“Where did they come from?” Emmet said.
“The vent,” Calvin replied.
“I know the vent! I mean how did they get inside the school?” Emmet said.
“Maybe Dr. Catalyst?” Raeburn offered.
“Maybe. We’ve got to help those people,” Emmet said.
“How?” Riley said.
Emmet looked around. A few feet from the end of the bleachers, he spied a fire alarm on the wall.
“Calvin, call 9-1-1,” he said.
Calvin reached for his pocket but stopped midway with a sheepish expression. “I put my phone in my backpack when we changed clothes,” he said.
“Ah, heck. Me too. I left it on the bleachers,” Emmet said. “We’ve got to do something. Everybody stay here.”
“What are — ?” Calvin started to speak, but Emmet took off running from his spot.
Once clear of the bleachers, he held the music stand over his head and raced toward the nearby wall. Blood Jackets dived at him, crashing into the stand’s metal tray. Emmet staggered to the wall, found the red fire alarm, and pulled the handle.
The noise was deafening. A high-pitched klaxon alarm, complete with flashing strobe lights, pulsated through the room. The noise had an immediate impact on the creatures. They screeched and flew up toward the ceiling, looking for a way out of the room.
The momentary halt in the attack allowed some of the crowd to finally make their way through the door from the gym into the hallway. Emmet scampered back under the cover of the bleachers. The brain-rattling noise of the alarm continued.
“What are we going to do? We can’t stay under here!” Raeburn shouted.
“We need to wait a minute! Let the crowd thin out, then we’ll make a run for it!” Emmet said.
The Blood Jackets flew around and around, circling the gym like a living cyclone. After a moment, they descended on those remaining in the gym still trying to jam through the door.
Three of them came zooming under the bleachers. Calvin and Riley batted them away with their stands.
“They’re attacking again!” Calvin shouted. “It’s too jammed up! We’ll never make it out!”
“Well, I’d love to hear another plan!” Emmet yelled back. “If we try running across the gym to the other door, they’ll be all over us!”
“Over there. The closet where they keep all the athletic equipment,” Calvin said, pointing.
In the space behind the bleachers, tucked into a corner of the gym, was a small alcove. It held a closet with double steel doors. All the stuff the PE teachers used in gym class was stored inside.
“It’s probably locked!” Raeburn said.
“Probably!” Calvin agreed.
Before anyone could say anything, Calvin darted out from under the bleachers and sprinted to the door. He swung the music stand like an axe and knocked the doorknob off the door. The door popped open.
“Hurry!” he said.
The three of them sprinted after him and into the closet. Calvin pulled the door shut.
“Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow,” Emmet said.
They listened to the chaos on the other side of the door. The shrieking alarm, the now receding screams of the crowd, and the chittering of the Blood Jackets was muffled through the door. Calvin found the light switch and flipped it on.
They listened intently as the noise went on for several more minutes. Finally, the screams ended and all they could hear was the fire alarm … and the screeching of the flying beasts. For a moment they didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. They had a temporary reprieve, but part of them knew the vicious beasts would soon find their way inside their momentary sanctuary. Their skin tingled with fear, and all of them, even Calvin, were feeling jumpy. They tried not to think about what was happening to the people outside the room.
“What are we going to do?” Riley asked.
“I vote we stay here until help arrives,” Emmet said.
“Sounds like a plan,” Raeburn said.
Suddenly, a familiar rustling, chittering noise sounded from above their heads. Could it be? Had the Blood Jackets tracked them through the ventilation system so quickly?
“No way! You’ve got to be kidding me! How did they find us?” Emmet said.
“We’re going to have to run for it now,” Riley said.
“No! We’ll be okay in here if we block up that vent,” Emmet said. “There are hundreds of those things out there. They’ll eat us alive!”
“We can’t stay here,” Riley said, watching the vent cover creaking and bending with each blow from the Blood Jackets.
