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Glick curled in a ball, trying to stay warm. The glass floor of the container was cold and hard, making his body ache even more. He blinked, not realizing that his eyes had been open. He could see nothing, not even his hand in front of his face. He was used to being in the dark, but in his home there were glimmers of light shining into the cage from the laboratory machines. In here, there wasn’t even a speck of brightness and he was so alone. He hated the other Brush-Men for killing Bumpers, but at least in his enclosure he’d never been completely by himself. The Guard wasn’t coming back and there was no escaping this container. He’d tried everything—climbing, digging, chewing. This was some new way to kill him. Bumpers’ and Flea’s deaths had been horrible but at least they’d been quick. He was going to starve or die of thirst alone in this cold cave.
He had to think of something besides how long it’d take to die. The dark wasn’t so bad. It’d been dark when he’d been in his egg. He closed his eyes, remembering the quiet movements and chattering of his clutch-mates. The memory was fuzzy, perhaps more imagination than recollection. Everything had fallen quiet so long before he’d hatched. The silence had happened slowly, the poison seeping first into the outer layer of eggs and then dripping into the inner until all were dead but him.
He opened his eyes, preferring the dark emptiness over those memories. Footsteps moved closer. He sat up. What if the Guard was coming to kill him? He had nowhere to hide and no weapon. His body shook, his shoulder bumping into the wall of glass. The drawer opened and light burst over him. He shielded his eyes, squinting into the brightness as the container lifted into the air.
“You doing okay?” Charlie stared at him, his face distorted from the glass.
Glick blinked. Actually, the light was dim in the room and had only seemed bright because of the absolute darkness of the drawer.
“Oh, you messed in there.” Charlie put the container on the desk and began looking around. “I’m going to have to find somewhere else to put you while I clean this up.”
“Let me out of here.” Glick scurried around, slapping the sides of the container. “Don’t put me back in that drawer. You might die or forget me, and then I’ll die.” Or worse, another Guard, like Stink or Topper, could find him. He’d be trapped.
“Stop running around. You’re smearing your poop all over.” Charlie shook the container a little.
Glick bounced against the walls but as soon as his world stopped moving, he began running again. “Let me go. Please.”
“Shhh.” Charlie put the beaker down and snatched another one from a shelf. “Here. This should work. It’s smaller but you only have to stay in there while I clean this one.” He tipped the container.
Glick’s legs dropped from under him as he slid across the glass. He was not going into that other death trap. He tried to crawl upward, his finger grasping for anything to latch onto but everything was smooth, slick glass.
“Come on.” Charlie tapped the bottom and some of the poop tumbled past Glick toward the opening. “Dang it.” He put the container back down. “This isn’t going to work.” He looked around the lab. “I have to find something to get you out of there.”
Glick collapsed against the wall of the jar, his heart beating hard against his skinny chest. He shook his head but the Guard wasn’t watching so he began yelling, “No. Let me go. I don’t want to go in another cage. Please.”
“Shhh.” Charlie looked at him, frowning. “Calm down, little guy. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Let me out.” Glick jumped up and down.
“Give me one minute.” Charlie looked around the lab, his lips pursed with thought. “Ahh. That might work.” He walked to the desk and came back with a pencil, slipping it inside the opening. “Climb on this, okay?”
This was his chance.
“Be careful. I don’t want you to fall and get hurt. Your hand is already in bad shape.”
His hand wasn’t healed, but the area where his fingers were missing had crusted over and no longer hurt too badly. Nothing that’d stop him from escaping anyway. He waited until the pencil was as far down as Charlie could reach before he jumped, wrapping his arms and legs around the wood.
“That’s it. Now, hold on.” Charlie slowly pulled the pencil upward, careful not to bump it against the side.
Glick shifted, gathering his legs under him and getting his hands ready. As soon as he was clear of the container, he was jumping. His stomach lurched at the distance between him and the counter. It was a long way down and that flat surface didn’t look soft—at all—but he had to risk it. He wasn’t going to spend days alone in a drawer, starving to death.
“That’s it.” Charlie pulled the pencil the last few inches from the beaker. “Wait to jump off until I get...”
Glick wasn’t waiting for anything. He closed his eyes and leapt. Flying was as wonderful as he remembered. This was just like jumping from bush to bush—fun, exhilarating—until...He cried out as he landed on the rock-hard counter, sliding across the slippery surface. He spread his arms and legs, trying to stop when one of his legs bent backward. He screeched.
“No! Stop!” Charlie dropped the pencil, his huge hand coming straight for Glick.
That Guard was not catching him again. He rolled to the side, dodging Charlie’s giant fingers before crawling away as fast as he could, ignoring the pain in his hand and leg.
Charlie glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “Come back here. I have food
Even that wasn’t enough. He could survive being hungry. He scrambled to his feet, but his leg buckled under him, so he hopped across the counter, swinging his leg back and forth to work out the kink.
“I mean it. Stop,” whispered Charlie.
The Guard’s hand scooped toward him. He hopped in the other direction, barely escaping. This wasn’t going to work. Charlie was fast. He tried putting his foot down. It hurt but it didn’t buckle. He raced, half-hopping and half-running. There was nowhere to hide on this blasted counter except the beakers and he wasn’t going near them.
He skidded to a halt at the edge. He’d thought jumping from the pencil to the counter had been a long drop. It was nothing compared to this. The floor loomed below him—bright white and shiny. It was going to be a lot harder than the dirt, maybe, even harder than the counter.
”Don’t. Don’t do it. You’ll get hurt. Bad.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the Guard. Charlie wasn’t reaching for him anymore.
“Come on. Come back. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” The Guard sidled along the counter, moving closer. He raised his hand, his fingers twitching a little.
The Guard was trying to get close enough to capture him again. He couldn’t let that happen. His eyes locked with Charlie’s and he stepped off the edge.