Here Be Monsters!

by Alan Snow

  Its wings began to beat, then it slowly rose from the floor.

  Finally it began to move across the corridor toward the jailer. As it reached him, it slowed to a wobbly hover over the pocket.

  “That’s it! I can see the pocket. But we need to lose height! How do I do that?”

  “Kipper, ease off the power ever so slightly,” ordered Grandfather. “Tom, you will have to tell him when you start to fall and when he needs to increase his pedaling.”

  “I shall enjoy easing off!” Kipper said, nodding vigorously.

  The doll steadily descended till it was just an inch or so above the pocket.

  “Steady, Kipper, steady!” whispered Tom. He gently pressed the levers in his hands and the doll moved forward till its arms entered the pocket.

  “A little more power, Kipper!” said Tom, and he started to manipulate the levers, concentrating as hard as he could. For a few moments there was silence as he struggled to make the precise movements he needed. Then, suddenly, he gave a triumphant shout.

  “Got them! Now, Kipper, give it everything you’ve got!”

  Kipper began pedaling ever more furiously, wheezing and panting with the effort.

  The doll rose and the keys lifted from the pocket. Tom shifted the controls, and the doll turned toward Arthur’s cell.

  “Please, I am going to pass out,” moaned Kipper.

  “Stop complaining, Kipper!” snapped Tom.

  “Oh no! Something is happening!” cried Kipper in a panic.

  “Shut up and pedal!” shouted Tom.

  Grandfather and Willbury, however, were more concerned. Smoke was starting to rise from where the pedals joined the pump.

  “Quick! Get the keys back to the cell!” Grandfather urged Tom.

  “What’s happening?” asked Kipper. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  There was a crunching noise, and the pedals seized.

  “It’s bust!” shouted Grandfather. “Quick, before it dies!”

  Smoke was starting to rise from where the pedals joined the pump.

  In the cell, Arthur had watched mesmerized as the doll retrieved the keys. Now he stood horrified and helpless as it started to fall toward the floor. Tom pushed both of the levers in his hands forward as far as they would go, and the doll tilted forward and dropped into a dive. As it neared the floor, Tom pulled the levers back and the doll pulled out of the dive and rushed toward the cell door. Arthur reached out his arms frantically; if only it could keep going until it got to him—but it didn’t look as if it was going to make it.

  Now he stood horrified and helpless as it started to fall toward the floor.

  It didn’t. The doll hit the ground about two feet from the cell. Arthur groaned, but in Grandfather’s cave Tom made one last frantic effort with the levers. Just as it hit the floor, the doll let go of the keys and seemed to propel them desperately toward Arthur. They slid across the floor and through the bars. Arthur snatched them up.

  “Grandfather! Grandfather! I’ve got the keys!” Arthur whispered gleefully, but no one heard him. The doll was dead.

  They slid across the floor and through the bars.

  Wet and miserable!

  chapter 42

  THE TRAPS

  Wading around.

  Meanwhile, deep underground, Snatcher and the other members had been wading around wet and miserable for hours. First they’d checked the traps closest to the elevator, but when they found nothing in them, they had to go farther afield to check their other traps. Water was everywhere, running over the floor, running down the walls, and gushing from the ceiling. And the sound of it was so loud they had to shout to make themselves heard.

  “Maybe we already got all the monsters down ’ere,” shouted Gristle.

  “Well, you do remember what I said? You don’t want to find yourself in reduced circumstance, do yer?” Snatcher replied.

  “I think we should check the traps near the elevator again then,” Gristle quickly suggested.

  They made their way back toward the elevator. As they approached one of the traps, Gristle smiled.

  “ ’Ere, guv. We got some!” He pointed to large net full of boxtrolls.

  “ ’Ere, guv. We got some!”

  “My word, we struck it lucky. And some of them is big ’uns!”

  They lowered the net and bundled their haul into sacks. Then they eagerly set off to check the next trap, leaving a trail of vegetable teeth floating in the water. To Snatcher’s delight and surprise, that next trap was also full of boxtrolls.

