The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 5

by Roy MacGregor

  Muck stood, blinking, feigning surprise.

  “Okay, okay, you’ll get your speech,” he said.

  Just then, the door opened and Barry Yonson and Ty Barrett, Muck’s original assistants when he first organized the Owls, came in pushing a TV and video player on a stand with wheels. Ty plugged the equipment in.

  Muck tried to turn it on using the remote, couldn’t work it, and passed the controller over to Data, who deftly flicked the necessary buttons to start the machine.

  The picture came into focus, brightness and colour gathering to produce the last image any of the Owls would have predicted.

  Mr. Dillinger, sitting up in bed.

  He was smiling.

  There were no tubes in his mouth.

  Mr. Dillinger raised a thumb to the Owls.

  He began to speak, coughed, tried again, his voice coming out so weak Data had to back up the video and replay it at higher volume.

  “Screech … Owls … forever!” Mr. Dillinger said, and this time gave two thumbs-up.

  The screen flickered off. No one said a word.

  Travis glanced around, unsure if he, as captain, should speak.

  “Have a good game,” Muck said.

  Nothing more.

  Nothing more was needed.

  30

  It was supposed to be an exhibition game. It was supposed to be nothing but a salute to Sarah Cuthbertson, Olympic hero. It was supposed to be nothing more than a little entertainment for those who gathered that night to officially open the new Sarah Cuthbertson Arena.

  But something happened.

  A real game broke out.

  Travis felt it from the warm-up. He hit the crossbar with his first shot. His legs felt like they would normally feel at mid-season – as if his skates were flesh, his equipment bones, one complete unit dedicated to hockey. He felt energized, skating out with Sarah and Dmitri once again. He felt inspired, seeing Sam, who hadn’t played in years, determined not to hold her team back. He felt happy, seeing Nish, who said he wouldn’t come and then fell out of the sky in his most dramatic entrance of all time.

  He felt it as he swept by centre ice in the old Owls shooting pattern, a quick glance over his shoulder to the other side before he raced in to take a pass from the corner and warm up Jeremy in goal.

  What he saw, when he looked over, was the greatest team the Owls had ever faced: Billings and Yantha, J-P and Nicole, Annika, Brody Prince, Wiz, Chase Jordan, Rachel Highboy, toothless Mr. Imoo, Slava and Lars from the Swedish elite league, players from the Towers, the Wheels, the Wildlife – an all-star team from all over the world.

  The crowd had come anticipating a relaxed, fun game, never for a moment anticipating what would come next.

  In some ways, it happened quite by accident. The teams had been introduced – Sarah getting by far the greatest cheer, but Dmitri a close second – and Travis’s line had taken the opening faceoff against Stu Yantha, Chase Jordan, and Wiz.

  Wiz, who hadn’t been on skates in years, had lost little of his former magic. Yantha won the faceoff by using Sarah’s own special little trick of snapping the puck out of the air as it dropped, and Chase Jordan took Travis out with a deft pic that the referee never even noticed.

  In an instant Wiz was headed in on Sam and Nish, both defenders moving back fast, only to have Sam, unused to a high-tempo game, fall, leaving Nish alone with the All-Star forwards coming in on him fast.

  Wiz dropped to Yantha, Yantha hit Jordan on the other side, and Jordan fired a quick, cross-crease pass to Wiz, who ripped it into the back of the net.

  Tic-tac-toe.

  Ten seconds into the game, and the Owls were down 1-0.

  Sam was near tears when she came off the ice. She couldn’t stop apologizing to Nish, who said nothing as he sat rocking, his eyes staring straight down at his shin pads. Sarah leaned over and gave Sam a little pat on her pads with her stick and smiled. But this just seemed to upset Sam all the more.

  Sarah, of course, was at the heart of Sam’s reluctance to play. Once, it had been Sam and Sarah together, virtual equals on the ice. Then it had been Sarah, Olympic champion, and Sam, unemployed, mother of little Muck, drifting through life. Now, here was Sarah, all grace and style, and Sam, just as she feared, flat on her butt on the ice.

