by M. D. Payne
“I will not run from you,” said the old mummy with a wild look in his eyes. “It is you who shall run from me.”
We all stood facing him, a large angry wall of monsters and kids, ready.
“You sure about that?” asked Shane. The monsters behind him growled and bared their teeth.
Murrayhotep raised his hand and displayed his huge gold ring for a moment, before grabbing the black gemstone in its center and turning it with a click.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Something I should have done long ago,” said Murrayhotep. “Taking control of my afterlife. Doing something worthwhile.”
“What are you getting out of this?” I screamed. “Eternal life? And you would throw away all of your friends here?”
“I was promised that I would be reunited with my sister,” he said. “And I would do anything for her. You would have been destroyed in good time, anyway.”
Lt. Commander Stratford entered the room, his gnarled, ghostly hand gripping his short sword tighter than ever.
“ALARM! The beastly animals are on their way down the hallway to you,” he yelled, swinging his sword around.
“What?” gasped a few not-so-old monsters.
“Why would you care?” I asked the old ghost. “You’ve had it out for the monsters since they got here.”
“Now that I know who brought them here,” said the Lt. Commander, “I can focus my energies on him. I took the liberty of floating into his room and peeking at his papyrus diary. Luckily, I can decipher hieroglyphs—thanks to my time with the British Expeditionary Force in Egypt. I’m talking about you, you whippersnapper!”
He raised his short sword at Murrayhotep’s head.
“You brought the animals?” asked Director Z.
“It’s true,” Murrayhotep said, and hundreds of puppies and kittens filed behind him as he raised his golden ring again.
“Then you have betrayed us.” Director Z spoke gravely.
Murrayhotep turned the ring once more.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The animals screamed and thrashed on the floor.
“What’s wrong with them?” screeched Nabila as she covered her ears.
The werewolves howled along in agony with the tiny animals. The banshees screeched.
“Ha-ha-ha-haaaaaa!” yelled Murrayhotep. “Be free, little ones, be free!”
And with a great SPLUNK, black, leathery wings burst out of the backs of the puppies and kittens. The screaming turned to screechy laughing as the animals’ heads stretched out, fur exploding into long, lizard-like faces with sharp, sharp fangs. Their jaws stretched and their teeth clamped together as they transformed.
“I knew those little guys had something in them,” screeched Lt. Commander Stratford, and he floated out of the room. “I’m going to get help!”
“What are those things?” Ben asked.
“Meet the sangala!” hissed Murrayhotep. “The bringers of your doom!”
The leathery lizard animals took flight, their wings WHAPWHAPWHAPing, and hovered behind Murrayhotep. Some of them began drooling a hot, sticky drool that sizzled and hissed as it hit the floor.
We stood face-to-face with the newest monster juice–drinking enemy. The monsters lined up behind us hissed and swatted at the air.
“Attack Formation Delta Four!” screamed Shane.
The vampires all turned into bats and floated high up to the wooden beams of the dining room.
“Wow, they got so big,” marveled Gordon. “Those boogers really worked some magic.”
“Did they work enough magic, though?” Ben wondered.
Moth Man soon followed the bats into the eaves. The werewolves turned into wolf form and padded out in front of us, teeth exposed. The tallest monsters, Frederick and Roy, headed to the front. The rest did their best to make sure the oldest monsters were mixed in with the strongest.
“It’s going to be hard to deal with the fact that these nasty things can fly,” said Gordon as we formed a circle. He turned to Shane. “I’m glad you insisted on the buddy system for the older, weaker ones.”
The witches threw up a protective charm in front of us and then rushed to the kitchen to prepare for the wounded. Half of the Nurses stood near the kitchen, to help wounded monsters into the makeshift infirmary. The others headed up front with the tallest monsters.
The Director stood next to us and raised the same metal cylinder he had given us to clean out the drains. He powered it up, and a bolt of electricity flashed out of the front like a whip. He swung the electro-whip over his head.