  “Yes! You can never have enough size!” he shouted as he rubbed his hands together. “Get them down, boys! I’m starting to enjoy this!”

  The members bagged up the boxtrolls and moved on. At each trap, they found more boxtrolls.

  “This is blooming marvelous!” Snatcher chuckled. Gristle had never seen him so happy. “Makes you wonder where they all bin hidin’—we ain’t seen so many for weeks! Right lucky for us, but unlucky for them—and Ratbridge!”

  “Ain’t we got enough now?” asked Gristle, struggling under the weight of a sack.

  “Oh, go on. Let’s check just one more trap. It ain’t going to hurt.”

  “It’s killing my back,” complained Gristle.

  “That ain’t nothing to what it’s going to do to Ratbridge!” gloated Snatcher.

  “Ain’t we got enough now?” asked Gristle, struggling under the weight of a sack.

  The Underworld.

  chapter 43

  DEEP WATER

  “My bones are killing me,” said Grandfather.

  Willbury looked at Grandfather and sighed. “I guess we don’t know if Arthur got the keys.”

  “No.” Grandfather slumped onto the edge of the bed.

  Just then Fish rushed into the room with Titus following behind. He started gabbling to Willbury.

  “I don’t understand,” said Willbury. “I will have to get Titus to translate.”

  Titus hurried over to translate. Slowly he turned pale.

  “Fish says that the water is starting to bring down the tunnel roofs! We had better get out of here quick.” Willbury paused for a moment. “Let’s go back to the boxtroll nest to see if the others have found the elevator.”

  He turned to Grandfather. “You had better come with us.”

  “Anything to get out of this damp. My bones are killing me,” said Grandfather.

  Kipper and Fish took Grandfather’s arms and led him out of the bedroom, with the others following. When they reached the living room, Grandfather looked around.

  Kipper and Fish took Grandfather’s arms.

  “I shall rather miss this place.” He sighed.

  “We better hurry or goodness knows what’s going to happen,” urged Willbury. He grabbed a lantern, and they ran off toward the boxtroll nest as fast as they could through the water, which was starting to turn to a brown, muddy soup.

  They were halfway there when they had to stop. The tunnel ahead was flooded.

  “What do we do now?” asked Willbury. “We can’t go back.”

  Grandfather looked worriedly toward Fish. “Do you know another route?”

  Fish thought for a moment, then pointed to a side passage nervously. It, too, was flooded, but the roof of the passage was somewhat higher than that of the flooded tunnel.

  The tunnel ahead was flooded.

  Then Fish started to whimper.

  “What’s the matter, Fish?” asked Willbury.

  Titus tugged on Willbury’s cuff, and Willbury leaned down.

  “Oh, dear!” Willbury exclaimed.

  “What is it?” asked Grandfather.

  “Fish is scared. It’s the idea of having to swim. Boxtrolls loathe swimming. It is bad enough that their boxes got wet . . . but swimming.”

  Kipper waded toward Fish and smiled. “Don’t worry; I’ll carry you!”

  Fish, however, did not look convinced. In the distance there was a sudden rumble and the sound of rushing water grew louder.
r />   “Right. Fish, close your eyes.” And before Fish could protest, Kipper picked him up and swung him over his head.

  “Any room for a small one?” Tom asked hopefully.

  “Go on then, climb on board,” Kipper offered, raising his eyebrows. Tom scrambled up to join Fish, then Kipper turned to Titus. “You may as well hitch a ride. One more is not going to hurt.”

  Kipper carrying Fish, Tom, and Titus.

  Titus looked at the passage ahead and made his decision. With Willbury’s assistance he struggled up to join Tom and Fish.

  Willbury frowned. “I think I can manage with Grandfather, but the lamp?”

  “I can take that,” said Tom, and Willbury passed it to him.

