by Ruth Fox
“You don’t know that. It could be anyone.” Zach intended the words to be comforting, but they sounded uncertain to his own ears. He didn’t know whether to hope it was Miranda, and she was at least alive, or to hope it wasn’t her, and there was still a chance she could be found whole and healthy.
Ryder pulled out his phone and called his mother. For once the teacher didn’t tell him off for using a phone in a classroom, but Mrs. Hazelwood didn’t pick up anyway. Ryder was forced to go without answers.
Everyone was glad when the bell rang to signal the end of the day. Students and teachers were exhausted, and even the security guards looked haggard, having spent the day arguing with students who wanted to go to the toilet every five minutes, or get something from their lockers, only to forget something else and have to go back.
No one was happier that the day was over than Zach. Mr. Morgenstern had already made one trip to collect Morton earlier, and he didn’t look happy when Zach got into the car. He drove the long way home just in case there was any more “funny business”—as he called it—going on in Main Street.
“Your mother was called into the hospital,” he said. “To help with the newest victim.”
“Has she called? Does she know who it is?”
“I don’t know anything yet. Her phone is turned off, of course, while she’s in the hospital. I imagine she’ll call when she can.”
They found Morton in the lounge room with his school books when they arrived home.
“I spoke to Mr. Rivers,” Mr. Morgenstern said. “I’m afraid he’s pushing for you to be expelled, Morton.”
“He can’t do that, can he? I mean—is it legal?” Zach didn’t try to keep the worry and desperation out of his voice.
“Hopefully not,” said Mr. Morgenstern, which to Zach didn’t sound very hopeful at all. “And I’m afraid there’s more bad news. Ms. Cutter is visiting this evening.”
Oh, no, thought Zach.
Aloud, he said: “What does she want? Why can’t she just leave us alone?”
“She’s doing her job,” said Mr. Morgenstern. “Apparently Mr. Rivers contacted the mayor’s office, and they’ve raised some concerns as well. They want to send out a field officer to review the case.”
Zach swallowed. Morton wasn’t supposed to be a “case” anymore.
Mr. Morgenstern went on. “Apart from Mr. Rivers’s concerns, I have a feeling she’s being scrutinised by the mayor’s office for her role in letting Morton be adopted. The mayor is under a lot of pressure about all this monster business. He wants to do what’s favourable in the public eye. Letting monsters—even Morton—live on our side of the Wall is definitely not on that list.”
“They can’t take him away, though,” said Zach desperately. “Right?”
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Morgenstern said. “I’m sure it’ll all be just fine.”
It wasn’t fine.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mrs. Morgenstern arrived home a few minutes later. They had dumped their bags in the hallway and Zach had pulled out his phone to text Ryder, to see if he had any answers about Miranda, but what Mrs. Morgenstern said as she came in told him what he needed to know.
“It’s little Miranda Hazelwood.” She said this with a sigh and a shake of her head. “Poor child.”
“She’s . . .” Zach couldn’t bear to say the words.
Mrs. Morgenstern shook her head again. “Just the same. She’s awake, but . . . Those poor kids. It’s like they’ve been turned into zombies.”
Zach shivered.
“It’s lucky she was found,” Mrs. Morgenstern went on. “It was pure chance—Mrs. Hazelwood found her on her way to work at the Aroma Café, which is near the opening in the Wall.”
Zach put his phone down. He wouldn’t text Ryder just yet. His friend would be too busy . . . Zach rubbed his stomach, feeling faintly sick. Miranda. Bright, energetic Miranda, staring vacant-eyed at the wall, the way Tommy had. It was horrible to think about.
❖ ❖ ❖
Ms. Cutter arrived just before dinner time, along with a very stuffy-looking man who introduced himself as Dr. Harold O’Grady. Mrs. Morgenstern (who would have boiled her own right hand in oil before she was impolite to guests, even if one of them was Ms. Cutter) felt compelled to ask them both to eat with the family.
