Lair of the Grelgoroth

by Ruth Fox

  Zach thought about the only other monster he’d met face-to-face. Fernzy. Would they kill him, if it made them feel safer? Would Fernzy let them? Somehow he couldn’t imagine that other monster-boy would go down without a fight.

  Zach picked up the last few scones and said he was going up to the bedroom to do some homework. “Morton, we’ll do that science chapter, right?”

  Morton nodded.

  Mr. and Mrs. Morgenstern shared a glance. “We’re so proud of you boys,” Mrs. Morgenstern said with a wavery smile. “You’re such good children, thinking of your schoolwork at a time like this.”

  If only she knew, thought Zach.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Zach checked his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. In one pocket he carried some of his home-made chocolate-covered sultanas. After last time, he’d decided Ryder’s idea of carrying snacks was a good one. You never knew when you’d need them.

  Then he pulled out his very sharp knife from where he’d hidden it under the bed. Morton looked at it hesitantly. “Are you sure we should take this?”

  “No,” said Zach. “But I think it might come in handy.”

  He gave it to Morton, who slipped it into his sock. He wasn’t wearing his yellow permit card, but he was wearing his sunglasses.

  “I’m ready.”

  They opened the window. It still wasn’t completely dark outside, but the streetlights were on, and the shadows were deep. Zach went first, scrambling down the plum tree with a bit more ease than the first time, and Monster-boy followed with his usual dignity.

  They walked to the end of the street in silence. Even from here, Zach could hear the muffled echoing sounds of someone speaking into a megaphone, and the answering roar of a crowd. They could have taken another route, but heading towards Main Street was quickest, so they walked quickly down the hill. Before they got there they had to duck behind two bushes, a fence, and a large and very curious but happy Doberman to hide from passing cars. They didn’t want to take the chance of anyone questioning them.

  At the end of their street they turned right onto Junction Road, and from there they could see the protest. The crowd this morning had been big, but this one was bigger. People were crammed onto the footpath, the road, standing on benches and even on the roofs of cars and some of the nearby buildings. The whole area was lit by tall halogen lamps and those red banners and streamers flew in the chilly evening breeze.

  “What do we want? Safety! Safety! Safety for our children!”

  “Now!” Mr. Majewski was in his element, standing on a portable dais covered in red cloths. He was, as always, wearing his butcher’s apron. His ring of faded brown hair was slicked over his head with shiny gel, and his bulbous nose bobbed up and down as he spoke. “Now, people! Seize this day—this night—we must be taking back what is ours by right. Cannot be allowing this to continuing! Not in our streets and home!”

  “We want security! We want protection! With the monsters we want no connection!”

  There was a sudden wail of sirens, and a competing voice roared through a second megaphone. “Attention, people! Please make way for the Mayor of North Silvershine! Please make way!”

  It was the mayor’s assistant, Deputy Darren, wearing his favourite orange shirt and waving his hands.

  People drew aside like a receding tide, making a pathway for the mayor, who was dressed up in his finest suit. When he reached the platform, Mr. Majewski scowled and did not step aside as the mayor so clearly expected him to.

  “Mr. Majewski, sir!” said Deputy Darren into his megaphone, which he forgot he was holding, and so blasted Mr. Majewski directly in the face with these words and no small amount of spittle. “Please allow the mayor to speak.”

  Mr. Majewski raised his own megaphone and harrumphed. “This protest organised by Majewski! Majewski leads. Majewski gets things done, where mayor does nothing!”

  “Yes, yes, of course, it’s still your protest,” the mayor placated him. “But I’m the mayor of this city. I must address the crowd.”

  “Who wants to be addressed by mayor?” Mr. Majewski shouted to the crowd. “Who wants this ineffectual man to speak to them? He, who first opened the Wall, who let the monsters in our midst to begin with? Hm? Who?”

  The crowd roared, and it was, without a doubt, not in support of the mayor.

  “Booooo! Get him out of here!”

