Billy Hooten

by Tom Sniegoski

  Archebold stopped and turned around again. “What are you waiting for? C'mon.”

  “I can't,” Billy said, shaking his head. “I just can't.”

  “What do you mean, you can't?” Archebold asked, stomping toward him. “You're Owlboy now, for freak's sake, and it's time to show everybody that you're back.”

  Billy didn't know how to respond. His brain sputtered and sparked as he tried to come up with a reason for not investigating, other than the fact that he was afraid.

  “I can't because …” And suddenly, he had it, the perfect excuse. “Because I don't have any of the tools I'll need to solve the case. You can't expect me to go out there without the proper tools. I'd look like an idiot.”

  “Hrrmmmm,” Archebold said, stroking his chin. “You're right.”

  Billy almost blacked out, he was suddenly so happy. He was just not ready for anything like a murder, and by the time they figured out what he'd need, enough time would have passed for him to …

  “Halifax!” Archebold yelled.

  Again, that name.

  “Who's… ?”

  A section of a hallway wall suddenly lifted up and the furry, greasy, overall-wearing creature stepped out to stand behind the goblin.

  “You bellowed,” Halifax said, his voice low and rough.

  “Ah, Halifax,” Archebold said, spinning around.

  “You're the one who was driving the robot legs and feet,” Billy said.

  “Can't pull the wool over his eyes,” Halifax said, nudging Archebold with his elbow. “Walter was right about this one, wasn't he?” he whispered, talking through the corner of his mouth seemingly so only Archebold could hear.

  “Forget about Walter,” Archebold scolded. “That bug's got a bad attitude. Halifax, Billy; Billy, Halifax.”

  Billy waved. “Hey.”

  “Hey back,” the furry creature responded.

  “Okay, now that we've got that out of the way,” Archebold said. “We need some things to solve a murder. Can you help us?”

  Halifax removed a pair of glasses from the front pocket of his overalls and placed them on his furry face. Billy hadn't a clue how the creature could see, the glasses were so dirty. Halifax pulled a small crumpled notebook and stubby pencil from another pocket. “Whaddya need?” he asked.

  “Oh, well, um, I'm sure it's nothing you have handy,” Billy said nervously. “I can go back home and get everything I need.”

  “Halifax is a troll, great with his hands, thus he's our gadget guy,” Archebold said. “If we don't have it, he can build it … isn't that right?” He looked at the creature proudly.

  “On some occasions, I even amaze myself,” Halifax said.

  “That's all right,” Billy began.

  Archebold stamped his foot. “It's not all right. Our clues are going to be stone-cold if we don't act pretty soon.”

  Not wanting to make Archebold any angrier, Billy quickly rattled off a list of things he thought he remembered from the comics he'd read.

  “Can't promise you miracles,” Halifax said, walking back to his opening in the wall. “But let me see what I can do.”

  The door hadn't been closed behind him for more than a second before it opened again and the hairy creature stepped out, his arms filled with equipment.

  Billy's jaw hung open in disbelief as Halifax dumped all the items on his list on the floor between them.

  “Sorry about the wait, boys,” he said, scratching his belly. “Coupla the items I had to special-order.”

  “Can we go now?” Archebold asked, turning away and continuing down the hallway toward what looked like an elevator.

  Billy started to pick up the items the troll had dropped. “Thanks a lot,” he said sarcastically.

  “My pleasure,” Halifax replied, disappearing back into the opening in the wall.

  “Are you coming or not?” Archebold asked impatiently as the doors of the elevator slid open.

  Billy grabbed up all the stuff in his arms and ran to the end of the hall, careful not to drop anything. The doors started to slide closed as soon as he entered.

  “Where are we going?” he asked the goblin.

  “You'll see,” Archebold said as the elevator quickly began to drop.

  That's all I need, Billy thought, feeling the contents of his stomach rising into his throat. Another reason to throw up.

