Destroy the sphere, Alan repeated in his mind. "What sphere is he talking about?" he asked Tegan.
"I have no idea," his sister replied. Turning her earnest attention to Mansch, she inquired, "Who did this to you? Who attacked you?"
The semi-conscious man began to mumble again: "Sen…Sentinels."
Tegan gave her younger brother a puzzled look. "Why would the Sentinels attack him?" he said, rubbing his chin. "How would he even know who they are?"
"J-Jean," said Mansch, his eyelids drooping.
At an entirely different type of hospital, Arthur, D.W., and George sat in a waiting room, anxious to learn of the fate of the aforementioned Jean. Arthur, noticing a stack of dog-related magazines on a table, curiously picked one up. Its cover featured a tough-looking brown and white pooch and the headline, Care and Breeding of your English Bulldog.
"Ya know, that dog looks a lot like Binky," remarked D.W.
"Yeah, it does," said George with a chuckle. "But don't tell him I said that, or he'll clobber me."
An old lady two seats over smiled at the kids. "My son owns a bulldog," she told them. "His name's Fredo. He's such a gentle creature…loves to play with the grandchildren."
"I think bulldogs look mean," said D.W. with a slight shiver.
"Everybody thinks that," said the old woman. "They're misunderstood creatures."
A veterinarian in a white smock emerged from one of the hallways, carrying a plastic cage with him. "Here's your wolverine, Mrs. Kovacs," he said, handing the pet container to the lady. "She doesn't have a respiratory infection, just a cold. A little TLC, and she'll be as good as new."
"Thank you, doctor," said the oldster. Rising up slowly, she said to the creature in the cage, "Let's go home, Wisteria."
As she departed, the veterinarian turned his gaze to George. "You're the boy who brought in the injured greyhound last night," he stated. "I'm afraid I have bad news."
"Bad news?" said Arthur with alarm.
"Jean was in a great deal of pain," the doctor went on. "We tried many times to contact the owner, but there was no answer. We finally had to put her to sleep."
Arthur and George gaped in shock. D.W., for her part, asked, "Then why don't you just wake her up?"
"You don't understand," the veterinarian said to her. "We had to put her down."
"Then pick her up again," said D.W. innocently.
"We euthanized her," said the vet.
"You turned her back into a puppy?" said the aardvark girl. "Cool!"
"She's dead."
D.W.'s vapid smile twisted into a scowl. "Murderer!" she exclaimed.
Arthur and George remained speechless for a time as the vet went about his business. Finally Arthur managed to say, "Omigosh…Jean dead, the Professor gone…what'll happen to the X-Pets now?"
George shrugged. "I guess they'll have to go back to their normal lives. As dogs, I mean."
RIP Jean Greyhound 2003-2007
"Miss Turner?" uttered a young girl's voice.
Paige turned aside from her game of Tetris to find out who had summoned her. All she could see above the counter were the tips of a pair of catlike ears.
"Miss Turner," said Sue eagerly, "I'd like to see which books you have about zombies."
The librarian stood and moved over to her database terminal. "Let's see," she muttered, mainly to herself. "We've got My Parents are Zombies, My Teacher is a Zombie, Field Trip of the Living Dead, Captain Underpants vs. the Dreadful Zombie Bunnies of Neptune 9, The Scare-Your-Pants-Off Big Book of Zombies…"
"No, Miss Turner," said the cat girl. "I want nonfiction books about zombies."
Paige looked at her quizzically. "You…do know that zombies are imaginary, right?"
"I used to know that," was Sue's reply.
Later in the day, she was engrossed in Wade Davis' The Serpent and the Rainbow when her adoptive father called her to dinner. "We're having Stove Top stuffing tonight," said the moose man.
"Not hungry, Dad," the girl replied. Not hungry for your cooking, that is, she thought.
Mr. Krantz wandered to the rocking chair where she sat. "Whatcha reading?" he inquired.
"It's a book about Haitian zombies," Sue told him. "It's really cool. The author says that the voodooists in Haiti have one drug that can make you look like you're dead, and another drug that makes you obedient…"
"Interesting," said Mr. Krantz. "Maybe Mrs. McGrady's spiking the cafeteria food with the stuff, eh?"
"I did think of that possibility," said Sue. But what's the sphere got to do with it? she wondered. I can't find anything in here about a sphere that turns people into zombies, or a sphere that protects people from zombies, or any kind of sphere at all.
"If you don't like stuffing, there's ice cream," said the moose man. "But at least try the stuffing first. It's my special recipe."
"I'm reading, Dad," said Sue peevishly. "So go take a flying…"
A thunderbolt of realization exploded in her mind. Holy crud, she thought. That's the same thing I said to Beat just before she…
"Take a flying what?" said her adoptive father.
Of course, the cat girl cogitated. The truth's been right there, in front of my nose, all along!
By thrusting with her legs, she caused the rocking chair to swivel about and face Mr. Krantz. Holding aloft the glowing orb, which she had retrieved from her pocket while spinning, she ordered, "Dad, bend over and touch your toes."
The man quickly obeyed, wheezing slightly as his protruding belly weighted him down.
"Now say, 'I'm a big fat doofus,'" she instructed him.
"I'm a big fat doofus," said Mr. Krantz with an oblivious expression.
"Now say it a million times."
"I'm a big fat doofus. I'm a big fat doofus. I'm a big fat doofus…"
Sue gazed lovingly at the sphere she held. There's no limit to what I can achieve now, she thought.
"I'm a big fat doofus," said Krantz, his face starting to register consternation. "I'm a big fat doofus. I'm a big fat…"
"Okay, that's enough," said Sue flatly.
The man fell silent, and his eyes widened with fear and uncertainty. "How…how are you…"
"Get on your knees and worship me," Sue commanded.
To be continued