“Look!” Lenore called, pointing at the floor. Water was rising through the carpet to soak their shoes. The laughter redoubled as the large eyes in the painting looked from one of their team to the next, seemingly gloating at his triumph.
Lenny was getting more peeved by the minute. “So we’re trapped here for a minute and the room is filling with water! I’m sure all of you have faced far worse obstacles in the past.”
The Baron held up his hand in warning. “Do I smell—gas?”
“Ha ha ha ha ha!” the laughter came even louder, thundering over the sound of rushing water and hissing gas.
“Wait a minute!” Lenny shouted. “So we’re temporarily trapped in a room filling with water in which a deadly—” He stopped himself. Actually, it did sound pretty desperate. And the more he shouted at the others, the more the evil genius threw at them. Maybe he should stop before the bad guy released the poisonous water snakes or something.
He looked up at Foo’s gloating eyeballs. Boy, would he like to poke the laughter right out of those.
“Ha ha ha!” Foo began again.
Well, why not? Lenny took a running leap across the room.
“Ha ha ha ha,” Foo continued. “Ha ha—oh, nuts!” as Lenny slapped at his target with the heel of his hand.
The eyes disappeared from the huge portrait, and the wall lifted out of sight.
Lenny led the others forward at a run before the wall could lower again. They found themselves in yet another room, this one filled with video screens, each showing a different view of the room, so that they could watch themselves walking from a dozen different angles as they turned from one screen to another.
The screens lined the walls on three sides before them. Once again, Lenny could see no clear exit. He walked toward a screen on the far side of the room, his image steadily growing larger from the video feed placed directly above the screen. Every screen had a single red button beneath it. Lenny chose to press the one in front of him.
All the screens went blank for an instant, then flared back to life. They now showed the exact same picture—some sort of control room, filled with busy figures in lab coats and large machines with lots of flashing lights. At the very center of each screen were two figures—one a short, balding man with a worried expression who kept glancing at the other figure, who was tall and wearing a hood and robe of jet black.
The man in black waved his robes in an agitated fashion. “How could this possibly happen?”
The shorter fellow cringed as he spoke. “Beg pardon, Your Evilness?”
“Three times they have almost fallen into our trap! Almost fallen, almost crushed, almost drowned, but at the last minute, they save themselves!”
The shorter man nodded so rapidly, Lenny half expected his head to bounce free of his body. “Truly unthinkable, Your Awfulness.”
“Our plan is so simple!” The tall figure seemed to relax a bit as he thought of it. “We have already neutralized their leader. Now, once we destroy their elite team, they will be completely demoralized.” He chuckled the slightest bit. “Yet we cannot administer the fatal blow. The fools seem to sense our intentions! How is this possible?”
The short man grew even paler than before. “Oh dear, Your Vileness. I was hoping I could correct it before you noticed—”
But the man-in-black’s robes were fluttering once more. “What happened to our video feed? Why can’t I see them on our screens? Why is the red light flashing over ‘send’?”
“You are truly the master of evil!” The bald fellow talked so fast, Lenny had trouble making out distinct words. “What has happened is unthinkable!”
The figure in black stared straight ahead, his voice ominously devoid of emotion. “My relay reversed the video feed. Instead of watching them, they are watching us.”
“I will correct it immediately, O Mighty One. We will take steps to make sure it never happens—” His hurried words turned into a scream as the hooded one pulled a lever at his side and the bald man dropped from sight.
“At least the crocodiles in the pit below have had a bit to eat.” The man in black was silent for a moment. He turned to the back of his room. “I have only begun to plot. I need another minion—now!”
The screen went blank.
“Is Foo!” Karnowski whispered, as the video screen before them rolled away to reveal a larger space beyond.
“Look!” Lenore called, as all four of them noticed the silver escalator, going up.
Lenny’s phone rang one more time.
Chapter Eight
Lenny looked at his phone. Sheila had left him a text message. TROUBLE. NEED UR HELP.
“Karnowski not use phone,” the tall man said from his position next down on the escalator. “Gives static to ghosts.”
“Modern technology often interferes with our powers,” Lenore agreed. “So we’ve learned to stay away from it.”
“I would get calls from wives,” the Baron added morosely.
“But Lenny is different,” Lenore continued. “He’ll bring Terrifitemps into the twenty-first century!”
At the moment, Lenny was mostly worrying about the text message. Trouble? That could mean anything.
WHERE R U? he texted back.
The escalator took them up, and then it took them up some more. Wherever they had ended up, somewhere around South Station, or somewhere in South Boston, or somewhere on Mars, they had been deep, deep below the ground.