  “Aren't you gonna put any of that on?” Archebold asked, nodding toward the equipment Billy held in his arms. “That's what the belt is for, you know.”

  Billy dropped the armload and picked out the thick yellow belt. It reminded him of the belt his dad wore to hold his tools when doing projects around the house. Billy put all the crime-fighting implements in their special places on the belt.

  That Halifax is good, he thought. Every item on his list was present and accounted for, as well as some things he hadn't even thought of.

  Archebold looked him over, nodding his approval. “The last Owlboy didn't use a belt,” he said. “It's a nice touch.”

  The elevator came to an abrupt stop, and Billy wondered if it was possible to live with his intestines up in his throat. The doors parted, and he was still collecting himself as Archebold bolted from the elevator.

  “C'mon, c'mon, the rate we're going, we'll never catch any bad guys.”

  Billy followed the goblin into yet another large room, making a mental note for whenever he had a free minute to ask Archebold how big the Roost actually was.

  This room was strangely empty except for a single large object in the center, covered with a gray tarp.

  “What's under that?” Billy asked, his curiosity piqued.

  Archebold's goblin face looked very serious. “It's been quite some time since this has been used,” he said, laying a hand upon the covered object. “From what my grandpa said, the last Owlboy used to love to take her out on missions every chance he got.”

  “What is it?” Billy asked in an excited whisper, but he already had an idea what he was about to see.

  Archebold gripped the heavy canvas covering and pulled it away to reveal the shiny yellow vehicle underneath.

  “Wow!” was all Billy could say as he looked upon the item he had seen only in the pages of comic books.

  The Owlmobile.

  The artists hadn't done it justice.

  It was the coolest car he had ever seen, shaped like an owl's head: the big, two-sectioned windshield looked like eyes, and the hood of the vehicle tapered to a hooked beak. The car was bright yellow, and in the light of the room it seemed to glow.

  “Awesome,” Billy said, walking around the amazing vehicle, taking it in from every angle. “I bet it's fast.”

  He placed a gloved hand on the hood, still not believing that he was actually touching the Owlmobile. He couldn't count the times he'd promised himself that someday he'd have a car as cool-looking as this.

  Archebold reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

  “Would you like to see how fast?” he asked, a twinkle in his dark eyes.

  Billy couldn't find words and just nodded like a nut.

  “Then let's get going,” Archebold said, approaching the driver's-side door.

  “Can I drive?” Billy finally asked.

  The goblin made a face. “What, are you crazy? You're just a kid.”

  “Not fair,” Billy griped beneath his breath, opening the passenger-side door and getting inside. “Can be a stupid superhero, but can't drive a stupid car.”

  “Excuse me,” Archebold said, leaning over Billy's lap to get at the glove compartment.

  He popped open the compartment and removed what looked like a gigantic garage door opener. Pointing it at the circular windshield, the goblin pushed a big red button, producing a spectacular result.

  The entire wall in front of them began to slowly rise.

  “Oh, wow,” Billy gasped, fumbling with his seat belt as the outside of the Roost was revealed. “It's amazing!” He looked out over the vast view of a nighttim
e city lit up with thousands and thousands of lights.

  “Monstros City,” Archebold said, putting the Owl-mobile in drive and gunning it toward the exit. “The most fantastic city in all the world, and any other place beyond that, if you ask me.”

  Billy leaned forward in his seat as the vehicle left the confines of the Roost's garage. He wanted to get a good look at the place—this city he would be in charge of protecting. The first thing he noticed was the road they were driving on as the car descended from the Roost. Billy turned around in his seat to get a look at where they had been and almost didn't believe his eyes.

  “Is that what I think it is?” he asked Archebold.

  “All depends on what you think it is,” the goblin teased.

  The Roost was inside a giant tree—the biggest tree Billy had ever seen. Watching it gradually come into view through the back window, Billy guessed that the tree was at least ten times bigger than the biggest redwood he had seen on vacation with his parents in California a few years back.

