Rex

by Cody B. Stewart

  Most of the other diners followed him out, muttering about the storm and needing to get home before the sky came crashing down.

  Ellen wandered back to the counter, lost in a flood of dreams that she hadn’t had in years.

  “Well?” Lulu asked with a smile.

  Ellen shook the dream out of her head. “Well, what?”

  “Well, what did the handsome stranger say?”

  “He said the coffee tastes like it was scraped off the bottom of the swamp.”

  Lulu shook her head in disappointment. “When you gonna get back in the game, honey?”

  Ellen plopped onto one of the stools and laid her head on the counter. “I played the game, Lu. I lost.”

  “It’s been ten years since Jay left. Ten years!” Lulu threw her arms up like she couldn’t believe the travesty of it.

  Ellen scooped her tips out of the tip jar and began counting. “Ten busy years. I don’t have time for any more of that. Unless you want to start paying me triple and giving me nights off.” Ellen stacked her tips in a very small pile and looked around the now empty diner. “Speaking of nights off, mind if I skip out early? Doesn’t look like you need me, and I’d rather not leave TJ alone in this storm.”

  Lulu nodded and slid Ellen a Styrofoam box containing two heaping slices of cherry pie. “Of course, sweetie. Get home to your boy.”

  Ellen pulled her coat over her head and ran through the parking lot to her beat-up and rusty pickup truck. She struggled against the wind and squinted against the rain blowing in her face. She slammed the truck door against the raging storm and sank down into the driver’s seat.

  She couldn’t tell if the wetness on her cheeks was rain or tears. Probably both. The grind had been wearing on her more lately. Waking up, putting together TJ’s lunch, rushing off to work at the bank, racing home to make dinner before heading to work at the diner. She hardly ever got to see her son, never got to see her friends, and still just barely made enough to cover the mortgage. She’d forgotten all about the time in her life when she actually thought she’d see Africa. That time came rushing back occasionally—like it had tonight—and hit her like a punch in the gut.

  The windshield wipers couldn’t move fast enough to keep up with the rain. She slowed almost to a crawl down the small country road that wound its way around the swamp, toward home. She couldn’t see a thing. Santa Claus himself could jump out in front of her right now and she wouldn’t know it.

  A loud horn blast suddenly burst through the night, louder even than the thunder rumbling overhead. Ellen scanned the road trying to find its source but saw nothing through the heavy rain.

  Then…there! Two bright lights coming right at her! She jerked on the wheel and slammed on the brakes. Oh, my God, Larry was right. Aliens! The ground shook beneath her, like the thunder was coming from inside the earth instead of from the sky overhead. Her small pickup skidded to a stop in the mud on the side of the road and began to vibrate. Just as she braced for the pull of the alien tractor beam (TJ once told her that she’d feel the tug in her belly button), a convoy of massive military trucks roared past, ten of them at least.

  Ellen watched them drive by with relief, confusion, and a big dose of embarrassment that turned her cheeks hot. “Aliens,” she muttered to herself as if she were the world’s biggest fool. She looked over her shoulder, following the convoy’s taillights as it faded into the storm. Don’t ever see military vehicles around here. Driving toward the swamp, no less. She let her imagination run wild. “Something strange is going on in that swamp,” Larry had said. Ellen chuckled and shook the crazy thoughts out of her head. Probably just the National Guard helping with the cleanup from the storm.

  She took several deep breaths, waiting for her heart to stop racing, before she stepped on the gas pedal again. The raging storm didn’t seem quite as terrifying the rest of the way home, even though the weather man on the radio kept saying it was far from over. Ellen chuckled. A storm, no matter how severe, would never be as scary as aliens.

  When Ellen arrived at her house she noticed immediately that no lights were on. And then she realized the entire neighborhood was dark.

  “Power must be out,” Ellen whispered to herself. I hope TJ is okay.

  She darted inside, completely soaked in the three seconds it took to get from the truck to the front door.

  “TJ?” she called. “TJ?”

  No answer.

  She pulled a candle from the cabinet in the hallway and lit it. The walls began dancing with soft, flickering light.

