Bad Yeti

by Carrie Harris

  “All right. Then you’d better get out of here before he sees you.”

  “No! We’ll free you, Clanlord.” Calamity’s face was white and pinched. I honestly expected her to try to rip the fence apart with her bare hands. Sure, if she’d really been a barbarian princess, this would have been a great idea. But she wasn’t a barbarian. She played the violin and got straight As, and her bedroom was all pink. I’d seen it once when we were studying for an algebra test.

  “Charlotte,” I said, and she recoiled. I think it was the first time I’d used her real name since we’d started gaming together. “You guys have to get out of here before someone really gets hurt. This guy is crazy, and he’s got a gun. This isn’t a game. Do you understand?”

  The girls hesitated. Europa’s lips wouldn’t stop quivering, and the tears on her face had nothing to do with taking a boot to the nose. Amethyst looked pale and nervous; she couldn’t stop twitching, and she gripped the chain link with bloodless fingers. But at least they were listening.

  “Now go,” I ordered, handing my compass through the links of the fence. “Find the camp, or any civilization, really. And send help.”

  Amethyst took a slow, reluctant step backward. She looked really strange, and it took me a moment to figure out what was wrong. The girl just didn’t look right without her wings. I made a mental vow to go back and get them when this was all over.

  I felt like I should say something really witty to put the girls at ease, but I didn’t get a chance to think of anything good.

  BLAM!

  The ground near the girls’ feet exploded, pelting me with dirt. A nice big clod went right into my eye.

  “Stay right where you are!” Tobias shrieked. He’d looked creepy before, but now he was totally unhinged. His eyes were wide and showed way too much white, like a skittish horse. I wasn’t sure what had made him suddenly start firing, but then, it’s not like this guy was Mr. Logic. He genetically engineered yeti and lived in a moldy old trailer. Not exactly the kind of lifestyle that inspires major confidence.

  “Run!” I yelled as he advanced, reloading the rifle.

  “Scramble!” Amethyst barked, and the girls reacted instantly, splitting off and sprinting for cover. If he did manage to reload before they got to safety, he’d have to pick a target instead of sighting them all at once.

  Europa tripped over something on the ground—due to the grime inhabiting my eye socket, my vision was too blurry to identify the object—and went down. Calamity wasn’t even looking, but she seemed to sense that something was wrong. She slowed. Hesitated. Stopped.

  Tobias slipped two shells into the chamber and flipped the rifle closed with a practiced hand. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Europa struggled to her feet, but now she was limping. There was no way she’d make it to the trees. Tobias put the gun to his shoulder. If he shot her right in front of me, I’d never be able to live with myself.

  I rattled the cage, screaming, “Don’t you dare shoot her! Her name is Emily. She has a little brother and she likes Hello Kitty!”

  The she-yeti seemed to pick up on my state of mind. She threw herself against the side of her cage and let out a howl that sounded like a pack of wolves mating with an air raid siren. Then she fell to the ground, jerking and shuddering. Stupid shock collar! I mentally added it to the list of things I wanted to tear apart with my bare hands.

  “Shut up!” Tobias screamed, clapping his hands to his ears. I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to the voices in his head, but I didn’t care. I made as much noise as I could, hollering and banging the sides of my cage. I could hear noises in response—a coughing yowl, a shriek like a carrion bird, and a growl that rattled the ground—as the menagerie of creatures joined in the chorus and then were cut short as their collars zapped them.

  The cage rattled under my fingers, and for a glorious second, I thought it was going to fall. But it didn’t.

  All of this happened within moments, and when I looked back at Europa, I saw her slung over Calamity’s shoulders, fireman-style. She outweighed Calamity by at least twenty pounds, and the smaller girl staggered under the weight but refused to go down. They disappeared into the trees, their costumes melding into the undergrowth just like they were designed to.

  Tears streamed down my face, obscuring my vision. I scrubbed at my eye furiously and only succeeded in making it sting more. I was beginning to think Tal’s costume should include a pair of safety goggles. If I survived, I would make that happen. And sure, I was scared, but I also felt this overwhelming sense of relief that at least the girls were okay.

