Digger Doyle's Real Book of Monsters

by Daniel Warriner

  Corliss stepped out with the sound of a flushing toilet. He saw Digger peeking out through the door crack.

  “What the heck’s up with you, Dig?” He laughed. “Your head get stuck?”

  “No.” He didn’t know what to tell Corliss. “. . . I was just coming out.”

  Afraid of boots clopping? Of passengers? Of nothing and everything? He reminded himself not to act like a big fat chicken.

  Digger and Corliss got back to their seats just as the train’s horn sounded—an abrupt screeching cry. “We’ll be pulling into the station any second now,” Mr. Happer said excitedly, firing glances out all the train car windows. Mrs. Doyle, arms folded, took in the hilly scenery as the train slowed. Then she sighed deeply, before rocking Mrs. Happer’s elbow to rouse her from a catnap.

  Pam’s knees were on her seat and her hands pressed against the window. The nearest mountain, a perfect cone, pointed at the sky. In stark contrast to Pam and her excitement, Yukiko didn’t seem to care at all where they were. She closed her book coolly, yawned, and tipped her head to one side, perhaps to crack her neck. How many adventures had she been on? Digger wondered. Meanwhile, Corliss was chewing the last strand of dried squid with disgust.

  The professor and Mrs. Happer removed the rucksacks and other luggage from the racks by the exit. And Mr. Happer put the Plastron-Zetetic strap over his shoulder.

  Digger was anxious to see which of the other passengers would be getting off at the station. With any luck, he thought, the man in black boots and a hat would not be. With any more luck, that man would be traveling to the other side of Japan, or someplace even farther.

  Chapter 8—The Minka

  Fewer than a dozen people had stepped off the train. Piggybacking hefty bags and rolling bulging luggage behind them, they lumbered along the narrow station platform in the direction of the stairs, sluggish from sitting with the train’s gentle rhythm. The refreshing smell of pine welcomed them. The air was cooler. The salty stuffiness of the sea and port was far behind them.

  Digger glanced around for the man in black. There was no way he could have gotten off the train without Digger noticing, as all the doors opened onto the same platform. Digger looked up at the windows. They were shaded, making it impossible for him to see who was peering out from the other side. All the train doors suddenly slid shut at once, and Digger felt a wave of relief. Then the buzzing of a bell signaled that the train was pulling out of the station, bound for the next village.

  “Slow down. Wait for your father and the professor,” Mrs. Doyle called out, her eyes on Corliss and Pam, who had already reached the ticket gate. Mr. Happer and the professor were all but hobbling, overloaded with the rucksacks, Plastron-Zetetic, and bags of food that Professor Satori had brought along.

  “There aren’t many people up here in the mountains, are there?” Mrs. Doyle remarked after seeing a lonely, dreary house outside the train station.

  “Not many at all,” the professor replied. “You’ll see the occasional farmer, and a garlic or burdock crop every now and again, but the mountains and hills make up most of the land out here.” He lifted his chin toward the ticket gate, which had been left open for anyone to pass through. “Look. This station is so small, no one’s even around to collect our tickets.”

  “We spotted two deer out the window when you and Corliss were gone,” Mrs. Happer told Digger. “They were running alongside the train, then darted off into the woods.”

  “Were they big?” Corliss asked. “With horns and everything?”

  “Deer in Japan don’t have horns, or everything. They have antlers.” Yukiko was doubtful. “Do they have horns where you come from?”

  “Um, yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t they?” Corliss must have thought horns and antlers were the same. He raised his shoulders half in a shrug, half in an arm stretch, then passed through the gates.

  The entire village was made up of about fifteen houses. Some faced each other from opposite sides of the winding dirt road. A few were surrounded by tall scraggly weeds and their windows were shuttered. No one had lived in them for years and years. But one house had been taken care of and appeared lived-in. It was quaint and had a green shingled roof. And out front was a huge garden filled with all kinds of flowers and plants.

  “Yes, 601,” the professor said. “That’s Mrs. Matsushita’s house. I’ll let her know we’ve arrived and ask her for the key. It’ll be dusk soon, so there’s no need for all of us to knock on her door. Go ahead to the minka. Oh, a minka is a traditional Japanese house, and that’s where we’ll be staying. It won’t look like the houses in this village. You’ll know the place when you see it, though. According to my map, it’s just down that path over there. Please go ahead. I’ll catch up with the key.”

