Blood Brothers

by Ruth Fox

  “Yeah?”

  “Where’s your yellow permit card?”

  Monster-boy paused, letting the blanket wall of his Cave drop over his shoulders. He turned to look at Zach, then sank down on the edge of his bunk. He didn’t answer.

  “Did you lose it?”

  “No,” said Morton. “I took it off and put it in my pocket. I just . . . didn’t want to wear it anymore.”

  Zach admired the sentiment, but at the same time, it made him very worried. If Morton started refusing to wear it . . . well, that wouldn’t bode well for him. It would only look like he was trying to break more rules.

  Zach sat down on the floor, his back against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest. “We’ve got to do something.”

  Monster-boy was silent, but Zach could tell his brother knew exactly what he was talking about, and that he agreed. He’d told him about Ida and Fiona, and about Ryder’s little sister Miranda, while they were eating, and Monster-boy had looked glumly at the pile of sticky sauce on his spoon, since his shoes weren’t in view. “I wish that hadn’t happened,” he’d said quietly, and Zach knew he meant it. Monster-boy might have been angry at Ida for taking the photos Lex had used, but he’d never be callous enough to hope she was kidnapped.

  But there was something Monster-boy hadn’t said at the table, where Mr. and Mrs. Morgenstern had been listening.

  Now that they were alone, Monster-boy began to talk.

  “I didn’t just go for a walk, Zach.” He rubbed his claws across his knees. “After everyone had gone inside to class I went back to the table where we ate lunch, to get my wristband. I saw Ida and Fiona there. They were arguing about something—about me, I think. So I hid in the bushes and watched.

  “There were two monsters. They came so quickly. It was like they’d planned it. Before I knew it, they had them, both of them. They were strong. Both the girls struggled, but they had no chance. The monsters just carried them off.”

  “They—they carried them off?” Zach repeated stupidly. His brain didn’t seem to want to process what Monster-boy was saying. “Why didn’t you do something? Get one of the security guards? Or . . .”

  Monster-boy was deliberately avoiding looking at Zach. “I’ve seen monsters of that type before. Trolls. They’re short but they’re bulky and have a lot of muscle. They get hired by gangs because they’re tough. And . . . they carry guns. Usually rifles, but sometimes handguns, which are smaller and kept under their clothing where you can’t see them. They’re special guns. They’re made out of a particular type of silver. They work on the South Side of the Wall, even where the cloud is thickest.”

  Monster-boy curled up even further, as if by making himself smaller he could lessen the shame Zach could see was eating him up.

  “I was scared,” he said. “So I didn’t do anything. I didn’t stop them.”

  “You couldn’t have stopped them,” Zach assured him, though he wasn’t so sure of this himself. If Monster-boy had just stood up, or yelled out, maybe he could have scared them off. Hadn’t Lex said Monster-boy was the type who would be a hero? What kind of hero hid in the bushes while kids were abducted?

  But then, Monster-boy knew these monsters, these Trolls. He sounded terrified of them. Zach couldn’t imagine he would be so scared without a reason.

  Then Monster-boy went on. “I waited a few minutes, then I followed them across the yard.”

  Zach’s respect for his adopted brother rocketed skywards again, and he felt bad for doubting him. “You did? But that . . . that could have been dangerous . . .”

  “They climbed down through a grate set into the alley beside the school.”

  Zach felt cold all of a sudden. “I knew it,” he said. “I found one of those, too.”

  “I went down after them.”

  Despite his own recent experience, listening to Morton’s story was pretty intense. Zach’s hands were clenched. He loosened them self-consciously, only to clench them once more as the story continued.

  “It was hard to keep track of them. I could see them perfectly, but if they turned around, they could see me just as easily. I had to keep back and keep quiet. They walked for a long time. All the way under the Wall.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “It smells different there,” Morton explained. “Older. The scent of rotten things and mould and dirt.”

  Zach nodded. Even he had noticed the smell, he realised, when he’d climbed out on the Other Side.

