by Deborah Camp
“They’re big,” Adam Beckell observed.
Trudy laughed. “That’s an understatement.”
“I’m glad they’re extinct.”
“Not me!” Stuart argued with the bodyguard. “I wish I could see one for real.”
“You wouldn’t be able to get more than a glance at one,” Trudy said. “Then you’d be his breakfast in one gulp.”
“Cavemen fought and killed them,” Stuart asserted.
“I would bet that most of those fights ended up with the cavemen on the losing side. They might have killed smaller ones, but they’d be nuts to try to kill one of these skyscrapers.”
“Right, and why would you want to?” Beckell asked. “You couldn’t possibly dress it out and haul all the meat off to your cave.”
“Good point,” Stuart said, getting a chuckle from the guard. “That one wouldn’t eat you, though. It eats plants.” He pointed to the longest dinosaur.
“But he might mistake you for a Brussel sprout or a carrot,” Trudy teased him, hooking her arm around his neck. “Maybe a tasty, little potato.”
“Nuh-uh,” he protested, giggling. “They’re smarter than that.”
“I don’t know about that,” Trudy said. “I’ve read that they had tiny brains for the size of them. Like pea sized.”
“Bigger than that,” Stuart argued.
“Not big enough to figure out how not to go extinct.”
“They got zapped in the Big Bang,” Stuart informed her. “I’ve heard all about that.”
“Oh, I see.” Trudy exchanged an arched look with Adam Beckell. “The Big Bang. Hmmm.”
“A meteor slammed into Earth and messed up the atmos – stuff. The dinosaurs couldn’t breathe and they died.”
“But not other animals?” Trudy asked, walking slowly, hand-in-hand with him along the incredible length of bones making up the gigantic beast.
“Bunches of other animals, too, but they were smaller and a lot of them lived in the oceans. They could escape. Smaller dinosaurs that made it through, they evolved into other animals like birds and alligators.”
Trudy eyed him, curiously. He’d really boned up on this subject, she thought with a measure of pride. He knew a lot more about it than she’d given him credit for. “You’re pretty smart for a seven-year-old kid.”
His grin bordered on a smirk. “I know.”
They moseyed about the dinosaur exhibits for an hour. Stuart wanted her to help him read every bit of information, which she did. He took her hand and tugged her from one place to another, his blue eyes wide with wonder.
“Oh, that must be where they show the movie you heard about,” Trudy said, pointing to a sign in front of closed, double doors. She peeked through the round windows in the doors where rows and rows of theater seats faced a huge screen. “Looks like IMAX.”
“Says here the next showing is in like two minutes,” Adam Beckell said, pointing to a sign on the wall.
A security guard wandered over. “Hi, folks. We weren’t going to run the film since nobody was here, but if you want to watch it, we can go ahead with it.”
“Yes, we want to see it!” Stuart jumped up and down, getting a grin from the guard.
“Okay! You can go on in.” The guard opened the doors. “I’ll tell the projectionist.”
“Thank you.” Trudy arched a brow at Adam. “Are you going to watch it with us?”
“No. I’ll stay out here.” He raised a couple of fingers, signaling the other two guards who were approaching. “They’re going to watch the movie,” he told Ned and Dixie.
Ned Thompson nodded. “Right. You stay here at the entrance and we’ll cover other points of access.”
Since they seemed to have devised a plan, Trudy grasped Stuart’s hand and led him inside. Stuart marched toward the screen.
“We should sit farther up,” Trudy said, turning to look at the rows, climbing one after another. “Otherwise, we won’t get the full effect.”
Stuart let her lead the way. She climbed to the halfway point, then selected seats in the middle of that row. Stuart wiggled into the faux leather seat and placed his hands on the arms as if he were Captain Kirk getting ready to blast off into space.
“We’re getting special treatment, huh?” Trudy said. “Getting to see the movie all by ourselves.”
Stuart nodded, his eyes glued to the screen. “I can hardly wait!”
