Margaret and Casey stood motionless, exchanging terrified glances.
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What can we do? Margaret wondered silently, realizing that her entire body was trembling.
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"That's not your father!" Dr. Brewer with the Dodgers cap cried again, moving into the room. "He's a copy. A plant copy. One of my experiments that went wrong. I locked him in the supply closet because he's dangerous."
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"What have we done?" Margaret asked her brother in a low voice.
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"Put down the axe. You're not fooling anyone," the other Dr. Brewer said.
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"He has to be destroyed!" the axe-wielding Dr. Brewer shouted, staring at his look-alike across the room.
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"I -- I don't know what to do," Casey managed to whisper.
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Beside them, plants quivered and shook, sighing loudly. Tendrils slithered across the dirt. Leaves shimmered and whispered.
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"Kids -- what have you done?" Mrs. Brewer cried, her hands pressed against her cheeks, her eyes wide with disbelief.
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Staring wide-eyed from one man to the other, Casey seemed too frightened to reply.
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"You're the copy!" the other Dr. Brewer accused, and raised the axe again.
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And then… us!
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"Thank goodness!" Dr. Brewer with the Dodgers cap exclaimed. "We've got to get him back in the closet. He's very dangerous." He stepped up to Margaret. "Give me the axe."
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Margaret pulled back and swung the axe. "Stay back. Everyone, stay back."
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What can I do?
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Dad would never act like this, Margaret realized. Casey and I were idiots. We let him out of the closet. And now he's going to kill our real dad. And mom.
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"Margaret -- wait!" her mother cried, still too frightened to move from the doorway.
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Uttering a desperate cry of protest, Margaret leapt forward and grabbed the axe from the imposter's hands.
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What can I do? she wondered, trying to think clearly even though her mind was whirring wildly out of control.
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He gaped in surprise as she steadied her grip on the handle. It was heavier than she'd imagined. "Get back!" she screamed. "Get back -- now!"
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"You have to be destroyed!" Dr. Brewer with no cap repeated, his eyes wild, his face scarlet, moving closer, the axe gleaming as if electrified under the white light.
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The capless Dr. Brewer reached for the axe. "Give it back to me! You don't know what you're doing!" he pleaded, and made a wild grab for it.
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Her eyes darting back and forth from one to the other, she saw that each of them had a bandage around his right hand. And it gave her an idea.
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Which one is my real dad?
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"Casey, there's a knife on the wall over there," she said, still holding the axe poised. "Get it for me -- fast!"
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"Get back!" she repeated, desperately trying to decide what to do.
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Does this mean that the Dad in the closet is my real dad?
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"Princess -- don't do it," the capless Dr. Brewer said softly, staring into Margaret's eyes.
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"I'm warning you," Dr. Brewer in the cap said. "He's dangerous. Listen to me, Margaret."
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Margaret backed away and swung the axe again.
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Margaret hesitated.
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The other one never had.
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He called me Princess, Margaret realized.
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"Give me the axe," he insisted.
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"Get back! Both of you -- stay back!" she warned.
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Mrs. Brewer shrugged helplessly. "I -- I don't know."
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Margaret turned to her mother. "What should I do?"
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Which one? Which one? Which one?
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"Margaret -- give me the axe." The one in the cap made a grab for it.
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Casey obediently hurried to the wall. It took him a short while to find the knife among all the tools hanging there. He reached up on tiptoes to pull it down, then hurried back to Margaret with it.
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Margaret lowered the axe and took the long-bladed knife from him.
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"Margaret -- give me the axe," the man in the Dodgers cap insisted impatiently.
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"Margaret, what are you doing?" the man from the supply closet asked, suddenly looking frightened.
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"I -- I have an idea," Margaret said hesitantly.
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She took a deep breath.
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Then she stepped over to the man from the supply closet and pushed the knife blade into his arm.
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