AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some stories take forever. A few seem to pop in my head almost completely formed. This is one of the latter. Some years ago, a friend of mine was asking me about my story writing. He hadn't heard of Swat Kats, so I gave him a quick description, and mentioned that it had been sort of yanked off the air suddenly. "Wow, no final episode, even?" my friend asked. Apparently, that's all the impetus I needed - the basic outline of this story was in my brain a few minutes later. It took a lot longer to write, of course - I kept adding bits and pieces - but the basic story is the same one that popped in my head. Had I the money and power, this would be the "final episode" of the Swat Kats.
"Thanks again, Tiny."
Marc tucked the alternator under his arm and waved goodbye. While opening the door, he accidentally knocked down the HELP WANTED sign in the window. With a mumbled "oops - sorry", Marc put it back where it had been and stepped out the door. Once outside, he strapped the box to the back of his motorcycle and put his helmet on. It was rare for Marc to have to visit Tiny's Auto Parts - the store was actually south of the MegaKat City city limits - but no other shop in town had the part Chance needed. Not that Marc minded coming out this way. In fact, he sort of looked forward to it - a break from sitting in the office all day - so he was in no real hurry to get back. Mentally, Marc thought of several routes he could take home, finally deciding to cut through an unfinished project on the south end of town. MegaKat City was building a bunch of rent-controlled units in that area, but only a very few had opened yet, so Marc figured there wouldn't be much traffic to deal with out that way.
As he drove through the units, he evaluated the project. It looked almost ready to open. The landscaping wasn't done, but the buildings looked pretty much finished. The place was deserted, though. Apparently, the construction crews weren't working today. They must get Saturdays off, thought Marc...unlike me.
While lost in his reverie, Marc failed to notice a kat that came running out of an alley. He was running so furiously, he just narrowly missed smacking into Marc's motorcycle. The near-collision was enough to make Marc lose his balance, pitching him down on his side. The motorcycle slid a few feet further before coming to a rest.
Marc gave himself a quick once-over, and realized he was hardly injured at all. He had torn open his jeans at the left knee, and his hand were a bit scraped up, but otherwise he was fine. Rolling into a sitting position, Marc looked back at the kat that had caused this little mishap. He was dressed in a mismatched coat, shirt and pants, none of which was either new or clean, plus a stocking cap, despite the June heat. Marc surmised this guy was probably homeless and looking to live in one of the many unfinished units until they kicked him out. Looking closer, Marc noticed that the kat's eyes were huge, and he was trembling. He's probably worried that I'll kick his tail, thought Marc...a ridiculous thought, since the kat had at least five inches on Marc.
Marc, however, tried to be kind. He flipped his visor open and asked, "So what's the hurry?"
The homeless kat babbled incoherently.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Pointing back to the alley, the strange kat finally sputtered out, "They're there!" He then ran down the street at top speed.
Marc watched him disappear around the corner, then turned his head towards the alley. He could make out a dumpster and a few boxes, but nothing else. Shrugging, he got to his feet, retrieved his motorcycle, and parked it along the curb. After shucking off his helmet, he walked over and peeked down the alley. It was very clean - probably because no one had moved into the area yet. Marc took one step into the alley, then
stopped. This is what they always do in horror films, he thought. I'll walk through the alley, my eyes'll get really big, then I'm lying on a concrete slab while a coroner tries to put me back together.
Marc shook his head, then proceeded slowly down the alley. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but gradually, he started hearing a sound he couldn't quite identify. It did sound vaguely familiar, though. A quiet crashing noise. Pausing to think, Marc racked his brain. What did that sound like? He finally gave up, and continued creeping along.
Once he got to the next street, he moved close to a building and peered out. His eyes caught the source of the sound, and he was about to spin around and make a run back down the alley. But then his eyes narrowed again, and Marc leaned against the building for almost five minutes, observing. Finally, just as his arms were about to fall asleep, he turned around and quietly snuck back to his motorcycle. While tossing on his helmet, he mentally went through a map of the area, then headed for a shopping center about a mile away.
Marc pulled into a convenience store parking lot, and ran into a phone booth. He threw a quarter down the slot and pounded the digits as quickly as he could. While the phone rang, he finally tore off his helmet.
"Jake & Chance's Repair & Salvage," he finally heard.
"T-Bone?" he asked quietly.
"Hold on," he heard. Marc tapped his fingers waiting for Chance to pick the phone up again, which he finally did.
"We had someone up front. What's up?"
"Ummm..." Suddenly, Marc couldn't think of what to say. "Are you busy?"
"Sort of. What's the problem?"
"There something down here you two might want to check out."
"What is it?"
"Lizards, I think."
There was a pause. "Lizards," Chance finally said.
"I think," emphasized Marc.
Chance paused again. "What about lizards?"
"They're big," said Marc. "Like two, two and a half meters long."
"How many?"
"Four. There might have been more, but I couldn't see any more from where I was standing."
As Marc expected, there was another pause. "Four two-meter lizards. And what are they doing?"
"Sleeping, mostly."
Finally, Chance exploded. "Marc, you been out in the sun too long?"
"I don't think so."
"Four huge lizards sleeping in the sun."
"Three were sleeping in the sun. The last one was headbutting a truck."
"Hold on." Chance threw the phone down. Marc waited patiently until, as he expected, Jake picked up.
"Marc, what's going on? Chance is babbling something about lizards."
"Yeah, lizards. Or maybe they're dinosaurs. I saw four of them."
"Whereabouts?"
"The new housing project in the south part of town. They're on...umm...Shingle Street, like, eleven blocks east of Balboa Parkway."
"And what are they doing?"
"Three are sleeping, one's headbutting a truck."
"Headbutting a truck," repeated Jake.
"Yeah. There's no one in the truck...actually, there's no one in this area at all right now."
"So... why are you calling us again?"
Marc started to lose his temper. "Listen, I'm new at this. But when I see four two-meter lizards, I figure, you know, hey, that's odd, maybe you guys should know about this. But maybe I should have called animal control."
"No, that's cool. We're on it. Where'd you say they were again? Shingle Street?"
"Yeah, like 8000 South. But you might want to come down on Pollard Street. That's one block west. There's more room over there."
"Got it. We'll be there. Keep an eye on them 'til we get there."
Marc was about to answer when he heard a click, and the phone was dead. He replaced the receiver and walked slowly back to his motorcycle. He got on and was strapping on his helmet when he suddenly stopped. And what exactly am I supposed to do if they try getting away? he asked himself. Oh, well - I'll deal with that if I have to. Marc took off down the street, heading south.
