by Brian Rowe
Frankie and Mr. Balm noticed it, too. The ground rumbled.
“Oh no,” Frankie said. “You don’t think it’s a…”
“A what?” I asked.
“You know? A T. rex?”
A tree tipped and crashed into the road fifty yards ahead of us. And another dinosaur appeared. Not the one Frankie suggested.
“Oh, whoa,” he said.
“I second that,” I added.
The triceratops had been big, but the stegosaurus was enormous. At least thirty feet tall and fifteen feet wide, it stepped out onto the road in a calm, nonchalant manner.
“Get back,” Mr. Balm said, and he put his arms out to block us, like if the stegosaurus decided to stomp in our direction he’d be able to stop it.
But it didn’t head toward us; the dinosaur walked across the pavement, past the barking Judy, and onto the dirt road. I focused on its massive green plates, while Frankie pointed out its brown-spiked tail. It disappeared back into the trees.
Mr. Balm sighed. “I guess it didn’t want to hurt us.”
“No,” I said. “The stegosaurus never would. It’s a herbivore.”
“Thanks for the history lesson, Zippy. Let’s keep going.” Mr. Balm started walking, again, and Judy and Frankie followed him.
But I turned in a different direction. I ran for the dirt road.
“Not yet,” I said. “I want to get one more look!”
“You what?” Frankie asked. “Zippy, no!”
Mr. Balm put his hands in the air. “What the hell are you doing? Get back here!”
“It’s a stegosaurus!” I shouted. “I want to see it!” I didn’t plan on running away from the boys and dog forever; I just wanted one more glimpse of the dinosaur. It was so massive, so beautiful, with its tiny pointed head, thick legs, parallel plates, and sharp spikes.
“Zippy!” Mr. Balm shouted. “Stop!”
Frankie and Judy ran toward me, Mr. Balm charging out in front of both of them.
I may have been tiny, but I was fast when I needed to be. I sprinted down the center of the trail.
I turned a corner to see the back of the stegosaurus. I was so close. But Mr. Balm was closer.
“Stop!” he shouted. “It’s too dangerous!”
“I just want to see it one more time!” I glanced back. Mr. Balm was gaining. For such an old man, one who supposedly had a bad heart, he had the strength and agility of a guy thirty years younger.
“It’s turning around!” Mr. Balm shouted.
“It’s what?” I looked back in front of me. The stegosaurus had stopped. It faced me, and it wasn’t happy. “Oh no,” I said.
The dinosaur took two steps forward, swung its spiked tail straight at my head—and I ducked, just in time.
My right foot caught the edge of a log, and I started to tumble, not toward a puddle or a ditch or a safety net, but toward a steep hill.
“Oh no!” I shouted. “Oh nooooo—”
I tried to grab hold of a branch, a twig—anything—but my hands caught nothing. I plummeted, faster and faster, down a hill that never seemed to end. I tried to stop myself by sticking my feet out against the ground, but that didn’t work, either. I was a human bowling ball rolling down a mountain, and I didn’t have any pins to break my fall.
I rolled down the hill for thirty seconds or more; it seemed a long enough drop for there to be a change in season. My back struck a large boulder, and I finally stopped—by crashing into a shallow stream. My arms landed on a bed of sharp rocks, while my face struck a pool of water.
I came up for air and wiped the water from my face. I looked ahead, sighed. I ached all over, and I was still in the forest.
But then I saw it. A mansion nestled among the trees.
I stepped up to my feet and gazed at the grandiose sight before me. “Is it real?”
I turned around to call for Frankie and Mr. Balm; I figured they were at the top of the hill searching for a way to get to me. Instead, they were already halfway down, both tumbling at fast speeds.
“How… do you… stop…” Mr. Balm said.
“I… don’t… know…” Frankie responded.
It was the funniest sight imaginable, something out of a Looney Tunes cartoon—my two travelers rolling down the hill, trying to stop their forward momentum, to no success. If I had looked half as goofy, I was glad nobody saw it. I gazed up even higher to see if the dog was rolling down as well, but her paws worked wonders; Judy raced down not on her back and tummy, but on her four strong legs.