Zach was sure Ms. Cutter would decline. But instead she looked at her companion, said, “That would be a wonderful opportunity to observe the monster-child’s eating habits,” and they brought their briefcases and clipboards through to the dining room table.
The Morgensterns rarely ate in this room. The kitchen table or dinner trays in the lounge room were more comfortable options. But Mrs. Morgenstern decided that this dinner was going to be a painful affair wherever it was held, and the dining room was more likely to impress Ms. Cutter and Dr. Harold O’Grady—or at least give neither of them reason for further complaint.
Zach knew better. The kind of person who would steal from kids in her care would find an objection anywhere she wanted to. If Ms. Cutter’s goal was to get Morton taken away from them, she’d do everything she could to make it happen.
Dr. O’Grady was a short little man, bald on top, with a ring of stringy red hair around the sides of his head. He wore a tie knotted so tightly it bunched his collar and looked as if it was choking him. He had a habit of tilting his head back, so it looked like he was turning his nose up at everything.
Zach watched him rub at a smudge on his silverware—Mrs. Morgenstern’s best, inherited from her mother’s mother, one of the last remainders of the dwindling Scott fortune—as the doctor said “I’m sure you’re all aware of the reason for my visit.”
“Well, um, of course.” Mr. Morgenstern said uneasily. “Um, I mean, not exactly. We received a copy of the report from the last inspection. Everything seemed to be in order.”
Ms. Cutter’s eyes lit up with delight as she realised she could be the bearer of bad news. “Several matters were highlighted as areas of concern. I brought them to the attention of the North Silvershine Council. The Regulatory Board keeps a close eye on all adoptions. They appointed Dr. O’Grady to investigate the case.”
Dr. O’Grady sat up a little straighter, so that his nose pointed straight up to the ceiling. “I am a qualified psychologist and child welfare specialist,” he said. “I’ve worked on many adoption cases. I must say, there were some things in the report Ms. Cutter showed me that I consider to be areas of grave concern.”
“Such as?” Mr. Morgenstern raised an eyebrow.
Dr. O’Grady answered instantly. “Such as Morton’s sleeping quarters. Having a monster share a bedroom with a human boy—well, it’s not acceptable.”
“By whose standards?” asked Mr. Morgenstern coldly.
“It’s rather a risk, you see,” Dr. O’Grady explained. “We have reason to believe that many monsters are nocturnally active. It would be disruptive for your existing child to be exposed to Morton’s nocturnal habits. Not to mention detrimental to Morton’s own health—if his sleep cycle is disturbed—”
“Morton’s not nocturnal,” Zach broke in. “He sleeps fine at night.”
“No one knows how monster physiology works, not exactly. There might be unforeseen consequences. The truth is,” the doctor said with obvious satisfaction, “we just don’t know enough about monsters, or their lifestyle or traits. About what they’re comfortable dealing with and what might prove too much for them.”
“I’m comfortable. My lifestyle is fine,” said Morton quietly.
“I’ve been in close conversation with the mayor. We have decided that all monsters living on this side of the Wall need to undergo strict medical and physical evaluations,” Dr. O’Grady continued. “As well as a strenuous mental test.”
“All monsters?” said Zach. “But Morton’s t
he only one living on this side!”
“That’s beside the point. The safety of North Silvershine is the mayor’s primary concern.”
“They can’t possibly think that Morton’s a threat,” said Mrs. Morgenstern with a nervous laugh.
“As I said—there’s no way to predict how a monster will react to exposure to our society. Now, Morton has exhibited several symptoms of unpredictable and perhaps reckless behaviour, the most noticeable being, of course, his recent detainment in the North Silvershine Police Station. He was accompanied by two human children, one of them being your other son, Mr. and Mrs. Morgenstern; proving, perhaps, that his behaviour might be influential or even coercive. Morton is a unique case, and one that gives us an . . . opportunity . . .”
“That’s enough!” Mr. Morgenstern banged a fist on the table, making all the plates and cutlery jump—and making Zach jump as well. Even though it wasn’t often that his dad got angry, when he did, it was always scary. “Morton is a member of this family, not a laboratory experiment.”
