By Mike Suchcicki

Copyright 2002 Mike Suchcicki

Younger readers: Parental Advisory

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Hippie the dog shivered as he looked around and saw nothing at all that looked familiar. The chihuahua-whatever mix found himself in some sort of large box without a lid, big enough to run around in but too tall to leap from.

Above him, the light was bright and white, not at all like the lights at home, where Hippie wished he was right now. He could see no people, just some sort of box thing on sticks up over one edge. The Man that Hippie lived with had a box just like that at home, where Hippie really wished he was right now. Home was warm.

He barked, hoping to attract someone's attention. "Yip! Yip!" No one appeared.

Still shivering, but just a little braver, Hippie took a few tentative steps forward, sniffing the ground as he went.

He heard something, soft and low, as if another animal was breathing nearby, but he was alone in the box.

He looked up and out of the box again. "Yip! Yip!" Nothing in return.

Again he heard the sound, but this time Hippie figured out where it was coming from ... right in front of him.

He sniffed at the ground some more and inched forward. The only thing he could see was a puddle of brownish-green liquid-like ... mess, like when he would cause a spill at home. But it didn't smell like anything he knew; in fact, it didn't smell like anything at all.

Whatever it was, the noise was coming from it.

Hippie sniffed closer, and as the noise began again, he started to growl. The noise became louder and began to change, like a large animal or something sucking in a breath.

Hippie suddenly stopped, at least he tried to; he couldn't stop his constant shivering. His eyes grew wide as the brownish-green puddle began to move ... and grow.

"Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip!" The dog began to leap back and forth, barking louder and louder as the strange puddle raised into a shifting, pulsating mound.

Then, as if molded by unseen hands, the mound began to take a shape. The lower part thinned, then separated into four legs. From the front, a smaller mound extended and formed into a bulbous head. The front of the head quickly split in half, upper and lower, into a wicked parody of a mouth, complete with sharp, jagged teeth.

Then came the eyes. Above the mouth, the jelly-like skin, which by now had turned a bright, iridescent green, slowly sunk inward in two places, as if poked by fingers. The centers of the divots began to glow a bright, pulsating red.

Hippie was motionless. He was staring into a hideous mirror at a glowing, shimmering ... something that thought it was a dog.

Suddenly, the creature crouched on its thin rubbery legs and leaped at Hippie, jagged teeth extended.

Hippie instinctively scampered back toward the far wall of the box, but he knew he had no place to hide.

In mid-leap, however, the green beast was hit from above by a large glob of thick, purple liquid. It let out what sounded like a tiny scream and slammed to the floor of the box. Where it was struck by the purple blast, the gelatin skin bubbled and popped. Hippie found some courage and hopped forward, yelping angrily at the fallen beast.

His bravado didn't last long; the green beast shook its head and began to climb to its feet. Hippie, with a whimper, again backed against the wall.

As the green creature crouched again, however, another glob of purple liquid smacked into its head. This time, with a high-pitched wail like the last bit of steam through a kettle, the creature began to bubble and pop all over. Finally, it burst into a shower of tiny green droplets over a terrified and wildly yelping Hippie. The droplets glowed for a brief second, then faded, drying quickly into thin gray flakes.

Hippie was scooped from above by a large hand. He struggled and yipped, then sniffed the familiar smells of his Man. In his own specifically canine way of putting two and two together, he barked furiously at the Man, looking up at him with bulbous, anxious eyes that asked, "How could you do that to me?"

"There, there, Hippie, you're all right," said David Lake, hugging and petting his dog. "I wasn't going to let anything happen to you. I had a Ghun with that Ghoul dog's name on it the whole time."

Still carrying Hippie, Lake walked over to the lab table and began jotting some notes. "Not that you would really care, but you just helped me prove one of my main theories." He held up Hippie to eye level. "Malectoplasm is a mimic."

Hippie was unimpressed.

"I wasn't really sure at first, because the test with the mice was inconclusive. The 'plasm would rise up and attack the mice, but it would never quite take a full, independent shape. I needed something larger. But don't worry, you won't have to go through that again, because I got it all on video."