  This was a big tree—the biggest—growing out of the center of a forest of smaller trees that weren't really all that small—just smaller than the biggest tree ever.

  “Okay, the Roost is in a giant tree,” he said in disbelief, trying to convince himself of what he was seeing.

  “Where else would a roost be?” Archebold responded. “And in case you ever get lost, the tree is in the middle of the Wailing Wood.”

  Turning back in his seat, Billy took notice of the ramp they were traveling down into the city and realized that they were driving within an enormous furrow that had been cut inside one of the great tree's heavy, low-hanging branches.

  After all the stuff he had seen since coming to Monstros, this had to be the one thing that would fry his noodle for sure.

  But then he got a good look at the city. A really good look.

  Billy had never seen a city like it. He had been to Boston, and New York a few times, and even Los Angeles once, but none of them could compare to this. If a crazy person was put in charge of building a city, Billy imagined that it might look something like Monstros.

  Archebold slowed a bit as they continued down the tree limb's passage, so that Billy could get a good look. Billy stared in amazement at the bizarre skyline. There were all kinds of buildings, and they mostly seemed to be made from the stuff you'd expect: wood, brick, concrete, steel and glass. But then there were the structures that looked as though they could have been made from something that might have, at one time, been alive. One building, glistening white in the light reflecting off the other buildings, looked as if it was made entirely out of bones—bones of every conceivable size and shape. Another building looked as if it could've been sculpted from green Jell-O. Billy could actually see through the gelatinous structure; he watched the people—monsters?— moving around inside as they did whatever it was that monsters who work in buildings made of green Jell-O do.

  “Is that green Jell-O?” Billy asked, trying to sound casual.

  Archebold snickered, shaking his malformed head as he drove. “Green Jell-O,” he scoffed. “That's the Amoeba building; it was grown last year.”

  “You grow your buildings?” Billy asked, amazed.

  The goblin looked surprised. “Yeah, some of them. What's the big deal, doesn't everybody?”

  Billy didn't answer, leaning back in his seat and letting the wonder of Monstros wash over him like a wave. They were getting closer to street level, and now he could see some of the smaller, more intimate structures, the stores, restaurants and apartment buildings. Everything seemed normal at first glance, but on closer inspection, it wasn't. One building on the right looked like a gigantic clamshell; another beside it Billy could swear was covered in fur. Further on, yet another looked as though it had been chiseled from a block of ice.

  At first it all seemed scary and insane. But soon Billy realized that it was no scarier than going to any new place. Really, it was just like visiting any other city for the first time.

  This one just happened to be populated by monsters.

  “Well, what do you think?” Archebold asked, gazing out the window with a proud look on his face. “Ain't she a beauty?”

  “I think I'm gonna like it here,” Billy said.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Owlmobile rounded the corner at Banshee Boulevard, its headlights like two blazing eyes illuminating the street before it.

  The car's thick tires slid across the road with a screech as the vehicle continued down the dark and curving side street. Pulling up to a curb, the car came to a sudden stop, its powerful engine revving momentarily before falling silent, the twin headlights winking out.

  “Did I park close enough to the curb?” Archebold asked as he opened the driver's-side door.

  Billy had climbed out on the other side. “You're good,” he assured the goblin. “This ride is sweet,” he added, pulling his attention from the cityscape back to the car as his goblin sidekick joined him on the sidewalk. “When do I get to drive it?”

  “One thing at a time, Billy,” the goblin said, adjusting the jacket of his tuxedo. “There'll be plenty of opportunities for you to drive later. Right now our main focus is to let the denizens of Monstros know that you're back. Remember, they've been waiting for this— for you—for an awfully long time.”

  Archebold removed a monocle from his jacket pocket and placed it over one of his beady little eyes. “Now, let me take a good look at you.”

  The single piece of circular glass magnified the goblin's bloodshot peeper to gigantically gross-me-out proportions. I guess it helps him to see better, Billy figured. Archebold stepped back, motioning with one of his stubby arms for Billy to turn around.

