They Call Me Creature Read Free Page B

feet.
    â€œWh-what’s happening?” I cried.
    Joe spun around, his eyes wide with fright and confusion.
    The sky grew even blacker, as if night had fallen.
    A shrill, chittering squeal rang out, echoing off the trees. And over the whistlelike cries came the furious flapping of wings.
    â€œBats!” Joe cried.
    Yes. Bats—hundreds of bats—swarmed above us, squealing, swooping high, then darting into the trees.
    â€œBut—but—” I sputtered. “Bats don’t fly in the daylight!”
    I gasped as a bat swooped over my head. I felt its dry, sharp wing scrape against my face, felt a blast of hot wind off its body.
    â€œGet down, Laura!” Joe grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me to the ground.
    â€œGet down! Cover your head! They’re ATTACKING!”
    â€œCover your head! Cover your head!”
    Those were the last words I heard. The flapping wings drowned out Joe’s screams. The shrill bat cries seemed to pierce my eardrums.
    I pressed myself into a tight ball and covered my head with both hands. “Ohhh.” I let out a terrified moan as bat wings slapped my back and shoulders.
    This can’t be happening! I thought, shuddering. Bats don’t come out during the day.
    What is going on?
    I felt the beating of wings against my hands. Felt a sharp tug on my scalp.
    â€œLeave me alone!” I screamed, frantically brushing two bats from my hair.
    All around me—all over me—the beating wings, the scrape of talons, and the cries … the shrill siren cries.
    No—please—no, I silently prayed. Go away. Go away!
    I tried to stay curled in a tight ball. But each slap of a bat wing, each thud of a bat slamming into me, each scratch of a bat talon against my clothing made me squirm in horror.
    â€œJoe—are you okay?” I shouted. “Joe—?”
    No answer.
    And then the shrill squeals began to fade. The sound of beating wings rose up, away from me.
    â€œJoe?” I cried, still afraid to open my eyes. “Joe? Why don’t you answer me?”

 

    â€œJoe?”
    Bat wings flapped in the distance now. The shrill cries faded and died.
    Trembling, still hunched into a tight ball, I slowly opened my eyes. And raised my head.
    And screamed again.
    Beside me, Joe was hunched on his knees, battling two large bats.
    One bat had its talons stuck in Joe’s thick hair. It batted its wings furiously, shrieking, struggling to pull free.
    The other bat clung to the neck of Joe’s T-shirt. Its outspread wings blocked Joe’s face from view.
    But I could hear his desperate cries.
    He swiped at the bats with both hands.
    The bats shrieked and flapped.
    Joe toppled onto his back. He wrapped a hand around the bat at his throat. Squeezed until the bat grew silent.
    The curled talons loosened. Joe heaved the bat into the trees.
    The other bat clung to his hair.
    I stood frozen in horror, watching Joe struggle. Then I finally managed to move. I dived to the ground—and reached for the flapping bat.
    â€œNO!” Joe screamed. “GET AWAY!” Then he rolled over in the dirt. Grabbed the bat with both hands. And carefully pried it from his hair.
    The bat squawked and squealed.
    Joe heaved it aside. Before I could say anything, he leaped to his feet and started to run.
    â€œJoe—” I called. “Stop!”
    He stopped on the far side of a small clearing. His face was bright red. He was gasping for breath.
    â€œDon’t go. My house is right over there,” I said. “My dad is a doctor. I mean, he’s a vet. But he knows about bats. Let him take a look at your cuts and scratches.”
    â€œNo,” Joe said, shaking his head. His hands clutched the sides of his hair. “I—I mean, no thanks.”
    â€œIs your head cut? Did they scratch you?” I asked.
    â€œI think I’m okay,” he insisted. “Anyway, my mother is home. She’ll take me to the