Recalling articles she’d read about how parents are allowed to see the world again through a child’s eyes, she had to agree. Since Stuart had entered her life, she had gone to places and done things she wouldn’t have as an adult, and yet she’d enjoyed all of the experiences. Throwing rocks in a pond or drawing hopscotch squares with colored chalk on the sidewalk had made her remember and appreciate the simple joys in life. Watching Stuart relate to Levi and vice versa always sent butterflies of love and contentment fluttering through her. To see Levi patiently explain things to Stuart – how to build a stronger bridge out of Legos or how to throw a punch at the bag in the gym – brought tears to her eyes. And when Levi roughhoused with him, rolling on the floor, tickling and wrestling, or chasing him, catching him, and swinging him high into the air – oh, those moments were priceless!
She supposed that Levi was experiencing being a child for the first time through Stuart. She’d caught him observing Gonzo tickle his sons and tackle one in a “play fight.” A few days later, he had done the same with Stuart, much to Stuart’s delight. He and Stuart played video games together. Often, she found them outside wearing baseball mitts, tossing a ball back and forth as they talked. She eavesdropped once and was surprised to hear them discussing how the Grand Canyon came to be, then making plans to ride donkeys down in the canyon one day. Male bonding, she’d thought, and remembering it now sent a deliciously satisfying thrill through her.
The theater lights dimmed and the screen came to life. She divided her interest between the film – “Flying Monsters” – and Stuart’s reactions to the images of prehistoric birds and winged dinosaurs that were actual dragons, minus the fire breathing. She was so absorbed in witnessing Stuart’s delight and wonder that she paid little heed to the early warning signs – the sudden drop of her stomach, the misting of her eyes, marking them up to the dizzying effects of the IMAX screen.
The alternative vision came on fast. One moment she was in the theater with Stuart and then the next she was sitting in a wheelchair and staring at a replica of a dinosaur’s head, its mouth open to display two rows of pointy teeth.
Those were evil motherfuckers!
She . . . no, he maneuvered the wheelchair in a semicircle to observe Adam Beckell standing in front of the theater entrance. Beckell’s gaze traveled to him and quickly past him. He rocked the baseball cap lower on his head. It had stringy white hair hanging out the back of it. Not his hair, of course, but it appeared to be. To anyone paying him any mind, they’d see an older, handicapped man. The chair belonged to the museum. He’d noticed it when he’d stepped inside – two of them sitting off to one side for anyone who needed to use one. Mighty handy. Great way to throw the police and Wolfe patrol off his scent if they happened to pick up on it. People generally didn’t like to look at the handicapped, so he was practically invisible.
Glancing around, he didn’t see any of the other dark-suited goons, but there were a couple of museum security guards roaming about. They’d be no problem. He pretended to read the pamphlet he’d been given when he’d paid his admission. What a fucking rip-off! Had to be rich to come in here and see these fossils. The redhead had taken the kid into the theater to see the show, which had given him an idea. He’d hoped to maybe corner the kid in the restroom. Or maybe the kid would wander away from his new mama long enough for him to take care of the little bastard. He’d only need a second . . . one second when the kid wasn’t being watched as if he were the fucking prince of England!
He felt the weight of the knife against the small of his back. It would be perfect. Quick and silent. He’d off
both the kid and the redhead. With any luck – and he usually had plenty of that – he’d be able to hotfoot it out of this place before anyone realized what had happened. One final loose end all tied up. He smiled to himself. Goddamn, he hated loose ends, and having that kid dangling out there, running off his mouth, checking in with the police, being questioned by a psychiatrist, and now living with two fucking psychics! It was too damned much!