I was too busy smiling to notice that Frankie and Mr. Balm were headed straight toward me. I jumped out of the water and dove for the grass, and barely missed a painful collision.
They both landed in the water. Frankie came up first. “What a trip!” he said, not harmed in the least.
“Oww,” Mr. Balm said, and as soon as he jumped to his feet, he pressed his hand to his heart.
I stood up on the lush, freshly mowed grass that lined the stream and rushed up to Mr. Balm. He was squinting, appearing like he might keel over. “Mr. Balm! Are you all right?”
“Perfect,” he said. He took a deep breath, then turned around, and ran his hands through his wet beard. He appeared fine—for now. “Are you proud of yourself, Zippy? Now I have no idea where we are.”
I pointed toward the mansion in the trees.
“You could’ve been killed!” Mr. Balm shouted, not paying attention to my pointing. “Do you understand that? I’m the adult here, and I can’t protect you if you refuse to listen to me and keep acting like a child—”
“Shh,” I said. “Look over there.”
Frankie noticed it before Mr. Balm. “What is that? Is that a house?”
Mr. Balm used Frankie’s back and shoulders as leverage, and pulled himself up. “What are you guys looking at? Trees?” He stopped, and started slapping his hands all over his body, like he was missing something. “My backpack. Where’s my backpack?”
“It’s right there,” I said, motioning toward the top of the boulder.
“Oh, good.” He snatched it off the giant rock, and waved us toward him. “Okay, guys. Now we get to walk all the way back up the hill. Are you excited?”
“Mr. Balm! Are you listening to me? I know I’m the kid and you’re the adult—but pay attention!” I ran up to him, pulled against his beard, and pointed, again, at the mansion. “Look!”
He twisted around. His eyes finally fixated on the magnificent sight up ahead.
Mr. Balm gave me a tender smile, but then he shrugged. “It could be empty.”
“Or there could be survivors! Plus, it’s gonna be pitch black out here any minute and we’d be safer with a roof over our heads. Wouldn’t you agree?”
He nodded, reluctantly.
“And…” I walked past the stream, and looked around the corner, just to be sure. “There’s a car on the driveway. We don’t have to walk anymore!”
“Thank the Lord for that,” Frankie said.
Mr. Balm brought his hands to his backpack straps. “Well, good job, Zippy. I’m impressed. Even if this was a totally accidental find.”
I smiled and waved the boys on. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”
I walked toward the trees, and with each step I took, more and more of the mansion came into view. This was no ordinary home; surrounded by hills and flowers and a quiet, picturesque stream, the massive three-story building didn’t even seem real. I counted twenty windows and six doors, and the lot had to have been at least three acres.
“I think we found where Bill Gates lives,” I said.
“I know, right?” Frankie said. “It’s the biggest house I’ve ever seen!”
“Wow!” Mr. Balm shouted, ogling the place even more than me and Frankie. “Talk about gluttony. You know, there might be some survivors in there, after all. Nobody who lives in a house this stupid big is worthy of being taken in the rapture.”
“Oh, so now you think it’s the rapture?” I asked. “I thought you didn�
��t believe in that stuff.”
“Ever since the dinosaurs, let’s just say my mind is a little more open to the idea.”
I shook my head as we stepped closer to the mansion. “But look, just because these people have money doesn’t mean they’re bad. Maybe they’re friendly, give to charities. Maybe they give to people like you all the time!”
“Yeah, right,” Mr. Balm said. “But… boy. I need to see this.” He picked up speed and started jogging toward the mansion.
Frankie ran close behind him. He turned toward me and shouted, “Last one to the back door is a rotten egg!”
I stayed still for another few seconds. I liked giving the boys a head start. “Oh, you’re on! They don’t call me Zippy for nothing, you know!”
I maneuvered around the swing-set and tennis court and caught up to Frankie. Right before I passed him, though, my foot nicked the edge of a sandbox, and I landed face first in the warm sand.
“I win! I win!” Frankie yelled from the back door.
