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Glick hid in the bushes. His home was now filled with lush vegetation and bugs—lovely, juicy bugs. They’d come with the plants just as he’d predicted. His only problem was catching them. He was fast but small. He’d never grown like the others of his kind.
The Brush-Men wandered about in their enclosure, paying no attention to his side of the cage. They couldn’t get to him so they didn’t even look at him anymore, but he saw them. He hated them. They should’ve helped Bumpers, not eaten him.
The door to the lab opened and the Guards named Louis and Charlie came in carrying packages of meat—the blood seeping through the white paper.
“Open the cage,” said Louis.
Open the cage? What were these Guards thinking? The Brush-Men would tear them apart. He wasn’t going to miss this. He climbed to the top of the bush. He’d rather watch Stink and Topper be devoured but he hated all Guards, so these two would have to do.
Charlie moved to a panel on the wall. “Here goes.”
The click of the door unlocking echoed through the room. Glick stared at the other enclosure but the door didn’t move. He glanced at the Guards. They weren’t going into the other cage. They were coming inside with him.
No one had been in his cage since the night Bumpers and Flea had been killed. He tucked himself in the foliage, his arms shaking as the giants stomped past.
The door was still open. He could flee but where would he go? He was alone and the outside was big and dangerous, but if he left, he could find Scottsmoor and kill him.
He stared at the opening, his freedom, his vengeance. He had to try. He owed Bumpers and Flea that much. His body trembled as he made his way toward the ground. His hands, slippery with sweat, slid off branch after branch. A huge thud shook the plant and Glick stilled, staring at the Guards. Louis had dropped his armful of meat in the center of the cage.
“Don’t dump it in one big pile.” Charlie unwrapped a chunk and tossed it toward the side farthest from the opening between the enclosures.
Glick licked his lips. He’d never tasted meat. The Guards dropped it from above into the other cage, never his.
“Why not?” Louis didn’t move to pick up his packages.
“Because they’ll fight over it.”
Glick couldn’t take his eyes from that large pile of deliciousness. The other Brush-Men didn’t seem thrilled when that was dropped from above instead of live Servants or Guards, but they weren’t as hungry as he was.
“So.” The larger Guard still didn’t move. “And why are you taking off the paper?”
“Because it’s paper.” Charlie unwrapped another package. “No one wants to eat paper.”
Louis shot him a disgusted look. “Do you think Scottsmoor had them strip the Servants and Guards before feeding?”
Scottsmoor. That name snapped Glick out of his food induced trance. He didn’t have time to eat. He hurried down to the ground, making his way to the end of the bush—to the end of safety.
“No, of course they didn’t make them strip,” said Charlie.
“Then those things ate the clothes.” Louis kicked the pile of meat, sending a few parcels skittering to the side. “A little paper isn’t going to bother them.”
Glick’s eyes darted to the door. It was a long way away, but the Guards were busy and they still had a lot of meat to distribute. He swallowed. Even one small chunk would be more than he’d eaten in his entire life.
“I suppose not.” Charlie stopped throwing the meat and stared at the Brush-Men who were gathered at the glass watching them.
This was his chance. Both Guards had their backs to the door. Glick darted through the grass to the closest bush and then the next. He made his way across the vast opening, using anything to hide—tree, bush, even dropping to his belly and crawling through the high grass.
“I hate how they stare at us,” said Louis.
“Me too,” said Charlie.
“Finish up and let’s get out of here,” said Louis.
“I can’t just drop it in one place.”
“Then throw it.”
A bunch of tiny thuds shook the ground. Glick spun around. The Guards were heading his way, but he was almost there.
He ran as fast as his legs would move to the next bush. The earth shook as the Guards strode closer. He launched himself into the foliage, his heart beating almost out of his chest. He was only a few yards from the door, but there were no more trees, no more bushes—nothing but open grass. He’d be exposed, vulnerable, but he had to try. His small, brown body trembled as he raced forward.
The Guards’ heavy footsteps drew closer. They were going to catch him and stomp him into pieces just like Stink and Topper had done during the hatching. His chest heaved as he ran faster. He had to get to the door. He had to get away. A foot landed in front of him. He stumbled and then darted to the side, cringing as he prepared for the pain of the other foot crushing him into the earth, but the Guard continued toward the door.
It must not have seen him. He’d never escape, not now. Not with the Guards in front of him, but he still had time to get away. His legs pumped faster and he gasped for breath. He had to get back to the bushes, back to safety. His toe connected with a root and he tripped, skidding through the grass, his brown body easy to see in the vast field of green. He scrambled to his feet as the Guards walked out of the cage. He stood, panting as his chance to escape slid closed.
“Make sure it’s locked.” Louis turned around, facing the cage.
Glick dropped to the ground, burying himself in the grass.
Charlie tugged on the handle and then ran his hands around the edge of the door. “Yep. Sealed and secure.”
“Good. Ready?”
“Yeah.” Charlie ran his hands along the door again before stepping away from the cage.
Glick’s breath was still coming fast and hard, but the excitement was gone, replaced by the familiar sense of failure. He’d done it again—tried and failed, just like with his clutch-mates and his friends.
The humming of a motor made him roll over and stare at the ceiling of the other enclosure. It must be feeding time. His stomach rumbled. Time for him to eat too. He pushed to his knees, staying hidden in the grass as he crawled toward a delicious pile of meat. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into all that cold, bloody flesh. He stilled. Why had the Guards left so much in his cage? Why had they left any? He glanced at the ceiling of the other enclosure again. The window hadn’t opened, but the sound of the motor covered the Brush-Men’s chirps of food, food. He turned, staring at the doors but both were closed. The other Brush-Men weren’t even looking that way. They were focused on the glass that separated the enclosures because...the glass was rising.