  Billy did as he instructed, slowly spinning in a circle for the goblin's inspection.

  “Not bad,” Archebold said, rubbing his nubby chin. “A little shorter than the usual, but not bad at all.”

  “Does it make my butt look big?” Billy asked, trying to look over his shoulder at his costumed behind.

  “You look fine,” the goblin said, quickly turning to leave, his coattails flapping behind him. “Let's go.”

  Billy followed tentatively. “So, this will be a murder scene?” he asked.

  “Exactly,” Archebold said, not bothering to slow down or turn around. He waved a stubby finger in the air for effect. “And it's up to Owlboy to set things right.”

  Billy stopped short. “You want me”—he gulped— “to solve the murder?”

  The goblin was already on the other side of the street, moving toward a muffled commotion. “You're the guy in the Owlboy costume, aren't you?” he shouted.

  “Yeah, but I have a hard time with word problems— what makes you think I can solve a murder?”

  “C'mon, you'll be great.”

  Billy chased after the little goblin, making sure to look both ways before crossing the street. After some of the things he'd seen in Monstros City, he didn't want to take the chance of getting run over by a dinosaur passing by, or maybe even a UFO.

  Billy caught up with Archebold as the goblin was preparing to head down an alley. “I can't do this,” Billy said, reaching out with one of his gloved hands to yank on his friend.

  Archebold turned. There was a huge crooked smile on his wide, ugly face. “Of course you can,” he said with the utmost confidence.

  But Billy felt none of the goblin's certainty. “How do you know?” he asked, gazing down the alley at the crowd ahead. “I'm only twelve years old, for Pete's sake.”

  “ 'Cause you've been chosen,” the goblin said. “You are Owlboy.”

  Billy felt a little sick to his stomach. “Chosen,” he repeated. “I've been chosen. You keep saying that, but what does it really mean?”

  Archebold placed a hand on the front of his white shirt. “I've chosen you.” He lifted his hand and waved it around in the air. “This place has chosen you. For hundreds of years it has been my family's job to serve the one who has taken on the mantle of Owlboy, and
trust me, I'd know if you weren't the one.”

  He turned away from Billy and started down the alley once again. “And besides, the costume fits you.”

  “No, it really didn't,” Billy protested, still not feeling any better. “I had to make a lot of alterations.”

  They were closer to the crowd now, and he could hear the strange voices of the monsters that were gathering as they chattered among themselves, clamoring for the sight of something beyond the alley.

  “Cryin’ shame,” said a monster that looked kind of like a praying mantis, only it was wearing a blond wig, a halter top and a miniskirt.

  “Just keeps getting worse and worse,” another monster replied, this one bright green and resembling a stalk of asparagus with multiple spindly arms and legs. It was eating an ice cream cone covered in what looked like sprinkles—only, the sprinkles Billy knew didn't squirm around all over his ice cream. “I remember when this part of town used to be safe,” it continued between eager licks. Its voice was high-pitched, like the screech of a rusty screen door.

  Archebold turned to Billy. “Did you hear that?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No more buts,” Archebold warned with a shake of his gourd-shaped head. “Monstros needs you.” He gazed lovingly at the buildings around them, and then at the gathering of monsters. “They need you.”

  It was as though those words flicked a switch somewhere in Billy's head. At last, he began to understand.

  “They need me,” he repeated quietly, allowing the words to rattle around inside his skull. He felt a bond with Monstros City then, and with the creatures that lived there. They needed him to be something more than just a sixth-grade kid—something more, even, than what he believed himself to be.

  “Billy, hey, are you all right?” Archebold asked.

  “I'm fine,” Billy said, adjusting the chinstrap on his leather helmet and straightening the goggles that covered his glasses. “But now I have work to do.” He tugged on the cuffs of his mother's gardening gloves, wiggling his fingers around for a better fit.