Mr. Balm tried to open it, to no success. “It’s locked,” he said. He knocked a few times and shouted, “Is anybody home?” No response.
“Let me try it,” Frankie said.
“I’ll ring the doorbell,” Mr. Balm said. “Be right back.”
Frankie tried to pull on the knob harder. He turned back to me and smiled. “You’re a real klutz, you know that?”
I stood up and brushed off all the sand. “I may be a klutz,” I said, “but unlike you, I have a brain.” I jumped out of the box and marched up to the back door. “How’s your headache by the way? Any better?”
“A little,” he said. “It hasn't been as bad since that first dinosaur attack.”
“Really? That's great!” I patted him on the back, then stopped in front of the door.
Frankie pulled on the knob one last time. Nothing. “So. How are you going to open the door, smarty-pants?”
Mr. Balm appeared to my left. “Anything?” I asked.
“Rang the doorbell twice. No answer.”
“And the door?”
“Locked.”
“Damn.” I nodded. “All right, then.” I took a few steps back, hoisted up a giant rock from the sandbox, and threw it at the closest window, shattering it. Frankie and Mr. Balm just stood there, stunned.
I shrugged at Frankie. “Didn’t you learn from me before? Try the door, get nowhere. Break the window, you’re in.” I kicked the shards of glass out of the way with my well-worn Converse. “Besides, these people probably have enough money to fix a million of these windows. Can one of you lift me up, please?”
Mr. Balm chuckled. “Testy, this one.”
“Don’t I know it,” Frankie said.
He pulled me up into the air with ease, like I was the size of a grapefruit, and pushed me through the window. I stumbled into a fancy living room complete with an ugly beige carpet, two naked statues, and an ancient grand piano. I unlocked the back door and let the others in.
Mr. Balm stepped inside and shouted, “Hello?” The three of us waited for an answer, but the only response we got was a sharp bark from the other side of the house.
“Where’s Judy?” I asked.
“I thought she was with you,” Frankie said.
I marched across the foyer, past two spiral staircases, and opened the front door. Judy sat on the WELCOME mat. She had a small treat in her mouth.
“Oh, Judy! Gross! Is that a dead bird?”
I pulled Judy inside by her back legs and peered down to see that the bird wasn’t a bird at all.
“What is it?” Frankie asked.
“Oh wow,” I said. I leaned down and examined the lifeless body of the winged creature. “It’s a mini pterodactyl. It’s called a—oh, what is it?” I racked my brain and closed my eyes. “A nemicolopterus.”
“A nemi-what? You’re making that up.”
“I’m not. It’s one of the smallest dinosaurs ever.” I glared at the oblivious Judy. “And you killed it? What’s the matter with you—”
“Wait. Zippy. Look.” Frankie patted his hands against my shoulder and pointed down.
My jaw dropped. The darling creature shook its head, then spread its ten-inch yellow wings. It wasn’t harmed at all; Judy had just been playing with it. The dinosaur hopped a few inches toward me, and stopped close enough for me to touch it. I reached my hand out and rubbed my fingers against its soft, velvet beak, then stroked its paper-thin wings.
“Incredible,” I said.
“From the stegosaurus to the nemicolonoscopy,” Frankie said. “What’ll be next?”
“Nemicolopterus,” I corrected him.
“Hey!” Mr. Balm shouted from inside the doorway, sending the mini pterodactyl off into the air. I watched it sail high above the trees. I sighed, happily, and turned to see Mr. Balm leaning against one of the staircase bannisters. “I just walked through the house. Can’t find anybody.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. I pushed Frankie in front of me and closed the large metallic door. “There’s a thousand rooms in this place. There has to be someone here.”
Frankie and I glanced at each other and grinned. We were clearly thinking the same thing: any chance to explore a giant mansion was a welcome opportunity. We stampeded up the stairs.
“Let’s split up,” I said.
“Good idea,” Mr. Balm said. “Zippy, you go down the hallway to your right. Frankie, to your left. I’ll search the ground floor.”