  “They kept going, until they reached a particular grate, and there they lifted the girls out. When they had gone, I climbed the ladder. I looked through the grate.”

  “What—” Zach almost choked on the words. His chest felt tight. “What did you see?”

  “It was a compound. A large lot, empty and overgrown, surrounded by fences. The buildings were old—very old. They looked like warehouses and sheds. Made of brick and mostly boarded-up, some partly falling down. There was a sign on the gate. It said Grotto Silver Works. And it had a logo on it. The same one that’s on my wristband.”

  “Cingulum,” Zach said.

  “What?” Monster-boy asked.

  Zach frowned. “Never mind. But why would that symbol be there? And if it’s the same one at the Factory . . .”

  “I don’t know. I looked at that sign for a long time, though, wondering what it meant. Then I realised that I’d seen that place before. My grandfather took me there, once, when I was very young. He held my hand as we walked past the fence. It wasn’t being used then; the gates were locked, and the buildings empty. I asked him why we’d come.

  “‘Because of the Grelgoroth,’ he said. ‘One day, you’ll need to come here, too.’ I didn’t know what that meant, but after he died, I walked past it a few times since then, because that place reminded me of him. And I saw it was being used now. More Trolls were guarding the fence. And others—I could hear them in the passageways ahead of me, and there were vents in the walls which carried echoes of people talking.

  “I almost thought, ‘I could climb up there’. The Trolls would see me, and they’d question me, but I could make excuses. I could pretend I was working for them. I would be on the Other Side, and I’d be back. Back in a place I knew. Back where I belonged. But then—”

  “Then what?” Zach asked, desperately. He was hanging on Morton’s every word. “Why didn’t you go?”

  “My phone died when I went under the Wall. But it suddenly switched itself on and started to beep. When I pulled it out I saw your number flash up on the screen as a missed call, and then it died again. It was almost like . . . a sign, I guess. So I waited until it was quiet, then I turned around and came here . . . I came home.”

  Morton finally trailed into silence.

  Zach was frustrated. He knew there was more to the story, that there were things Monster-boy wasn’t telling him. He had too many questions. “What did your grandfather mean? What was the Grelgoroth?”

  “I don’t know. I asked him—but he wouldn’t tell me anything more. “‘You don’t need to know, not yet,’ he said. Why?”

  “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that word, that’s all,” said Zach, trying desperately to think of what Fernzy had said. The Grelgoroth is growing. It won’t be long. “When I was looking for you, I went to the South Side.”

  “You did?” Morton asked.

  “I met a monster kid. He mentioned the Grelgoroth, too.” There was silence for a minute. “Do you think we should tell the police?” Zach asked him.

  “I don’t want to talk to them,” Morton said. “I’d have to tell them I was sneaking around on the Other Side. They might even think I was . . . helping the monsters.”

  There was more silence.

  “Morton?” Zach said at last.

  “Yeah?”

  �
��I’m glad you came back from there. I mean—I’m glad you didn’t stay on the South Side.”

  He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what he’d seen beyond the Wall earlier. About the dilapidated buildings and the boy, Fernzy, who had looked at him with actual hate. No one had ever looked at Zach like that before. He hoped no one would ever again.

  The bunk creaked as Morton shifted. “I think, going back, I reminded myself of how horrible it was for me. When I was there, I thought that was all I deserved. After reading what Lex wrote . . . I thought, I’m a monster. I should be with my own kind. But . . . they’re not my kind anymore. I might look like them, but I’m different inside.”

  Zach sat up, suddenly, making the choc-cherry mud pudding bounce around in his stomach. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. “That’s exactly it.”

  “What is it? What did I say?” There was a trace of amusement in Morton’s voice, along with the curiosity.

  “You’ve given me the perfect idea,” said Zach. “I know exactly how we’re going to do this.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mrs. Morgenstern came up the stairs a few minutes later.

  “Morton?” she called softly. “Are you asleep?”