  Shadows raced like jittery little goblins around the house. Ellen jumped every time one of them leapt off the wall, waggling malformed ears and warty tongues at her. I’ve been spending too much time around Larry Doyle, she thought. They’re just shadows. Nothing to be afraid of.

  The floor creaked. Or was it a ghost moaning its sad, dead cries? Stop that, Ellen scolded herself. It’s—

  “Halt!” TJ leapt from around the corner brandishing a Maglite flashlight longer than his arm, most of his face hidden under the large, yellow hardhat drooping down over his eyes. “Who goes there?”

  Ellen fell back against the wall clutching her chest. The box from Lulu’s splatted on the floor. “Holy sugar, TJ! You scared the bejeezus out of me.”

  TJ wagged his finger and blew out Ellen’s candle. “Open flames are a no-no.” He took a small flashlight from his pocket and handed it to his mom. “Use this.” He slipped off his backpack, which landed with a thud on the floor. He unzipped it and took out a World War I era Prussian Pickelhaube helmet, complete with a terrifying and dangerous spike sticking straight up from the middle of it, and handed it to his mother. “And this,” he said with a smile.

  Ellen’s mouth hung open in astonishment, trying to make sense of it. “How…where… why?”

  “Mr. Johnson’s pawn shop,” TJ replied. “Traded some old fishing lures for it.” He gave her an excited nod, encouraging her to put it on.

  I’m going to take so many showers later, Ellen thought as she slid the helmet onto her head. After the shivers running down her spine stopped, she knocked on TJ’s hardhat. “What’d you trade for this one?”

  TJ shuffled away and turned his back. “This was, uh, kinda, sorta…free.”

  Ellen had heard TJ’s waffling before, and she knew exactly what it meant. Any longer and her death stare would have melted holes in her son’s yellow hardhat. “Explain,” she demanded.

  “Well, I mean, no one was using it. It was just sitting there.”

  “Sitting there, where?”

  TJ flicked off his flashlight, hoping to disappear in the dark. It didn’t work. “The construction site on Cayman Street.”

  Ellen swung her flashlight beam onto TJ like a prison guard would a spotlight targeting an escaping prisoner. “TJ! What did I tell you about stealing?”

  “I didn’t steal it. I just borrowed it.”

  Ellen swung her flashlight’s beam again, this time treating it more like a lightsaber. He had always suspected she was an evil Sith lord in disguise. This almost confirmed it. “I’m disappointed in you, TJ.”

  TJ flicked on his flashlight again to counter her attack. “Honest, mom I—”

  “Once this storm passes, you’re marching down to that construction site and returning it. Understand?”

  Alas, his Jedi training had failed him. The Dark Side was much too powerful. She took his chin in her hand and stared into his eyes. “Well?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lightning cracked and, for a split second, it was as bright as noon outside. Thunder rattled the windows a moment later.

  TJ felt his mother’s hand tremble and sensed an opportunity. “You know, it’s dark and stormy and scary nights like this when it would be perfect to have a Rottweiler.”

  Ellen looked TJ square in the eyes.

  “Or a poodle.”

  Ellen took her hand away. “Nice try.”

  “A teacup Yorkie?”

  Ellen frowned.<
br />
  TJ immediately launched into the same plea he’d made a million times before. He had the whole pitch memorized and practiced to perfection now. “But all the other kids have dogs.”

  Unfortunately for TJ, Ellen had practiced her rebuttal just as often. “Perhaps, but none of the other kids have your aversion to scooping dog poop.”

  Just the thought of it tightened TJ’s stomach. “I could…learn not to…ugh…no, it’s super gross. How ’bout I just take him into the woods to poop? No scooping required.”

  Ellen stooped down and put her hands on TJ’s shoulders. “Look, honey, it’s been a long day. Can we forget about this for now?”

  TJ looked down at the floor, his lips pursing into one of the best pouts in all the southern United States. “Maybe we could make some hot cocoa on that camping stove of yours?”

  That brightened his mood a little. “With marshmallows?”

  Seeing her son smile made Ellen instantly forget about handsome strangers and not traveling to Africa. “Of course. Hot cocoa without marshmallows is like…”

  “A fart without the smell.” TJ ran off to set up his camping stove.

