by J. Judkins
But wait . . . not everyone would be coming back. If Melanie were killed, she’d be dead. She wouldn’t come back at all.
That certainly changed things.
Had Angel insisted they bring Melanie along to make them overly cautious, conscious of her mortality? Or was she playing a deeper game?
Angel’s advice yesterday, and her words today, seemed helpful on the surface, but she never went into specifics. She’d said love was the answer, but neglected to explain how. She’d insisted they bring Melanie, but refused to tell her why.
Naomi couldn’t make sense of it. Was that Angel’s plan? To pull the wool over her eyes and make her scratch her head in irritation and confusion?
Questions and more questions.
Melanie broke the silence. “Did you set this up?”
Naomi gave Melanie her best inquisitive look.
“This entire setup seems like someone went through an awful lot of trouble to design a specific set of circumstances.”
“I suspect Angel is directly responsible,” Naomi said. “I had no part in it.”
“Why would you suspect her?”
Naomi threw her hands into the air to convey exasperation. “Who knows? Because love is the answer? None of it makes any sense.”
“No, I mean, why would you suspect Angel at all?”
“Because she invited us.”
Melanie gave her a wide-eyed, incredulous look. “What?”
“I said, because she invited us,” Naomi repeated, this time a bit louder.
“I heard you the first time. Angel invited us? You never mentioned that before.”
Naomi shrugged.
“What does she expect us to do? Gather clues and run from the monster?”
Naomi stopped in her tracks. It took a few more seconds before the minions took the hint and also stopped. “Clues to what?”
“You know, clues to reveal the monster’s true identity.”
“The monster has a true identity?”
Melanie’s lips slowly curved into a smile. “You really don’t have any idea, do you?”
Naomi pushed her glasses back, set her hands on her hips, and glared to effectively achieve maximum indignation. “This is an example of common social knowledge, isn’t it? I’ll have you know that there are many explanations I could list which would adequately explain why I may be ignorant as to—”
“Enough, already. I get it. Your parents didn’t let you watch cartoons as a child.”
Naomi decided to go with it. It was as good an explanation as any. “Yes. All my parents were very inconsiderate.”
She resumed walking. The buildings were showing signs of recent renovations. Novelty stores. Souvenir shops. Even the occasional bookstore. Capitalism at its finest.
Melanie caught up with her. “Thought so.”
“Given your insight, what’s expected of us?”
“Assuming Angel is taking her cues from Scooby-Doo reruns, we’re meant to run from the monster and gather clues. That’s the usual pattern. Once we know what’s going on, we set a trap and capture him.”
“Why not fight the monster directly? That seems more efficient.”
“Because you’re not supposed to.”
Naomi gave a thoughtful nod as if Melanie’s explanation made sense.
“Given that we only have one suspect,” Melanie continued, “it’s probably Old Man Gunther running around in a monster costume.”
“Why would he do that?”
“That all depends. If we treat this like one of the old cartoon episodes, he’s after something specific. The treasure, I suppose. The monster is supposed to scare people away and give him time to find it.”
“Could it be Angel running around in a monster costume, and not Old Man Gunther?”
“It could be. I don’t have a clue why she would want to, but she could.”
Naomi felt elated. Melanie’s insight had been invaluable. Could this be the reason why Angel had insisted she take Melanie along?
Perhaps Angel wants to help after all.
“What sort of clues should we expect to find?” Naomi asked.
“It could be anything. We’ll have to keep our eyes open. If the monster does something extraordinary that can’t be easily explained, like flying through the air or passing through walls as if he were a real ghost, we might find clues that would help explain how it was done. Or the clues might help us identify who’s behind the mask. Things like that.”
“This method of scaring people away, is it effective?”
Melanie shook her head. “Never. The bad guys always get caught. Always.”
“Then why bother attempting it at all? It seems pointless and stupid.”
“That’s why I thought you might be behind it.”
Naomi had to step closer to give Melanie her well-deserved thump on the head.
Chapter Forty-Three
Angel had been leading them on a circular route that seemed to emphasize getting a look at the new construction rather than the decrepit, half-destroyed buildings. Most were tightly boarded up, but a few stood open to the elements.
They walked down the right side of the street, close to the buildings. Given the traffic, or lack of it, it shouldn’t have made a difference—one side seemed just as good as the other. Kim hadn’t seen a single soul since their arrival. No one, other than Old Man Gunther, of course. And he didn’t count.
Angel stopped so suddenly that Kim needed to jump back to avoid bumping into her. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.
Kim hadn’t heard anything. She took a quick look around, but there was nothing to see. “I don’t hear anything.”
“I heard something.” Angel’s eyes were wide. “Do you think it could have been the ghost?”
Kim couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “First of all, why in the world are you scared? Even if a monster did exist, and I’m sure it doesn’t, there’s no doubt in my mind that you could kick its ass up one side of the street and down the other. And second, no self-respecting ghost would come out in the middle of the day. Everyone knows that.”
Angel put her hands on her hips. “Are you making assumptions?”
