Pete had decided to retrieve only the invoice, and show it to the people. A piece of paper was easy to carry and it wouldn’t leave fur in his mouth. Then, after they realized what he had brought them, he would get them to follow him to the fern grove, and show them the rabbit’s foot.
Even though the humans are not as smart as cats are, he was certain they’d be able to figure out where Pete had gotten the rabbit’s foot and the invoice.
All he needed now was a chance to slip out the door. It came when Mrs. Kendrill decided to empty the kitchen wastebasket. She opened the door, then left it open while she picked up the wastebasket and carried it to the garbage can, giving Pete plenty of time to bolt out the door, unseen.
He was running toward the ferns when he heard the noisy truck again. It had turned into Mrs. Sunburg’s driveway. Pete stopped. What did Hogman intend to do now? Was he going to cut the pen wire and take Piccolo?
Instead of grabbing the invoice and carrying it home, Pete crept toward Mrs. Sunburg’s yard. Pete considered running home and trying to get one of his family to come outside where they could see what was happening, but he knew from experience that whoever opened the door for him would invite him to come inside and, when he didn’t, they would shut the door.
They couldn’t see the pen or the truck from their doorway. It would be better, Pete decided, to watch Hogman so that he knew exactly what the man was doing.
Pete hunkered down under the bush closest to the pigpen. It’s lucky for the people that I’m vigilant, he thought, since none of them are on guard. It’s a good thing I’m clever, courageous, and capable.
He watched the truck stop next to Piccolo’s pen.
Hogman got out of the truck, leaving the door open, as always. A tantalizing smell drifted out. Pete’s nose twitched, and he leaned forward, trying to decide what it was. The odor was much stronger than the egg-and-cheese-sandwich smell had been, and it hinted of Mexican spices. Pete’s pink tongue darted in and out. Did Hogman have enchiladas in his truck?
No! Pete told himself. You can’t get distracted by food, no matter how good it smells. He wondered if the box of pelts was still on the floor of the truck. If it was, perhaps he could run back to the ferns now, and take only the invoice to Alex. He could easily carry the piece of paper, and when Alex saw what it was, he would follow Pete to the truck and find the whole box of animal pelts. Pete wouldn’t have to put the rabbit’s foot in his mouth again.
Pete waited until Hogman’s attention was on the locked gate. Then he dashed toward the truck, stood on his hind legs, and looked inside.
The box of pelts was gone—but something new had been added. A soft taco sat on the seat. Pete drooled when he saw it. He hardly ever got Mexican food because the humans thought it was too spicy for him. Pete loved cheese enchiladas. He loved bean burritos. Most of all, he loved soft tacos, and now there was a fresh taco sitting in plain sight, waiting to be eaten.
Pete glanced back at Hogman. The man’s attention was focused on the fence. Pete knew better than to stay in the truck while he ate, but he thought he had time to jump up, grab the taco, and run. He would carry it to the ferns and, using extraordinary willpower, he would leave it there while he took the invoice to Alex. He would go back to eat it as soon as he’d accomplished his spy business.
Pete leaped onto the seat of the truck, then pressed his nose to the luscious-smelling taco. Oh, what bliss! This was cat heaven! He opened his jaws as wide as he could, clamped down on the middle of the taco, and tried to pick it up. When he lifted it, the filling tumbled out. Lettuce, cheese, tomato, and ground beef dropped onto the seat of the truck, and Pete was left with the empty tortilla in his mouth.
He couldn’t carry the taco away when it was spilled all over the seat; he would have to eat it right now, in the truck. He crouched and began gulping the beef and cheese, gobbling it as quickly as he could. His mouth was full of taco meat when a hand clamped down on the back of Pete’s neck.
“Gotcha!” Hogman said as he plopped down behind the wheel and slammed the truck door shut.
Pete tried to yell, “Let me go!” but his mouth was so full that it came out “Beleghmeeg!”
Hogman held on tight to Pete’s fur as he started the engine and then drove the truck out Mrs. Sunburg’s driveway and down Elm Lane to Valley View.
