Free War of the World Records by Matthew Ward

snarling.
    â€œHammie!” cried Abigail. “Don’t let him get you!”
    Each creature clung to a mouthful of its opponent’s flesh as reptile and mammal struggled to outlast the other’s grip.
    The battle raged on for several moments, and then, little by little, the flailing subsided. From where the children stood, it was impossible to tell which creature was weakening: the lizard, the dog—or both.
    Abigail buried her face in Arthur’s tattered shirt. “Oh, Arthur,” she wept, “he’ll be okay, won’t he? He’s got to be okay!”
    Arthur wrapped his arm around his sister, but said nothing.
    The once thrashing creatures were all but still now, their savage sounds reduced to muffled gurgling. Arthur held his sister close and exchanged a woeful glance with Ruby.
    Then the dog began to stir.
    â€œAbigail, look!” Arthur cried.
    As the girl turned her head to see, Hamlet drew his hind legs beneath his body and, with a quick twist of his mid-section, raised his hindquarters into the air. With far greater difficulty, the dog straightened his front legs and hoisted his neck off the ground. In his jaws, Hamlet still gripped the wrinkled throat of the Komodo dragon, its head now dangling to one side.
    â€œHammie!” cried Abigail.
    The dog gave the lizard’s neck a feeble yet triumphant shake, then tossed its lifeless body to the ground. With his tongue hanging happily from his mouth, Hamlet stepped over the carcass and limped toward his human companions.
    As the dog drew near, Arthur sensed something amiss in his appearance. In the light of the moon, he could just make out a large dark patch of matted fur on the dog’s chest and left front leg.
    When he reached the children, Hamlet licked Abigail’s face, then collapsed exhaustedly at her feet. As the dog lay panting proudly, the little girl knelt down beside him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her nose into his fur.
    â€œGood boy, Hammie. Good boy,” she whispered.
    â€œThanks, boy,” said Arthur, scratching the dog between the ears. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be lizard food.”
    There was a rustling noise from the nearby Sim-o-Trees, accompanied by the bobbing beam of a flashlight. The next moment, Uncle Mervyn burst into the clearing.
    â€œI heard screaming. . . .” he spluttered.
    His flashlight beam quickly shifted from the children’s filthy faces and torn clothes to the massive, twisted corpse of the Komodo dragon.
    â€œOh my!” he exclaimed, rushing toward them. “Children, are you all right?!”
    â€œWe’re fine, Uncle Mervyn,” said Arthur. “Thanks to Hamlet.”
    â€œAnd Arthur,” added Abigail. “The lizard would’ve grabbed me long before Hammie could get here, if it weren’t for him . . . not to mention Ruby. She helped me out of the tree—and she’s not even a member of my team.”
    Ruby smiled bashfully.
    â€œWell done, all of you,” said Uncle Mervyn. “Your parents will be horrified when they hear what’s happened.”
    Uncle Mervyn raised his megaphone to his mouth and depressed the button. “Game over!” he called, his voice echoing through the empty night air. He removed a pistol from his pocket and shot a burning red flare into the sky overhead. “I repeat—the game is over! There has been a serious incident! All competitors reconvene at once!”
    Before he had even finished the announcement, Mr. and Mrs. Whipple and several of their children rushed into the clearing.
    â€œWhat’s happened?” inquired a distraught Mrs. Whipple.
    â€œWe heard screaming and barking from the other side of the estate,” her husband added. “We came as fast as we . . .”
    Uncle Mervyn shined the flashlight on the monstrous heap of scales and teeth. Arthur’s parents gasped.
    â€œAbigail! Arthur!”