The Beasts of Upton Puddle (2 page)

Less than a year ago, Redwar Industries—a research company with a monstrous appetite—had
turned its hungry eye on the unassuming village of Upton Puddle and built its head office right in the heart of the community. Each passing month the industrial park chewed its way through the woodland, replacing trees with scaffolding and ponds with concrete and parking lots. Maybe it was Redwar Industrial Park that had frightened off all the animals.

Joe kept his smile, trying to ignore the presence of the Redwar building. He rubbed the heel of a hand into one eye and relaxed into a final yawn before the early morning snooze took him.

Perhaps it was the uncanny silence or the lingering thoughts of Redwar's building that caused Joe's dreams to be so strange. Whatever the reason, Joe was startled by how real it all seemed. But even more startling was the fact that he actually
knew
he was dreaming—it was a rare treat. Having never left the shores of England, Joe didn't recognize the tropical surroundings of his dream world, but he instinctively knew he was walking on the beach of an island far from home. Scorching sand burned the soles of his bare feet, and a hot gale tugged at his ragged clothes as he pressed forward. Squinting through fierce sunlight, Joe took in the impressive landscape. Gaping caverns lined the edges of a crescent-shaped cliff edge to his left. Ruling the horizon above the caves, a structure stood that Joe knew from the world outside his dreams.

A vast tower, wider and taller than any he had seen before, weaved a twisted path into the sky, its tip
obscured by clouds. Enormous extensions reached at crooked angles from the walls, and it was then that Joe realized the whole thing looked exactly like a gigantic, leafless tree. It was even made of wood, as if the designers had decided to cut down all the trees on the island to construct one monstrous imitation in the center. Even knowing he was in the middle of a dream, Joe was curious and quickened his pace, determined to find out who or what lived inside before he woke up.

Joe stopped, aghast, when the details became clearer. At the end of each branch, objects that looked like bunched grapes from a distance revealed themselves to be clumps of bulbous eyes, all staring intently at Joe. Then came a series of terrible sounds. A roar of fire belched from the caverns, forcing Joe to stagger backwards, shielding himself from the heat. A thundering vibration of galloping feet and terrified yelps drove Joe into a panicking sprint away from the cliffs and toward the sea. He could not see the source of the sounds, but it was enough to know they were heading his way. It was time to wake up.

Joe lurched from the tree stump, half dazed and still raw with alarm and bewilderment. It took a second to realize that some of the sounds still echoing in his thoughts were not just creations of his imagination but were actually happening in the woods surrounding him. The silence had been shattered by the yelps and growls of one wild animal being attacked by another.

Joe rubbed his eyes and scrambled to his feet, glancing
between the trunks of large oaks, looking for signs of the struggle. Perhaps Mr. Gordon's rottweiler had escaped and was running, crazed, through the woods. Perhaps he would be next!

The commotion paused and Joe crouched, holding his breath, staying as still as he possibly could. Bulky steps came from behind, too heavy to belong to a dog, even one as large as the Gordons'. Joe turned his head slowly, hoping his movement would not draw attention to whatever was lurking. Something dark and hairy moved behind a tree less than thirty feet away.

It was hard to see properly in the half light, but Joe was convinced it was taller than a man. It slouched like an ape and, with massive hairy feet, prodded at something motionless on the ground that looked like a badger. It shuffled as if in confusion, scratching its side with long spindly fingers, then stretched its mouth wide to reveal a set of decayed fangs. The roar that followed was cut short when Joe jumped in shock. The ape thing snapped its mouth shut with a loud clack and ducked as it stared in Joe's direction.

With a mop of straw-colored hair and a bright blue T-shirt to match his eyes, Joe knew he would not be well camouflaged, and sure enough, the creature saw him.

Great emerald eyes glared at Joe as the creature's lips curled into a snarl.

Joe swallowed hard. His throat felt as dry as the sand he had been dreaming about only moments ago, and cold shock froze him as he stared at the thing
crouching between the trees. The staring continued for several long seconds, and as each moment passed, Joe chided himself for not looking away. He'd read enough books to know that maintaining eye contact was a sign of aggression for most animals, but Joe couldn't help himself.

Astoundingly, the creature seemed to lose interest. It turned away, loped off a few steps into the forest, and shuffled down into a mound of earth, disappearing from view.

Joe waited a full minute before making another move. Watching his surroundings, he crept toward the creature's victim, dragging his trolley with him, and found that his suspicions were right—it was a badger. The poor animal was on its side, breathing slowly and making no attempt to escape from Joe as he approached. Taking great care not to make sudden moves, Joe edged closer, holding a thick stick near the badger's mouth in case it decided to bite. If the animal was badly injured, it probably wouldn't attack, but Joe knew not to take any chances.

After a few awkward maneuvers, Joe had safely wrapped the injured badger in his jacket and placed it in his trolley. It was time to wake up Mr. Wheeler, the vet.

Three raps on Argoyle Redwar's office door announced the arrival of another doomed employee. The director frowned at the wooden panels, then at his secretary, who stared back at him through disturbingly thick
glasses.

“Who's that?” he growled.

The small woman, semiconsumed by a leather chair, continued to gawk. Her eyes widened only slightly as she tilted her head and mumbled something about not seeing through walls.

