42 - Egg Monsters from Mars (4 page)

“Out,” Anne’s mom insisted. She held open the screen door for me. “Out. I
mean it. I don’t want to have to wash the whole floor.”

I didn’t have a choice. I carried the egg creature out into the backyard. It
seemed a little calmer. At least it wasn’t trembling and pulsing so hard.

Anne followed me to the driveway. The bright sun made the egg creature gleam.
My hands felt slimy and wet. I didn’t want to squeeze it too tightly. But I also
didn’t want to let it fall.

“Is it a puppet?” Anne demanded. She bent down to see it better. “Yuck. It’s
alive?”

I nodded. “I don’t know what it is. But it’s definitely alive. I found it
yesterday. At Brandy’s party.”

Anne continued to study the yellow blob. “You found it? Where?”

“I found an egg back by the creek,” I told her. “A very weird-looking egg. I
took it home, and it hatched this morning. And this is what came out.”

“But what
is
it?” Anne asked. She gingerly poked its side with a
pointer finger. “Oh, yuck. It’s wet and mushy.”

“It’s not a chicken,” I replied.

“Duhhh,” Anne said, rolling her eyes. “Did you figure that out all by
yourself?”

“I thought it might be a turtle egg,” I said, ignoring her sarcasm.

She squinted harder at it. “Do you think it’s a turtle without its shell? Do
turtles hatch without their shells?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

“Maybe it’s some kind of mistake,” Anne suggested. “A freak of nature. You
know. Like you!” She laughed.

Anne has a great sense of humor.

She poked the egg creature again. The creature let out a soft wheeze of air.
“Maybe you discovered a new species,” Anne suggested. “A whole new kind of
animal that’s never been seen before.”

“Maybe,” I replied. That was an exciting idea.

“They’ll name it after you,” Anne teased. “They’ll call it the Dodo!” She
laughed again.

“You’re not being very helpful,” I said sharply.

And then I had an idea.

“Know what I’m going to do with it?” I said, cupping it carefully between my
hands. “I’m going to take it to that little science lab.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “What science lab?”

“You know that little lab,” I replied impatiently. “The one on Denver Street.
Just three blocks from here.”

“I don’t hang out at weird little science labs,” Anne said.

“Well, I don’t, either,” I told her. “But I’ve passed by that lab a million
times, riding my bike to school. I’m going to take this thing there. Someone
will tell me what it is.”

“I’m not going with you,” Anne said, crossing her skinny arms in front of her
chest. “I have better things to do.”

“I didn’t invite you,” I sneered.

She sneered back at me.

I think she was jealous that I found the mysterious creature and she didn’t.

“Please get me the shoe box,” I said. “I left it in your kitchen. I’m going
to ride my bike over to that lab right now.”

Anne went inside and came back with the shoe box. “It’s all sticky inside,”
she said, making a disgusted face. “Whatever that thing is, it sure sweats a
lot.”

“Maybe your face scared it!” I declared. My turn to laugh. I’m usually the
serious one. I don’t get off too many jokes. But that was a pretty good one.

Anne ignored it. She watched as I lowered the creature into the box. Then she
raised her eyes to me. “You sure that isn’t some kind of wind-up toy? This thing
is all a big joke—isn’t it, Dana?”

I shook my head. “No way. It’s no joke. I’ll stop by later and tell you what
the scientists at the lab say about it.”

I fit the lid on the shoe box. Then I hurried to the garage to get my bike.

I couldn’t wait to get to the science lab.

As it turned out, I should have stayed as far away from that place as
possible.

But how could I know what was waiting for me there?

“Look out!”

Anne’s stupid sheepdog ran in front of my bike just as I started down the
driveway.

I jammed on the hand brake. My bike squealed to a sharp stop—and the shoe
box nearly toppled off the handlebars.

“Stubby—you moron!” I shrieked.

The dog loped off across the backyard, probably laughing to himself. I think
Stubby gets a real thrill by tripping me up whenever he sees me.

I waited for my heart to stop thudding in my chest. Then I steadied the shoe
box on the handlebars.

