Castle Kidnapped

Thirty-one Back Road

Snowclaw got off the main highway, seeking anonymity on lesser roads. He kept turning off until he found a rural two-lane blacktop with no traffic, reassuringly dark and lonely. No curious human eyes, no guys with badges. He felt fine now, though he was getting a little worried that he might never make it back to Halfway House.

He sure missed Gene. Back at the castle, Snowy could usually find him, using the limited magical powers at Snowy’s disposal. But not here Snowy hadn’t the foggiest notion how you did anything magical in this place.

He had quickly mastered the art of driving, although heavy traffic and congestion got him a little nervous, and bright lights disoriented him. He preferred this, a cold, dark night, a deserted road, and no problems.

Except that he was pretty hungry. No, not hungry. Famished. Ravenous. He had chewed all the tobacco and had run out of cans of motor oil. There was a whole shipment of tobacco in the back of the truck, but he didn’t want to stop. Besides, the stuff didn’t taste all that good.

Funny. He had a strange yen for some of it, anyway. He shrugged it off. Just hungry, is what he was.

These little houses along the road. Maybe if he stopped in, introduced himself, explained his predicament …

Well, no, that wouldn’t do. He knew enough about humans not to expect the warmest of welcomes. What, then? Follow his nose, was the only thing. He knew he was closer to Halfway now, but he didn’t know how close, or how far. What he had to do was get out of this truck and get into the woods. There he could use his powerful sense of smell better. Maybe sniff out a way home.

No, keep driving. There was still some raw distance to be disposed of yet. He remembered the way the trees looked at Halfway. It was hard to see out there, but from what he could make of the vegetation, it looked similar, but not quite right. It might be easier to tell in the green season. But this was the dead of winter. Not a proper winter, actually. In fact, to Snowy it was positively balmy. Good for sunbathing.

The terrain didn’t look right, either. At Halfway it was more hilly. Mountainous, even. Keep to the truck for a little while at least.

Something ahead. A little town, it looked like, and a junction with another road. There was a single red light hanging above the intersection, but Snowy didn’t notice it until it was too late to stop. He blew through the intersection at fifty miles an hour.

He drove on out of town. Suddenly the red light seemed to be following him, and now it was flashing. He heard a high-pitched whoop that hurt his ears.

He saw that the light was mounted on a little vehicle, coming up fast. Snowy tromped on the power pedal.

But it was no go. The little vehicle was too fast.

It pulled alongside, its little red light still blinking. The human driver was in uniform.

Snowy knew a policeman when he saw one, but he wasn’t about to stop.

The cop looked up at him, motioning for Snowy to pull over. Snowy waved. The cop did a double take, then dropped back. Snowy laughed.

The truck’s engine coughed once, and Snowy eased off the pedal a little, but then it sputtered and quit altogether. Snowy worried the ignition key, and the starter whined and churned. But the engine wouldn’t catch. The truck was dead, and so was Snowy.

As the truck drifted to a stop, Snowy looked at the dials and gauges on the dashboard. He knew he had not done something right. Just what, he might never know. Probably had something to do with a “gas station.” You were supposed to stop into those every once in a while and fill the truck up with some kind of gas. He had watched the kid do it a while back. A good while back, and that was probably what the problem was.

“All right, get out of the truck, hands up!”

Snowy looked out the window. The cop had stopped and was crouching behind an open door of the car, gun drawn and pointed at Snowy.

“Do it!” the cop yelled.

“Anything you say,” Snowy said.

He got out.

The cop’s face went slack at the sight of Snowy’s huge bulk. “All right,” he said, trying to mask his nervousness. “Take off that monkey suit, right now.”

“What’s a monkey?” Snowy asked.

“Don’t give me any trouble, bud, or you’ll regret it.”

“You’re the boss.” Snowy began to peel off the running jacket that Dave had recommended he buy.

“Take off the mask!” the cop growled.

Snowy said, “That I can’t do, friend.”

The cop came out from behind the door. “All right, play it that way. Turn around and put your hands over the hood.”

Snowy threw off the jacket. The icy air felt good against his fur. “Sorry, friend. I don’t have any time to waste.”

“You’re gonna have all the time in the world now, pal. Turn around there.”

Snowy turned and let the human lay hands on him.

The cop ran his hand up and down Snowy’s back.

“Hey, what is this? Where’s the damn …?”

“Something wrong, Officer?”

“Jesus. Jesus! It’s real. There’s skin under here!”

“I told you.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Snowy whirled and knocked the gun from the cop’s hand. The weapon went flying off into the shadows, clattering against the pavement.

“Sorry,” Snowclaw said. “But I told you I didn’t have any time to waste.”

The cop stepped back. Snowy ripped off the rest of the jogging outfit. He was already unshod, his running shoes having split open when the spell broke.

“What in God’s name are you?” the cop gasped.

“I’m a stranger here,” Snowy said. “By the way, did you ever hear of a place called Halfway House? I don’t expect you ever did, but …”

The cop turned and bolted into the woods Snowy watched him disappear, then listened to his frightened, dwindling footsteps awhile. At length the quiet returned.

Well, so much for the truck, and for trying to get help. He was on his own. It was the Great Ice Hunter against the world, this world.

He jumped a low fence and entered the forest. Stopping, he took a deep breath. Ah, yes. Many smells, many strange scents. Now, were there a couple he recognized?

Maybe. A few.This way, they told him.

He stalked off into the night.