  Before they crossed the road, Digger watched the professor walk up to 601.

  “Cucumbers,” Yukiko said under her breath. Digger scanned Mrs. Matsushita’s garden and saw the floppy green leaves and little yellow flowers mixed in with dangling cucumbers—hundreds of them.

  They took their time on the path, walking slowly. Because of all the stuff Mr. Happer was carrying, he needed a short break every twenty steps or so.

  Unlike WolfsWhispers, with its towering trees and green floor, the Aomori forest had a lot more browns, and there was a wider variety of trees. Some had waxy green palm fronds, which Digger had never seen. And there were no busy sounds of insects shrilling or yipping, only the odd hum or peep. The stillness made it feel as if not a branch, fallen twig, or leaf had been stirred by anything other than the dull breeze. These woods were eerie. And Digger wondered if his father—if he’d actually come down this path—had felt the same way.

  “That must be it, over there,” Corliss called back to the others as he turned a bend in the path. The professor, key in hand, just then caught up with them.

  “Check it out—the house has a grass roof,” Pam said. She ran up to Corliss, her red rucksack bouncing on her back with each leap.

  “That’s it,” the professor said. “A minka. Mrs. Matsushita told me it’s the only house down here.”

  The rusty gate on the wobbly fence encircling the minka had been left open. Behind the house was a steep hill of yellow-brown stalks of bamboo. On the minka’s second floor were six closed, curtained windows, and on the ground floor were three sliding doors.

  “It looks perfectly cozy,” Mrs. Happer said, squinting up at the brownish thatched roof of straw.

  Professor Satori inserted the key into the keyhole, turned it, and slid open one of the doors, which rattled grumpily as it moved. He then stepped inside and removed his shoes. Mrs. Doyle and Mrs. Happer followed Corliss in and made sure he respected the Japanese custom of removing shoes at entranceways.

  Although he was eager to find out if his father had left anything behind, Digger was last to enter. There was a reason. In the months after his father disappeared, every telephone ring and door knock had roused a flicker of hope inside him. As time passed, those flickers became smaller and fainter. And three years without so much as a hint about his father’s whereabouts had made him suspicious of possibility. It was best, Digger thought, to avoid disappointment.

  Setting foot in the minka was like entering the deep rich smell of wood. But this was no surprise—every piece of furniture, and the minka itself, was mostly made of cypress, spruce, and cedar. There was also a dampness in the air since the house had been shut for so long.

  Kerosene lanterns the size of blenders were lit in the kitchen—there was no electricity—and Professor Satori slid open the dining room doors, which rumbled over their rickety old rails. Windows were opened too, and fresh evening air drifted in from the mess of a garden, along with one or two bloodthirsty mosquitos.

  Rectangular mats made of tightly woven, greenish-yellow straw—about the length of a full-grown person—covered the floors in several of the minka’s rooms. Yukiko called them “tatami.” “We’ll be eating and sleeping on those tonight, with pillows and futons,” she
mentioned to Mrs. Doyle.

  “That’ll be fine,” Mrs. Doyle said through an uncertain smile.

  “And shall we fix something up for dinner, Yukiko?” Mrs. Happer asked. Mrs. Doyle was at her sister’s side, nervously watching Corliss and Pam out of the corner of her eye.

  Pam was flitting from one room to another, while Corliss had stopped to tug at a mosquito net, which was hanging from a ceiling hook and looked like a thick, draping cobweb.

  Apart from the mosquito nets, there were gas heaters, a chest of drawers, a low table, and a tall folding screen, which was decorated with trees and long-legged birds with orange beaks. There were dishes, utensils, and cookware, and a collection of Japanese masks on the walls along the stairway, each depicting a grinning devil.

  The masks had stubby, pointy horns and, on top, bone-dry hair stuck out in wisps. Almost everything in the minka was a shade of brown, except for the masks, which were an assortment of colors, from blood red to lemon yellow to frog green.