Calvin had been digging around in the piles of equipment at the back of the closet. He stood up now, not quite smiling, but not not smiling.
“These might help,” he said.
He held a football helmet in each hand.
DR. CATALYST WOKE TO A RAPID BEEPING COMING FROM his tablet computer. One of his proximity alarms had been tripped. Running his fingers over the glass, he discovered it was for the facility where he had been forced to take the dunce Newton. The door alarm had been activated.
He checked his cameras before taking an unnecessary trip. Sometimes a door blew open in the wind, and even the best alarms occasionally malfunctioned.
The interior of the building appeared on his screen. The door to the facility was standing wide open. It still could have been caused by the wind.
But when he switched to a view of the cell, he let out a loud curse. That door was also open. The cell was empty. Somehow, the idiot Newton had escaped.
“How is that possible?” he muttered to himself.
The facility was remote, and only accessible by boat. It would take him at least an hour to get there. Maybe more. For a moment Dr. Catalyst wondered if he should even bother. Newton had failed miserably. Now the fool would likely die in the swamp. It might not be the worst thing in the world to just let him go.
But he couldn’t be sure.
Dr. Catalyst sighed.
“First the Doyle brat and now this loser,” he muttered. As he gathered up equipment — water and some other supplies — he cursed those who vexed him so, interfering with his plans.
He pulled his pistol from the holster, checking to make sure it was loaded.
As he held the gun out in front of him, sighting down the barrel, a thought flitted through his brain: Perhaps, if he did recover Newton, he would carry him deep into the swamp. And get rid of him. Dr. Catalyst was rapidly losing patience with those who hindered his efforts.
As he picked up his truck keys, his tablet beeped again with a news-broadcast alert. He clicked on the link and a window opened showing a live feed from one of the local TV stations. A breathless blond reporter stood outside a school building surrounded by dozens of police cars and fire trucks, their lights blinking.
“Details are still forthcoming,” she said. “What we do know is that tonight’s performance of the Tasker Middle School concert band was interrupted by the appearance of hundreds of the new hybrid creatures created by Dr. Catalyst. These Blood Jackets appear to be a combination of vampire bats and hornets. Whatever their genetic makeup, they are extremely aggressive, and are responsible for dozens of injuries in and around Florida City in the last few days.”
Dr. Catalyst smiled. The news was rapidly improving his mood.
“Reports from witnesses say that the creatures entered the gymnasium through a ventilation duct. There, they attacked the attendees, injuring dozens of innocent concertgoers. Ambulances and paramedics are on the scene, and the building has been sealed. It is unknown at this time how many of the creatures — or people — are still inside the building. But authorities have told me that they will keep all doors closed to prevent these Blood Jackets from escaping and causing further injury. Jim, I’m sending it back to you in the studio.”
The screen changed to a talking head in a dark suit with hair that looked as if it had been shellacked in place. He started blathering on about Dr. Catalyst and his attacks on the
citizens of South Florida and blah, blah, blah.
Dr. Catalyst closed the link. The transmitters he’d placed on the creatures had not worked as well as he hoped, giving him trouble in tracking the colonies. Trying to find where the hybrids were nesting proved a daunting task. Their ability to fly allowed them to cover much more territory than the Pterogators. But the transmitter had to be tiny to not interfere with their flight capabilities. Their range was extremely limited. Now he knew where at least one of the colonies was nesting.
Newton would have to wait.
He could not pass up the opportunity to see his magnificent creations in action. He was certain the police, or animal control, or some of Dr. Geaux’s toadies would attempt to destroy the nest at the middle school. And they might even succeed.
But right now, his very own invasive species was wreaking vengeance in Florida City.
This was something not to be missed.
“PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE NOT SUGGESTING A GAME OF football right now!” Emmet shouted over the noise of the fire alarm.
“No. Put these on!” Calvin tossed the helmets to Riley and Raeburn. Then he pulled another from the cupboard and tossed it to Emmet before donning his own.