“Whoa,” said Shane, wide-eyed. “He didn’t tell us it could do that!”
“It’s your move, old man,” said Director Z.
“Destroy them,” Murrayhotep commanded the animals, “but leave the Director unharmed. He is mine!”
The sangala swarmed.
Director Z, with a crack of his electro-whip, began knocking down sangala one by one. Nurses rushed up to crush the flopping creatures on the floor with their massive boots. Werewolves stood at the ready to tear apart the ones the Nurses missed.
One werewolf jumped off of the dining room table and snatched a sangala in its mouth as it came tumbling down to the ground.
CHOMP.
Murrayhotep ran up to Director Z, knocking him down onto the ground.
“Ooof!” yelled Director Z as he hit his butt hard. His electro-whip turned off as it fell from his hand and rattled into the crowd of clashing monsters and sangala.
Director Z’s fake pendant came up around his neck and dangled in front of his tie.
“YESSSSSS!” screeched Murrayhotep, and he lunged for Director Z and his prize.
“Not so fast, Hotep,” yelled Gordon, tackling Murrayhotep.
He wrestled Murrayhotep to the ground, pinning him in place.
“Arrrgh!” yelled Murrayhotep, who struggled, then pinned Gordon. They were stuck together—a crazy, sweaty pretzel.
Director Z headed into the battle with the monsters and sangala, searching for his weapon.
“My children,” Murrayhotep croaked from under Gordon, “come and help me.”
A dozen sangala, who were battling the vampire bats up above, swooped down toward the struggling Gordon and Murrayhotep.
“Karate shield!” yelled Shane.
Shane, Ben, Nabila, and I stood around Gordon and Murrayhotep and began karate-chopping down sangala as they floated in. They snapped and snarled, flapping their wings like crazy.
SCREEESCREEESCREEE!
Our hands hit their faces with leathery THUMPS.
“Aaaahhh!” yelled Shane, and he clutched his right hand. “Watch their fangs!”
“Your hand is smoking!” screeched Nabila, knocking back another sangala.
“It hurts!” cried Shane. “We need help over here! Zombies!”
From the crowd, which was beginning to fill with the screams of now-old monsters, Director Z pushed a few zombies toward us.
“Scream if you need more,” he said, and then raised his electro-whip in time to avoid being dive-bombed by a sangala.
They karate-chopped their way toward us.
On the floor, Gordon and Murrayhotep continued to struggle.
“Let me loose now,” hissed Murrayhotep, “and I promise to leave you children unscathed.”
“Yeah, right!” said Gordon, and he twisted Murrayhotep’s arm.
“Waaaaaargh!” Murrayhotep cried. “You’ll pay for that!”
The zombies joined us, surrounding Murrayhotep and Gordon. They weren’t very accurate, but they made for a good shield, constantly chopping at whatever was in front of them.
They were followed by a severed arm, walking on two tiny claws, the hand swaying back and forth.
It skittered past us and out the door.
“Wh
at was that?” asked Ben.
“Pay attention to the sangala,” I said, ducking just in time to save my nose from a juicy, fangy SNAP.
“Aaaaaah,” an old monster screamed.
Then a huge hairy leg, also walking upright on two tiny claws, skittered past.
“What was that?” asked Shane, pointing into the crowd. “Ugh, is that going to happen to me?”
I looked into the crowd to see Bigfoot with one less big foot.
I looked at Shane’s hand, which was raw, bruised, and still smoking.
“Stick it in the booger pie,” I said.
Shane ran over to the table, and we kept swatting off the sangala. One of the zombies missed his target, and a sangala bit into his arm, zombie blood and sangala drool flying everywhere.
His arm turned green and tore itself from his body, landing on the floor. It sprouted two small claws, jumped up, and ran off.
“My arrrrrrm!” the zombie moaned.
“You have another arm,” I yelled. “Don’t just stand there!”
The sangala attack intensified, and arms and legs swarmed past us and out the door in droves.