  “Hey, check this one out, Dig.” Corliss was gazing into the empty eyes of a particularly frightful mask. “Maybe the people who lived here were crypto-whatevers, like your dad.”

  “They look like monsters,” Digger said, “but I haven’t seen anything like them in my dad’s pictures.”

  “They’re Ondekomen,” Yukiko said as she passed by the foot of the stairs holding a bag of cabbage and spinach. “Devil masks from Sado Island, where Mr. Matsushita came from. He must have been a collector. Or maybe he made them himself. You should try one on, Corliss. Then you’ll have horns, too.”

  Digger looked back and smiled at Yukiko. Her teasing was harsh, but Digger thought she must be joking at least some of the time, even though he hadn’t heard her laugh. Not once.

  Corliss ignored her and stomped up the rest of the stairs, and he and Digger were soon searching the second-floor rooms. They discovered an old screw, which Mr. Happer confirmed had not come from a Plastron-Zetetic, and a thick black belt that Mrs. Doyle assured them had not belonged to her husband. In a corner of one upstairs room, Digger came across a fingernail-sized piece of paper. It had tiny brownish-grey spots, probably mold, and appeared to be the tip of a page corner. It felt ancient between Digger’s fingers. But since words and page numbers aren’t printed so close to the very corners of pages, there was no way he could tell if it was from his father’s book.

  Downstairs, in an unfurnished room at the back of the minka, Digger saw his uncle and the professor standing on either side of an old vacuum cleaner. The vacuum—upright and nearly as tall as Digger—had been placed in the center of the room by a glowing lantern. Inside one wall was a closet, its sliding doors open. And in there were seven or eight suitcases lined up side by side next to a pile of clothing of various sizes, colors and styles.

  “Mrs. Matsushita didn’t strike me as having lost her wits,” the professor said, shaking his head. “Unless I’m mistaken, your other Plastron-Zetetic was not designed to look like this?”

  “No, no, professor, you’re right—this is without a doubt a vacuum cleaner.”

  Mr. Happer saw Digger in the doorway. “Digger, how about we rummage through the closet here later and see if we can find something? Mind you, if we don’t, it won’t mean that he was never here.”

  Digger looked over the pile of stuff in the closet. His father’s backpack wasn’t there. And none of the shirts or pants matched what he remembered his father wearing. He nodded at his uncle anyway. Then, mouth shut, chin down, he went to the dining room to join the others.

  Chapter 9—The Darkness Outside

  Skewered chunks of chicken, boiled vegetables, bowls of steaming rice, bowls of soup, and two bulgy-eyed fish, grilled and set out on platters, were arranged on the knee-high table. Everyone sat down on the tatami flooring for dinner.

  Mrs. Doyle mastered the chopsticks straight away. “Oh, that’s because you’re so talented with a paint brush,” suggested her sister, who was struggling with her own sticks. Mrs. Happer had made a few attempts to lighten the mood after none of them had found any evidence that Doctor Doyle had stayed at the minka.

  “Do it like this,” Yukiko said bossily. “See? Hold this chopstick like a pencil, and let your thumb take care of the other. It’s easy.”

  Corliss managed to take hold of a piece of boiled carrot and lift it over to his plate. And Mrs. Doyle and Mrs. Happer applauded his accomplishment. Though Yukiko insisted he needed “waaay more practice,” at which they all laughed, except for Digger and Pam, who were still trying to pinch their chopstick tips together delicately enough to pluck tofu from their soup.

  “So, when does our monster hunt get started?” Corliss blurted.

  Digger’s chopsticks hovered in his hand as he waited for a response.

  “Ah—I see there are some eager adventurers around the table.” The professor grinned. “But it’s going to be a long trek. Do each of you have what it takes? Are you ready to venture into the wild? Ready to fend off wild boars and grumpy bears?” The professor was doing his best to spark their excitement.

  Mrs. Doyle’s anxieties had bobbed up at the mention of boars and bears. “Are those animals really out there, Professor?”

  “Oh, yes, and big ones too. A bad-tempered boar, if cornered, will lower its snout and charge at you. The only thing you can do is dive behind a tree, and hope it doesn’t turn around and charge again.” He laughed good-naturedly.