“Come in,” Redwar boomed.

The door opened, and a well-groomed man wearing a cautious but friendly smile stepped inside, clasping a folder against his chest.

“I do apolo—”

“Door!” Redwar thumbed his way through a planner, hardly interested in the visitor.

The man hesitated, then closed the door and smiled nervously at the secretary, who squinted back. An embarrassing silence followed as the employee glanced around the huge windowless office, the mahogany paneling, the meager lighting, and the long line of animal heads gazing down with lifeless eyes. There were only three chairs: one at the far end of the room, another for the secretary, and behind a monstrous desk, the thronelike chair for Argoyle Redwar.

Redwar shifted in his seat. This was the third replacement chair since his office had been refurbished. Having fired the last two employees for cautiously suggesting it might be his weight causing the chair to groan, Redwar had decided a director's chair was probably supposed to do that.

“I don't have an eleven o'clock in my planner,” said
Redwar, not looking up.

“Yes, sir. The name's Brant. Gregory Brant from archives? I was due to see you at nine, but I'm afraid we had an emergency. Dr. Golding collapsed, and I had to call an ambu—”

“You didn't think to warn me you'd be late?”

“I left a message with Ms. Burrowdown. She said—”

Redwar finally looked up. “Did he?”

Ms. Burrowdown nodded.

Redwar eyed his employee. “So you're Gregory Brant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Know why I called you in here?”

“No, sir.”

“You've been putting a lot of hours in this week, haven't you, Brant?”

The man's shoulders relaxed slightly. “Erm, yes, sir. There are a lot of projects which needed—”

“And you didn't think we'd notice?”

Brant looked confused. “Well . . . I had hoped that I'd earn a little recognition for my efforts since—”

“I'm not a fool.” Redwar picked up his planner and slammed it down, causing the employee to wince. “You know what I'm talking about.”

“I'm sorry, sir. I—”

“Theft is a very serious thing, especially for a man on a salary as large as yours.”

“Sir, I can assure you, I—”

“Don't even
think
about denying it. The security cameras showed you stacking several boxes of confidential files into the boot of your car after hours yesterday.”

“Well, of course, sir, the planning department instructed me to—”

“To what? To steal?”

Brant, his mouth agape, said nothing.

Redwar glowered. “I'll have security escort you off-site, and your personal effects will be posted to you in the morning along with your official letter of dismissal. I'm a reasonable man, so I won't be reporting this to the police on this occasion, but rest assured, I won't hesitate to contact them if you go whining to your union representative. Understood?”

“No, sir. I—”

“Good day, Mr. Brant.”

Redwar returned to his planner, angrily thumbing through the pages.

Brant remained where he was, openmouthed.

“Well? Why are you still here?”

“Sir, I really must protest. I was not stealing anything. I—”

“I said good day, Mr. Brant.”

Brant carefully placed his folder on the desk in front of Redwar and, after a puzzled glance at Ms. Burrowdown, walked silently out of the office. The door clicked shut behind him.

Ms. Burrowdown approached the desk and uttered
something unintelligible just as Redwar punched a button. A ring sounded on the speakerphone.

“What? Speak up, woman.”

Ms. Burrowdown took Brant's folder and waved it at him.

He waved back dismissively. “Oh, just file it away. I'll look at it later.”

She stepped back from the desk and opened the folder.

A voice crackled on Redwar's phone. “Hello, sir. Security here.”

Ms. Burrowdown thrust the open file under Redwar's nose. “Yooshd takeylook.”

“A moment, please,” he said at the phone before turning on his secretary. “What?”

She jabbed a bony finger at the paperwork, and Redwar glared at it.

PLANNING DEPARTMENT—REF:65KT175

ORDER FOR DESTRUCTION OF DOCUMENTATION TO MR. G BRANT.

DOCUMENTATION FOR DESTRUCTION:

Architectural Designs, Planning Applications, Surveyor Reports, Budget Plans.

REASON:

Purchase offer to Merrynether estate rejected by owner.
Planning permission for extended building contracts denied. Expansion plans into Ringwood Forest rejected. Architectural designs no longer required.

Redwar shifted his glare to Ms. Burrowdown. “The planning department abandoned my expansion plans because of that Merrynether woman?”

Ms. Burrowdown stared back.

Redwar huffed. “I want the head of the planning department fired too. Get him up here after lunch.”

“Sir? Did you need a security guard?” repeated the voice on the phone.

Redwar pushed the file aside. “Yes. Send someone up here immediately. I need to have an employee escorted off-site.”

Ms. Burrowdown continued to stare as he switched off the speakerphone.

“What? You think Brant's innocent? So what?” Redwar jabbed a finger at her. “The man had no backbone. If an employee of mine can't stand up for himself, I don't want him on my payroll. I despise cowardice, Ms. Burrowdown. Remember that.”

Mr. Wheeler observed Joe sympathetically over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles and scratched his head through a clump of grey hair that had not long ago left a pillow. “I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for
you, Joe. We're just too busy this morning. We already have two cats and a rabbit to deal with. And a few minutes ago, I got a call from the Gordons. Their rottweiler's had a nasty bite. I'm not even supposed to open for another two hours.” The old man smiled an apology toward a queue of people seated behind Joe.