Lake reached to turn off the video camera, perched on a tripod overlooking the testing bin, when a voice bellowed, "Where's my Sapson-Brinker?"

Lake turned. Pamela Gray stormed into his lab with typical ferocity. He swung the video camera toward her. "Dr. Gray, would you like to comment on Dr. Lake's recent breakthrough discovery on the mimicking properties of malectoplasm?"

Gray looked into the camera lens. "David Lake is an idiot." To him she said again, "Where's my Sapson-Brinker?"

Lake looked her up and down. "Somewhere inside that sexy lab coat?"

"Lake, whereas I have to admit that sometimes I find you amusing, mostly at your attempts at what you call science, this time is not one of them. You've stolen a vital piece of my equipment, and every second that delays my research means more lives lost out there."

"Uh, excuse me, but I'm trying to save lives here too, you know. I needed our S-B to put a fine measurement on the seismic reactions ... "

"I know what you're using it for, and it's my S-B, not ours. Why don't you just have Gen. Zone buy you your own?"

"I'm over budget this quarter. Zone won't even let me buy decent lab animals. I'm having to resort to using my dog for 'plasmic tests." He held up the still-whimpering Hippie.

Gray regarded the pooch. "You're using your own dog for malectoplasmic stimulation tests?"

"Do you know how much a monkey costs?"

"Why don't you just go out in the alley and grab an old cat or something?"

"Well, there goes your PETA membership. Besides, I've looked. I think the Ghouls killed most of the strays."

Gray peered into the test chamber at the pile of Ghoo-soaked malectoplasmic flakes. "So, you managed to create a Ghoul dog, eh?"

"Well, my assistant Hippie did. Want to see the video?"

"No, I want my machine back. And it had better be in one piece."

"Sure, it's over there on the cart. I had to recalibrate it to ..."

Gray let out a short scream. "You recalibrated it? You idiot, that will take me another 12 ... " She was cut off by the ringing of the cell phone in her coat pocket. Flipping it open with a fierce jerk of the wrist, she snapped, "What?"

"Is this Pamela Gray?" said the caller.

"Yes, who is this?"

"I need to meet with you right away. Come to ..."

"Wait a minute. What do you mean meet you? Who is this?"

"I have information on the death of your mother."

Lake couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but watched as Gray's face went suddenly ashen.

"What do you mean?" Gray asked.

"I know who arranged it. I know why. But it's not safe to talk on the phone like this. I need to meet you. Right away. And it's best if you come alone. I know that sounds suspicious, but believe me, it's important to keep my identity secret, for me and you."

Gray paused for several seconds before answering. She said finally, "Tell me where."

" I'll have to give you directions. Write this down."

Gray reached for the pen in her coat pocket and snapped at Lake, "Paper!"

Lake reached over to a sheet of paper on the lab table, then hesitated, and grabbed a small pad of note paper instead.

Gray scribbled as the caller spoke. "OK, I've got it. I'll be there in 20 minutes." She flipped the phone shut and slid it back in her pocket. Ripping the top sheet of paper from the pad, she stuffed it into another pocket.

"Where are you going?" Lake asked.

"None of your business," Gray said, heading for the door. "Just get that machine back in my lab before I get back." She then stopped, turned and marched back to the lab table. She grabbed about half the remaining sheets of the pad and ripped them away, pocketing them too, then ran out.

"Darn!" said Lake. "She was on to me." He picked up the remainder of the pad and held it up to the light. No indentations remained from which he could glean her destination with the old rubbed pencil trick.

"How can I stick my nose where it doesn't belong when she keeps thwarting me?" he asked Hippie, who was still in his arms, by this time falling asleep. Lake shrugged and went back to work. He reached again for the video camera, then paused. He looked over at where the camera was pointed and smiled.

"Let's look at that note again in instant replay, shall we?" he said to Hippie, hitting the rewind button.

Hippie, fast asleep, still wasn't impressed.

Continue to Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5