By the time they reached the corner of Valley View Drive and the main road, Pete had swallowed his mouthful of taco meat, and was caterwauling as loudly as he could.
He twisted and turned, clawing at Hogman’s leg until the man let go of Pete’s neck.
Pete scratched at the passenger-side window and yelled, “Help me! Let me out of here! I’m trapped!”
Hogman snorted. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, cat,” he said. “You’ve sneaked in my truck for the last time and chewed what doesn’t belong to you.”
Pete backed up to the opposite door, flattened his ears, and hissed at Hogman.
“Might as well save your breath. Ain’t nobody going to hear you. We’re going to take a nice little drive up the hill, but you won’t be comin’ down again.” He patted the handgun that was tucked into his belt. “I’d do it right here, only I don’t want to make more of a mess in my truck.”
Pete looked at Hogman’s gun, then at the man’s expression. He means it, Pete thought. He plans to drive me up the hill where no one can hear, and then he’s going to shoot me.
Pete’s mind raced as the truck rattled through Hilltop and up the gravel road. He knew he needed to think of everything that could possibly happen, and decide how best to save himself.
If he pushed on the window handle, he could probably get the window open far enough to squeeze through—but there was no point trying to do that until the truck stopped. He’d only get hurt if he leaped from a moving vehicle, and then he’d be unable to run away.
My best chance of surviving this, Pete decided, is to act docile until he parks. If he gets out and leaves me in here, I’ll open the window and jump.
If I can’t do that, I’ll let the man pick me up and take me out of the truck. Then, as soon as I’m out, I’ll bite and claw and kick. He’ll never be able to hold on. He’ll drop me, and I’ll run into the trees and escape.
Unless he shoots me before I reach the trees.
I should have stayed home, Pete thought. I could be lying on Alex’s lap right now, listening to the news, and getting a kitty massage. I could be licking Lizzy’s ears, or reading c-a-t words in the dictionary or catapulting to the top of the entertainment center. I could be eating buttered popcorn.
Instead here I am on a deserted country road with a man who wants to kill me.
Worst of all, nobody knows where I am. If I never come home again, Alex won’t even know where to look for me.
9
Piccolo’s more interesting than traffic and weather,” Alex said, halfway through the newscast. “Why don’t they show her?”
Alex, Rocky, and Mary nibbled on the popcorn as they waited. They kept the newscast on, but the sound was turned down.
Suddenly the kitchen door banged open and Benjie rushed in, practically hysterical.
“Hogman kidnapped Pete!” he yelled.
“What?” Alex jumped to his feet.
“I was in my spy station, and I saw Hogman’s truck go by, headed toward our street. I started to come home, to tell you, but before I got here the truck went past the other way, and Pete was in it! He was yowling and scratching at the window, trying to get out.”
“Are you positive it was Pete?” Alex asked. “He was here just a few minutes ago, begging for popcorn.”
“It was him,” Benjie said. “Hogman took Pete!”
“Pete!” Alex called. “Here, Pete!” He began looking in all of Pete’s favorite places. Lizzy was in her bed, but Pete’s bed was empty. He wasn’t under the table or on top of the entertainment center.
Alex ran upstairs to his room. Pete sometimes curled up on Alex’s bed or sat on his desk. For some odd reason, the c
at seemed to like being near the dictionary. He wasn’t in any of those places. Alex checked the bedroom window; it was closed.
Alex ran back downstairs. “He’s gone,” he said. “I even looked under the beds, in case he was hiding.”
“I thought he was in here with you,” Mr. Kendrill said.
“He was,” Alex said. “He tried to eat the popcorn.”
“Then how did he get out?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said, “but he isn’t here now.”
“Honestly,” Mrs. Kendrill said, “I’ve never known an animal that was such an escape artist. If he isn’t sneaking out the door, he’s going out the upstairs window.”
“He’s in Hogman’s truck!” Benjie wailed. “I saw him. Hogman stole Pete!”
“Why would he do that?” Mrs. Kendrill said.
“Pete jumped in his truck earlier,” Rocky said, “and the guy got angry. He acted as if he doesn’t like cats, so why would he steal one?”