  “Do you think you will be all right, Kipper . . . carrying that lot?” Willbury asked.

  “With all the exercise I get from carrying washing?” he said with a smirk. He gave Willbury a wink and began wading into the tunnel. The water was icy cold, and Willbury felt his box go soggy as he hauled Grandfather along.

  “Are you all right?” he asked the old man.

  “I could do with a warm bath at the end of this, but don’t worry about me. It’s Arthur I’m worried about,” Grandfather assured him.

  Kipper turned and waded into the tunnel ahead and Willbury followed with Grandfather.

  Nonetheless, they were overjoyed to see that the passage angled upward, and they soon reached a point where the water became shallow.

  “Do you mind if I have a breather?” puffed Grandfather.

  “Let’s have a rest on that rock—it looks dry,” said Willbury, pointing to a large flat rock that was still above water. Everybody clambered up, looking forward to sitting down for a moment. But before they could even catch their breath, there was a twang and they found themselves hanging in a net from the ceiling.

  “No!” cried Willbury. “It’s one of Snatcher’s traps.”

  There was nothing they could do but hang there and wait. Wet and miserable, they huddled in silence, too dejected even to talk. Several minutes passed before lights started to appeared.

  “Keep quiet and pretend to be boxtrolls,” Grandfather whispered. “I think they’ll be taken in. But I’ll have to take my chances.”

  As members approached, Willbury saw Snatcher grinning from ear to ear. “This one’s full too!” he called back to the struggling members. “Sack this lot up, me lads, and we’ll call it a day.” Gristle lowered the net onto the rock and inspected the quarry. Then he cried out, “ ’Ere, sir. There’s an old man in here with the monsters!”

  “Well, I never,” said Snatcher, leaning over Grandfather. “If it ain’t me old school friend William Trubshaw!” Then he grinned. “So this is where you’ve been hiding all these years. How typical of you to be mixed up with all these wretched underlings.”

  “If it ain’t me old school friend William Trubshaw!”

  “Archibald Snatcher,” hissed Grandfather. Some of the members close by heard this and giggled under their breath when they realized that “Archibald” was Snatcher’s first name. Snatcher turned around and fixed them with a steely gaze.

  “You think ‘Archibald’ is funny, do you?” They fell silent. “Shove him in a sack like the rest of them.”

  Then he leaned back over Grandfather. “You just wait till I get you back to the lab! By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll be wishing you were doing time for attempted murder instead!”

  Members returning with their quarry by “Cupboard.”

  chapter 44

  THE SHAFT!

  Tea and cake.

  Snatcher stood by the cupboard doors watching as the last of the members dragged their wet sacks into the tearoom. Flashes of lightning threw shafts of light through the cracks in the boards over the windows, and across the floor. Outside the rain fell hard on the streets of Ratbridge.

  “Take ’em straight down to the lab and chain ’em to the railing. It’ll make it easier for sticking ’em in the ‘extractor.’ Then we’ll ’ave a quick cup of tea and some cake.”

  The members hiked the struggling sacks off to the lab. There they hastily chained their captives and raced back to the tearoom for cake.

  Willbury looked around the railing and was shocked to see his fellow prisoners. There were the crew of the Laundry, Marjorie and the boxtrolls Arthur had rescued, Fish, Shoe, Egg, and Titus, and finally Grandfather. Everybody looked battered and very miserable.

  Willbury noticed that Marjorie was anxiously studying the large funnel that hung above them. He took out his teeth.

  “What is that thing, Marjorie?” he whispered.

  Willbury looked around the railing and was shocked to see his fellow prisoners.

  Marjorie looked crestfallen. “They have done it! They’ve built a copy of my machine . . . only much, much bigger.”

  “I thought you said it had two funnels?”

  Marjorie pointed. “See the small one over there, on top of that cage by the shed? I think that is where they put the underlings to shrink them,” said Marjorie.

  “And the big funnel up there?” asked Willbury.

  Marjorie looked at the large doors in the floor. “I’m not sure . . . .”