  Said sense of relief lasted about two seconds. Then Tobias shoved the barrel of his rifle under my nose.

  “You,” he said.

  “Me what?”

  “You’ve ruined everything,” he snarled. “My buyer has insisted on absolute secrecy. Who do you work for?”

  “Nobody!” I shrieked right in his face, and then I broke off panting. Losing my temper wasn’t going to help, and every minute he spent talking to me gave the girls time to escape. “Are you sure your buyer is even real? I mean, how do you find someone interested in buying yeti, anyway? eBay?”

  “I tried that,” he muttered, “but their rules are so strict.”

  “Look,” I said, trying to sound soothing, “you’re clearly a talented guy. I mean, look at these creatures! They’re so freaking awesome!” My voice cracked at the end there, and he looked at me funny.

  “Thank you?” he replied, but he didn’t sound too sure. Like maybe I was up to something.

  “But they’re really unhappy being caged up like this. Why don’t you let them go? There’s plenty of wilderness they could live in. And then you could get some help for your … you know. Problem?” I pointed to my ear.

  If I made it out of this alive, I’d have to tell my guidance counselor to knock therapist off my list of potential professions, because I sucked at it. Tobias had actually started to nod when I brought up his imaginary friend, but then his face tightened and his brows drew down into their customary angry glower. He shouldered his rifle and stalked toward the trailer.

  “You should give it up!” I yelled. “The girls will come back with the cops!”

  “My buyers will be here within the hour,” he said. “We’ll be gone before the police arrive.” He turned to look at me. “I’ll leave you here in the cage for them to find. I’m not going to hurt you, and I wouldn’t have hurt those girls.”

  The urge to argue with that was overwhelming—even warning shots can hit unintended targets, right? But it seemed silly to pick a fight when he had just offered me a get-out-of-metal-cage-free card. All I had to do was wait for a couple hours, and then someone would let me out and hopefully give me a Mountain Dew. I was parched.

  So I just nodded and sat down. Tobias seemed to take that as approval; he took out a cell phone and made a call. I tried to listen so I could give the authorities as many details as possible, but he was speaking another language that sounded like he was hacking up fur balls mid-word. Listening was futile, so I made myself comfortable. Maybe I’d even take a nap.

  I was feeling pretty good about the situation when I lay down. But then I came face to face with the he-yeti still curled up on the ground. Sure, this arrangement worked for me, provided Tobias delivered. But what would it mean for all the creatures?

  Nothing good, if you asked me.

  CHAPTER 8

  A few minutes later, Tobias disappeared into the big building. I launched myself to my feet, ready for action. Too bad I didn’t know what to do. I racked my brain for something that might make a difference, but I had no resources in my cage, and neither of the yeti had been any help. It wasn’t like I could pick locks with my fingernails. Maybe Sir Tal could, but not me.

  Still, how hard could picking locks be? High school dropouts did it all the time, right? I scanned the landscape for something useful.

  The cage on my right was empty except for a metal box in t
he middle. The box was small, maybe a square foot, with a briefcase-style handle. I figured it was light enough that it would slide if only I could reach it. Maybe there was something I could use inside.

  I took the twine out of my bandolier and rummaged through my gem collection until I found one of the heavier stones. I chose a bright pink one with a funky-looking flaw in the middle that I used to cast pretend luck spells in the LARP. I thought I could definitely use some luck right then.

  I tied the stone to the end of the twine, threaded the twine through the chain link, and gave it an experimental swing. It wouldn’t do at all to let go of the end, so I pinched my fingers together so hard that the tips turned white. The gem dragged along the ground as I tried to hook it around the box handle. I figured if it wedged in there just right, I should be able to pull the box close enough to open it.

  It took three tries, but finally I made it. This got me to the tricky part: pulling the case along the ground without dislodging the gem. I failed the first couple of tries and had to repeat the whole thing all over again, only this time with a sound track of words that would make my mom cluck her tongue if she ever heard me say them.

