THE ROOM WAS ABOUT TEN FEET BY TEN FEET, WITH A single low-wattage lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. With his hands still bound behind him, Emmet searched over every inch of the room. It was constructed of plain, unpainted drywall, built and framed in an open space of the old barn. Maybe Dr. Catalyst had planned to use it as an office at some point.

On the drive here, he told Emmet that he had to pass a test. The instructor was going to be the Swamp Cat. Emmet didn’t care for the sound of that one bit. There was no telling what Dr. Catalyst had in store for him. Hopefully it didn’t involve opening the door to the room he was in and shoving the Swamp Cat inside. That wouldn’t end well.

Emmet sauntered over to the door and turned his back to it, trying the knob with his bound hands, just to make sure it was locked. It was, but you never knew. If he’d sat against the far wall and the door had been unlocked the whole time, he would have felt pretty foolish.

Emmet walked the perimeter of the room one more time. The light was so dim it made it nearly impossible to see anything, but he looked all the same. There was no way to reach the roof that he could find. He checked the drywall in the corners and thought about trying to kick his way through, but that would make a lot of noise. No doubt Dr. Catalyst would frown on escape attempts before the “test” had begun.

A strange odor reached Emmet’s nose. It smelled like … he wasn’t sure exactly … maybe like an animal. Which made sense, what with him being trapped in a barn. But he had lived in Montana and been around horses and cattle. This smell wasn’t like a barn animal.

From someplace close by came the uncanny roar of the Swamp Cat. It was so sudden and unexpected that Emmet yelped in surprise, the two noises echoing together in the barn. The creature roared again and again, whipping itself into a frenzy. Try as he might to keep focused on escaping, the continuous caterwauling of the beast was unsettling.

“Do you hear that?” Dr. Catalyst’s voice came through the door. Emmet wasn’t expecting him and he involuntarily jumped.

“Your instructor has arrived and he is quite anxious to begin the test,” he said. “He has been created especially for you, Emmet Doyle. I took the time and expense away from my crusade to save the Everglades, to create a hybrid specifically for hunting you down. You should feel honored.”

Emmet didn’t say anything — A) because Dr. Catalyst was crazy, and B) because he was terrified. But he was determined not to let the creep know it.

“What’s the matter, Emmet?” Dr. Catalyst crowed from behind the door. “Where’s your smart mouth now? Nothing to say?”

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” Emmet said. “I was actually busy playing Hacky Sack and you interrupted me. I was up to thirty-seven. That’s a personal record. Hacky Sack is a lot harder than it looks.”

Now it was Dr. Catalyst’s turn to not say anything. He probably wasn’t used to dealing with smart-alecky twelve-year-old kids. Despite all of his little manifestos and press releases and videos he sent to the media claiming to be this crusader saving the environment, he wasn’t any of that. He was a terrorist, a bully, and a criminal. He didn’t know what to do when people didn’t fear him. Which isn’t to say that Emmet didn’t fear him, because he did. But he’d let the Swamp Cat eat him before he’d give an inch to this loser.

“By the way, if I have to take a test,” Emmet said, “give that creation of yours a bath, will ya? It stinks to high heaven. I like a clean work environment, not instructors who smell like rotten meat. Makes it easier to concentrate.”

“Go ahead. Crack all the stupid jokes you want,” Dr. Catalyst said. “You don’t fool me. You’re petrified.”

“Oh, really? Are you so sure about that, Dr. C? Or should I say Grandpa Geaux?”

Even through the door, Emmet could hear the sharp intake of breath.

“What did you say?”

“That’s right, Gramps. When Calvin and I got home from school today, there was somebody waiting for us. I believe you know him as Yaha? He’s a doctor, right? Fixed up your arm after the Pterogator bit it? Anyhoo, he told us the whole story. Well, not the whole story, because you sent in your smelly little beast and that screwed things up a bit. But we got enough. And unfortunately for you, you caught me instead of Calvin. You see, Calvin’s the smart one. I’m just here for comic relief. He recognized you in the school when you came in during the Blood Jacket att —”

“Shut up!” Dr. Catalyst screamed, interrupting him. “Shut your mouth! You don’t know anything!” His voice was strained. Now he was really agitated.