  The next shift out for Travis’s unit, Sam took out Yantha along the boards with a move that might easily have been called a body check in a game that was supposed to have no contact. Sam picked the puck up and bounced it behind the net to Nish, who stood stickhandling while the two teams set up.

  Sarah came back, curling, and picked up Nish’s pass in mid-ice, backhanding a quick set pass to Travis as he skated hard up along the boards.

  Travis knew the play. He didn’t even have to look to know that Dmitri would be breaking hard.

  Travis hoisted the puck as high as he could lift it without catching the fancy new scoreboard clock that hung over centre ice. The puck flew over the upstretched gloves of Billings and landed, with a slap, on the ice in the All-Star end.

  The puck had barely crossed centre before Dmitri, but Dmitri was onside and open. He came flying, at top NHL speed, down the ice, scooped up the puck, and flew in on net.

  A shoulder fake, then forehand to backhand and high into the net, the water bottle flying against the glass in front of the startled goal judge.

  Travis was laughing. Just like old times.

  Owls 1, All-Stars 1.

  Back on the bench, Data was tossing towels around the Owls’ necks when Sarah tapped Travis on the shins and told him to look across the ice. Mr. Imoo had taken himself out of the lineup, his helmet was off, his gloves were off, and he was back of the bench, coaching the All-Stars.

  “I hope he didn’t bring his force shield,” Travis giggled.

  “They’re getting serious,” Sarah said. “Look at their faces.”

  Travis scanned the bench opposite. Every player on the team had a look of determination on his or her face.

  This was going to be a game.

  Muck had picked it up too.

  “No hitting, remember,” he said. “But don’t think this isn’t a real game.”

  The All-Stars scored again on a lovely play by J-P Dupont, who turned Sam inside out on a rush before slipping the puck under Jeremy.

  Early in the second period, the All-Stars went up 3-1 on a second gorgeous goal by Wiz, who brought the crowd to its feet with his magic as he, too, stickhandled easily past Sam.

  Sam was miserable on the bench. She dropped her gloves and stick and stomped off down the alleyway leading to the dressing rooms. Muck watched her go but said nothing. When her turn came up again, he sent Fahd out in her place.

  Sam was in the dressing room crying when they broke at the end of the second period, now down 4-1 to the All-Stars.

  Her face was swollen and red-streaked, and she couldn’t look at any of her old teammates as they came in and took their seats.

  Travis noticed Muck and Sarah talking closely together in the hallway, Muck nodding at whatever Sarah was saying.

  They sat in silence, towels around their necks, waiting for the Zamboni to finish its run. Finally, just when the officials rapped on the Owls’ door to let them know it was time to head back out, Muck spoke.

  “We’re going to have to mix things up to get you guys going again,” Muck said. “Sam, you’re up front with Sarah and Travis. Dmitri, you drop back on D.”

  Dmitri simply nodded. He prided himself on being able to play defence as well as offence – his idol had been Sergei Fedorov, the first Russian to win the Hart Trophy, who played both forward and back with equal ease.

  Sam looked up, aghast. The players were rising to head out onto the ice, smacking their sticks on the floor and shouting, and Sarah went over and gave Sam a small tap as they passed.

  “I asked for you,” Sarah said. “I’m just too used to playing with good women. I need a shooter, and nobody’s better than you.”

  Sam seemed stunned. Unable
to speak, she simply pulled on her helmet and followed Sarah out onto the rink.

  The third period began at the same pace as the first two had ended: full out, end-to-end action. Slava Shadrin went the entire length and flipped a lovely backhander that pinged off the crossbar. Andy scored on a hard shot from the slot that deflected in off a skate.

  The crowd roared to its feet as Sarah scored a “dickey-dickey-doo” goal almost identical to the one that gave Canada the gold medal in the Winter Games. Muck, who supposedly hated “glory” plays like that, was the first to slap her shoulder pads when she came off the ice.

  “We’re only down by one,” Muck said. “Let’s see if we can do it!”

  One shift later, Muck called Sarah’s line right back out on the ice. Travis was still gasping for breath when he jumped over the boards, suddenly aware that this one last shift might all but run out the clock.