The Blood Jackets were screeching and throwing themselves against the vent. The cover was composed of thin sheet metal slats with screws holding it in place. It looked to Emmet like it was going to give way any minute.
“Here!” Calvin said. Next to the cupboard of helmets were bags of shoulder pads, shin guards, and everything one needed to suit up for a game of football. In the corner of the closet was a plastic barrel full of field hockey sticks. Everyone put on pads and Calvin handed out sticks to each of them. They were lighter and easier to handle than the music stands, at least.
“What now?” Riley said.
“Check the gym!” Calvin shouted.
Emmet cracked open the door and was rewarded with a dozen of the creatures immediately trying to claw their way through the tiny crack.
He screamed and slammed the door.
“What’s the situation?” Calvin asked.
“It’s a little south of not good!” Emmet said. “Those things are all over the place. And they seem hungry!” He looked up at the vent. One of the furry little monsters was trying to wiggle its way through one of the bent slats. They were relentless.
“Pretty soon they’re going to be all over us,” Raeburn said.
“Okay,” Calvin said. “On the count of three, we open the door and make a break for it. The helmets and pads will give us some protection, and the hockey sticks will do the rest.”
“Are you sure?” Emmet said.
“No,” Calvin replied.
“Did you ever notice you always attack monsters with sticks? You need to start carrying a bazooka in that backpack of yours,” Emmet complained.
“Get ready to run,” Calvin said, ignoring him. “One. Two. Three!”
He charged forward and threw back the closet door. It was like he had opened up a can of chaos. The Blood Jackets were on them even before they could clear the doorway. The appearance of their colony members drove the creatures in the vent berserk, and they finally pushed through, sending the cover clattering to the floor. The closet was instantly filled with a black screeching cloud.
“Don’t stop to look! Run!” Emmet shouted over the still-earsplitting alarm. For a moment he cursed himself for pulling it.
They struggled to make their way toward the gym doors, but it was like trying to walk against the onrushing wind of a tornado. The concertgoers had managed to escape into the hallways, leaving hundreds of the monsters circling in the air of the open gym, frantic with hunger. When the cries of their colony mates alerted them to the presence of new warm-blooded creatures in their midst, they dove upon the four padded humans with a blood lust.
“Keep moving!” Emmet shouted encouragement. He swung the hockey stick in a wide swath. It connected with several of the creatures, knocking them to the ground. The air was so thick with wings and fur and antennae, it was nearly impossible not to hit several of them with a single swing.
“We can’t go this way!” Calvin said. “There’s too many of them!”
Emmet looked back at the closet, but the creatures were still pouring out of the ventilation duct. Maybe they could get back in the closet and close up the vent somehow, but if that didn’t work they would be trapped in an enclosed space with a zillion Blood Jackets and nowhere to hide.
“Under the bleachers!” Emmet said.
They dashed back to the bleachers and moved beneath them along the wall. They couldn’t swing their sticks in the enclosed space, but the Blood Jackets were limited as well. Crouching, they ran along the back wall to the other end of the gym. The flying monsters followed, throwing themselves at the bleachers and heaving through the openings.
One of them flew right at Emmet’s head and latched onto the face mask, clawing at him through the small openings and giving Emmet the opportunity to see its beady eyes, large fangs, and spindly wings up close. He shook the helmet from side to side, trying to throw the beast off it, but it held tight.
“Get off!” he yelled. “Get off!”
Riley reached out with her stick and flicked the bat to the side.
“Thanks!” Emmet said.
They arrived at the other end of the bleachers and paused. The Blood Jackets hovered and darted in the air, trying to reach them beneath the bleachers, waiting for them to leave their sheltered spot. One step out and they would be covered in the tiny beasts.
“I really hate this plan,” Emmet said.
“We’ve got to use the hallway to get out of here,” Calvin said.
There was a set of doors about thirty feet away. To Emmet it seemed like thirty miles. Calvin was right. The exits leading outside were on the other side of the gymnasium. They’d never make it crossing the open floor. The hall doors were their only option.