“Okay,” Frankie said, but then he stopped, and tapped his fingers against the top of the bannister. “Wait, which way is left, again?”
Mr. Balm and I looked at him, confused. Was he joking? “Frankie, you’re not—”
He interrupted me with a boisterous laugh, and headed to the left. “Only kidding! I don’t have a concussion anymore, Zippy, I promise—” He struck his forehead against the ceiling. His mouth grew to the size of Mount Olympus. “Oww!”
“Oh, now who’s the klutz?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. He started rubbing his forehead, and continued walking down the hallway.
I looked at the bottom of the staircase. Mr. Balm had already disappeared into one of the ground floor rooms. Judy stayed with me as I ventured to the right.
“Hello?” I was a little scared that someone would try to shoot me, so I shouted, loud and clear, “If anyone can hear me, we’re here to help! We mean you no harm!”
I opened the first door to my left. It was a child’s bedroom, draped in pink wallpaper, and filled with creepy old dolls and stuffed animals, including dinosaurs. I glanced in the open walk-in closet and behind the bed, but didn’t see anyone.
I re-entered the hallway. Judy was barking at a closed door way down at the end. I glanced in five more bedrooms—three of which had unmade beds—plus two offices, a laundry room, and a home movie theater.
Judy kept yapping in the hallway. I figured something significant was behind door number thirty-nine. I reached for the knob and hoped there wouldn’t be a person on the other side with a bazooka. I turned the knob. Locked.
I glanced down at Judy. She stopped barking. She stared at me with eyes that said, There’s someone in there. “What is it, girl? What do you hear?”
I knocked a few times.
“Hello?” I waited, then knocked again. “Anybody there?”
No response. I tried the knob again. No luck. I thought about kicking in the door, but it reached all the way to the ceiling and looked heavy enough to stop a wrecking ball.
I pressed my ear against the door to try to hear something—a whisper, a scratch, panicked weeping. But it was silent.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said. “If someone's in there, can you please open the door?” I stood in the hallway for a full minute. Tapped my feet against the floor. Waited. No response.
I tried to think of another way to get inside. I examined the large office to the left, glanced in every corner for a hidden door, or secret passageway. No luck. I inspected the top-of
-the-line 1999 Microsoft computer. Nothing there, either.
I found myself in the hallway again, my hands tucked under my chin. I tried to think. I turned to my right. A small window looked out on the night sky; it was super tiny, one that could only fit someone the size of a hobbit.
“That would be me,” I said.
The window was meant as a way to look out over the courtyard, not to dangle from up high like a trained stuntman, but I pushed on anyway. It took me a few seconds to slide it up and pull myself out onto the thin ledge. I held onto the top of the window with a death grip, then darted my eyes to the right. I searched for a window that would lead me into that locked room. It wasn’t close by any means, but I saw another window about ten yards away. I tried not to look down. If I lost my grip a cement patio fifty feet below awaited me.
“Don’t panic,” I said. “You can do this.”
Judy spun in a circle and peered at me with great pride, like she wanted to clap her paws together and cheer me on. I pressed my arms against the white wall and scooted to my right. The first two steps were the hardest, but then I started moving faster. The window appeared a mile away at the beginning, but after one very long minute, it was close enough to touch.
I was within arm’s length, when a voice startled me from below.
“Zippy? Is that you?”
I almost lost my footing, but I jammed my hand under the windowsill and stayed put.
“Are you trying to get me killed?” I asked. Mr. Balm stood on the patio.
He stared up at me, his hands shoved against his sides. “What are you doing up there?”
“I’m trying to get in the window.”
“Couldn’t you have just used the door?”
I waved him away; I had no time for his stupid questions.
“First floor's empty,” he said. “No one’s here. We should look for those car keys and keep moving.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Give me a minute. I think I might have found something.”
“You did?”
“Yes! Come upstairs!”
I stayed still, found my balance. I pushed up on the window, and let out a happy sigh when it budged.
Once I had the window up an inch, I placed both my hands against the bottom and shoved it up all the way. I struggled to see inside; the room was hidden behind a large curtain.