Billy Hooten

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  “Or how about the recent rumors that your mom's so dumb that when stopped for breaking the speed limit, she offered to try to fix it?”

  Billy winced. A double play: a Your mom's so fat followed by a Your mom's so dumb. He imagined that hurt big-time.

  And he was right.

  Screams of anger echoed around the abandoned factory, and Billy peered around the corner again to see the Bounders emerge from hiding. They were bouncing crazily across the factory floor, making their way toward a seemingly frozen Archebold.

  “How dare you speak about our beloved mother in such a way!” Bailey cried.

  “She thought she was doing something to help the community when she gave up that fat!” Bobby bellowed.

  “And that business with the traffic cop was all a horrible misunderstanding,” Balthasar assured them. “Not that you care, you heartless, craven monster!”

  Billy was actually a little surprised at how upset they seemed. It just went to show how dangerous it could be to make fun of somebody's mother, even the mother of a pack of Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons.

  “What should I do?” Archebold asked, eyes riveted on the demons bouncing toward him.

  “Stay right there,” Billy said. “Don't move an inch.”

  “Great,” the goblin scoffed. “It was nice knowing you, kid. Hope you enjoy having Halifax as your new sidekick.”

  Billy ignored him, watching as the Bounders bounded toward their prey.

  Any second now, he thought, readying his bucket.

  Billy waited until he could read their nametags. At the last possible second, he jumped out and splashed the sticky contents of the bucket onto the floor in front of Archebold.

  The Bounders roared when they saw Billy, not paying the least attention to the spot where the coils on their Bounder boots were about to land.

  Holding his breath, Billy crossed his fingers, toes and eyes, hoping that his plan would work. If it failed, both he and Archebold were in some serious trouble.

  The coils landed in the goopy substance congealing on the floor and stuck fast. The thick metal springs stretched upward but stayed stuck to the floor. One by one, the Bounders were caught in the glue trap.

  “What's going on?” Bailey said, trying desperately to pull his boots from the muck.

  “It's glue, I think,” Bobby answered, his voice filling with panic. “We're stuck!”

  “This can't be happening!” Benny wailed, tugging on his ankles, trying to pull his feet out of the special boots.

  Balthasar was way ahead of them and was actually managing to untie his boots and remove his feet, only to fall flat on his face and become stuck to the floor in the slowly expanding puddle of glue.

  “A little help here!” he cried. But his brothers ignored his pleas, more concerned with their own predicament.

  “That was some plan you had,” Archebold said, cheerfully giving Billy a high five. “Only a real successor to the Owlboy mantle could come up with something like that, let me tell you.”

  Billy felt his mood soar higher than ever before. He'd been so bummed mere minutes ago that he hadn't thought he could ever feel this good again. “It was nothing,” he said modestly. “Just needed a minute or so to put on my thinking cap and then it just sort of came to me.”

  Bailey Bounder let out a ferocious shriek that made the hair on the back of Billy's neck stand at attention.

  “When I get out of here, I'll make you wish you'd never heard the name Owlboy,” he snarled ferociously.

  Billy was about to come back with something clever like Oh yeah or You and whose army when there was an even louder commotion and the Monstros City police force made its grand entrance.

  “Put your paws, tentacles, feelers, claws or whatever you got in the air, you're all under arrest!” Chief Bloodwart hollered, striding into the storage area with his men.

  Detective Oozea was slithering around the Bounders, making sure to stay clear of the sticky puddle of glue.

  “They got us stuck,” he heard one of the Bounder boys complain to the gelatinous detective.

  “And they made fun of our mother,” proclaimed another.

  Oozea rubbed his rubbery chin with a stubby tentacle. “Is it true that she got pulled over for breaking the speed limit and then offered to fix it?”

  The detective and some of the other uniformed officers started laughing as the Bounders crossed their arms, stewing.

  Archebold tugged Billy's arm. “Quick, let's get out of here or we'll be here all night answering their questions.”

  Billy allowed himself to be pulled toward the back of the factory, but not before making eye contact with the rocky-skinned police chief.