  Either the Owls scored, or the game was lost.

  A meaningless, exhibition game? It was, for the moment, the most important do-or-die contest on earth, as far as the players on the ice were concerned.

  And it seemed the crowd felt the same. Many were now standing. Travis could see faces he recognized – his grandmother, his parents, little Muck being held up by Sam’s mother, the Flying Elvises on their feet along the back row – and he could hear a rising growl in the arena that sounded like a car engine revving in anticipation.

  The faceoff was in the Owls’ end.

  He felt a tap on his shin pad. It was Billings, the first friend Travis had ever made at a tournament, still the happy blond kid, but now a man.

  “Just like old times, eh, Trav?”

  Travis nodded. Just like old times indeed.

  Sam had been getting stronger all period. Her skating came back, but more importantly her confidence was flooding back as well. She was moving fast, with determination, and if she did not have Sarah’s skill, she certainly still had heart.

  Muck made one more quick change. He sent Wilson and Nish out on defence, a pairing Travis could never recall seeing in all the years the Owls were together. Perhaps it was Muck’s little way of saying thanks to Wilson for what he had done for Mr. Dillinger.

  Travis shuddered to see the lineup they faced. Slava, the slick Russian, at centre. Wiz on one wing, Brody Prince on the other. Back on defence, Lars, who would normally have been playing for the Owls, and Jeremy Billings.

  The Owls didn’t have a chance.

  The puck dropped and, this time, Sarah scooped it out of the air and back to Nish, who fed across to Wilson.

  Wilson snapped a sharp, hard pass straight back to Nish.

  Nish headed back behind the Owls’ net, watching.

  Travis worried about the clock. It would be running out – and they were still in their own end.

  Sarah made a lovely play, swooping back behind the Owls’ net to take the puck and lead the rush out.

  Slava chased her, Wiz moving fast to cut Sarah off on the angle.

  Travis could have sworn Sarah had the puck. She let it slide along her skate blade, but then just left it, and Nish, quick as a wink, rapped it off the back of the net as Slava tore by.

  Sarah broke out from behind the net dragging a skate as if she were trying to kick a loose puck up onto her blade.

  It fooled Wiz completely. He went for the fake, tried to take out Sarah, and ended up crashing into the boards.

  Nish had the puck, with Sam breaking hard across along the boards. He hit her with a perfect tape-to-tape pass.

  Brody Prince had Sam in his sights. He moved to cut her off, but Sam sent a perfect little backhand “saucer” pass to Travis, who picked it up as he broke out of the Owls’ end.

  Travis didn’t have to look to know that every person in the Sarah Cuthbertson Arena had just come to his or her feet. He could almost sense the collective gasp – an intake of breath that would be held until this rush either scored or failed, the hockey game settled.

  Travis had the puck on his stick, and it felt comfortable there. He had space to work with, time to think.

  Jeremy Billings was backing up fast on Travis’s side, giving him the ice but blocking his passage to the All-Star net. Billings was a smart player. He would “bleed” Travis off to the boards, squeezing his space until Travis had no choice but to curl back or else fire the puck around the boards.

  Travis knew he couldn’t give up possession. There was no time for error.

  He curled sharply, the ice chips flying as he cut fast toward the boards and tucked his stick to cradle the puck as he turned. Billings couldn’t reverse direction fast enough to check Travis.

  Sarah was bolting straight down centre, hammering the heel of her stick on the ice for the puck.

  Travis hit her perfectly.

  Sarah saw the two All-Star defence coming to squeeze her off. Billings was moving fast and low, Lars aiming for the puck.

  Sarah dropped the puck behind her, leaping through the two defencemen, who came together hard, catching only themselves and Sarah’s wind.

  Sam was barreling in behind Sarah. She hit the puck in full motion, a slapper harder than any Travis had ever seen before.

  It hit the crossbar so hard Travis wondered how the puck didn’t shatter into a hundred pieces. It bounced all the way back out to the blueline, where Wilson leapt as high as he could – more a baseball centre fielder than a defenceman – and just barely caught the puck before it sailed out of the zone.