Kim answered as if the answer were obvious. “Hmm . . . yes? Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you can’t possibly know the specific rules for ghosts—or monsters, if you prefer—in our situation,” Angel admonished her. “As a veteran of horror movies, you should know this. There are no hard-and-fast rules. Monsters are legendary, Kim, and legends can never be relied upon for accuracy.”
Kim was about to give a snarky response when she heard it, a sound almost beyond the range of her hearing—the sound of footsteps. They were coming from somewhere behind them.
Her stomach clenched as a feeling of uncertainty and doubt crept over her. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“This way.” Angel took Kim’s hand and quickened her pace.
A part of Kim’s mind rebelled. She wanted to stop and think things through, to find a rational explanation for what she’d heard. Wasn’t Angel behind this stupid ghost nonsense? Hadn’t she fed the legend to Old Man Gunther and been the one to set everything up?
But if it wasn’t Angel, who, or what, was stalking them?
Kim’s mind flashed back to what Angel had told her, back at the house. She’d said the aliens had taken Ravenwood, but Kim had gotten the impression that they had moved on, that the city stood empty. Had they left behind an invincible guardian to safeguard their interests and periodically sweep the area clean of all intruders? Could the ghost legend be another example of the aliens attempting to blend in, having inexplicably taken Scooby-Doo reruns to heart?
At any other time, Kim would have laughed and dismissed the idea as ridiculous. But these aliens weren’t exactly geniuses. It could be possible that the monster behind the legend was very real, and very dangerous.
In any event, Kim knew enough about horror movies to know it was always a bad idea to be the first to see if the supposed m
onster terrorizing the countryside was a real monster or not. Let someone else be the first. A redshirt nobody liked. Somebody no one would miss. Someone expendable, who preferably didn’t owe you money.
Angel flung open the door to a gift shop and not-so-gently shoved Kim inside. “You stay here. I’ll lead the monster away.”
“Oh, sure!” Kim snapped. “It’s always a good idea to split up in horror movies!”
Immune to sarcasm in all its forms, Angel disappeared down the street, back the way they’d come.
“Angel!” Kim hissed, but not quickly enough to stop her.
The gift shop was one of the newly renovated buildings. There were cardboard boxes everywhere, stashed in a haphazard manner next to open store shelves and empty display cases. An elaborate spiral staircase led to the second floor.
Kim decided the ground floor was a little too exposed, so she hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
The second floor was considerably dustier, but far less cluttered. Unfiltered sunlight streamed in from the giant windows which stretched from floor to ceiling. Kim eased up to the closest window, taking care to keep out of sight from anyone or anything that might glance up from the street below.
Her caution was rewarded. Two minion-type aliens were checking the buildings on the opposite side. Both seemed identical to the ones Angel had defeated back at the warehouse, wearing the same black, shimmering, ninja-style garb.
Their search seemed cursory to Kim’s eye, unprofessional. They glanced inside the buildings, but nothing more. Kim’s breathing slowed to normal levels. A lackluster search meant Angel wouldn’t feel the need to risk herself by leading them away.
They stopped at the entrance of a boarded-up restaurant. The first craned his neck to look through the window while the second stood watch. Mindful of her close proximity, Kim ducked a little bit lower.
When Kim saw the monster, her mouth fell open and stayed there.
What. The serious. Hell?
A green, rubbery-skinned creature crept up the alley, partially concealed in shadow. It looked reptilian, but that was being generous. Its scaly tail didn’t swing for balance, and its white talons looked painted on. Its dragon-style head seemed perpetually locked into a vicious snarl.
Kim fumbled her cell phone from her pocket, activated its camera feature, and lined up a perfect shot. Time seemed to stand still. All she needed to do was press the button. There were no distracting shadows. Nothing that might get in the way.
Do it, she admonished herself. Take the picture!
But she couldn’t. Embarrassment stayed her hand. The whatever-it-was looked closer to a 1950s low-budget movie approximation of a monster than an actual monster. Certainly nothing genuine or even somewhat realistic by any stretch of the imagination. If she showed a picture of this thing to anyone, she’d never hear the end of it.
The minions remained blissfully unaware of the costumed menace stalking them. The creature drew closer, and closer still, then attacked with complete surprise. It lunged forward, snarling as the first minion turned unknowingly to face it. A sweeping claw caught the alien solidly in the chest. He flew off his feet, slamming into the restaurant’s brick wall with crushing force, then slid to the ground, a slumped-over pile of armor amongst the debris.
The unnatural creature turned its unblinking gaze upon the survivor.
The remaining minion raised his hand and fired a yellow burst. The dragon hybrid twisted aside with unnatural grace, using the momentum to strike the minion with its tail. The alien stumbled back and attempted to aim a second time. The monster closed in and the minion’s shot went wide as he hurriedly blocked the creature’s attack. Claws and limbs tangled together as the alien staggered under the relentless assault. Finally, a well-timed swipe clipped the alien across the jaw. He stumbled, fell to one knee, and collapsed.
And then it was over. The entire fight took less than a handful of seconds.
Kim let out her breath in a gasp, then froze as the monster also went still. It cocked its head to one side, as if listening.