“I can’t hold on much longer,” grunted Gordon.
“Get OFF!” yelled Murrayhotep.
“The booger pie worked,” Shane screamed. “Everyone, eat the leftovers for a power boost.”
A few legless monsters hopped over to the table and began to chow down.
Almost immediately, new legs grew back into place with a POP.
“Wow, that’s amazing,” yelled Ben.
A few sangala swooped past the stunned Ben to bite Gordon and help their master.
“Wah,” Gordon yelled, and flipped Murrayhotep on top of his body, shielding himself from the sangala, which could not hurt their master.
Murrayhotep jumped up, triumphant, and headed toward the main battle.
“ANUBIS-MAR-DUN,” screamed Nabila.
Murrayhotep stopped in his tracks and turned around to face Nabila.
“How DARE you,” he hissed.
“What did you do?” I asked.
Before she could answer, Murrayhotep’s wrappings started unwrapping themselves.
“Arrrrrggh!” screamed Murrayhotep.
The wrappings flew up into the air and rained down on us. The sangala flew away, dodging the wrappings.
SHRRRRRRRPPPPP!
They seemed to go on forever, until the ends finally floated down on us.
Murrayhotep stood before us, completely naked.
He ran out of the room, his frazzled, dried mummy butt shaking slightly as he flew down the hallway.
“A mummy with no wrappings has no power,” said Nabila.
We cheered, still covered in the wrappings.
“Amazing,” said Shane, and high-fived her. “Ow . . . my hand still hurts.”
“More booger pie?” I asked.
Shane looked over at the table.
“It’s all gone,” he said.
A half dozen more arms and legs ran past us and out of the door.
“Help, gentlemen, help!” screamed Director Z.
He was the only one left standing in the room aside from us, swatting at the two dozen sangala that flew just above his head, trying desperately to keep them at bay.
Old monsters writhed on the floor, and arms and legs were popping off everywhere. From the kitchen, more screams could be heard—the wounded and dying.
“Oh no!” yelled Nabila.
The sangala swooped down on the monsters.
Let’s Wrap It Up
“CHAAAAAAAARGE!” yelled a voice, and Lt. Commander Stratford appeared with his family, Leila and all, to swoop down on the sangala.
“SNOOOOOOOOTTTTT!” he yelled again, and each of the ghosts floated to a sangala . . .
SNIFFFFFFFFF!
. . . and sneezed.
SNOOOOOOOORRRRFFFFBLLLLL!
Delicious glowing green boogers rained down on the monsters.
“Eat!” yelled Richard. “Eat, my friends.”
But the monsters couldn’t eat. They were overwhelmed by the sangala, who continued their furious attack. Director Z couldn’t lash them back fast enough, and the ghosts couldn’t do anything but snot more.
“I have an idea!” yelled Nabila. “The wrappings! The sangala left us alone once they landed all over us. Maybe they still think the wrappings are their master.”
“Wrap yourself in one,” I yelled, and wrapped myself in one long piece of cloth. “Ew, I can smell Murrayhotep’s BO.”
The others quickly did the same, bundling up in Murrayhotep’s stinky old wrappings.
“WAAAAAAAAH!” We ran at the battleground in the dining room, screaming our heads off to scare the sangala.
The sangala kept chewing on the monsters until we ran into the crowd. They floated up, confused to see five Murrayhoteps. The ghosts floated through the sangala and sneezed once more, another booger shower.
“Sneeze on the monsters in the kitchen, too,” I yelled at the ghosts.
“Snot on us! Snot on us!” they chanted from the kitchen.
The monsters on the floor ate and licked and guzzled boogers and snot, fighting for their lives. Arms and legs popped back into place. The vampire bats circled above us.
“Grigore,” I yelled, and one of the bats, now a little grayer, flew down to me. “Let me wrap this around you.”
I ripped off some of my wrappings and wrapped them around Bat Grigore.
