The Second Trial by Rosemarie Boll

His eyes rolled wildly as he searched for a way out, but the room was a prison.
    The spider spun around and stood, staring, its jaws clicking open and shut, open and shut. Danny backed up until he hit the wall, his palms splayed out at his sides.
    The spider lifted two front and two back legs at the same time. Its head and four front legs moved to the left. Its abdomen and four back legs moved to the right. It had split in two.
    The head stayed where it was, jaws clicking, as the abdomen began stalking him. Danny scrambled along the wall until he wedged himself into the corner and could go no further. Still, the abdomen came at him, its crusty black casing studded with spikes, its claws banging the floor with each step. It approached the wall and then drew up to the boy, trying to force him out of the corner. Its needle-sharp spikes pulsed closer and closer, threatening to impale him. When the abdomen lunged at him from the side, he shot forward, straight into the waiting jaws of the spider’s head.
    Danny bolted upright in the bed and screamed, his chest heaving and his hair soaked with sweat. He clawed his way through the blankets and streaked for the door, his eyes rolling as he looked for an escape route. He found the door handle and slapped it down, but it wouldn’t open. Blood pounded in his ears. He sank to the floor and gasped for breath. Seconds ticked by. He didn’t know how many. Nothing in the room was moving, and he gradually understood it was all a nightmare. He ached for Buddy. He longed to have the dog lick the tears off his face and rub his warm body into Danny’s, to jingle the sweet music of his dog tags in Danny’s ears.

Chapter 16
    Wednesday
    Knock-knock-knock. Pause. Knock-knock-knock . He rubbed his eyes, loosening crusty bits along the lashes and at the corners. Where was he? What time was it? He looked uneasily around the room and then remembered where he was and why he was there.
    He glanced at his watch. 10:15.
    Knock-knock-knock. “Open the door. It’s me.”
    The voice was unmistakable. Sgt. Sandhu’s.
    Danny briefly considered not answering. But the only way out was through that door, so he might as well open it now.
    He twisted the key and the bolt slid back. Sgt. Sandhu, wearing casual clothes, stood in the doorway. It was Wednesday, the day Danny’s soccer team used to practice. Sgt. Sandhu’s day off.
    The police officer held a grocery bag in one hand and a paper bag full of doughnuts in the other. He stayed in the hall and offered the bags. “Fresh clothes. And some breakfast. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes.” His voice was purposeful, like his coaching voice at soccer practices. Danny took the bags and shut the door.
    Thirty-five minutes later he appeared in the lobby. He’d pulled his cap down over wet hair.
    Sgt. Sandhu was chatting with the new volunteer, Dave, a muscular young man now behind the counter. “Ah, here he is,” said Sgt. Sandhu, rising from his chair. “We’ll let you get back to work, Dave. Thanks.”
    He led Danny down the sidewalk. This time he’d come in his own vehicle, a candy-apple red pickup truck, starting to show rust around the wheel wells. The fenders had a couple of scratches and dents that he’d never repaired. At soccer practice, he had called it his bachelor buggy – the thing he’d spent all his time and money on before he got married and had twin daughters. “I used to think cars were important,” he’d said.
    Danny plopped onto the passenger seat and dropped the plastic bag on the floor. Before Sgt. Sandhu started the truck, he turned to the boy.
    â€œEveryone was worried about you.”
    Good.
    â€œWe’re all relieved you’re safe.”
    Right.
    â€œBut we have to go back to the NIVA office.”
    Danny tugged down his cap even more, crossed his arms, and examined his runners. Sgt. Sandhu tuned the radio to a local pop