  Ellen let out a deep sigh and shook her head.

  Chapter Three

  TJ woke with a start. His mind scrambled to catch up with reality. Last thing he remembered was flying over Greenmarsh with the rest of the Justice League. But now his cape was nowhere to be seen, and his hand no longer hurt from Superman’s high five.

  The most awesome dream ever!

  He looked out his window and saw that the trees were still swaying a little, but the storm had broken last night. The sweet smell of morning after a rain blew through his window. The sun was beaming. There didn’t appear to be a cloud in the sky. If he listened carefully, he could hear birds chirping and—

  Suddenly, something shook the walls. And then a loud whooshing sound punched TJ right in the ears. This was no bird, or if it was, it was a mutated and angry one—which would be awesome. TJ’s feet became tangled in his Batman sheets as he scrambled to get a better look out his window. He caught the edge of the windowsill just before face planting onto the Lego army camp he’d been working on for forever. He peered out…

  An instant later, a Blackhawk helicopter rose to a hover just above the treetops out in the swamp, no more than two hundred yards away. Then it turned like a hummingbird, almost as if it noticed TJ watching it, and zoomed off, heading deeper into the swamp. Oh-em-gee!

  TJ bounded down the stairs two at a time and darted out the front door. Ellen stood in the yard, wrapped in her bathrobe, staring up at the sky.

  “Did you see that?” TJ yelled as he jumped up and down. “What do you think it was doing? Are we being invaded? Have the swamp people risen?”

  Ellen rested her hand on TJ’s shoulder. “Honey, what’s morning rule number three?”

  “Never talk about swamp people before Mom’s had her coffee.”

  Ellen gave him a thumbs-up and ushered him inside for breakfast.

  TJ shoveled down two eggs, three strips of bacon, a piece of toast, and a tall glass of milk. He’d definitely need his energy today. It was hiking day, which meant, among other awesome things, he’d get to investigate that swamp helicopter landing site! He scarfed down one more piece of bacon then swallowed another half glass of milk. One could not properly investigate on an empty stomach, especially if there were swamp people in the mix.

  He ran back up to his room and threw on his uniform, buttoning his shirt as fast as his fingers would move, only to have to undo and redo them all when he realized the top was three buttons higher than the bottom. The knock at the front door sent his heart racing. He tied his bandana around his neck and raced downstairs.

  The front door opened a split second before TJ left a Cub Scout shaped hole in it. Mr. Redfield barely managed to leap out of the way.

  “Hello, Jerry,” Ellen said over the edge of her coffee cup. “He’s bit wound up this morning.”

  Mr. Redfield laughed. His cheeks jiggled, as did his belly beneath his Scoutmaster uniform. “I can see that. A hike will do him good, then.”

  Ellen called to him as he stepped out into the yard. “Did you see that helicopter? Any idea what that was about?” Obviously, swamp people had been shambling through her mind all morning too.

  A smile spread across Mr. Redfield’s round face. “Can’t say, but I’m sure TJ and Sam will have all kinds of theories by the time the hike is over.”

  “Tell me about it,” Ellen replied knowingly. “Have fun.”

  TJ and the rest of the Cub Scout Troop were buzzing like a frantic hive of bees when Mr. Redfield greeted them at the edge of the Beaumont yard. “All right, kiddos, here we go. Remember, make sure you always stay with your buddy, and always stay within eyesight of your wonderful troop leader. Your objective for today’s hike is to identify three different plant species and three different animal species.”

  By the time they had gone twenty paces TJ and Sam had already traded a dozen theories about the helicopter. They danced around like the ground was covered in hot coals, anxious to take off and prove which theories were true. “Do swamp people count as an animal species?” TJ whispered to Sam.

  “Of course,” Sam replied. “So do mutated alligators and prehistoric catfish.” She threw her hands up in celebration. “Look at that! There’s our three.”

  The troop marched to a trailhead just down the street from the Beaumont house at the edge of the swamp. Mr. Redfield raised his arm in dramatic fashion, pointing down the trail like a general leading the charge. “Hank, lead the way.” The black lab barked and scampered off into the swamp, with the entire troop running after him.