  Footsteps approached, and they hurriedly put their teeth back in just as Snatcher and the members, all wearing their ceremonial robes, stomped into the room.

  “Tonight, gentlemen, we have a special show,” Snatcher announced. “Not only do we have enough monsters to finish our project, but also, as the grand finale, we shall for the first time use the machine to extract the size from humans. Please prepare the first boxtroll.”

  Snatcher and the members stomped into the room.

  Marjorie was the nearest, and so they seized on her, unchaining her and pulling her across the room. She wailed and put up a good fight, but it wasn’t long before the members had her inside the cage with the door shut. The underlings howled in despair. Willbury could stand it no longer.

  It wasn’t long before the members had her inside the cage with the door shut.

  “Stop! This is inhuman,” he shouted.

  The members turned to look. Snatcher walked slowly over to where Willbury was chained.

  “Human? What do you boxtrolls know about human?” Then he paused and eyed up Willbury. “Well, maybe you’re a little more human than I thought!”

  He put his good eye up very close to Willbury. “I know you! You are that Willbury Nibble, that lawyer we’ve had so much trouble with. We’ve got your little friend locked up downstairs. I think I’ll have him brought up so you can get shrunk together.”

  Willbury froze. If Arthur had escaped, then Snatcher had not found out yet! If he hadn’t, then the longer he stayed away from this machine, the better. Either way, delaying Snatcher from sending someone down to get him was a good thing. He decided to change the subject.

  He put his good eye up very close to Willbury.

  “This machine of yours is rather impressive. What are you using it for?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Snatcher grinned.

  “It’s not as if I can do anything about it. I’m sure your plan must be rather good.”

  Snatcher puffed up a little as his vanity took over. “You’re right! You and your friends have already had your fate sealed, so there can be no harm in telling you my plan. We are going to reclaim our rightful place as the overlords of Ratbridge. The cheese barons shall rule again!” And he laughed madly.

  “So how are you going to do that?”

  “This is what is going to allow us to do it. We are creating a monster!” Snatcher paused for dramatic effect. “And in part, it’s going to be with your help.” Snatcher laughed again. “You know we have been shrinking your friends. Well, have you wondered where the size goes?”

  Willbury tried not to look worried.

  “AH! You have! Well, I can tell you . . . the size goes directly into a very special friend of mine, and as he gets bigger, he becomes more and more unstoppable!” Snatcher’s
good eye was nearly bulging in his excitement.

  “Oh!” said Willbury, frantically trying to buy more time. “Your special friend . . . do we get to meet him?”

  “Yes. Very shortly!”

  “And . . . where does cheese come into all of this?” asked Willbury.

  “The cheese! Cheese is central to it. To aid our monster’s growth we have been force-feeding him a fondue of molten cheese. It goes down very well.” Snatcher guffawed. “A DEEP WELL!” And he laughed at his own evil joke.

  Snatcher’s good eye was nearly bulging in his excitement.

  “Well, well,” said Willbury.

  “Very droll, Mr. Nibble. We have a heated pit that we drop cheeses into. This is piped directly to the Great One. Right down his throat. I think ’e rather likes it.”

  Willbury was horrified. What sort of monster could they possibly have created? “So, what happens now?” he pressed on.

  “The boxtroll in the cage is about to donate some size to . . . the Great One, and after that the rest of you are going to do the same. Then, when you are all shrunk and the Great One is finally the size we want, it’s time to unleash him. Boy! Are we going to have fun! I hate this town!”

  Snatcher turned and called for a ladder. Soon he was on the top of the shed waving his duck stick about wildly in the air.

  “To your places, gentlemen; we are about to start!”

  Soon he was on the top of the shed waving his duck stick about wildly in the air.

  The members scrambled to positions around the lab, tending different machines, while Gristle sat at the controls. Great whooshes of sound filled the air as the beam engine started to move, then generators started to hum and power surged through the sizing machine.