Bushroot reached the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway. As Eric joined him, he pointed to a room at the far end.

"That's my old bedroom." he said. They walked down to it. Bushroot hesitated a moment before opening the door, then did so and entered.

The room was relatively small. There was a single window in it, directly opposite the entrance. It was bare of furniture except for a bed frame in the corner and and old chest of drawers beside the door. There was another door, which Eric opened and found a closet as he expected. It was empty.

Bushroot looked at the bed for a moment. For 18 years he had slept there, sometimes cried himself to sleep there. But those weren't the memories he wanted to keep. Now he was too tall to even fit in the bed.

"Reggie..." said Eric, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you want to look in here?" he asked, indicating the chest.

"Sure." said Bushroot. "But most of what was in there were clothes. I expect they've all been packed away."

"Well, let's look." Bushroot nodded in agreement and Eric opened the top drawer. It was empty, except for a lot of dust. So far, no good...then he heard an exclamation from Bushroot.

Reggie was holding up an old magazine, dating back to 1975. Eric noticed that it was a copy of National Geographic. "I don't believe I found this." said Bushroot. "I wrote a letter to this magazine when I was just 11 years old."

He opened the book as if it were ready to crumble to dust at the slightest sudden move. Eric was amused, but then he remembered that this book was a piece of Reginald's former life, and that he would treasure it. Reggie pointed to a page.

Sure enough, there was a letter praising an article about the rain forest, signed Reginald Bushroot. It was a fairly long letter, and you would never know it had been written by a child, the grammer was so good.

"I wrote that letter when I was supposed to be doing my homework." said Reggie. "My father was furious, and threw the magazine out when it came. But I rescued it. I'm so glad I found this." He laid the magazine on the top of the chest. So far, so good.

There wasn't much else in the chest...just a few scraps of paper with notes on them. But Bushroot wanted to save them. "I wrote down information about watering my plants on these." he explained. Finally they closed the last drawer.

"Where would your pictures be-and your yearbook?" asked Eric.

"Dad said all my stuff was packed in a box when I moved out." replied Reginald. "Let's check the basement-we used to store old things there."

They went back downstairs. There didn't seem much point in checking the other rooms-one was the washroom, and Reggie's parents' room. It was doubtful anything of his would be in there.

Suddenly, there came a loud crash and bang from the kitchen. Both men raced towards it, although they had a pretty good idea what it was.

Sure enough, Spike had gotten into a cupboard where pots and pans were stored, and had managed to knock most of them onto the floor. Reginald grabbed him and pulled him away. Eric couldn't help laughing at the sight.

"And I thought my cat got into things." he said.

Bushroot gave him a dirty look. "Easy for you to laugh." he said. "How can I look for anything if I have to worry about him tearing the house apart?"

"He probably misses you." said Eric. "Why don't you let him come with us?"

Reginald looked at Spike, who looked back at him and Eric in turns, with his most eager look. "Okay." he said. "At least I can keep an eye on him. Let's clean this up and go downstairs."

The job was done in a few minutes. Then the two men and the plant-dog went down to the basement.

It looked like it would be quite a job. The main room of the basement had a number of large boxes in it, with no writing visible to indicate which was which.

"So...which one?" said Eric.

"Let's start opening them." said Reginald. "I'm not going to let something like this stop me now." Eric noticed the determined look on his face. He realized that Bushroot considered this a mission-one that would be completed at all costs.

So they began opening the boxes. Some were sealed with tape, which Bushroot had trouble tearing with his hands, so Eric helped him. They found things like books, clothes, even an old set of encyclopedias, but nothing that was obviously Reginald's. Spike was surprisingly behaving himself. It was almost as if he knew how important this was to his master.

Then Bushroot let out an exclamation. "What is it?" asked Eric. He looked and saw that Reginald was holding a hard-covered book that said "Class of 1981". Bushroot's high school yearbook.

Reggie sat down on the concrete floor and slowly opened the book. "Wow..." he said. He smiled at Eric. "You'd think I was opening this for the first time."

"I guess you are, in a way." replied Eric. Reggie nodded slowly and began thumbing through the pages. "I didn't belong to any clubs or anything." he commented. "No one wanted to start a botany club, and laughed in my face when I brought it up." Eric saw a cloud pass over Reginald's face for a moment. But it went away in a second.