I started pedaling along the street, steering with one hand, keeping the
other hand on top of the box.

“The scientists at the lab have got to know what this thing is,” I told
myself. “They’ve
got
to.”

I usually speed down my street. But this morning I pedaled slowly. I stopped at each corner to make sure no cars were
coming.

I tried to steer away from bumps in the street. But my street has a lot of
potholes. Each time I hit a bump, I could hear the egg creature bouncing
inside the carton.

Just don’t bounce out, I thought.

I pictured it bouncing out of the box, dropping onto the street, and being
run over by a car.

I stopped to balance it better on the handlebars. Then I began pedaling
slowly again.

Some kids from school were starting up a softball game on the playground on
the next block. They called to me. I think they wanted me to join the game.

But I pretended I didn’t hear them. I didn’t have time for softball. I was on
a scientific mission. I didn’t look back. I kept pedaling.

As I turned the corner onto Denver, a city bus roared past. The whoosh of air
from the bus nearly knocked me over.

As I steadied the bike, I saw the lid push up from the shoe box.

The egg creature was trying to escape!

I grabbed the box and tried to push down the lid. I pedaled faster. The lab
was only a block away.

The creature pushed up against the lid.

I pushed back.

I didn’t want to crush it. But I didn’t want it to escape, either.

I could feel it bouncing inside the box. Pushing up against the lid.

I kept my hand on the lid, struggling to hold it down.

A station wagon filled with kids rumbled past. One of the kids yelled
something to me. I didn’t really hear him. I was concentrating as hard as I
could on keeping the egg creature inside the box.

I rolled through a stop sign. I didn’t even see it. Luckily no cars were
approaching.

The lab came into view on the next corner. It was a white shingled building.
Very low. Only one story tall. But very long. With a row of small, square
windows along the front. It looked like a very long train car.

I bumped up the curb and rode my bike onto the grass. Then I grabbed the shoe
box with both hands and hopped off. The bike fell to the ground, both wheels
spinning.

Gripping the box tightly in both hands, I ran across the front lawn, up to
the white double doors in front.

I found a doorbell on the wall to the right of the doors. I pushed it. Pushed
it again. Kept my finger on it.

When no one came to the door, I tried the knob. Pushed. Then pulled.

No. The door was locked.

I tried knocking. I pounded as hard as I could with my fist.

Then I rang the bell again.

Where was everyone?

I was about to start pounding again when I saw the sign over the door. A
small, hand-printed black-and-white sign that sent my heart sinking. It read:

CLOSED SATURDAYS AND SUNDAYS.

I let out a long sigh and shoved the box under my arm. I was so disappointed.
What was I going to do with this weird egg creature now?

Shaking my head unhappily, I turned and started back to my bike. I was
halfway across the grass when I heard the front door open.

I turned to see an older man in a white lab coat. He had shiny white hair,
parted in the middle and slicked down on the sides. His moustache was
salt-and-pepper. He had pale blue eyes that peered out at me from his pale,
wrinkly face.

His smile made his eyes crinkle up at the sides. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“Uh… yeah,” I stammered. I raised the shoe box in front of me and
started back across the grass. I could feel the egg creature bouncing around in
there.

“Is that a sick bird?” the man asked, squinting at the box. “I’m afraid I
can’t help you with that. This is a science lab. I’m not a vet.”

“No. It’s not a bird,” I told him. I carried the box to the doorway. My heart
was pounding. For some reason, I felt really nervous.

I guess I was excited about talking to a real scientist. I respect and admire
scientists so much.

Also, I was excited about finally finding out what had hatched from that
weird egg. And finding out what I should do with it.

The man smiled at me again. He had a warm, friendly smile that made me feel a
little calmer. “Well, if it isn’t a bird in there, what is it?” he asked softly.

“I was hoping you could tell me!” I replied. I shoved the shoe box toward
him, but he didn’t take it.

“It’s something I found,” I continued. “I mean, I found an egg. In my
backyard.”

“An egg? What kind of egg, son?”

“I don’t know,” I told him. “It was very big. And it had veins all over it.
And it kind of breathed.”

He stared at me. “An egg that breathed.”