  “Well then, I’m glad I’ll be staying behind with my sister.”

  “Yes, we’ll do what we can to communicate with the people in the village,” Mrs. Happer said. “If Daryus was here, then maybe some of the other townsfolk spoke with him.”

  “But please tell me these kids aren’t going to get hurt.”

  “Oh, we’ll be safe, all right, Isabelle. I’ve done quite a bit of camping in Japan’s woodlands.”

  “Me too,” Yukiko said. She glanced over Digger, Corliss and Pam. “All they have to watch out for are snakes. Don’t worry, though—I’ll keep you out of harm’s way.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Corliss said, sitting up straight.

  “Huh? I’m sure Pam will be,” Yukiko teased, “but I’ll be surprised if you make it back in one piece.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Corliss was flustered.

  “Come on, now. Let’s all try to get along,” Mrs. Happer pleaded.

  “Okay, listen up.” The professor put down his chopsticks. “Mrs. Matsushita mentioned a fisherman called Inari-san. She described him as the type who prefers to stay away from people. He has a hut in the woods and he’s lived there for many years. According to her, he fishes the river, near his hut. And every few weeks, he takes a bag of dried fish to one of the villages. He trades his catch for rice in the market. Oh, and candy . . . Apparently, Inari-san has a sweet tooth. And, well, candy doesn’t grow on trees. So, when he runs out, he heads to the market. Recently, Inari-san told the market’s fishmonger that he has seen Kappas.”

  Digger reminded himself they still had no proof that his father had come to Aomori. But if he had come and ventured into the woods, he and this fisherman might have crossed paths.

  “Not surprisingly,” the professor continued, “most of the locals didn’t believe Inari-san’s story. Mrs. Matsushita, though, said her great-uncle spoke of Kappas dwelling in these parts. She’s never seen one herself, but even so, she follows her village’s custom of growing cucumbers. People around here claim that having plenty of those around will protect them from Kappas, or evildoers, or whatnot. And Mrs. Matsushita gave me a bag full of them from her garden.”

  “Interesting,” Mr. Happer remarked. “And does she know if that fisherman ever met a guest who stayed here?”

  “She didn’t say. From what I could gather, she doesn’t know much about Inari-san. She figures he must be lonely in the woods, and his loneliness has infected his imagination. So much so that he sees Kappas, and possibly other things, which may not actually be there.”

  “How doe
s Inari-san take care of himself with Kappas and wild boars around?” Pam asked.

  The professor flashed her a smile. “I suppose he stays well out of their way.”

  “So, if this Inari-san fellow has been living by the river,” Mrs. Happer said, “Daryus would have wanted to talk to him.”

  “That’s exactly right, and that’s why we must find him.”

  “And look for Kappas?” Pam asked.

  “Of course look for Kappas,” Yukiko said harshly. “Why do you think we’re here?”

  “Pardon me, Yukiko, but Pam and Digger and Corliss—all of us—are hoping to find some sign that Digger’s father was here to search for those creatures,” the professor said. He glanced at Digger. “And to do that, we need to look everywhere for clues.”

  “How many Kappas did Inari-san see?” Digger asked.

  “A whole rabble of them, so I was told.”

  “A rabble?”

  “Lots of them,” Yukiko said.

  Digger gazed into his soup and imagined being encircled by a gang of vicious Kappas.

  “So we’re definitely going to need the cucumbers,” Corliss said sarcastically, dropping his chopsticks on the table. “But do monkeys eat vegetables?”

  “They’re not monkeys.” Yukiko’s voice was strained. “And cucumbers aren’t vegetables.”

  Corliss ignored her.

  “So what should we do if we come across one?” Digger asked.

  “Take as many pictures as we can,” the professor replied. “And mark the spot on our map. Experts will want to study them, and protect them from hunters.”

  Mrs. Doyle looked at Yukiko. “You said something about snakes?”

  “We’ll be fine,” Corliss said. “Anyhow, WolfsWhispers has loads of bears and snake—” Corliss remembered something.

  “What’s wrong, Corliss?” asked Mr. Happer.

  “The man at the port. A snake—on his arm—all the way down to his hand.”