What was going on? It was Angel in that costume, wasn’t it? Her meeting with Naomi must have been an invitation to get all the aliens to come play at Ravenwood. This was all some sort of twisted game. It had to be.
Kim’s own reassurances failed to convince her, though. What if it wasn’t?
Who else could it be? The whatever-it-was certainly wasn’t on the aliens’ side. Why would an ally attack two of its own? It had to be Angel.
But what if it wasn’t?
Well, it certainly isn’t a crazed Scooby-Doo fan in a monster suit!
Kim weighed all the available evidence and made a decision.
She decided now was not the time to decide.
It might be Angel in the costume. It might not. Finding out personally might get her killed. Horror movies had taught her that much, at least. She’d survive by pretending the monster was real until proven otherwise. That was the safest option. If it turned out to be fake, she’d feel ridiculous, but that was all. If it turned out to be real, she’d have the rest of her life to be thankful she didn’t test that theory.
She could live with the embarrassment. The operative word being “live.”
With that in mind, Kim decided to find another way out. All businesses were required by law to have a back door. This gift shop should prove no exception. All she had to do was find it.
Kim crept back down the stairs. Past the bathrooms in the hall were two smaller offices. She found the emergency door between them. It warned of an alarm if she dared open it.
Her hand hovered over the door’s release bar. There’s no power. It should be safe.
She glanced over her shoulder, down the hallway which led to the open street. The front door was out. She’d have to chance the emergency one. This was the only option.
Kim held her breath, bracing for an ear-piercing alarm. She pushed open the door.
Nothing.
She hurried through, taking great care to quietly ease the door shut behind her.
The alley was empty. Kim proceeded on, her senses on high alert, flitting from one building to another. There were still hours of daylight left. Every time an option presented itself, Kim selected the path leading deeper into the heart of the city.
Kim rubbed her hands together. “Okay. We know the aliens are here,” she said to herself. “I’m going to assume they don’t want me poking around.”
She refused to give voice to the theory that the rubber monster might be real. No self-respecting alien would ever want such a ridiculous thing guarding their outpost. “No one’s ever going to believe me.”
Then it clicked.
“No one’s going to believe me! That’s it!”
A pressing desire to blend in. If Kim had to pick one defining characteristic to describe the aliens, that’s what it would be.
Kind of ironic, considering their need to blend in is what makes them stand out.
If Kim were the alien in charge of Ravenwood security, she’d naturally want a ruthlessly efficient combat monster roaming the city. That was to be expected. But as an alien, she’d also want to blend in and avoid public notice. A horrific creature out of nightmare with razor-sharp claws and acid for blood would attract the curious, not drive the curious away. The more unnatural it appeared, the worse off she’d be.
The solution? A guardian monster no one would ever take seriously.
If the monster looked ridiculous, then it wouldn’t matter if nosy humans escaped with damning photographic evidence, because no one would believe them. The more detailed their evidence, the worse their credibility.
The theory seemed credible on the surface, but there was a flaw.
If the lizard monster was a Ravenwood guardian, why did it attack the minion-types? Could they be from two different factions? Did it not recognize them as allies?
Kim lamented not having a second opinion. What she really wanted to do was talk to Angel, compare notes. If nothin
g else, finding Angel might eliminate her from her list of suspects.
Could Angel be looking for her? Was she searching for her even now? Risking her life trying to find her?
“Hail, hail, fire and snow,” Kim sang in a low, sing-song voice. “Call the angel, we will go. Far away, for to see. Friendly angel, come to me.”
Nothing. Kim could only hear the sound of her breathing.
She hadn’t expected the chant from that particular Star Trek episode to work, but it helped boost morale at least. “Dammit, Angel, where are you?”
She didn’t dare risk calling out. That never ended well for the characters in horror movies.
Kim started moving again. There was still a lot of city to explore. Maybe she’d get lucky if she kept moving and stumble across something.
What were the other rules for surviving in a horror movie? Other than never run upstairs, and never wander off alone? Both of which she’d already done?
Don’t pick a hiding place with only one exit.
Don’t lean against a wall or window while catching your breath, because the monster will burst through and grab you.
Were there specific dangers for women in general? If she were wearing a white shirt, would that exponentially increase the likelihood of a freak rainstorm to make it transparent? Or did that rule only apply to well-endowed women, with chances doubled yet again if they weren’t wearing a bra?
Kim looked down at herself and sighed. It was a good bet she was exempt from that rule. Her boobs weren’t nearly bouncy enough to tempt the rain gods.
Both Angel and Old Man Gunther had mentioned flooding, but Kim had yet to see any water at all. And flooding didn’t explain why some of the buildings looked as if a tornado had ripped them asunder.
Kim’s mind flashed back to the brochure. She’d only caught a glimpse of it before it had been destroyed. “Ravenwood. Remember the fallen.”
Had the aliens been hoping to turn Ravenwood into a tourist attraction? Why would they think tourists would want to come to such a desolate place?
Kim kept going. The answers were out there. Somewhere. Something about Ravenwood made it valuable to the aliens, and she was determined to find it.