He found the faculty page. "She-she was my homeroom teacher." he said, pointing to an elderly female duck named Mrs. Lathli. He stared at the picture for a moment. "She was nice...but she didn't have much time for my plants. But then again, not many did." Eric nodded.

"Reggie...what about the graduates? Your picture would be there."

"Oh...right." Bushroot seemed almost nervous to see it, and Eric realized it would be the first time he'd seen a photograph of his former self since his transformation. He could only imagine what was going through Reggie's head as he turned the pages.

Finally he reached the list of grads. First the A's...and Eric caught a glimpse of Bushroot's beak turning down slightly as he looked at some of the pictures.

"Who are they?" asked Eric.

"Just...people I recognize. Jocks...the 'in' crowd. People who saw me as an easy mark."

Eric nodded. "Well, they don't matter anymore. You're looking for you."

"Right." said Reggie as he kept turning the pages...until he reached the B's and found himself.

Reginald sucked in his breath slightly at the picture. It showed a young man with an already-thinning crown of hair on his head. He wore a nice-looking dark suit and tie, and a somber expression on his face. His description read as follows:

REGINALD BUSHROOT DOB: June 6, 1963 POB: Newport, Maine Course: Academic Ambition: To become a botanist Extracurricular activities: Nature club

"So...there you are." said Eric.

Bushroot nodded. He wished his hands weren't so shaky. "That's me...that's who I was. Now I have something." As he kept staring at the picture, Eric saw his expression visibly change, from seriousness to one of satisfaction. Suddenly a big grin broke out on his face. "I sure have changed, eh?" he said, looking up at Eric.

Eric laughed. He was relieved to see that Bushroot still had his sense of humor, and that he apparently had found what he wanted. "You sure have." he said. "For the better."

Bushroot suddenly jumped up and placed the yearbook on a box. Then he started digging through the box, like a kid on Christmas morning. "There's got to be more in here...I've got to find it!" The excitement in his voice was unmistakeable.

Eric helped him. They did find a few more things, most importantly pictures of Bushroot as a baby and a child. Reggie laughed at the baby picture. "I have about as much hair there as I did just before my experiment." he said.

"You've made up for it since then." said Eric, noting the foilage covering Bushroot's head. Reggie laughed again and kept looking.

They also found some notebooks. They contained notes about the flowers and plants around Reggie's yard. "Wow...you really meant business, didn't you?"

"I've loved plants all my life." said Reggie, growing serious for a moment. "I never cared what my parents or anyone thought. It's what I was meant to do. Maybe this was meant to be, as well." he said, indicating his plant-like figure.

"Maybe it was." said Eric. "Now you can do more than just study plants...you literally understand them like nobody else."

"That's what I always wanted to do." said Bushroot. "Get to know plants better than anyone."

It was early evening. Everything they had found had been placed in a box, which they left in the kitchen. The plan was to visit with Andrew for a while the next day, then return to St. Canard.

"Come on." said Eric. "Let's go out and have fun tonight."

"Who...me?" replied Bushroot. "I can't go into a club like this."

"So who has to go to a club? We can get something to eat, go bowling, maybe visit the library...you worked hard to see this thing through. We deserve a good time."

Reggie grinned. "Just let me get my stuff on." He returned a few minutes later with his hat, coat and track pants on. They locked the door behind them, went to the car...and there was Spike, eager to go.

"Spike, you can't come with us." said Reggie. "Someone has to guard the house." Spike started whining, then looked to Eric, hoping for some of the same support he had gotten earlier.

"Sorry, old boy." said Eric. "I've gotta agree with your boss on this one. We can't bring you into public places, and you wouldn't want to be stuck in the car. And like Reg said, you've got to guard the house."

Spike hung his head, but seemed to accept the decision. "We won't be that late. We'll bring you back a treat." Eric let Spike in the back door himself, and then he and Bushroot left.

They had a good time. They ate at the Pasta Garden, then went to a movie, and did go bowling. Bushroot was a surpisingly good bowler-it seemed that the shape of his feet gave him better balance, and his hands made it easier to throw the ball. Finally, they were driving back to the house.

"Eric..." said Bushroot, "I want to thank you for helping me do this. And for understanding why I had to."

"Hey, you're my friend." replied Eric. "And friends help each other out, right?"

"Most people would find it strange to drive all this way just to get some old pictures and things."

"But you're not like most people. You had a very special reason to come home and get those things. They're a link to your past, and who you used to be. There's nothing strange about that."