“You do know it’s rude for a host to interrupt his guests, right?” Emmet said. “Like I was saying, by now Calvin has revealed your real identity to the police. They’ll be combing the Glades for this place. I’ll bet your picture is on every news station and website there is in the entire state. The jig, as they say, is up. Gramps.”

Emmet stepped back from the door and peered at the base of it. There was a tiny space between the door and the floor. He could still see the shadows of Dr. Catalyst’s feet. They remained there, totally still. Emmet decided to poke the bear a little more.

“By the way, trying to kill your own grandson? I mean, that’s not very grandfatherly. What did Calvin ever do to you? Not only are you horrible at being an ecoterrorist, you’re really bad at the whole grandfathering thing. I’d be happy to give you a few pointers. My grandpa Doyle takes me fishing and sends me presents. Let me think … Nope, he’s never once tried to kill me with a genetically altered super-predator, or kidnapped my best friend’s dad.”

“You know nothing about me or my family,” Dr. Catalyst spat. “Nothing. Stay in there and keep your mouth shut. At dawn, the test begins.”

“I don’t think you have that much time,” Emmet said.

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“The task force knows who you are. And they’re really smart, tough people. Despite all of your impressive gizmos and technology, they have more technology and even better gizmos. And Lieutenant Stukaczowski is in charge now. Remember when you sicced the Muraecudas on us? The kid who got all chewed up was his son. I think if he gets his hands on you, he’ll crack your head open like a peanut. Actually, since he’s not a total whackjob like you, he’ll probably just slap the cuffs on you. Although the whole peanut scenario would be really fun to see.”

“Whatever happens to me, Doyle, they’ll never find you in time.”

“Sure they will. Right now they’ve got people looking at property records, bank accounts, security camera footage, and anything else you might have even breathed on. They’ll be here soon. And besides that, I know something you don’t.”

“And what would that be?”

“Calvin is coming for me,” Emmet said.

“He doesn’t know where you are, either. I’ll give you credit for being a tough kid. But you’re dreaming.”

“Am I, Grandpa Geaux? You don’t even know your own grandson. I wouldn’t underestimate him if I were you. He knows the Everglades. I’ll bet he’s on his way here right now.”

Dr. Catalyst let out a single loud laugh. “Oh, I’ll take that bet. You have until dawn.”

“Dawn? Great. That will give me plenty of time to break my personal Hacky Sack record. Why don’t you go off and do some supervillain stuff so I can practice? Check the news while you’re at it. You might see your picture. It’s kind of cool to see yourself on TV.”

Emmet glanced down at the bottom of the door. The shadows had disappeared. Dr. Catalyst must have stormed off to get ready for Emmet’s test, whatever it was going to be. Or else he had sufficiently angered him.

Emmet strolled around the perimeter of the room one more time looking for something, anything that might lead to a way out. A weak spot in the wall. A vent or tool that he could use to pry the door open. He knew the chances of getting out were remote, but he had to try.

When he had all but given up hope, Emmet finally spied a nail sticking out of the drywall near the back corner. That was interesting. He turned around, feeling over the wall with his bound hands, until his finger scraped against the warm metal. It stuck out about a half inch. Emmet grabbed and pulled at it, but it was hard to get a grip with his hands cuffed behind him. Pulling and straining until sweat was pouring down his face, he managed to unplug the nail another half inch. The muscles in his shoulders and arms were cramping from the stress. He leaned against the wall to rest a bit. He had an idea.

Emmet lay down on the floor and put his feet up on the wall, squeezing the nail head between the thick rubber heels of his sneakers. He flexed his legs, pushing his toes forward and his heels up, almost as if the wall were the floor and he was trying to stand on the tips of his toes. Nothing happened.

He gathered himself and tried again. It was important to try to stay quiet, in case Dr. Catalyst heard him. But he was breathing heavily and grunting with the strain. Still, nothing was happening.

Emmet flexed as hard as he could one more time. When he felt the nail give a little he nearly shouted in a delirious burst of happiness. Biting his lip, he kept yanking at it with his heels, pulling more and more of it free from the wall. Then he scrambled upright and reached back with his hands to grab it. Twisting and turning, Emmet managed to loosen it until it finally popped free. Feeling around with his hands, he figured it was probably four inches long.

He slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans.

A nail. It wasn’t much. But it was something.