He had gone from the frying pan into the pressure cooker. After having narrowly escaped being kidnapped along with Fern, Buster now found himself staring into the business end of a gun. He stood petrified, not knowing what to say or how to save himself from doom.
The other end of the shotgun was held by a rather tall, unshaven Pomeranian man with a bulging right eye that seemed to have been injured somehow. He glared grimly at Buster while the pom boy, apparently his son, merely watched the showdown emotionlessly.
"Can you be trusted?" asked the armed man with a gruff voice.
"Y-yeah," Buster stammered, if only because he knew a "no" answer would surely get his head blown off.
The pom man slowly lowered his shotgun, then motioned with his head toward the wooden house. "Inside," he ordered. "And you'd better not be lying."
It would be a very memorable day, thought Buster as he nervously followed the boy along the stone walk leading to the house. The father strode behind them, holding the shotgun at his side.
"Sorry about my dad and his gun," said the pom boy to Buster. "He's really careful about who he lets into the property."
"Especially when I hear some kid screaming for the police," his father added.
"My name's Zeke," said the boy as he reached out to open the battered screen door.
"I'm Buster," replied the bunny. "Can we speed things up? My friend's in trouble."
Once inside, he hurried to the phone on the wall, barely registering his surroundings. What he did notice was that the family sorely needed new furniture, as the upholstery on the old set was filled with holes and scratches. Chunks of sliced vegetables covered the kitchen counter, and the shelves were lined with religious books.
As Buster grabbed the receiver and dialed 911, a pom woman in an old floral dress walked into the room, holding a baby in her arms. "Who's this, Elbert?" she asked the man, who was replacing his shotgun in a closet containing a variety of firearms.
"His name's Buster," Zeke chimed in.
"I asked your father," the woman scolded him. "Don't speak out of turn."
The Englands—Elbert, Emma, son Zeke, and baby Elizabeth—appeared none too pleased when two police cars parked in front of their gate. Buster rushed out to greet them, speaking a mile a minute as he described Fern's abduction.
"You officers are welcome to come inside," Mr. England offered a bit grudgingly. "But if you choose to do so, let me make something perfectly clear—everything you see, I own legally."
The flood of worried people continued. Fern's distraught parents were next, followed by Bitzi and Harry Mills. As the word spread, some of Buster's classmates arrived at the scene--Arthur, Francine, Beat, and George. Mr. England spent most of his time standing next to his gun closet as the visitors wandered in and out of his house. Mrs. England, meanwhile, busied herself trying to revive the Dobermans with smelling salts.
"The men came out of these bushes," recounted Buster with a sweep of his arm, as Mr. and Mrs. Walters looked on. "I ran away just in time, but they caught Fern and put a bag over her head. I chased them, but they were too fast."
"Those awful men," mourned the tearful Mrs. Walters. "What could they want with my baby?"
"I know you were doing some investigating with her," said Mr. Walters to Buster. "Do you have any idea who did this?"
"Yes, I do," Buster replied. "It was Mansch. He tricked us into following him, then led us to where his goons were hiding."
"You shouldn't have followed," Mrs. Walters scolded him.
"We didn't know we were in danger until Fern figured out the dogs had been drugged," Buster explained.
Meanwhile, Francine was introducing her friends to Zeke, whom she knew from the aquatic center. "This is Arthur, this is George, and this is Beatrice."
"Call me Beat," said the British girl.
"I'm happy to meet you," said the pom boy. "Are you Christians?"
Francine turned her face away and rolled her eyes.
"I'm a Christian," said Arthur.
"Me too," added George.
"I'm non-religious," said Beat.
"Call upon the name of the Lord Jesus, and you shall be saved," Zeke advised her.
"I'll call upon the Lord Jesus as soon as I find out which flat he's staying in," Beat joked.
"This is no joke," said the pom boy seriously. "An awful hell awaits those who don't believe."