  The chief began to speak, and Billy was certain that he was about to order them to come back.

  But he was wrong.

  “Good job, Owlboy!” Chief Bloodwart called.

  And at that very moment, Billy Hooten truly believed that he was a hero named Owlboy.

  Wasn't that the craziest thing?

  CHAPTER 12

  Billy stood at the wall of Owlboy portraits in the snack room, drinking his mug of ghost juice—a thick but invisible liquid made from the fruit of the bogey bush, which, according to Archebold, who loved the stuff, ripened only once a year in the spectral fields of the Phantom Farms. Billy was wondering if someday there would be a picture of him hanging on the wall.

  “So what do you think?” Billy asked his friend, who was sitting across the room in an overstuffed chair, eating from a bowl that was filled to overflowing with what looked like tiny multicolored brains.

  Billy took up a position in an empty space large enough for another portrait and posed, holding his mug of ghost juice. “Will I fit in with the others?” he asked Archebold.

  “You'll fit just fine,” the goblin answered, popping a handful of colorful brains into his mouth and starting to chew.

  Billy returned to his own comfortable chair. “Bet you wouldn't have thought that before I came up with that plan to stop the Bounder boys,” he challenged, helping himself to a piece of fluffy white cake so light it floated above the plate like a cloud.

  Archebold set the bowl of brains down, licked his clawed fingers and wiped his hands on the front of his new pants. As soon as they had returned to the Roost, he had immediately gone to his room for a fresh pair, complaining all the while that his legs were cold.

  “I did have my doubts for a bit there,” the goblin admitted. “But much to my pleasure, you proved me wrong.”

  Billy finished his piece of cloud cake, enjoying the strangely pleasant sensation of the dessert floating around inside his stomach. “You had doubts!” he exclaimed. “I was ready to take off the costume right then and there—but then I would have been practically naked, too—so I guess I had to come up with something else.”

  “And there was only room for one of us to be nearly naked on this case,” Archebold said with a wink, and laughed.

  “Better you than me,” Billy said, starting to giggle.

  The goblin took the pitcher of ghost juice from the table. “Give me your mug,” he said, and Billy held it out for the goblin to refill.

  Well, at least he thought it was filled, but how could he tell—the drink was invisible.

  Archebold refilled his own glass, then held it up.

  “I want to propose a toast.”

  Billy lifted his mug.

  “To Billy Hooten, the newest Owlboy,” Archebold proclaimed, his dark, beady eyes twinkling proudly. “Evil doesn't stand a chance.”

  Two pitchers of ghost juice and more snacks than either of them could keep count of later, Billy and Archebold sat in their comfy chairs, stuffed close to bursting.

  “I think if I ate another bite I might explode,” Billy said, patting his swollen belly with a gloved hand.

  “I can just imagine how mad Halifax would be, having to scrub burst superhero off the walls,” Archebold said, leaning over to help himself to a giant chocolate-covered slug.<
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  Billy felt his eyes growing heavy. He knew he would soon lose the battle against sleep. “I think I should probably be heading home,” he said, stifling a yawn.

  “I'm pretty tired myself,” the goblin agreed, sliding off his chair. “C'mon, I'll show you the way out.”

  Billy followed his tiny friend through the winding hallways of the Roost, struggling to keep his eyes open and wondering if this was how it felt to sleepwalk. The two at last ended up in the observation room, the hundreds of television screens still tuned to the various locations and happenings in the city of monsters.

  Something caught Billy's eye, and he strolled closer to one of the monitors. “What's that?” he asked, thinking there might be a situation brewing that could require his attention.

  But it wasn't trouble at all. Quite the opposite, really. There was a party going on in the streets. All kinds of monsters were dancing and laughing and having a general good time.

  “What's going on?” Archebold asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he trudged over to stand beside Billy. “Well, I'll be. Would you look at that,” he continued, his voice filled with awe.

  And then Billy noticed the signs.

  WELCOME BACK, OWLBOY! read one of them.