Pushing the chair around to the back of the theater/auditorium, he was rewarded to find that there was, as he’d known there would be, a couple of fire exits. One of the Wolfe goons, the woman, stood off to the side of one. A group of nuns gathered around a display of primitive utensils and tools. A family of six stood off to one side as they studied a map and decided where to go next. He inched the chair beside the fire exit door, using the nuns as a blind. Of course, there wasn’t a handle on it, but that had never stopped him. Hitching onto one hip, he dug out his Swiss army knife and thumbed out the thinnest blade. He glanced around to make sure no one was paying him any mind and then placed his shoulder against the wall next to the door. He slipped the blade into the crevice, sliding it down until it met the latch’s resistance. He gripped the knife handle and brought the blade down sharply. The latch gave and the fire exit door popped open. He returned the knife to his pocket and looked around to make sure no one was watching him. The nuns chattered like magpies and broke out in twittering laughter that had everyone in the area glancing in their direction. That’s when he eased out of the chair and into the dark alcove behind the door. He let the door close silently behind him.
Flickering light from the screen provided enough illumination for him to see the first few seats in the front row of the theater.
He reached around and grasped the knife handle nestled along his spine, then pulled it from its sheath. Crouching low, he duck walked to the end of the vestibule. Peeking around the facing, he saw them. The redhead and the kid, halfway up in the middle of the row, their attention fixed to the screen. In the inconstant light, the redhead looked white as a ghost, her eyes almost unblinking. She reminded him of those weird kids in that horror film, Children of the Damned. Shit, that had given him bad dreams for years after he’d watched it on TV one summer.
Running his fingertips over the knife hilt, he made himself focus on what he needed to do. Dash up there, slash the woman’s throat, slice the brat from stem to stern, and then boogey out of there. Little troublemaker wouldn’t be able to hide from him this time. This time, he’d make –.
Trudy! Snap out of it and protect your boy!
Ethel?
Was that Ethel screaming at her? Blackness and confusion warred inside of Trudy. What was her spirit guide doing here? What was happening? Her senses returned in the next second. Beside her, Stuart gripped her arm to the point of pain and his huge, blue eyes filled her vision.
“He’s here! He’s here! I’m cold!”
She sucked in a breath, realizing in a mind-squeezing moment that she’d been in the monster’s head and the monster was there with them. Not on screen. In person.
Something moved near her and Trudy shot up and instinctively shielded Stuart with her body. She saw the man coming at them; his long legs gobbling up two and three steps at a time and the slash of his mouth in a half grin-half grimace. Swinging about, she gathered Stuart into her arms and started to run, but a sea of blue suits suddenly surrounded her. In the flashing colors of light from the IMAX screen, she realized that her security team circled her. Thompson and Beckell grappled with the man wearing a baseball cap. The hat tumbled off as Beckell wrestled Lincoln’s hands behind his back. Thompson grabbed the hat and flung it aside. The piercing stab of Ike Lincoln’s menacing gaze and the filthy words that tumbled from him made Trudy feel weak-kneed for a moment. He skinned back his lips to show his irregularly spaced teeth and actually growled at her.
“Secure the weapon.” Thompson pointed a snub-nosed gun at Lincoln’s forehead.
“Got it,” Beckell said, kicking something that clattered on the floor toward Thompson and her. Thompson bent down slowly, keeping the gun aimed at Lincoln, and retrieved the long-bladed knife. His gaze flashed toward the fire exit. “Beech! Come and escort the Wolfes out of here, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Dixie Beech jogged forward, offering up a quick, wan smile directed at Trudy and Stuart. “Come with me, please.”
Two museum security guards ran in as the projection screen went blank and the lights in the theater came on. Breathing hard, Trudy felt as if she’d run a marathon as she let Stuart slide down her body until his feet found the floor again. Anger and fear slowly released her, having turned her mind to a primitive organ of survival for a minute. She didn’t move at first; just stared at Lincoln’s sunken eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks, like a skull with skin stretched over it. Madness glowed in his eyes. He grinned, resembling a cadaver even more.
“What kind of monster would try to kill a little boy?” she asked. Her lips felt numb.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I’m here watching a movie just like you. Then this kid here starts screaming his damned head off like some lunatic and you wake up and go ballistic. You both have problems, if you ask me.” He had a soft, sing-song kind of voice that was at odds with his hard-boned face.
“You murdered his parents.”
He snickered. “Says who, bitch?”
