Were-Care

The idea had come to Karen as she was completing her degree in early childhood education. There had been classes on dealing with all sorts of children with special needs. Academically gifted children, academically challenged children, physically challenged children, children with ADD and ADHD, the list went on and on. But there was no listing for children with Acquired Lycanthropic Polymorphism Syndrome.

The twins, Karen’s younger brother and sister, had been bitten by a were-fox before they even learned how to walk. Both their parents held down full time jobs, so much of the twins’ care fell to Karen. Karen’s parents felt guilty dropping such a big responsibility on an 11 year old girl, but Karen loved it. She taught them to walk, to talk, potty trained them and taught them not to devour people or pets during their full transformations.

Caring for the twins sparked Karen’s interest in early child care and early childhood education. She had the idea while still a freshman in college. She spend all her spare time refining and researching and, by graduation, had a complete business plan for Were-Care, the world’s first child care facility entirely dedicated to children with ALPS.

Karen picked San Francisco to open Were-Care. She picked that city because it was well known for tolerance to any and all people who might traditionally be viewed as abnormal. Unfortunately, that tolerance did not extend to children with ALPS. Parents, who would have been appalled if their child refused to play with a third world child adopted by two flamboyant lesbians with AIDS, actively avoided any child with the “taint” of ALPS.

Her years of research had given Karen several possible locations in the city for her center plus the names of influential contacts in the San Francisco were community. She had even found others like her; older brothers and sisters who had helped raise ALPS children, to work in the center. Discreet mailings to parents of young ALPS children led to interviews with parents. When the parents saw Karen’s preparations, applications for children to attend Were-Care poured in. The school was filled in less than a week and even had a waiting list.

From the beginning, things went smoothly. The child care center was unobtrusive, simply having a small sign reading “Child Care and Preschool” out front. People unassociated with the school assumed it was simply another preschool catering to the wealthy and paid it no further attention.

Everything went smoothly for six wonderful months, until this morning.

Karen was already planning to expand her business. The waiting list was growing and she desperately wanted to help those parents and children on the list. If expansion hadn’t been in the works, she wouldn’t have agreed to interview a father who wanted to be added to the waiting list. Maybe the man would have gotten past the secure door anyway. She would never know.

At 10:00 AM sharp, the intercom buzzed in Karen’s office. “Yes?” she said, answering the buzz.

“Hi, I’m Jim Cradle. I have an appointment with Karen Hutchins?” a man’s voice replied.

“You’re right on time, Mr. Cradle. I’ll be right up to let you in,” Karen said.

Jim Cradle turned out to as nondescript as a person could be, but he smiled and shook her hand as she let him in. Starting off toward her office, Karen said over her shoulder, “My office is just over here, Mr. Cradle.”

“How did you hear of us,” Karen asked as the two of them sat down.

“Oh, you know,” Cradle replied, “I just poked around. Do you know that I couldn’t find out anything about your facility except that it’s new and exclusive? Haven’t you ever heard of advertising?”

“Our parents value their privacy,” Karen replied, her voice cooling considerably. “I don’t know what newspaper you work for-“

Karen froze as a gun appeared in Mr. Cradle’s hand. “I don’t work for a newspaper. You might say, I’m more of a freelancer. I had to ask myself, what kind of preschool would go out of its way not to advertise itself? Obviously, a very exclusive one. And exclusive means expensive. And expensive means parents willing to pay a lot of money to get their precious little babies back unharmed.”

“B-b-but our parents aren’t rich!” Karen protested.

“Yeah, and I’m Santa Claus,” Mr. Cradle sneered. “Now, I’ve found three year olds to be the best bunch to take. They’re just old enough that you can scare them into being still. So, you and I are going to go down to your three year old room, load them all into your big van and drive out of here.”

“I’m not lying! These children aren’t-"

“Look, either you can come along and help keep the brats quiet and safe or I can shoot you and take whoever is in charge of the three year old room,” the man said. “Your choice.”

Frightened and dejected, Karen got up and led the man down the hall to the three year old room. Along the way, she tried once more to convince Mr. Cradle, or whatever his real name was, that he was making a mistake.

“Please, please listen to me,” she said. “These children come from mostly middle class families. They don’t have a lot of money to pay a ransom!”

“For the children’s sake, you better be wrong about that,” Cradle said as they entered the three year old room.

The children were all sitting at tables, getting out their morning snack. The teacher was busy passing out napkins and pouring juice into paper cups. All the children smiled when they saw Karen.

“Hi Miss Karen!” they all called out.

The teacher looked up briefly, smiling to Karen then started to go back pouring juice. Then she froze as her brain registered the man with the gun.

“K-karen? What’s going on?” the teacher asked, her voice quavering.

“It’s a kidnapping, lady,” Cradle answered, waving his gun around, “and you get to help keep the little monsters in line.”

The bossiest of the three year olds, a girl named Caitlyn, said “Miss Janet didn’t ask you, mister. She asked Miss Karen. You’re being rude!”

“Rude?” laughed Cradle. “I’ll show you rude!” He shoved Karen toward the tables. She crashed into them spilling drinks and snacks all over the floor and the children. The children cried out in surprise and fear.

“That man was mean to Miss Karen!” said the Caitlyn, walking over to stand right in front of Cradle. “Let’s be mean to him!”

Cradle laughed, “Do your worst, little girl. I’m not worried.”

Caitlyn was worried, though. Doing her worst was what she’d been taught not to do. Then Miss Karen said, “You heard the man, Caitlyn. Do your worst. All of you do your worst.”

In that last instant, as a dozen children transformed into were creatures, Cradle probably realized that he had picked the wrong child care facility for his plan. Fortunately, Cradle was a big man. There was enough of him for all the classes to enjoy.