  WE MISSED YOU! read another.

  “It's really something, isn't it?” Archebold said, putting a friendly arm around Billy's waist.

  “Yeah, it really is,” Billy agreed, pulling his tired eyes from the scene playing out on the television and walking with the goblin to the door that would lead him back to the shadowy passage, and finally to the stairs, and home.

  “See you soon?” Archebold asked, opening the door for him.

  Billy stopped, turning to his new friend.

  “What do you think?”

  Night-vision goggles activated, Billy walked through the dark, twisting passage until he reached the stairs that would take him back up into the normal world.

  Billy didn't think he'd ever quite reach the end as he trudged up the curving stone staircase, but he got a second wind when he saw a light growing gradually closer above. He was truly exhausted, his first real adventure as Monstros’ superhero rattling around inside his skull as he at last crawled out of the stone Sprylock coffin.

  Billy thought it was sort of weird; as he looked around the dusty old mausoleum, it felt good to be back in the real world, but at the same time he found himself missing the bizarre sights of Monstros City.

  He left the mausoleum as he had found it, closing the door behind him and jogging down the cemetery path toward the wall that separated his yard from the final resting place of the dead.

  Billy wasn't sure he had ever been so tired. He remembered a time when he and Tommy Stanley had stayed up all night watching horror movies, eating frozen pizzas and reading comic books. This time, he was even tireder than that.

  Over the wall and then into the house, he thought, trying to psych himself up. The image of his nice, comfortable bed was the most wonderful vision he had ever seen, and he yearned to crawl beneath the cool sheets, blanket and heavy comforter.

  Hopping up onto the wall, minus his superabilities, and dropping down into his yard, he reminded himself to be extra quiet. He wouldn't want to wake his parents and have to explain why he was dressed the way he was.

  As he crossed the yard, he glanced across the way to Victoria's house. Remembering his promise to play superhero with her the next day if she went to bed, he half expected to see her tiny face appear suddenly in the window.

  That should be fun, he thought sarcastically, climbing the porch steps and letting himself in, but he was too tired to worry about it now. He'd deal with it in the morning, after he'd had a chance to rest.

  Billy stood in the kitchen, carefully listening, and heard the sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from the television in the other room. The movie his folks had been watching—sleeping through was more like it—was still playing, and he again marveled at how different the passage of time was in this world and in Monstros. According to the kitchen clock, he'd been gone for less than forty minutes.

  It was an amazing thing.

  Creeping down the hallway, he peered into the living room to see his folks still fast asleep in front of the TV.

  Perfect, Billy thought, beginning the last leg of his journey up the stairs and to bed. But the closer he got to his room, the more his experiences bubbled up in his thoughts, and the more excited he became.

  He couldn't wait to do it all again, but first he needed to sleep. Too tired even to wash his face and brush his teeth, he removed his Owlboy costume, taking the time to put it on a hanger—which might have been a first for any article of clothing he had ever owned. He held the costume out at arm's length, admiring it and what it represented before hanging it far back in the closet.

  His bed seemed to call to him, speaking in the language of sleep, and Billy answered its siren call, shuffling zombie-like across the room and falling onto his mattress. He barely had the strength to cover himself before drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Billy Hooten didn't need to dream. His dreams had become reality.

  Archebold the goblin reclined in the observation room chair, watching the many television monitors.

  One in particular.

  He heard the door open, heard the shuffling footfalls that could only be Halifax coming up to stand alongside him.

  “Hello,” the troll said. He was holding a broom and started to sweep the floor. “Mind if I tidy up a bit in here?” he asked.

  “Knock yourself out,” Archebold said, eyes fixed on the monitor.

  The troll swept for a while, humming softly beneath his breath.

  “So how did it go tonight?” he asked casually, sweeping some dust bunnies—which actually looked like tiny rabbits—into a small pile.

  “Went good,” the goblin answered. “Thanks for that information tonight, by the way. It really helped out. Sorry we got you out of your bath.”