  “No,” came the reply. “I don’t think I will sleep much tonight.”

  Zach rolled over. He had a pretty good idea that he wouldn’t be sleeping well either.

  “You know what used to help Zach get to sleep?”

  Mrs. Morgenstern picked up Tales of Magic and Wonder from the pile of books Zach hadn’t yet returned to his father’s study. She sat on the edge of Morton’s bed, pulling the blanket curtain aside, and reached over to flick on his reading lamp. She opened the book to the first page and started to read.

  The Farmer and the Giant

  “Once upon a time there was a farmer who lived happily outside a grand city with his children. One day, he was working in his field when his plough hit a large stone and overturned it.

  “‘Please!’ came a cry. ‘Don’t destroy my home! I will give you something more valuable than gold!’

  “The farmer was surprised to see an imp beneath the stone. His heart went out to the little creature. ‘I’m sorry I disturbed you, little sir,’ he said. ‘But if you wish to stay here in this field, I won’t force you out.’

  “‘Take this,’ said the imp, giving the farmer a beetle wing. ‘It will bring you good luck.’

  “Days passed, and everything turned around for the farmer. His crops were plentiful. His livestock were strong. He was making a lot of money from both, and he knew it was thanks to the imp.

  “Then bad luck descended on the nearby city. A giant had arrived on a great boat from a nearby land. It roamed about, eating sheep and crushing houses. But though everyone else was touched by this misfortune, the farmer was certain his good luck would hold. He kept to himself.

  “‘You must help us fight the giant!’ the city-folk said. ‘He’s ruining us all!’

  “‘My crops are safe,’ the man said. ‘The giant won’t hurt me.’

  “The others turned away in disgust, and the farmer’s good luck started to turn sour. Nobody wanted to trade with him anymore. His fortunes meant nothing when no one would take his money.

  “The farmer was sure the imp had tricked him somehow. So he went back to the stone that was the imp’s home and lifted it up. ‘This must be your doing,’ he said. ‘It can’t be a coincidence that this terrible thing is happening now!’

  “And then he drove his plough over the little imp’s home. The imp leapt out of the way, his eyes flashing. ‘You will be sorry for this!’

  “The farmer, frightened by the imp’s words, ran back to his house, but he arrived too late. The giant was already there, and he had torn the roof from his house and devoured his children.

  “The farmer yelled and began to beat at the giant’s feet.

  “The giant laughed. ‘You’re so small. You think you can hurt me?’

  “The farmer knew that he couldn’t. The only thing he had, apart from the clothes on his back, was the beetle wing which he’d kept in his pocket. He pulled this out and it caught the light of the sun, shining it right in the giant’s eyes. The blinded giant fell with a great crash and knocked his head, dying instantly. The imp came and stood at the farmer’s side as they looked upon the corpse.

  “‘Why didn’t you tell me I had the means to defeat this beast all along?’ the farmer asked the imp.

  “‘If only you’d offered to help your neighbours when they needed you,’ the imp said, ‘You might have discovered this secret earlier. You could have saved them all, and your children too.’”

  It was a stupid story, really. Zach had to wonder who Fredericks was, and why he chose to write these tales. Yet he had loved them as a child, and even now, he still remembered them, almost word for word.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Chapter Twenty

  Zach hadn’t thought it would be possible to be hungry after last night’s pudding feast, especially not for store-bought waffles, but the smell of Jagermeyer’s Finest Maple Syrup made his stomach growl.

  “Now, boys,” said Mr. Morgenstern, when he came down for breakfast. “I was thinking that there’s no need for you to go to school today. I can take a day off from work, and we’ll just stay here and play some games, hm? Fire up the SonX and have a good old shoot-em-up?”

  Zach shovelled a forkful of waffle into his mouth, syrup dripping down his chin. He wasn’t too sure on the meaning of the word “ironic,” but he was pretty sure it applied perfectly to this situation—that in the past month, his parents had offered him two days off, both at times when there was nothing he wanted more than to go to school. “Um, thanks Dad, but it’s kind of important that we go today.”

