Fo Fum

The wedge of cheese had been left out. The knife lay beside it.

“Stay here,” Maria told Miguel. They were crouched behind the towering jug of apple juice. “We’re getting out of here.”

She glanced around, then darted out. The table, the size of a football field, seemed hideously open and exposed, but she reached the cutting board without incident, hefting the knife like a spear. It was heavy and sharp; it should be able to free Carlos before the giant checked the traps.

Maria froze. The door swung open; the giant had returned. Its enormous nose twitched angrily. “SQUEAK?”