Invasion of the Dognappers (4 page)

Logan ran outside. Bubba stood up slowly.

“Sit, Bubba!” Logan ordered as he passed by. “Stay!”

Bubba sat. Bubba stayed.

Logan was not surprised to find that a couple of the flyers on the pole were about lost dogs. Others advertised garage sales, rooms for rent, and a motorcycle for sale. One reported the disappearance of an electric wheelchair. Logan ripped down the ones about the missing dogs.

“Hey, there!” a voice from behind him said. “What are you doing?”

Logan spun around and saw the weeding lady coming toward him. She had white hair, a wrinkly face, and glasses that magnified her eyes.

She held a small metal claw in her hand, and her knees were muddy.

“What are you doing there?” she asked.

“I’m not stealing, ma’am,” Logan said. “I’m part of a team that is investigating dognappings in the area….”

“One of those flyers is mine,” the lady said, waving a finger at the flyers he’d pulled down.

“Which one?” Logan asked, fanning out the flyers.

She singled out a picture of a small Pomeranian mix. “That’s my Ollie,” she said sadly.

“Can you describe the circumstances, ma’am?” Logan asked, holding up his clipboard. “You can trust me. I’m the chief investigator of the ICRU.” He knew they had dropped the
Intergalactic
, but while he was on his own, he included it.

“The what?” the woman asked.

“The Intergalactic Canine Rescue Unit, ma’am. When was the last time you saw your dog?”

“Yesterday,” the lady said.

“And what happened?”

“Well, I was out here tending the flowers, and Ollie was running around, playing. Digging and growling is what he likes doing most. Then I stopped hearing him, so I went to look for him.”

“Had he vanished?” Logan asked.

“Completely,” the lady said, her chin beginning to quiver. “All I found was his collar.”

Logan looked up from his note-taking. “His collar, ma’am?”

“Yes. He must have pulled it off. He does that sometimes.”

Logan wrote furiously.

“Why aren’t you in school?” the lady asked. “Is it a holiday I don’t know about?”

“No, ma’am,” Logan said, still writing. “I attend an alternative education program, ma’am. I only go to school three times a week, and only for a couple hours at a time.”

“It’s a private school?”

“No, ma’am. NICE is part of the public school system.”

“NICE?”

“It’s an acronym for Nelsonport Individualized Choice Education.”

“I see….” the woman said, though she still appeared confused.

“Did you happen to see a stranger around that day, ma’am? A hairy man? A hairy man with an accent?”

The lady’s brow furrowed as she considered this. “No. Not that I can remember, anyway….”

“Think, ma’am!” Logan said, causing the woman to jump. “It’s important. Very important. Did you or did you not see a hairy man with an accent on the day your dog vanished? He might have had dog treats on him.”

“Logan?” Buck called before the flustered lady could answer. He was across the street, holding Sloane by the hand. “I need you to stay on the property, Logan.”

Logan ignored him. “Did you, ma’am? Did you see a hairy man around here? Did you? Huh? Did you?”

“Logan?” Buck said. “Come on back now.”

“I’m going to need these flyers to help you get your dog back, ma’am,” Logan said to the lady. “You can print up another one, can’t you?”

“Logan,” Buck said. He and Sloane were now across the street.

“Goga!” Sloane said.

“I have to go, ma’am,” Logan said. “But I’ll be back. Don’t worry about anything, ma’am. We’ll find your dog.”

“We?” she asked.

“The ICRU, ma’am.”

“Oh, yes,” the woman said.

Logan walked to where Buck and Sloane were standing, but did not stop.

Buck followed after him. “What were you talking to her about?” he asked.

Logan didn’t answer. He marched straight up to Bubba.

“Come on, girl,” he said. “I’m taking you into the house even if you do fart. It’s for your own protection. I don’t want some hairy alien with an accent dognapping you.”

Bubba climbed to her feet again and followed Logan inside. She sat at Logan’s feet as Logan punched Aggy’s number, and whimpered, “
Unnnh, unnnh, unnnh
.”

The call went to voice mail.

After the beep, Logan said, “At least three dogs are missing in Patrice’s neighborhood. One owner said her dog’s collar was found in the yard. The alien—or aliens—have struck again. Let’s rendezvous at Ketchoklam Park at two o’clock to discuss strategies. This is Logan, signing out.”

And he hung up.

Ketchoklam was a lush, sloping city park perched high on a cliff overlooking the bay. Squids, sharks, whales, seals, and dolphins swam in the waters beyond the park. Enormous ships from Asia sailed by, completing their long Pacific voyages. Steelgray nuclear submarines and aircraft carriers occasionally drifted past. At the base of the cliff was a rocky beach teeming with mussels and squawking gulls. In the distance stood towering snow-peaked Canadian volcanoes. Without much notice of any of this—they had gotten used to it—the Crew gathered on a wooden picnic table to compare notes.