“Maybe Pete got in the truck again and Hogman didn’t see him,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Remember that time at our old house when Pete got in the FedEx truck and rode two blocks to the next stop before the driver noticed him?”
“This driver would have heard him,” Benjie said. “Pete was yowling and clawing at the window.”
“Maybe he took Pete on purpose,” Mary said, “because he was angry that we have his pig.”
Benjie cried harder. “He’s going to throw Pete in the river!” he sobbed. “Or he’ll drive really fast, like he did with Piccolo, and make Pete fall out.”
“More likely he’ll turn him loose in the woods,” Mrs. Kendrill said.
Alex and Rocky spoke at the same time: “The trap!”
Alex thought of the cruel trap he’d seen in the woods. If Pete was scared, he’d run without looking where he was going. Alex shuddered.
“Let’s not panic,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Maybe we can find him. Benjie, which way did the truck go?”
“Up the hill. Toward Hilltop.”
“Toward the woods,” Alex said. “Toward the trap.”
“I’ll drive up that way,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Maybe I can catch up to the truck. Or if he’s let Pete go, we might be able to spot him.” He grabbed his car keys from the hook by the back door.
Mrs. Kendrill turned off the oven and the TV. “I’ll go with you,” she said.
“Me, too,” Alex said. “If Pete’s been let out somewhere, he’s most likely to come if he hears my voice.”
“I’m coming, too,” Benjie said. “I want to help find Pete.”
“Do you want me to stay here?” Rocky asked. “I could let Pete in if he comes back.”
“That would be great,” Alex said. “Thanks.”
“I’ll go around the neighborhood,” Mary said, “and alert everyone to watch for Pete.”
The Kendrills piled into their car. Mr. Kendrill drove while the others peered out the windows, hoping to see a big brown-and-white cat.
Mr. Kendrill drove to the main road, past Benjie’s spy station, then turned out of Valley View Estates and headed up the hill toward Hilltop. He drove slowly through the small village and out the other side, going up the gravel road where the kids had seen Piccolo fall from the truck.
Benjie rolled down his window and hollered, “Here, Pete! Here, Pete!”
Alex knew the cat would never approach a moving vehicle, but he didn’t say so. If it made Benjie feel better to call Pete, let him do it.
Regret settled on Alex’s shoulders like a heavy coat. This is partly my fault, he thought. I’ve never let Pete out on purpose, but I haven’t been strict enough with him about staying inside. When Pete sneaked out, it was easier to ignore him than to chase after him and take him back home. Pete had made it clear that he liked going outdoors, and I’ve allowed him to get away with it.
I should have walked him on the leash more, to keep him happy, Alex thought, and then made sure he stayed in the rest of the time. I should have kept him safe. Pete’s a smart cat, but he can’t understand all of the dangers that could befall him. Alex feared that Mary was right. Curious Pete had gone in the truck, and when Hogman saw the cat there, he got angry and drove off, taking Pete with him. Alex leaned his forehead against the cool window glass. He couldn’t bear to think of Pete in the clutches of that awful man.
“Pete must have sneaked out when I emptied the kitchen wastebasket,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “I left the door open while I went out to the garbage can. I never saw Pete, but you know how he bolts sometimes when he sees the open door.”
Alex felt a tiny bit better, knowing his mom recognized how often Pete tried to run out. He could tell she felt guilty, too.
“It isn’t your fault, Mom,” Alex said. “Pete has sneaked out on all of us from time to time no matter how alert we are.”
Mrs. Kendrill gave Alex a grateful smile.
“I’m going to pull off at the next wide spot,” Mr. Kendrill said, “so that we can get out and call Pete. If Pete was yowling and trying to escape, the man might have turned him loose as soon as he reached the woods.”
He pulled the car onto a wide shoulder area, and stopped the engine. Everyone got out.
“Stay on the road,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Cats have excellent hearing. Pete will hear us if he’s anywhere nearby.”
“Here, Pete!” Alex called. “Here, kitty, kitty!”
“Petey! Petey!” Benjie hollered. “Come, Sweetey Petey!”