  Finally, I got the case close enough to my cage to grab it. My hands were just small enough that I could fit my thumb or my fingers through, but not both at the same time. So it took a fair amount of fumbling before I could twist it around. Nothing on the outside indicated its contents or screamed “Hey! I could easily be repurposed as a lock pick!” But the case was only held closed with a pair of latches, so I refused to give up just yet. Maybe there would be a useful yeti-rescue tool inside.

  I flipped the latches and threw open the lid. A glob of liquid shot out at me, landed on my bandolier, and began eating through the strap. I slammed the lid closed, and the bandolier fell to the ground. My tunic also sported a growing hole, and I didn’t want to know what would happen when the mystery liquid hit my skin. I quickly took off my shirt and tossed it to the ground too, just in case. I’d rather be a cold, scrawny guy with no shirt than a warm, covered corpse with a hole in its chest. Go figure.

  A sane person would have left the box alone after that, and despite what my sister thought, I considered myself pretty sane. Maybe I lived in a fantasy world most of the time, but I knew it wasn’t real; I just had more fun there than I did in the real world. So I didn’t have a problem recognizing that whatever was in that box wasn’t good news. But I also hoped it could help me get out of this cage if only I could avoid getting aerated in the process. I hadn’t exactly pulled a Houdini yet, but it was the best lead I had.

  First, I had to figure out exactly what I was dealing with. It might have been a trap, in which case I’d set it off when I’d opened the box and no other action was necessary. Or it could have been an alien, a chaos snake, a death wyrm, or slime. But I wasn’t sure how any of those things could fit in such a tiny box, and I wouldn’t be able to defeat one if I let it out and it decided to eat me. Maybe I could tame it and it would eat its way out of the box, and then I’d ride it to freedom. Which was so awesome that I could barely stand to think about it.

  A wise man would have left the case alone and found another way. So of course I decided to open it again.

  I’m not a total idiot, though. I averted my face and ducked my head behind my arm. Then I reached my fingers through the fence and carefully reopened the lid. As soon as it was in motion, I retreated to the opposite end of my cage, alert for stray globules of airborne acid.

  For a moment just long enough for me to feel a little sheepish, nothing happened. Then I heard a high-pitched squeak and a little green creature about the size of my thumb launched itself into the air. It stopped about two feet from my face, and I pinched myself twice to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Because even I found it tough to believe that a miniature emerald dragon was hovering hummingbird-style in the middle of my cage.

  But I hadn’t been sleeping, so I had to believe that this was really happening.

  A huge grin split my face. The dragon was tiny, with perfect leathery wings, glistening green scales, and a little sharp-toothed mouth. It darted to and fro, trying to decide whether it should dissolve my nose off my face. Even though I knew it could easily spit-fire a hole through my head, I couldn’t help myself. “Awww,” I cooed.

  Apparently, the mini dragon realized that predators never go “Awww,” so I guess it decided I wasn’t a threat. It whizzed around my head, then buzzed through one of the gaps in the chain link. I watched as it flew directly toward the big building, pausing long enough to aim a blast of acid at the wall and then darting in through the hole it had made. After a moment of heart-pounding silence, Tobias started shrieking.

  “No! Stop! Those records are irreplaceable! Get back here, you idiotic lizard!”

  For once, I was pretty sure that he wasn’t talking to his imaginary friends. Clearly, the dragon was a little pissed about having been locked up in that box, and I couldn’t blame him.

  But then I realized that I was still locked up in a cage, and it was more important than ever to get out. The dragon had provided the best distraction of all time, and I couldn’t let that go to waste.

  I took the shredded remains of my shirt and wiped the acid onto the lock, but there wasn’t enough left to eat through the metal. The most I managed was a hiss and a wisp of smoke. The bandolier wasn’t much better, so I took a look at the inside of the box. The mini dragon would have tried to burn his way out, right? I figured the box must be made of some kind of acid-resistant metal. Sure enough, the insides were nice and goopy. I scooped some of the goo onto my shirt, burning the pad of my right index finger in the process, and smeared the acid onto the lock.