  The scouts soon arrived at the shoreline, which was lined with reeds taller than they were. Mr. Redfield waddled up after them a few moments later, his shirt drenched with sweat, his cheeks red. “Okay, troop, why don’t we take a break here.” He dropped his pack on the ground and flopped onto a tree stump. “Give ourselves a chance to catch our breath.”

  The scouts—not without their breath now or ever—milled around restlessly, waiting for Mr. Redfield to resume the charge. But before he could, the reeds started to twist and bend, and the scouts felt a sudden gust of wind pressing them into the ground.

  “What the—”

  A Blackhawk helicopter roared overhead so low TJ felt like he could jump up and grab its skids. Of course, that was purely his adrenaline clouding his judgment; he’d have to jump sixty feet in the air to even get close. If only he’d thought to bring the solar powered rocket boots he’d invented last summer using the parts Mrs. Lewis had given him and his mom’s favorite dress up shoes. Then he’d have all the answers. Instead, Mr. Redfield yelled something to the scouts, but no one could hear him over the rumble of helicopter rotors.

  The fierce black helicopter disappeared in the distance a few seconds later. Long after it was gone the scouts were still running around in circles and practically doing backflips over one another from the excitement of seeing such a spectacle.

  “That was the coolest thing that’s ever happened in the history of everything!” one of the scouts yelled. TJ was pretty sure this was true.

  Mr. Redfield scrambled to regain control of the troop. “Yes, everyone, that was extremely awesome, but remember, we’re on a mission. We’re here on official Cub Scout business.” He plopped back down on his stump. “Now, break off in your teams and explore the area. And don’t forget to bring your buckets. This is a great spot to identify some creatures.”

  Sam and TJ exchanged mischievous smiles. An instant later they were leaping through the reeds in the direction the helicopter had flown.

  “So, they’re obviously looking for something,” Sam said. “What do you think it is?”

  TJ stroked his imaginary beard. “Probably the swampocalypse. There are so many things in here that could end the world, and I bet they’re all happening at once. The army is probably going to firebomb the place to make sure nothing escapes.”


  Sam stopped to think about that and how very unpleasant it sounded. “We better find our three animals and plants before that happens.”

  TJ nodded and had just crouched down to search the muddy water when a ripple caught his attention. A frog. A run-of-the-mill green swamp frog. Certainly not one of the many factors contributing to the coming swampocalypse. Still, it would satisfy one of the three animal species requirements. So TJ raised his net and readied his bucket.

  Just as TJ was about to make his move a large black water snake slithered out of a clump of weeds and zipped across the water like a scaly bolt of lightning, startling TJ. He tripped backward over a submerged tree root and landed butt first in the mud.

  Sam immediately doubled over with laughter.

  I hope the swamp mutants take you first, TJ thought as he glared at his BFF. And I hope it hurts a little when they do!

  The gooey mud slurped as TJ hoisted his rear end free of its suction grip. He was now completely covered in mud from the waist down, his shoes were full of it, he had some splatted on his face, and he had twigs stuck in his hair. Swamp creatures: 1, TJ: 0.

  Sam laughed even louder. “You were right, TJ, it is the rise of the swamp people. And you’re their leader!”

  TJ bent over to grab a handful of mud. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “And you’re about to feel my wrath.” Mud squished between his fingers.

  That’s when TJ glimpsed something in a thicket of reeds, partially sunk in the muck. The sight caused him to forget about hurling the most fearsome mudball ever at Sam’s face. His feet squelched as he stepped toward it, whatever it was. He brushed the grass aside and leaned in for a closer look. A white, ovular shape poked up from the ground.

  “Gator egg,” TJ whispered. He tugged on it but the egg didn’t budge. “Man, it’s really in there.”

  TJ gave the egg another heave and managed to yank it free.

  Whoa!

  Practically the size of a football, it was way bigger than any gator egg TJ had ever seen or heard of before. And it was heavy, too, like a solid rock of the same size. He marveled at it for a moment, totally enthralled by its sheer awesomeness.