When they stopped calling, straining to hear an answering meow, they heard only the whisper of the leaves rubbing together in the breeze, and the crunch of gravel underfoot as they walked along the road.
Alex felt sick to his stomach. What if Pete never came back? What if he never saw his cat again and never found out what had happened to him? It would be sad to lose Pete under any circumstances, but it would be horrible to lose him and not know what happened to him. Pet cats are supposed to live to an old age, to be pampered and taken care of. They aren’t supposed to be kidnapped. They aren’t supposed to vanish when they’re still young and healthy.
If I don’t find him, Alex thought, how will I stand the uncertainty?
“Let’s drive on up the road,” Mr. Kendrill said. “We’ll stop again at the next turnout.”
At the next wide spot, they stopped again. They called, looked, listened, then called some more, but they didn’t see or hear Pete.
“Maybe we should go all the way to the end of the road,” Alex said, “and then, if we don’t find the truck, we can stop at the turnouts on our way back down.”
“Good plan,” his dad replied.
“Petey!” Benjie bellowed one last time as he headed back to the car. “Here, Sweetey Petey!”
• • •
Pete felt the truck slow, and saw the man steer it to the right. Pete raised his head to look out the window. The man was stopping at a wide spot on the side of the road. There were no houses nearby, no people, nothing but forest.
No one would hear a gunshot in this remote place. No one would find a dead cat on the side of the road.
The man stopped the engine and opened the door on his side, keeping an eye on Pete. He slid the small gun out of the top of his pants and clicked off the safety latch.
“I hope you enjoyed my taco, cat,” he said, “seeing as it was the last meal you’ll ever eat.”
Holding the gun in his right hand, he reached across the seat with his left hand. For a second, Pete thought the man intended to shoot him then, but instead the man grabbed Pete’s front legs with his left hand and used his right hand, which still held the gun, to push on Pete’s backside as he moved Pete toward him.
Pete did not resist. He went limp and let the man slide him across the seat toward the open door. He hoped his plan would work. Could he fight hard enough to make Hogman drop him? Even if he did, could Pete run fast enough to hide in the woods before Hogman could take aim and fire the gun?
The trees were only about ten yards from the truck, but ten y
ards is a lot of ground to cover when a person’s aiming a gun at you. Maybe he could zigzag as he ran, make himself a more difficult target.
Get ready to fight, Pete told himself. As soon as I’m out of this truck, the mighty warrior cat will go into attack mode.
Hogman stood close to the seat of the truck as he pulled Pete toward him, blocking the exit in case Pete tried to bolt out the door. When Pete reached the edge of the seat, the man scooped him up, then quickly backed away from the truck. Still grasping Pete’s front legs, he tried to maneuver the gun so that it pointed at Pete’s head.
The cat who had been obedient a moment earlier now acted as if all of Catdom was depending on him to defeat his captor. Pete twisted and turned, ducking his head from side to side and thrashing his tail. He stuck out his back toenails as he kicked at the man.
“Hold still!” the man demanded. He put his forearm next to Pete’s head, trying to keep Pete from turning his head away from the gun.
Pete bit the man, hard, just above his wrist. At the same time, he kicked with his hind legs, claws extended, catching the hand that held the gun.
Hogman swore and struggled to position the gun. Pete bit the man’s arm again, sinking his teeth in farther this time. The man yelped and jerked away, loosening his grasp on Pete’s front legs.
With his front paws finally free, Pete clawed at the man’s face, leaving deep scratches on both cheeks. The man grabbed Pete around the middle, shoved him into the crook of his arm, and squeezed so hard that Pete thought he might break in two.
The man raised the gun.
Pete thrust his hind foot toward the gun, hoping to spoil the man’s aim. His foot came down on the trigger.
BANG!
The sound exploded, echoing through the forest.
10
As Alex returned to the car he heard a gunshot.
Alex gasped; Mrs. Kendrill covered her mouth as she screamed. They all stood still, listening, but no more shots rang out.
“The meanie Hogman shot Petey!” Benjie said, and began to cry.
“Maybe he missed,” Mr. Kendrill said. “Maybe Pete ran away.”