  “He let them in!”

  “I’ll tell him where he can put his Grand Gestures!”

  “Now, now,” said Deputy Darren. “We all need to calm down . . .”

  “People! I am your mayor! You elected me to stand and speak for you!” said the mayor, a little desperately now that he could see so many unfriendly faces.

  “You’re not speaking for us now,” called someone.

  “Hear! Hear!” others shouted.

  “Well,” said the mayor, his brow crinkling and hands twining nervously. No one had challenged his position before this day—and he obviously didn’t like the thought of being ousted. “Well, then. If you don’t want me to speak for you, who . . .”

  “Majewski!” came the reply, from several quarters at once. “Majewski for Mayor!”

  “Majewski to lead us!”

  “Majewski to speak and stand for us!”

  The crowd caught on quickly, and the mayor took a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his brow. He stuttered something that sounded like “But-how-never-why–” and then drew himself up. “A new mayor can’t be declared without an official election! Without council approval! Without ballots and voting booths and public opinion polls! You see, the four-year term isn’t up until October—”

  But the crowd wasn’t interested in formalities. Right now, the man they wanted to follow was the man who was inspiring them, the man uttering powerful and persuasive words that echoed their own thoughts, the man of action.

  “Majewski! Majewski! Majewski!” someone started chanting—Zach couldn’t see who it was, but he was willing to bet it was a member of the Lower East Primary School Mothers’ Club.

  Mr. Majewski’s chest swelled and he grinned broadly—an expression rarely seen on the grumpy old butcher’s face. He reached into the pocket of his butcher’s apron and pulled out a large meat cleaver. It glinted in the lights, sending little silver reflections over the surrounding buildings. The knife looked strangely elegant and surprisingly beautiful. The crowd gave a collective gasp of wonder.

  “We go now!” Majewski said, his voice reaching a feverish pitch. “We go, carrying flags of red! Red, the colour of our blood! The colour of humanity! We teach monsters lesson. They will not threaten us again!”

  “Now—now, see here—” said the mayor, but no one was listening to him. Deputy Darren seized him by the shoulders and steered him back through the crowd, where they had to duck their heads and dodge citizens who were yelling and waving their placards hostilely.

  More sirens wailed as more police arrived, but there weren’t that many police officers in North Silvershine, even when the North Silvershine Security guards were called in for reinforcements, as they had been tonight. And though they had guns, they couldn’t exactly open fire; if the angered citizens chose to push past them, they’d have to let them go.

  “Stand back,” Chief Andy called into his radio to the waiting policemen. “Let them go!” The crowd was in control now.

  They surged past Chief Andy, and Constable Jenson and Constable Russels, down along Main Street, heading for the fairgrounds and the Wall, and Zach and Monster-boy drew back into the shadows.

  The crowd had left a trail of ripped red ribbons and discarded placards in their wake. The street seemed oddly empty as the wind stirred the rubbish and lifted the discarded banners.

  “Hey!”

  The voice wasn’t all that loud, but it made them ju
mp anyway. Zach whirled and found Lex standing behind him, dressed from head to toe in black, complete with a balaclava. It was actually a beanie with eyeholes cut into it, Zach saw in the bright streetlights; and she had to wear her glasses over the top.

  “Where’s Ryder?” she asked, her voice muffled.

  Zach looked down at his watch, as much to hide his laughter as to provide her with an answer. “I’m not sure.”

  “We have to go soon if we’re going to go. That mob is going to make trouble and we don’t know what we’ll be walking into if we wait too long.”

  She was right, but Zach still didn’t want to go without Ryder. “We’ll give him a minute,” he said desperately. He might have been caught by his mum. Something might have happened to Miranda, and he’d gone to the hospital. Ryder wouldn’t have chickened out. He just wouldn’t.

  Zach checked his watch again. He knew they had to go.

  “All right—” he began, but he was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps on the road. Ryder rounded the corner, puffing and panting and wiping sweat from his forehead.