“No one is claiming that,” said Dr. O’Grady in a calm and reasonable tone that implied Mr. Morgenstern was the one being irrational. “We’re only concerned with the welfare of all involved. Yourselves—your son’s—and the children at Morton’s school, not to mention his teachers, your neighbours, and people he interacts with on the streets. It’s very important that we control this situation and ensure that nothing . . . untoward . . . occurs.”
“You mean—like Morton kidnapping kids and putting them into comas,” said Zach. His voice had started out low and quiet, but it was rising as he spoke. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? The kidnappers. You don’t know how to stop them, so you’re making an example out of Morton.”
Ms. Cutter stabbed a potato and fixed him with a gaze as sharp and pointed as the tines of the fork. “This,” she said triumphantly, “is a perfect example of the kind of disruptive behaviour that might be attributable to the monster’s unruly influence.”
Zach went cold. Ms. Cutter knew they had broken into the orphanage. She knew they’d stolen Morton’s wristband back. And if she had evidence—and she did, from the security cameras on the gates of the orphanage—all she needed to do was show them to the police. She’d have all the leverage she needed to get Morton sent back across the Wall.
Dr. O’Grady cleared his throat again. “I’ve scheduled Morton for an evaluation tomorrow.” He said this with finality, as if there could not possibly be any further argument.
There was no further argument.
In fact, no one said anything for a good three minutes. Then Ms. Cutter put her fork down and patted her thin lips with a napkin and said, “Well, I thank you for your hospitality, but we really must be off.”
“Yes,” said Dr. O’Grady. “There’s much to prepare for the morning.” He pushed back his chair and held out a card to Mr. Morgenstern. “This is the address of my clinic. It’s located in the Shady Elms Wilderness Retreat. We’ll see you there at 10 a.m. tomorrow.”
Mr. Morgenstern stared at the card as if it was a snotty tissue. Dr. O’Grady was forced to put it on the table instead of handing it to him.
Very, very slowly, and very deliberately, Morton unclipped the yellow permit card from his school uniform jacket. He dangled it from his claws. He wasn’t looking at either Ms. Cutter or Dr. O’Grady—or any of them—as he dropped it on the floor.
Mrs. Morgenstern stood up abruptly. “This way.” She motioned their guests through to the lounge room and into the hallway. As she opened the door for them, Dr. O’Grady offered his hand, but she didn’t take it; she also didn’t say another word until the door was shut firmly behind them. Finally, she spoke.
It was the first time Zach had ever heard his mother swear.
❖ ❖ ❖
“This is not good,” Zach said to Monster-boy as they went up the stairs to their room, shut the door, and climbed into the Cave. “They’re going to do everything they can to take you away. Maybe . . .” He bit his lip and plucked at Morton’s quilt. “Maybe we should call the whole thing off.”
“Do you really think so?” asked Morton in his usual quiet voice.
“Well—it’s just that it seems stupid to give them more ammunition. If we get caught sneaking around the streets again, well, they’re going have everything they need to remove you permanently. And . . . I mean, there’s no telling if we’ll succeed, anyway. It’s going to be really dangerous, and we’re . . . we’re only kids. We don’t know . . .”
Monster-boy wasn’t looking at him. He was looking down at his wristband instead, twisting it round and round his thin wrist.
“Say something!” cried Zach. “Don’t you care? I mean—aren’t you worried? Because I am. I really don’t want you to leave.” He was shocked and ashamed to hear the quaver in his voice. “I’d—I’d miss you heaps if you did go.”
Monster-boy twisted his bracelet some more.
“And what about what they’ll do to you at that Shady Elms Retreat? Geez, Morton! Don’t you get it? They think you’re a thing, not a person! And they want us all to hate monsters as much as they do. It’s working. Look at Mr. Majewski this morning, and how many people showed up to support him.”
Monster-boy said nothing. The wristband gleamed with two yellow pinpricks of light; the reflections of his eyes.
