Scott sat down, seething on the slick silver settee that Detective Hansen had chained him to nearly three hours ago. Time was short. Long Jake was going to be at the drop in only thirty minutes and he wasn’t going to wait for Scott.

“Come on! Give it back!” he cried one last time, his pre-pubescent voice cracking. He hated being eleven again, even if only for a few hours.

If this drags on much longer, Scott will have to get out the Other item. The Big One. He would never convince anyone that it came out of a full-sized cereal box, much less a dainty snack package. Hell, it barely fit inside his hollow leg.

“I can’t bring you the gun, son,” said Fischer’s tinny voice through the intercom, “but how about some of them Jacks?”

That’ll do, Pig. Scott mouthed, adding a sniffle for effect. “Okay,” he said, slinking into the shadow.

Hansen fumbled his keys into the lock and as the door slid open he saw the creature for the first time, it’s thigh flayed opened like a suitcase, the Big One pointed at his chest.