Before she could assess her reaction, her fist had already connected with his jaw. His head snapped back and her knuckles screamed.
“Mrs. Wolfe!” Dixie Beech grabbed her elbow. “Come on, ma’am. Please. You and Stuart come with me.”
Lincoln’s eyes glittered with malice. An evil grin spread across his face like a plague. He chuckled and his blond eyebrows shot up. “Ooooh. The little redhead has a temper!”
“Scumbag,” Trudy hissed at him, angling toward him so that he couldn’t miss the cold intensity of her gaze. “Filthy degenerate. I’ve been inside that demented mind of yours. I know what a worthless piece of trash you are. You’re going to rot in prison for what you’ve done to this child’s life. I’ll see to it.” Hitching up her chin, she spun away from him, dislodging Dixie’s hand from her elbow while she was at it. Her purse, somehow still hanging from its strap on her shoulder, swung wide and bumped into the side of Stuart’s head. She bent and gathered him into her arms, then marched out of the theater. She swept her hand up and down Stuart’s back, feeling the trembling inside of him and the dampness of his tears against the side of her neck.
“It’s okay, Stewie,” she whispered to him, wishing he hadn’t gone through that. Why did this have to happen on their lovely day at the museum? Everything was ruined. Everything.
“Mom, Mom, Mom,” he mumbled between hiccups.
Trudy’s heart stopped and then burst like a roman candle. She shut her eyes as tears leaked from the corners of them. Oh, dear God. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him and buried her nose in his hair to drink in the smell of her boy. “I’m here, Stewie. We’re going home to Levi.” She sent a sincere thank you to Ethel, wherever she was, for being there for her and for Stuart.
She held him fast, allowing him those minutes to find comfort in her firm embrace as his sobs diminished. He lifted his head from her shoulder and sniffed then ran the heel of his hand up his runny nose.
“I felt his ice,” he said. “In here.” He pointed to his chest. “But you just sat there.”
“I was . . . in his head. Like I’ve explained to you.”
“Sigh-kick.”
“Yes.” She kissed his freckled cheek. “You’re so brave. I love you, Stuart Atticus.” She saw Dixie standing near them. “We need to go home,” she told Stuart. “Okay? You ready?”
“Yes.” He shifted against her. “Let me down.”
She let him slip down her body again. He looked up at her and blinked his big blues.
“You hit him.”
Trudy flexed her hand and her knuckles burned. “He deserved i
t. He was trying to hurt you and I won’t allow that to happen.”
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he slipped his hand into hers. “You hit him with your fist.”
“I sure did.”
They walked out of the museum to their car waiting for them in the front of the building. They were driving away when Trudy realized that she hadn’t even noticed the huge dinosaurs on their way out. Obviously, she was still a bit shell-shocked. Catching Stuart wiping his face and nose with his shirtsleeve, Trudy reached into her purse for a tissue and handed it to him. He smiled shyly at her and her heart gave a little kick.
She gripped the back of the front seat and pulled herself closer to Dixie, who was driving. “Did you know that Lincoln was in the museum?”
“I thought I’d spotted him and I told Thompson and Beckell that there was something fishy going on,” Dixie said, glancing at Trudy in the rearview mirror. “He was in one of the museum’s wheelchairs. He kept his head down like he didn’t want us to see his face. I lost sight of him for a minute, but then I saw the wheelchair outside the theater’s fire exit and I radioed Thompson and Beckell about it. They stormed in and nabbed him.”
“Good work.” She vowed never to complain about her security guards again as she sat back and ran her thumb gingerly over her stinging, red knuckles. Would they bruise? She hoped she hadn’t broken anything, but it would have been worth it if she had. “I should call Levi . . . or has he already been notified about this?”
“Thompson might have already reported to—.” She sliced off the rest when Trudy’s mobile sounded off in her purse.
“Yeah. I’m sure that’s him.” She dug the phone out, saw Levi’s photo and name, and gathered in a breath before she answered. “We’re both fine.”
“Thank God.” Stress put a quiver in his voice. “Where are you?”