  “Mum almost caught me,” he said. “She knocked on my door as I was going out the window. I had to dive into bed and tell her I was sleepy. I felt really guilty when she got all teary-eyed and told me she’d leave me to rest. I had to wait to make sure she wasn’t coming back.”

  Then he looked at Lex. “What are you . . .” he spluttered, unable to contain his laughter. “We didn’t need to dress up, did we?”

  “I had to get past my mum’s window,” she said defensively. She pulled her glasses off and lifted the black beanie up to her forehead, revealing her flushed and excited face. “I didn’t want her to see me if she looked out for some reason . . .”

  Ryder frowned. “But we’re supposed to look like normal kids, Lex.”

  Lex’s usually animated expression turned downcast.

  Monster-boy spoke up. “I doubt they’re going to pay any attention to what you’re wearing, not where we’re going,” he said. “But we should make use of the distraction that crowd is causing. We have to go. Now.”

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  They ran to Greentree Hill through the darkened, empty streets. The hill towered up before them. Herman Sanders’s house perched at the top, a dark looming shape against the night sky, with only a single light showing in the front window. It was easy to imagine Mr. Sanders watching them from behind the curtains, but when there was no shout of discovery, and no flying cans of Jagermeyer’s Baked Beans to show that they’d been seen, they crept in through the gate.

  The bulldozers looked huge in the dull light from the street. Their big, heavy shovels looked menacing. They didn’t look blue at all now; rather, they were a musty green-grey. They might have been giant beetles. Or, Zach thought, monsters waiting to swallow them whole.

  None of the friends said anything as he switched on his watch LED and led them through the long grass, sweeping his light over the sides of the bulldozers until he found the keyhole of the nearest.

  There was a sound from further up the hill. “Shh!” Zach said, and they all froze for a moment. A second later, something fluttered over their heads. Lex ducked and gave a strangled yelp.

  “It’s only a bat,” Monster-boy said, slightly amused.

  “Let’s just hurry up,” Lex replied, rubbing her arms.

  Monster-boy went to work on the lock with his claws. It clicked after only a few moments—Monster-boy really was good at this.

  Zach eased open the door with a slight squeak, revealing the shadowy and cavernous interior. There were two seats in the front, and a space in the back for storage.

  Lex, pulling off her balaclava and tucking it into her pocket, offered to climb in first, but Zach motioned for her to wait. Monster-boy had to be first.

  Morton climbed up, settling into the driver’s seat. He held up Mrs. Morgenstern’s penlight until the rest of them had climbed inside, and arranged themselves—Lex and Ryder crouching on the floor behind the two front seats, and Zach in the seat beside Morton.

  “We need to get ready,” said Monster-boy.

  “Out here?” Ryder asked, his nervous tone showing that he wasn’t relishing what “getting ready” involved.

  Zach nodded. “We don’t know how far we’ll get before we meet monsters—” he glanced at Monster-boy. “Other monsters. We have to be prepared from the start.”

  From his pocket he retrieved three long zip-ties he’d pinched from Mrs. Morgenstern’s odds-and-ends drawer along with the penlight. He leant over the back of his seat to Ryder, who huffed a sigh at being chosen to go first, but shuffled around obediently and put his wrists together. Zach fitted the tie around them and zipped it tight.

  “Yowch!” Ryder squawked. “Geez!”

  “You think the monsters are going to buy it if your ties fall off in front of them?” Zach said. “This has to be believable!”

  “It’ll be believable when my hands drop off,” he grumbled.

  Zach did Lex next. She didn’t complain when he cinched it tight, but the skin on her wrists pulled in a way that must have been uncomfortable.

  “It’s just like a lawnmower,” Monster-boy said, looking at the dash panel. He was already reaching his long claws under the pull-start. He flicked his wrist, obviously copying the movement Mr. Morgenstern had taught him. The engine turned over with a coughing sound.

  “Is it broken?” asked Lex.