  The metal hissed and smoked, weakening until I was able to pull it off. I couldn’t help it. I whooped out loud, and then clapped a hand over my mouth just in case Tobias had managed to catch the dragon and decided to come out and investigate the noise. When he didn’t show, I let myself out of the cage. It wasn’t like I’d been cramped in there, but it still felt so good to be able to walk more than four feet in any given direction. And I wasn’t half the size of the yeti either.

  The she-yeti rattled the side of her cage, like she could hear my thoughts and was agreeing wholeheartedly. The thought of a psychic yeti was almost too much to take. My hands started shaking uncontrollably as I took out the lock on her door with another application of acid from my shirt. But when I stepped away from the opening, she just shook her head and pointed to her neck. I’d forgotten about the collar.

  “Let me take a look,” I said.

  She stooped obediently, and my heart sank. I’d been hoping for a snap or a button or something difficult to remove with claws. But this thing was literally welded onto her. No way was I going to get it off without dissolving it. I had enough acid, but it’s one thing to burn your way through a fence; it’s another thing entirely to pour acid on a yeti.

  “I can try to take it off,” I said reluctantly, “but I don’t want to burn you.”

  I meant it too. The tip of my finger was already starting to blister, and I’d only gotten a little smear of acid on it. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I screwed up and wiped the toxic stuff all over the side of the yeti’s neck. But she just tossed her head disdainfully and dropped into a crouch. And really, I had to concede that it would be better to live with a chemical burn than to be trapped in a cage for the rest of your life. Maybe her fur would protect her.

  My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, even when I let out a nice long breath. (This is why I’ve never role-played a monk; my meditative skills suck.) But I managed to get the collar off, along with a nice handful of fur. Now she looked like a leper yeti. I wasn’t about to tell her that, though, because I always tried to keep my manners even during a crisis.

  As soon as the metal was free of her skin, the she-yeti turned from a nice, mild-mannered creature into a very big, very hairy instrument of destruction. Not that I could blame her; I’d only spent about a
half hour in the cage and already I’d started feeling a little twitchy. The yeti stood up. And up. And up. In fact, she stood so vigorously that she took the ceiling off her cage with a screech and rattle of abused metal. Then she barreled out and began tearing into all the other cages.

  I followed her into the he-yeti’s cage and removed his collar. He still didn’t move, and I knew it wasn’t because of those pitiful cuffs. I ran my hands through his coarse fur but couldn’t find anything wrong with him. He lifted his tired eyes to mine, and then I’d had it. I was about to stage a mass jailbreak of mythological creatures, and I wasn’t going to let some depressed yeti screw that up.

  “Listen here,” I muttered, leaning down to speak right in his pointed ear. “You will get up and lead the rest of your buddies out of these cages, or I’ll kick your butt myself. And I’m half your size. You’ll never be able to live it down.”

  He lifted his head and looked at me uncertainly.

  “Trust me.” I offered a hand. “You don’t want to look like a wuss in front of your girlfriend. Girls hate that. And if you can avoid getting your head shoved into a toilet, it’s highly recommended.”

  He chuffed at me and got awkwardly to his feet, ignoring my offer of help. And then he snapped his cuffs apart. They still circled his wrists, but I had bigger things to deal with. The commotion from inside the building had quieted, and I wasn’t sure if that meant Tobias was out of commission or he was about to come outside and start shooting. I figured I’d better be prepared for either possibility.

  “All right,” I said to the yeti. “You go stand next to the door, and if that jerk comes out, clonk him. Don’t wait. Don’t give him an opportunity to dork with your head. Just do it. We’ll get everyone else out.”

  The yeti lumbered over to stand next to the door, and not a moment too soon. Tobias came charging out, rifle first. You could take what I knew about firearms, write it on a postage stamp, and still have room, but even I knew you weren’t supposed to hold your rifle out in front of you like that. Someone could get hurt.