“We can’t let them do that to you. We have to keep you safe. Morton? Are you even listening to me?”
It was painful to say all this. Giving up on the plan meant giving up on and Ida, and Fiona, and all the other kids. It meant giving up any hope of finding out what was wrong with Miranda and Tommy Granger, and whether or not they could be cured. But he would do it. If Monster-boy agreed to lie low and not call attention to himself, he would do everything he could to help.
Morton finally looked up. “If we don’t do anything,” he said slowly and calmly, “then in the morning, they’ll examine me. They probably won’t let me come home again. They’ll put me in a facility or a hospital. Like you said. They might cut me up to see how my organs work.”
Zach felt a queasy rumble in his stomach.
“But, if we do something, we might still be able to change things, right?” Morton went on. “I don’t want to leave. So there’s really only one choice, isn’t there? If we rescue those kids we’ll be heroes. We’ll prove that not all monsters are bad. No one will be able to touch me then.”
Zach took a deep breath. He still wasn’t sure that Morton was right, but he didn’t really know what else they could do.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Morton. “I don’t want to go back to the Other Side. There are things I’ve done, and things I’ve seen, and things I’m scared of. But if I want to stay here, with you, and . . . our family . . . I have to do this. I’m really, really sure.”
Zach looked at him for a long moment. He thought about how he would feel if Morton was taken back across the Wall. About how his parents would feel. About how it would change nothing, and North Silvershine would go on blaming the monsters, hating them and fearing them. And what would happen to the Vanished kids then? Would they ever be found?
Finally, tamping down the last of his reservations, Zach picked up his phone and texted Lex, and then Ryder.
They began to put their plan into action.
❖ ❖ ❖
It seemed to take ages for night to fall; evening lingered, spreading purple light over the normally peaceful neighbourhood. But there was nothing peaceful about it this evening. Zach and Monster-boy saw an inordinate number of cars driving down their road, heading for Main Street and Mr. Majewski’s protest.
When Zach and Monster-boy came downstairs for a late-evening snack of hot chocolate (which Zach decided needed a few fruit-and-nut scones to go with it, whipping up a quick batch and s
mothering them with butter), Philip Nielson was on TV, reporting that this protest was shaping up to be one of the biggest in North Silvershine’s recorded history. As far as anyone could remember, no one had really protested about anything. The people of North Silvershine were lazy when it came to Grand Gestures, and tended to leave these up to the mayor. Not even the mayor’s Opening Day plans had excited such a public outcry; but this threat, it seemed, was too great to be ignored.
They watched shaky handheld camera footage of people gathering in Main Street. It was strange to see that familiar space transformed into Mr. Majewski’s protest headquarters. He—or more likely, some of his supporters, since the butcher was rather portly and not particularly keen on heights—had hung red banners from the lampposts and street-signs, and red streamers fluttered from the eaves of the buildings. Several people carried red flags. More carried red placards.
Monsters Stay in Monster City, they said, and Safety in Our Streets.
“Perhaps the impressive turnout has been helped by the discovery of a third returned child, who was found earlier this day. Violet Vandermeer, nine years old, is thought to have escaped wherever she was being held. Since all children have been found very near the Wall, it’s not unreasonable to suggest that the place they were being held was, in fact, located not far from the Wall on the Other Side.”
“They’re going to massacre the monsters,” Mr. Morgenstern muttered.
“Joseph!” hissed his wife, flicking a glance towards the two boys, as if hoping they might not have heard. “It’ll all blow over by morning,” she added firmly.
Mr. Morgenstern cleared his throat and gave a quick grin. “Of course, of course.”
At any other time Zach would have rolled his eyes and reminded his mum that they weren’t little kids, but at this moment he was happy to pretend he hadn’t heard. His heart was fluttering in his chest and he felt vaguely sick. The protesting crowd—Dr. Harold O’Grady and Ms. Cutter—the mayor—they all seemed to want the monsters destroyed. Could they do it? Would they actually attack the monsters? Wipe them out?