He traced their route in his mind. Through the double doors into the hallway, turn right for about twenty yards and then left past the office. Then keep running until they reached the main doors.
“Let’s do it,” Raeburn said.
She sprinted for the doors.
Emmet, Calvin, and Riley followed her.
DR. CATALYST PULLED INTO THE TASKER MIDDLE SCHOOL parking lot. The darkened sky was awash with the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. Before leaving his hotel room, he’d grabbed a black Windbreaker with FBI written across the back, and threw it on. He always kept several sets of fake identities and uniforms handy, including authentic-looking credentials. Driving through the city streets, he parked the truck at the emergency perimeter set up around Tasker Middle School. Approaching the barricade and keeping his damaged right arm in his pocket, he flashed his credentials to the policeman who was manning the barricade and speaking into a two-way. His name tag said STUKACZOWSKI.
“My name is Agent Winchester, out of the Miami office,” Dr. Catalyst said. “I heard your alert as I was driving back to the city. Thought I’d stop and see if there was something I could do to help.”
Lieutenant Stukaczowski looked hard at the badge and then up at Dr. Catalyst.
“We’ve got a situation here. Have you heard about that Dr. Catalyst creep?”
Dr. Catalyst tried hard not to smile. “Only what I read in the papers and hear around the office. I usually work on cyber-crime cases.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a real nutcase. He’s got some kind of genetically altered bats he’s let loose now, and some of them have gotten inside the school. There was a band concert tonight and a lot of the critters went after the kids and their parents. It’s chaos. Thirty people injured so far,” Lieutenant Stukaczowski said.
“What a madman,” Dr. Catalyst said.
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Stukaczowski said.
“Do you need an extra hand?”
“Honestly, no. I think we’ve got it covered.”
Dr. Catalyst was about to ask him another ques
tion when he saw a silver Buick he recognized pull up about twenty yards away.
“All right, then,” he said. “I’ll be going. Good luck.”
He hurried back to his truck, making sure Dr. Geaux did not see him as she exited the car. If she did, everything would be over. Climbing back into the vehicle, he sat with his head down and his cell phone placed by his ear, as if he were taking a call. His window was rolled down, and he could hear Dr. Geaux and Dr. Doyle as they ran to Lieutenant Stukaczowski.
“What’s the situation, Tom?” she asked.
“Those bat things got into the school during the concert. Bunch of people got bitten up and stung pretty bad. Some have already been taken to the hospital. We think we —”
“Have you seen Emmet and Calvin?” she asked.
“What?” Stukaczowski shook his head. “No. Why?”
“There were at the concert tonight,” Dr. Doyle said.
“Well that doesn’t mean —” said Lieutenant Stukaczowski.
“Is everybody out?” Dr. Geaux shouted.
“We think so…. We don’t know for sure.”
“We’ve got to go check.” She started to push through the barricade.
“Rosalita,” Stukaczowski said, taking her by the arm. “We can’t go in. We open one of those doors and we’ll have hundreds of those things loose and more people will get injured. The firefighters are trying to figure out a way to get inside safely. Let me call it in.”
As Dr. Catalyst watched from his vehicle, Lieutenant Stukaczowski keyed the two-way. “All units this is Command One. I need visual confirmation on students Calvin Geaux and Emmet Doyle. Check all ER units. Get eyes on them, people.” A series of “copy thats” came back over Lieutenant Stukaczowski’s radio.
Dr. Catalyst backed up his truck and pulled away, slowly circling the school. The streets around the building were full of emergency vehicles. If any of the Blood Jackets were around, he didn’t see them. The colony likely had an entrance and exit into the school by which they departed each night. By now they had probably found a nearby hunting ground where they gathered the necessary amounts of blood. Something must have happened to cause the attack inside the school, perhaps some threat to their nest. He had chosen the baldfaced hornet specifically for this reason. They were fierce protectors of their homes.
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