  “No problem. I needed to get out anyway, my fingers were getting all pruny.” The troll wiggled his sausage-sized fingers.

  “I hate when that happens,” Archebold added, eyes still fixed on the monitor.

  “So, this new kid,” Halifax asked, leaning on his broom. “Think he's going to work out?”

  Archebold said nothing, reaching down between the cushions of the recliner for the remote control. Programming a code on the remote, he pointed it at the monitors and pushed a button.

  All the monitors flickered momentarily before returning to normal, but they no longer showed multiple views of what was going on in Monstros City. Now they showed only one scene, a scene of celebration.

  A celebration of Owlboy's return.

  Archebold turned his head to look at Halifax, who was staring at the images, surprise showing on his hairy face.

  “Do I think the kid's going to work out?” the goblin asked with a sly smile.

  “What do you think?”

  EPILOGUE

  The weekend had gone by way too fast, but didn't they all?

  Billy sat at his usual table in the cafeteria late on Monday morning with the regular cast of characters, biting his tongue to keep from spilling the beans about his weekend adventures.

  Danny was talking about his mold collection to no one in particular, while Dwight regaled Reggie with tales of a sleepover he'd gone to at his cousin's house, where they were allowed to watch an R-rated movie and stay up as late as they wanted. Kathy B was reading Shakespeare's Macbeth out loud, doing all the parts with different, wacky accents.

  A typical Monday lunchtime at Connery Elementary School.

  But Billy's weekend had been far from typical. Since Friday night he had gone back to Monstros City twice. He would have visited more if not for his weekend chores and having to play superhero with Victoria on Saturday morning. Each visit to Monstros had been more incredible than the last, and he couldn't wait to go back.

  “What did you do this weekend, Billy?” Danny asked
before taking an enormous bite of a very red Delicious apple.

  Kathy B looked up from Macbeth. “Did thou doest anything fun?” she asked in a booming voice, as if she were performing onstage.

  Reggie picked at something caught in the elaborate wirework of his braces, waiting for Billy's reply.

  “Bet you didn't see an R-rated movie or stay up as late as I did,” Dwight challenged.

  Incredible images of what he had experienced— what he had done—flooded Billy's mind, adventures that even he wouldn't have believed if somebody had told him about them.

  Which was why he would keep his mouth shut. This was his special secret; it belonged to him alone.

  “Nope, I didn't,” Billy answered Dwight. “Just a typical weekend.” He took a big bite of his sandwich to keep from laughing insanely as he thought of being chased by the Bounder boys and driving through the streets of Monstros City in the coolest car that had ever existed. “Really kind of boring.”

  As they finished up their lunches, they all agreed on how boring the weekends could sometimes be.

  Billy stuffed his trash inside his lunch bag and was just getting up to throw it away when he heard a familiar voice call out from across the lunchroom.

  “Hey, guys,” Randy Kulkowski hollered, loudly enough for the entire lunchroom to hear. “There goes Billy Hooten … Owlboy.”

  Randy's cronies all started to laugh.

  But Billy didn't mind. For the first time he could remember, Randy Kulkowski was right.

  He was Owlboy.

  THOMAS E. SNIEGOSKI is a novelist and comic book scripter who has worked for every major company in the comics industry.

  As a comic book writer, his work includes Stupid, Stupid Rat Tails, a miniseries prequel to the international hit Bone. He has also written tales featuring such characters as Hellboy, Batman, Daredevil, Wolverine, and the Punisher.

  He is also the author of the groundbreaking quartet of teen fantasy novels entitled The Fallen, the first of which (Fallen) has just been produced as a television movie for the ABC Family Channel. The two books in his Sleeper Conspiracy, a new series, Sleeper Code and Sleeper Agenda, have just been released. With Christopher Golden, he is the coauthor of the dark fantasy series The Menagerie, as well as the young readers’ fantasy series OutCast, recently optioned by Universal Pictures. Sniegoski and Golden also wrote the graphic novel BPRD: Hollow Earth, a spinoff of the fan favorite comic book series Hellboy.