"I know a boy you would like," said Beat, reaching for her cell phone.
Several minutes later, Mel Cooper hung up his phone in astonishment. Clutching the slip of paper on which he had written the Englands' address according to Beat's dictation, he hurried from the study into the living room. His children Logan, Van, and Dallin were idly watching TV, while his daughter Odette was practicing ballet in the bedroom she had to herself since her sister Quinn had left for college. In the kitchen, wife Valerie was coaching toddler Megan in the proper manner of eating pork chops.
Mr. Cooper walked up to his sons and spoke in a low tone so that Odette wouldn't hear over her classical music. "Fern Walters has been kidnapped."
The boys' faces blanched. "Omigosh, no!" Van exclaimed.
"Dude, not Fern," said Logan worriedly.
Hearing the loud voices, Odette stopped dancing and stepped out of her room. "What is it?" she asked curiously.
"It doesn't concern you," Mr. Cooper admonished the swan girl.
"Fern's been kidnapped!" Van blurted out.
Odette nearly choked from the shock. "K-kid-kid..."
"You and your big beak," Mr. Cooper chided his wheelchair-bound boy.
Quickly recovering her composure, Odette folded her arms indignantly. "And why doesn't that concern me?" she demanded.
Her father ignored the question. "Odette, you stay here and take care of Dallin and Megan. The rest of you are coming with me."
"Why can't I come?" Odette insisted.
"You've seen enough of kidnappings for one lifetime," said Mr. Cooper firmly.
"Hmph!" grunted the swan girl, and trudged back into her room.
Not long afterward, the Cooper family's Buick joined the swarm of cars on the usually empty street running by the Englands' property. Logan unfolded Van's chair and helped him into it, then the clan made its way through the gate. While Mr. and Mrs. Cooper spoke with the Walters outside of the house, Van and Logan greeted the kids inside.
"Is it true?" Van asked Buster. "Has Fern really been kidnapped?"
"I saw it happen," said Buster seriously. "They almost got me, too."
At Beat's prompting, Zeke approached Van with a characteristically blunt remark. "I understand you're a Christian."
"Yeah, I am," Van replied.
"How'd you get crippled?" the pom boy inquired.
"Run over by a car."
"Too bad," said Zeke flatly. "But such things can be overcome by faith."
"And a good wheelchair," said Van, patting the leather cover on the armrest of his chair.
"Jesus healed the sick," said Zeke, this time more earnestly. "He gave sight to the blind. He caused the lame to walk."
"Did you hear that, Van?" said Francine, trying to lighten the tone. "He called you lame."
In the yard, Van's parents faced the same attitude as they conversed with the Englands. "We home-school our boy," Mr. England told them. "There's too much evil being taught in the schools. Evolution, atheism, socialism..."
"And those horrible Henry Skreever books," Mrs. England added. "They promote devil worship."
"Did you know Dungeons and Dragons was created by real witches?" said Mr. England. "My mother caught me with some of those books, and she burned them, thank goodness."
"So many children are disappearing nowadays," Mrs. England reflected sadly. "I think they're being used as human sacrifices by devil cults. I never dreamed it would happen right outside our door."
Having no success in steering the conversation in a direction that didn't involve satanic influences, Mr. Cooper motioned for his wife to leave. They went and stood behind the oak tree with the tire swing, out of earshot of the others.
"These people are fanatics," the duck man declared.
"I think you're being harsh," Mrs. Cooper retorted. "There's nothing wrong with protecting your children from evil."
"It was this sort of fanaticism that led to our daughter's kidnapping," said her husband.
"It was not!" Mrs. Cooper insisted. "They aren't like those awful polygamists at all."
"But it's the same us-against-the-world mentality."
"I don't want to hear any more," said the duck woman sharply, and she walked away to continue her chat with the Englands.
----
to be continued
(Author's note: I'm not trying to imply that all home-schooling parents, or all Christians, are "fanatics" like the Englands.)