  “No—that’s a good sign,” Zach said. The dashboard might be covered in strange levers and switches, but the basic controls were just the same as the old Putterwagon, with three pedals and a gearstick. Herman Sanders was just as direct in his approach to vehicle design as he was in his speech. He obviously didn’t believe in making things more complicated than they needed to be, which suited their purposes tonight. “There’s still fuel in the reservoir, but it’s probably very old and dirty,” he went on, hearing his dad’s voice in his mind, patiently explaining why the Putterwagon needed regular servicing. “Try it again, and put your foot on the clutch all the way—yeah, that one—but pump the accelerator—the pedal on the right. That will push more fuel into the motor.”

  Monster-boy did exactly as he was told. This time, when he pulled the starter, the engine humffed and sputtered and then started with a jolt that made the whole cabin shake.

  “Yes!” cried Ryder. Lex let out a one of those little squeals girls always did. Ida and Fiona and Lex were always screaming about something—ants on their lunch table, good marks on their tests, or whenever one of them got a new haircut. Zach had figured out those little screams could mean anything from disgust to delight, and this one probably meant Lex was happy the bulldozer was running.

  He clapped Monster-boy on the shoulder, then handed him the last zip-tie. Morton took it apologetically.

  “Don’t go looking like that when they find us,” Zach joked. “You’re supposed to be mean and tough!”

  “Mean and tough,” Monster-boy echoed, twisting in his seat. He pulled Zach’s wrists together and zipped up the tie as tightly as he could, and Zach got to experience first-hand exactly how the thin plastic bit into his skin, and how uncomfortable it was to move around with his hands behind his back.

  “Okay,” he said. “You need to change the gear into . . .” He looked at the gearstick. It was different to the Putterwagon’s, and had symbols instead of numbers and letters. Fortunately, they were so straightforward they almost made Zach laugh. Herman Sanders certainly didn’t believe in beating about the bush in everyday life. His machines were no different. “The forward arrow,” he said.

  Monster-boy eased off the clutch, stepped on the accelerator, and the bulldozer rolled forwards with a swaying motion as it crushed weeds, fallen fence-posts, and a couple of baked bean cans. He spun the wheel, and they were through one of the gaps in the fence.
Suddenly they were facing the Wall.

  “Oh boy,” said Lex. “Are we really going to do this?”

  “If we want to get noticed, we have to,” Zach reminded her. “We need to attract as much attention as possible.”

  Lex knew all this, of course, but it helped strengthen Zach’s resolve to say it.

  “This lever?” Morton asked, pointing to a sliding switch that was labelled with more arrows pointing upwards and down. It seemed Morton was asking the question just for the sake of saying something rather than needing an answer—it was pretty clear this was the right lever—but Zach nodded. Morton moved the slider up.

  The shovel on the front of the bulldozer clanked and groaned and rose slowly upwards, until it was almost covering the windscreen. Their view of the Wall before them was now only a narrow slit.

  “Do you think it’ll work?” Lex asked. “I mean—the Wall’s been here for so long—”

  “It’ll work,” Zach said. If Herman Sanders’s machines still functioned after five years of sitting idle, he knew they were still capable of pushing down the Wall.

  “Here goes,” said Morton—it was a strangely human expression, coming from him—and they all tensed as the bulldozer rolled onwards down the slope. The Wall grew larger and larger in front of them, until all they could see through the slit was an expanse of dull grey concrete. Morton held the steering wheel tightly. At the last moment, he accelerated.

  “Hold on!” he cried, and the bulldozer hit the Wall with a clunk that shuddered through the whole cabin. Zach nearly fell out of his seat. Ryder and Lex, unsecured in the back, were thrown forwards. There was a clatter as Lex lost her glasses.

  In front of them, the Wall cracked and crumbled. Slowly, a chunk of concrete at the top toppled backwards. The rest followed, crumpling in on itself. A few stray fist-sized pieces hit the top of the cabin and made a lot of noise, but bounced harmlessly off.