Reginald clasped Eric's upper arm. "Thanks. For everything." Eric smiled.

They turned into the street, and into the driveway. But almost at once, both men sensed that something was wrong. Then they saw the front door wide open, and lights shining in the inner rooms. Then they knew.

Reginald jumped out of the car and ran for the front door. "Reggie...wait!" shouted Eric, running after him. If there were intruders, and they were still inside...

He ran though the door of the closed-in porch, and then through the door of the house itself. And then he knew what had happened.

The house had been ransacked.

Stunned, Eric went into the living room. Reginald stood there, silent, still. Papers, books and knicknacks were scattered all over the floor. The TV was gone. The old mantle clock was also missing from its place over the fireplace. They had torn through drawers and threw the contents out, callously.

Then Bushroot walked into the dining area. The china cabinet was empty. Cleaned out. The silverware that had been in the drawers was also gone. Reginald looked around, unable to believe his eyes.

They went through the house, and found the same. Anything of material value-clocks, radios, jewelery...had been taken, and a mess left in its place. Eric could hardly believe his eyes. Bushroot had gone pale, and the expression on his face was the exact opposite of the happy look he had had earlier.

"The china...the silverware...they were my mother's." said Reggie. "That old radio in the study...it's almost 60 years old. And my grandfather's pocket watch..." His face suddenly contorted, and he picked up a plate. "You BASTARDS!!!" he screamed, hurling the plate against the wall, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Reggie..." said Eric. He found it hard to talk. He found it hard to look at his friend, in obvious agony. And he found it harder still to look at the pieces of Reggie's past, dumped all over the floor. Although nothing had been taken, the glass in the frames of Reggie's pictures were broken.

"Reggie..." he said again. "We'll find out who did this. We'll get the guys who did this."

Bushroot gave him an incredulous look. "How?" he asked. "How are the two of us going to find them?"

Eric thought. "Maybe Spike..." He stopped short. They had left Spike in the house. But they hadn't...found him when they looked around. Where could he have gone?

Bushroot started to panic. "Spike!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. He raced outside. "Spike!" he screamed. Eric grabbed him by the arm. "Reggie, stop it. We'll find Spike. We know he's not in the house. Maybe he..."

Reginald yanked his arm away. "Maybe he's dead." he said. The despair in his voice sickened Eric. "It's all over. Just when I thought my life was complete...it's been ruined."

"Reg..." Eric didn't know what to say. Suddenly they heard a noise out back.

"If they've come back for more...I'll..." Reginald looked around at the huge elm trees that were everywhere in the neighborhood. They were large enough to tear the entire area apart, if Bushroot ordered them to do so. Eric realized that Reggie was in a dangerous mood. "Come on." he said. "Let's take a look."

They went around back. It was dark, but they could discern a movement in the yard. Reginald raised his hands, ready to give a command...which Eric knew he could do nothing to stop.

The figure became clearer, and clearer...until the familiar shape of a huge Venus flytrap came into sight.

"Spike!" cried Reggie, flinging himself at the plant-dog. "Oh, God, I thought you were..." He threw his arms around Spike, who licked him voraciously. Eric also kneeled down and rubbed Spike's foilage, and got a licking himself.

At length they stood up. "What happened?" asked Bushroot. Spike launched into a wild session of gesturing and making raspy noises as Bushroot listened. Eric had to wait for Reggie to tell him.

Reggie finally looked at Eric. "There were two men." he said. Spike tried to stop them, but one of them hit him with a chair. It knocked him out, but he recovered and tried to chase after them. He ran quite a ways down the street, but finally gave up and came back. I guess nobody saw him in the darkness."

Eric nodded. "That was lucky. Good thing our Spike's a tough guy." Spike looked up at him and lolled his tounge out. Only then did the two men notice the mark on his head. "But he must be exhausted. Let's get him inside."

They carried Spike in and laid him on the couch. Then they went back out to the kitchen.

"Well, that's one good thing." said Reggie. "But it dosen't change all this, does it?" He indicated the mess around them.

"I said we were going to stop the guys who did this, and I meant it." replied Eric. "But first..." He picked up the phone. "We're going to call in a little help."

END OF PART 3

Reginald Bushroot, Spike and St. Canard are the property of Disney. Eric Smith is my property. This story was written for non-profit entertainment purposes only. (C)2000 Eric Smith.
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