  “We have a project,” said Monster-boy, looking earnest as usual. Zach stared at him in surprise, wondering if he’d finally learned to fib, then realised Monster-boy hadn’t actually lied. He’d actually told the absolute truth.

  Monster-boy was fiddling with his yellow permit card. He clipped it to the lapel of his blazer, just below his little gold Middleview Hills Academy crest. He did it very carefully, making a show of it, as if to make sure Mr. Morgenstern could see how closely he was following the Rules.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Mrs. Morgenstern came in, dropping the car keys on the bench. She was wearing her hospital scrubs and looked tired. Zach hadn’t heard her go out, but she was always getting called in to work in the middle of the night. “I’ve been in with Doctor Manely. They’ve found Tommy Granger. When they brought him in, he was comatose. That means he was sleeping, very deeply.”

  Zach knew what a coma was, and besides, he’d seen the boy yesterday evening—it hadn’t looked like he was sleeping at all. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest had kept him from appearing to be dead. Mrs. Morgenstern continued.

  “The doctors did what they could for him. He was suffering from malnutrition and dehydration, so Doctor Manley hooked him up to an IV.”

  Zach shuddered. He’d never been a fan of needles.

  Mrs. Morgenstern continued: “But there were other strange things—marks on his skin. The doctors sent him for an imaging scan of his brain,” Mrs. Morgenstern continued. “Hoping they’d find something to explain what was happening. But what the results showed was even more perplexing. You see, we understand very little of how our brains work, but there are areas of the brain associated with certain things—the more rational parts of the brain, I guess you could say, which function differently to the more creative parts.

  “His brain seems to be functioning in all the right areas for him to see and smell and hear. But those are the only centres that are working, and they’re only working on a minimal level. He has memory, hearing, vision, and perception and body movement, but it’s as if all the othe
r parts of his brain have been switched off—the parts that control self-awareness, concentration and creativity—as well as his will, the parts that make him want to do things.”

  “What would cause that?” Zach asked faintly. “A disease or something?”

  “It’s not like any disease I’ve ever heard of,” said Mrs. Morgenstern. “Poor Tommy. He must have gone as far as he possibly could before he collapsed, but it’s lucky Mr. Sanders found him, or he might have starved to death.”

  Zach turned away, fear gripping his heart tight as he thought over Morton’s story of what he’d seen when he followed the monsters through the passage to the Grotto Silver Works. He thought of Fernzy and what he’d said about the mysterious Grelgoroth—and the Cingulum. What were the monsters doing to kids out there?

  Mrs. Morgenstern, looking tired, glanced towards her husband for help. “The news of what happened to Tommy is already out. If this is what they’re doing to the kids they’re taking . . .”

  Zach could hear the end of her sentence in his mind. I don’t want to let either of you out of my sight again.

  This was bad, very bad.

  “That’s why we want to keep you boys home today, you understand.”

  For a moment, Zach actually felt like he wanted to stay home with his dad, and let the outside world take care of itself. But then he thought of Ida.

  “But we’d be safer at school, really,” he said. “There are all those security guards. No offence, Dad, but what are you going to do if someone comes to grab one of us?”

  Mr. Morgenstern chuckled. “You’ve never seen my jiu-jitsu moves?” Then he sighed. “I suppose you’re right, boys. But I want you to be extra careful.”

  Mr. Morgenstern drove them to school. He took the usual route, through the centre of town. It was sometimes busy at this time of day, but as they turned onto Main Street they were confronted by a long line of cars, some of them pulled haphazardly over to the sides of the roads with their drivers waving their fists and some stepping out of their cars to make more vocal objections, and others angrily edging forwards, honking horns and revving engines. The way ahead was blocked by a huge crowd of people. Many of them were holding signs and placards. They looked just as angry as the motorists they were blocking, but instead of swear words, they were yelling slogans at the tops of their lungs.