Logan wasn’t the only one who had brought missing-dog flyers. Kian had found two as well. And Aggy had torn down a few from telephone poles around the library.

Thatcher had seen lost-dog flyers, too, but had left them alone.

“I didn’t think it was right to tear them down,” he said. “What if someone saw the missing dogs, but there wasn’t a flyer to tell them who to call? What would they do then? Huh?”

“No one’s going to find these missing dogs, Thatcher,” Logan said seriously. “These dogs are no longer on Earth, if they’re alive at all. Who knows what the aliens want them for? Maybe they’re using them for food, or for fuel for their spaceship….”

“Gross,” Aggy said.

“I bet the aliens just like dogs,” Thatcher said. “Maybe they don’t have any on their planet.”

“Yes, I’m sure they traveled light-years for pets,” Kian said. He then growled like a dog and jumped Thatcher.

“Cut it out, men,” Logan said. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Like what?” Aggy asked. “Call the people on the flyers and ask them if they’ve seen the hairy man?”

“We don’t have time for more interrogations,” Logan said. “We need to find him ourselves before he takes any more dogs.”

“You haven’t established that this man was anywhere near any of the other dogs that were stolen,” Aggy said. “You saw him pet a dog once. Big deal.”

“I know an alien when I see one.”

“Yeah, you were right about that sub we had last month,” Aggy said.

“I’m telling you, that guy wasn’t human,” Logan said. “He had antennae coming out of his head.”

“Really?” said Thatcher. “He had antennae? Like a bug?”

“I saw them.”

“Yeah,” Kian said. “Lots of substitutes have antennae.”

“How are we going to find the hairy guy?” Aggy asked.

“We’re going to use one of our dogs for bait,” Logan said, eyeing each of them.

“I’m not letting Bear be bait,” Thatcher said. “No way. I don’t want some alien to zap him.”

Logan looked at Kian.

“Chloe’s unavailable,” he said. “Remember?”

“Don’t you have another dog?” Logan asked.

“My dad has a cat,” Kian said, with visible distaste.

“Like an alien would take a cat.” Thatcher laughed.

Kian screamed like a leopard and bared pretend claws at Thatcher. Thatcher screamed and clawed back, and the two predators went at each other.

Logan looked to Aggy.

“Nope,” she said. “Leave Festus out of it.”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of aliens?” Logan said.

“I’m not. Festus just had surgery and needs to rest.”

“Oh, all right. We can use Bubba,” Logan said. “I’ll go get her and bring her to Sandwiches. We’ll all meet there.”

“I can’t go to Sandwiches,” Thatcher said. “I’ve got soccer.”

“Me, too,” said Aggy.

“I have piano,” Kian said.

“Yeah, Kian has piano lessons,” Thatcher said in a lilting, teasing voice, while pretending to tap piano keys on Kian’s head.

Kian punched him in the gut, which prompted a slugfest.

“Silence!” Logan shouted.

The fighting stopped. Everyone stared at him.

“We are in the midst of an alien invasion, people,” he said. “I don’t want to hear about your other commitments.”

“Logan!” a voice called out. “Logan! What are you doing here?” His mom was running toward him, Sloane in her arms, his head bobbing.

His shoulders slumped. “Not
again
.”

“I guess we won’t be trapping any aliens today after all,” Aggy said.

“Buck said you just walked away without telling him where you were going,” his mom said.

“I had to, Mom,” Logan said. “It was vital.”

His mom stopped in front of him, caught her breath, and said, “Move it, bud. Into the car. I’m mad. You’re in trouble. Move it.”

“But Mom—”

“Nope,” she said, shifting Sloane into one arm and taking Logan’s hand. “Sorry, Crew, but I need your leader!” she called over her shoulder as she pulled him away.

“That’s okay, Jenny,” Kian said, waving at them. “Bye.”

They all stood silent for a moment, then headed off toward their scheduled activities.

“Son, you do not walk away from the person I have given authority to take care of you,” Logan’s mom said.

Logan was pinned in an easy chair in the living room, his mom leaning over him. He knew never to speak when his mother’s face was red. At the moment, it was like a huge strawberry.

“Okay?”
she asked.

He nodded. Nodding was usually okay.

She relaxed and sank into the couch. “Was this about the aliens taking the dogs?”

Logan nodded again.

His mom straightened her spine and folded her legs into the lotus position. She rested her hands on her knees, palms up, closed her eyes, and breathed mindfully. That was what she called it: mindful breathing. Deep inhalation. Hold it. Long, slow, audible exhalation. And again. The red began to pale.

Sloane sat beside her and did his best to imitate her.

“I saw signs,” Logan said softly. “Across the street. Lost-dog signs. I had to investigate. I met a lady whose dog vanished.”

His mom stopped her mindful breathing. “Lots of people’s dogs ‘vanish,’ Logan.”

