Mrs. Sunburg’s yard. Pete considered running home and trying to get one of his family to come outside where they could see what was happening, but he knew from experience that whoever opened the door for him would invite him to come inside and, when he didn’t, they would shut the door.

They couldn’t see the pen or the truck from their doorway. It would be better, Pete decided, to watch Hogman so that he knew exactly what the man was doing.

Pete hunkered down under the bush closest to the pigpen. It’s lucky for the people that I’m vigilant, he thought, since
none of them are on guard. It’s a good thing I’m clever, courageous, and capable.

He watched the truck stop next to Piccolo’s pen.

Hogman got out of the truck, leaving the door open, as always. A tantalizing smell drifted out. Pete’s nose twitched, and he leaned forward, trying to decide what it was. The odor was much stronger than the egg-and-cheese-sandwich smell had been, and it hinted of Mexican spices. Pete’s pink tongue darted in and out. Did Hogman have enchiladas in his truck?

No! Pete told himself. You can’t get distracted by food, no matter how good it smells. He wondered if the box of pelts was still on the floor of the truck. If it was, perhaps he could run back to the ferns now, and take only the invoice to Alex. He could easily carry the piece of paper, and when Alex saw what it was, he would follow Pete to the truck and find the whole box of animal pelts. Pete wouldn’t have to put the rabbit’s foot in his mouth again.

Pete waited until Hogman’s attention was on the locked gate. Then he dashed toward the truck, stood on his hind legs, and looked inside.

The box of pelts was gone—but something new had been added. A soft taco sat on the seat. Pete drooled when he saw it. He hardly ever got Mexican food because the humans thought it was too spicy for him. Pete loved cheese enchiladas. He loved bean burritos. Most of all, he loved soft tacos, and now there was a fresh taco sitting in plain sight, waiting to be eaten.

Pete glanced back at Hogman. The man’s attention was focused on the fence. Pete knew better than to stay in the truck while he ate, but he thought he had time to jump up, grab the taco, and run. He would carry it to the ferns and, using extraordinary willpower, he would leave it there while he took the invoice to Alex. He would go back to eat it as soon as he’d accomplished his spy business.

Pete leaped onto the seat of the truck, then pressed his nose to the luscious-smelling taco. Oh, what bliss! This was cat heaven! He opened his jaws as wide as he could, clamped down on the middle of the taco, and tried to pick it up. When he lifted it, the filling tumbled out. Lettuce, cheese, tomato, and ground beef dropped onto the seat of the truck, and Pete was left with the empty tortilla in his mouth.

He couldn’t carry the taco away when it was spilled all over the seat; he would have to eat it right now, in the truck. He crouched and began gulping the beef and cheese, gobbling it as quickly as he could. His mouth was full of taco meat when a hand clamped down on the back of Pete’s neck.