I nodded. “I put it in my dresser drawer. And then it hatched this morning.
And—”

“Come in, son,” the man said. “Come right in.” His expression changed. His
eyes flashed. He suddenly looked very interested.

He put a hand on my shoulder and guided me into the lab. I had to blink a few
times and wait for my eyes to adjust to the dim light inside.

The walls were all white. I saw a desk and chairs. A low table with some
science magazines on it. This was a waiting room, I decided. It was all very
clean and modern-looking. A lot of chrome and glass and white leather.

The man had his eyes on the box in my hands. He rubbed his moustache with his
fingers. “I’m Dr. Gray,” he announced. “I’m the managing lab scientist here.”

I switched the box to my left hand so I could shake hands with him. “I want
to be a scientist when I’m older,” I blurted out. I could feel my face turning
red.

“What’s your name, son?” Dr. Gray asked.

“Oh. Uh. Dana Johnson. I live a few blocks away. On Melrose.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dana,” Dr. Gray said, straightening the front of his
white lab coat. He moved to the front door. He closed it, locked it, and bolted
it.

That’s weird, I thought, feeling a shiver of fear.

Why did he do that?

Then I remembered that the lab was closed on weekends. He probably bolts the
doors when the place is closed.

“Follow me,” Dr. Gray said. He led the way down the narrow white hallway. I
followed him into a small lab. I saw a long table cluttered with all kinds of
test tubes, specimen jars, and electronic equipment.

“Set the box down there,” he instructed, pointing to an empty spot on the
table.

I set the box down. He reached in front of me to remove the lid. “You found
this in your backyard?”

I nodded. “Back by the creek.”

He carefully pulled the lid off the box.

“Oh my goodness!” he murmured.

The egg creature stared up at us. It quivered and bubbled against the side of
the box. The bottom of the box was puddled with a sticky yellow goo.

“So you found one,” Dr. Gray murmured, tilting the box. The yellow blob slid
to the other end.

“Found one?” I replied. “You mean you know what it is?”

“I thought I rounded them all up,” Dr. Gray replied, rubbing his moustache.
He turned his pale blue eyes on me. “But I guess I missed one.”

“What is it?” I demanded. “What kind of animal is it?”

He shrugged. He tilted the box the other way, making the egg creature slide
to the other end. Then he gently poked the eggy blob in the back. “This is a
young one,” he said softly.

“A young
what
?” I asked impatiently.

“The eggs fell all over town,” Dr. Gray said, poking the egg creature. “Like
a meteor shower. Only on this town.”

“Excuse me?” I cried. “They fell from the sky?” I wanted desperately to
understand. But so far, nothing made sense.

Dr. Gray turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “We believe the eggs
fell all the way from Mars, Dana. There was a big storm on Mars. Two years ago.
It set off something like a meteor shower. The storm sent these eggs hurtling
through space.”

My mouth dropped open. I gazed down at the quivering yellow blob in the shoe
box. “This—this is a
Martian?”
I stammered.

Dr. Gray smiled. “We think it came from Mars. We think the eggs flew through
space for two years.”

“But—but—” I sputtered. My heart was racing. My hands were suddenly ice
cold.

Was I really staring at a creature from Mars?

Had I actually
touched
a Martian?

Then I had an even
weirder
thought: I found it. I picked it up from
my
backyard.

Did that mean it belonged to me?

Did I
own
a Martian?

Dr. Gray bounced the creature—
my
creature—in the box. Its veins
pulsed. Its black eyes stared back at us. “We don’t know how the eggs made it
through the earth’s atmosphere,” the scientist continued.

“You mean they should have burned up?” I asked.

He nodded. “Most everything burns up when it hits our atmosphere. But the
eggs seem to be very tough. So tough they weren’t destroyed.”

The egg creature made a gurgling sound. It plopped wetly against the side of
the shoe box.

Dr. Gray chuckled. “This is a cute one.”

“You have a lot of others?” I asked.

“Let me show you something, Dana.” Holding the box in front of him, Dr. Gray
led the way through a large metal door. The door clanged heavily behind us.