  Wilson knocked the puck down and, falling, swept it into the corner to Travis.

  Travis could see Sam in front, but he couldn’t risk the shot.

  He caught Sarah stepping behind the All-Star net and hit her.

  Sarah had the puck in her “office” – the same behind-the-net spot that Wayne Gretzky always said was the secret to his success.

  She stickhandled, the All-Stars afraid to chase her, knowing she’d merely scoot out the other side.

  Nish was thundering in off the point, his stick down.

  Sarah hit him perfectly, at the same time as Yantha took Nish’s skates out from under him.

  Nish was already in the air when the puck hit his stickblade. But he had the shot.

  Time seemed to freeze for Travis. He could see Nish floating through the air, see the opening in the goal, see Nish’s stick ready and cocked to shoot – a scene he’d witnessed before so many times, the red flash of the goal light the only thing left to happen.

  But Nish didn’t shoot.

  Still falling, he faked the shot and, very gently – almost as if he were passing to a child – he nursed the puck across in front of the surprised All-Star defenders, both of them down on their knees to block, and straight onto the blade of a surprised Sam.

  Sam seemed caught off guard – but then so was everyone else.

  Fortunately, she recovered first. She fired the puck straight into the upper mesh, the water bottle flying as high as if Dmitri himself had backhanded it off.

  The crowd went crazy.

  Tie game, 4-4.

  The bench emptied, the Owls racing to pile on Sam, who still appeared in shock.

  The All-Stars emptied their bench, too, but instead of skating around in sullen circles until the celebration was over, they did something never before seen in the history of hockey.

  They joined in the piling on.

  It was the craziest thing Travis had ever experienced: the Owls in a pile in the corner, and now more gloves and sticks sailing through the air as first Wiz flew through the air and landed, then Billings, Slava, Lars, Annika, Rachel, Yantha, Brody Prince, Chase Jordan – every one of the All-Stars celebrating Sam’s goal.

  Sam was bawling. There were still a dozen seconds left on the clock, but Mr. Imoo and Muck, coming over the ice together, asked the referee to call the game.

  The only proper way to end it was as a tie.

  And the best way to remember it was to have Sam score the tie goal.

  On a generous pass from her arch rival, Nish.

 
; Sam went from player to player, hugging each one. She lingered a long time with her old friend, Sarah, and then with Nish, whose face was twisted in an expression that seemed to ask if he should really have given up the glory goal that could so easily have been his.

  “Thanks,” said Sam, kissing Nish on his beet-red cheek.

  For the first time anyone had ever known it to happen, Nish was speechless.

  Absolutely speechless.

  THE END

  ALSO AVAILABLE

  The Complete Screech Owls

  Volume 1

  The Complete Screech Owls

  Volume 2

  The Complete Screech Owls

  Volume 3

  The Complete Screech Owls

  Volume 4

  THE SCREECH OWLS SERIES

  1. Mystery at Lake Placid

  2. The Night They Stole the Stanley Cup

  3. The Screech Owls’ Northern Adventure

  4. Murder at Hockey Camp

  5. Kidnapped in Sweden

  6. Terror in Florida

  7. The Quebec City Crisis

  8. The Screech Owls’ Home Loss

  9. Nightmare in Nagano

  10. Danger in Dinosaur Valley

  11. The Ghost of the Stanley Cup

  12. The West Coast Murders

  13. Sudden Death in New York City

  14. Horror on River Road

  15. Death Down Under

  16. Power Play in Washington

  17. The Secret of the Deep Woods

  18. Murder at the Winter Games

  19. Attack on the Tower of London

  20. The Screech Owls’ Reunion

  Roy MacGregor has been involved in hockey all his life. Growing up in Huntsville, Ontario, he competed for several years against a kid named Bobby Orr, who was playing in nearby Parry Sound. He later returned to the game when he and his family settled in Ottawa, where he worked for the Ottawa Citizen and became the Southam National Sports Columnist. He still plays old-timers hockey and was a minor-hockey coach for more than a decade.