“But Ollie vanished like Pickles did, Mom. The alien zapped him right out of his collar. His owner found it in the grass.”

“Really?” his mom asked.

“Pickles,” Sloane said. “I want pickles.”

“Not now, Sloane,” his mom said.

“Dogs are vanishing all over town, Mom. And there’s this strange man with lots of hair and an accent.”

“Are the aliens French hippies or something?”

“The hair isn’t just on their heads, Mom. It’s on their necks and hands, too.”

“Could be Sasquatch.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Sorry. How about I send out a mass e-mail to everyone I know. I’ll even send one to my clients in the FBI. Okay?”

Logan wasn’t sure if he could trust her. She sometimes promised to do things she knew he could not verify.

“Do it now,” Logan said. “I want to watch you do it.”

“Oh, not now, Logan. I’m tired. And I have a million things to do….”

“Mom,” Logan said, standing up. “You are not getting this. We are in the midst of an alien invasion. That’s why I left Patrice’s. This is an
emergency
. Me and the Crew were going to set a trap for the aliens when you came and dragged me home. We have important work to do. We must stop these extraterrestrial dognappers from taking our dogs!”

His mom snickered.

“It’s not funny!” Logan hollered at her, then stomped away.

“It was the ‘extraterrestrial dognappers’ that got me, son,” she called after him. “I’m sorry.”

Logan scooped up the phone as he walked by it, then went into his room and slammed the door.

“No door slamming!” his mom yelled.

“Slam!” echoed Sloane.

Logan looked out his window. Bubba was lying on the back patio. The backyard was fenced in, though it wasn’t necessary anymore. When Bubba was younger she might have run off, but now she was too old.

Logan slid his bedroom window open and popped out the screen.

Bubba spread out on the damp sidewalk outside Sandwiches. Logan had tied her to the bike rack. He knew he didn’t need to but he wanted to set the stage the same way it had been with Pickles.

“Be a good girl,” he said to his dog, and hugged her saggy neck tightly, just in case the aliens did zap her and he never saw her again.

“Unnnh, unnnh, unnnh,”
she said.

Logan let go of her, scratched her head, said, “Try not to fart,” then crossed the street to his observation post.

He put on his binoculars, camera, and sun-glasses, then got out his clipboard. He couldn’t read his watch through the dark glasses so he took them off and set them on the branch of the dogwood tree.

“Don’t forget them this time,” he said to him-self.

He recorded the time, location, and weather conditions: 3:53, Sandwiches, light drizzle. He then brought his binoculars up to his eyes, and watched.

Regular school was out, so kids were getting off buses and going into the store and coming out with bags of chips and sodas. Some sat around on benches talking and texting and snacking; some wandered over to the library; some stopped to pet Bubba. A few of them stood up quickly, fanned their hands in front of their faces, and hurried away.

Logan recorded it all. His dog’s life, and the lives of all the other dogs of Nelsonport, depended on his being vigilant.

“I will not falter,” he said to himself. “It is my destiny to thwart the aliens’ fiendish plot.”

“What’re you doing there, guy?” a boy said, walking up.

Logan glanced at him. He guessed the boy was about thirteen. He was with two other kids who looked to be the same age. One was a girl, the other a boy. The boy was gripping the girl’s hand.

“You spying on somebody?” this boy asked.

“Are you a spy, guy?” asked the other boy.

Logan recognized that they were getting ready to have some fun at his expense.

“Take a hike,” he said, pointing with his thumb in the direction he wanted them to go.

The boys laughed.

The girl said, “Leave him alone, Burke. Let’s go.”

Burke stepped closer to Logan.

“Trust me,” Logan said without looking at him. “You don’t want to get involved in this.”

“Really?” Burke said. “It’s dangerous work? Dangerous spy work? Something one needs a clipboard for?”

He let his girlfriend’s hand drop and snatched Logan’s clipboard.

Logan whirled on him.

“Give it back!” he yelled. “Give it back, you idiot!”

The boy danced away, laughing.

“Give it back to him, Burke,” the girl said.

Logan kept lunging and grasping and screaming at the boy to give it back, but Burke just tossed it to the other boy.

“Stop it, Burke,” the girl said.

She approached the second boy.

“Give it to me, Wyndham.”

He slumped his shoulders and handed it over.

” Aw, dude,” Burke groaned.

She handed it to Logan, who snatched it from her.

“You idiots don’t know what you’re doing,” he said. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

He resumed his observation post and returned his attention to Bubba.

Who wasn’t there.

“Bubba!” he screamed. “Bubba!”

Logan tossed away the clipboard and bolted toward Sandwiches. Along the way he flung off the camera and binoculars.

“Bubba!” he kept yelling. “Bubba!”

“What a freak!” Burke laughed, and gave Wyndham a high five.

“What a loser,” his girlfriend said, shaking her head and picking up the clipboard.