“Let’s use the wrappings to lead all of the sangala into the walk-in refrigerator,” I said. “It’s a much smaller space, and we can finish them off there!”
The monsters all rose, stunned, old, and busted—but with all of their legs and arms in place.
“Grigore!” I yelled. “Keep them from flying up too high!”
We slowly stumbled forward, pushing the sangala toward the kitchen. Bat Grigore did a great job of keeping them lower, and we got them through the door.
A werewolf, newly revived from the boogers that the ghosts had rained down in the kitchen, lunged up to grab a low-flying sangala, and a few broke off and back into the dining room.
“Wait, wait!” I yelled at the werewolf. “We have to wait until they get into the walk-in refrigerator.”
“I’ll handle the few that went back into the dining room!” yelled Director Z. “Nurse Inx, Nurse Grob—come with me.”
They headed back into the dining room as we pushed deeper into the kitchen. Monsters noshed on boogers in preparation for the final battle in the walk-in refrigerator.
The sangala spat and snarled and snapped at us and Bat Grigore, but had no choice. They couldn’t harm us, and we wouldn’t let them get past us.
“Just a little farther!” I yelled. “Steady!”
We pushed them all into the walk-in refrigerator, and they smashed into jars and snarled at boxes of food as they looked for a way out.
But there was no way out.
“All right,” I yelled. “Get ’em, guys!”
We stepped out of the doorway, and dozens of zombies, werewolves, vampires, and more spilled into the room, crushing, crunching, and grabbing.
SCREEEEEEEEEEP!
The sangala’s screeches were cut off as the last one was crushed between the jaws of Pietro.
“Yeah!” we all yelled, jumping around with relief.
We peeked back into the walk-in refrigerator.
“Ew,” said Ben.
“Gnarly,” said Gordon.
The room was covered in the green guts and leathery parts of the sangala.
The monsters all roared with happiness.
And then there was a great BOOOOOM from the dining room.
Escape from Gallow Manor
We rushed into the dining room to find two
Nurses lying on the floor, and a newly wrapped Murrayhotep leaning over a disarmed Director Z.
“Is that toilet paper?” asked Shane. “I hope it’s double-ply, or it won’t last for long.”
“The pendants shall be mine!” yelled Murrayhotep, and he grabbed for the chain on Director Z’s neck.
BLURRZZZZZT!
Murrayhotep was thrown off of Director Z.
Director Z stood up boldly, strolling toward Murrayhotep.
“Did you really think I hadn’t put a protective charm on it?” yelled Director Z.
Murrayhotep slowly stood up, his toilet paper wrappings drooping a bit.
“Well, then,” Murrayhotep snarled, “I guess I’ll have to kill you.”
“If I die, the pendant loses its power,” Director Z said.
The still-drained-but-at-least-they-had-all-their-limbs monsters came into the room. They snarled and clawed the air, upset to see Murrayhotep again.
“I don’t have time for this!” Murrayhotep screeched. “I’m taking you to him! He’ll know what to do!”
Murrayhotep raised his arms: “AMON-RA-NAMAN!”
Director Z collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
“Noooo!” I screeched, and ran toward Director Z. I threw myself down on the floor and grabbed his face.
“The moon’s face is the perfect place for record keeping,” said Director Z, and then he passed out completely.
“Get back, you dog!” Murrayhotep yelled, kicking me with his toilet-papered foot.
I slid all the way to the wall, clutching my belly. I felt like I was going to throw up—blood.
“Are you okay?” asked Shane.
“Let’s just get him,” I gasped.
But Murrayhotep had a head start. He had already thrown Director Z over his shoulder and was running down the hall.
Shane yanked me up to my feet, and we thundered down the hall with our friends and the older-again monsters.
Murrayhotep ran into the North Wing, opened the small iron door on the wall, and sent the gate crashing down. We slammed against the gate, monsters pushing us up against the bars.
“Everyone stop pushing!” I grunted. “You’re gonna crush us.”