GRABBED BY FOO! Sheila texted back. HE WANTS
And then nothing. Lenny stared at the phone.
“Something has gone wrong,” Lenore said.
“I had a visitor this morning,” Lenny replied. “Someone I haven’t seen in years. And now—Foo’s got her!”
The Baron looked toward the ceiling. “The master of evil must be watching our every move!”
“Is top of escalator!” Karnowski called. “Now we see action!”
Lenny realized he was ready. First his stamp collection, and now Sheila. He was in the middle of this whether he wanted to be or not.
“Well,” Lenore added, “perhaps action isn’t the best description.”
And indeed, the escalator deposited them onto a tidy brick floor, in a tidy but small brick room, with a narrow—yet tidy—brick staircase before them. Except the staircase seemed to lead only to an equally tidy brick ceiling. Lenny took a quick walk around the room and saw that the walls were not quite so clean as they had first appeared, as the bricks were covered here and there by faint chalk markings. FOO AND YOU! was written in yellow; PHOO RULES! in white; PFFFFOOOO! showed up in bright pink; MANY MEN SMOKE BUT FOO— (the rest was too smeared to read). And finally, written in a bilious green: FFW! FFW! FFW!
“F-f-w?” Lenny asked.
“Is Foo in Welsh,” Karnowski replied.
Lenny stared at the strange graffiti. If nothing else, these Foo folk were enthusiastic.
“And now?” the Baron said with menacing intent.
Everybody looked at Lenny. He shrugged and walked to the staircase, then climbed the first three steps. Nothing changed.
What now? Lenny found himself getting the slightest bit annoyed. This so-called ability of his had left him feeling helpless again. He stomped backward down the steps. Everybody was still looking at him. What did they expect?
“Wait!” Karnowski said.
With a quiet grinding of gears, a panel in the ceiling—painted to match the surrounding bricks—slid away.
At least nobody mentioned Ms. Siggenbottom this time around. The Baron stepped forward. “One who knows how to deal with danger should lead the way.”
Lenny wasn’t going to argue. Just because things happened around him didn’t mean they would be good things. He let the others go before him and then he, too, climbed the stairs.
He climbed out under bright starlight into what he
first thought was an open field. Then he realized the ground was hard beneath his feet—hard and dark. The field was paved. He heard a faint whirring noise as the hatchway closed behind him. From above, the closed hatchway looked like a manhole cover, with the words CITY OF BOSTON stamped on its dull-gray surface.
Lenore turned back to look at him. “You’ve led us here?”
“Leading Karnowski to answers,” Karnowski added as he, too, stepped back toward Lenny. The tall man raised a cautionary hand. “Now Karnowski senses ghosts.”
The Baron seemed to float more than walk as he silently joined the others on the asphalt plain. “We are not alone,” the Baron added. “There are others all around us.”
“We have left the safety of the tunnels behind,” Lenore agreed. “We have walked into danger.”
Karnowski added, “Now let fun begin.”
Once again, Lenny’s companions were all smiles. He realized the other three were really enjoying themselves.
“Where is here?” Lenny asked as his eyes adjusted to his starlit surroundings. The pavement went on for some distance in all directions, descending into a gully a few hundred feet to his left. A few hundred feet in the other direction, the asphalt was interrupted by great cement pilings that supported an overhead road. Despite the warnings of his team, Lenny could see no other signs of life.
Karnowski surveyed their grim surroundings. “Once this was a thriving community, full of warehouses and distribution centers.”
Lenny turned around, marveling that this place had ever been full of life. The expanse was silent, save for the occasional quiet rumble of a truck on the distant highway. He felt as if the city he knew had disappeared. What disaster could have caused this?
“Urban renewal,” Lenore replied, as if she could again read his thoughts. “As Karnowski said, this space once held row upon row of warehouses, small businesses, the all-important sandwich shops. Now, a vast and empty parking lot.”
She pointed past Lenny to a spot high overhead. He turned to see a large sign looming out of the gloom: ALL-DAY PARKING $13.
He looked beyond the sign and saw that the asphalt did not actually go on forever. A few hundred feet away the dark ground gave way to a strip of lighter gray. A sidewalk, with another one on the other side of a darker street. In the distance he saw a row of streetlights, only half of which were working. The manhole cover was correct—they were still in some part of Boston, but in the middle of blocks and blocks of nothing. He turned back to the pillars supporting the road overhead. Far beyond them, Lenny thought he could see the lights of a tall building or two—office buildings?
The Baron stepped in front of Lenny, his cape unfurling behind him despite the lack of a breeze. He pointed into the distance. “My superior vampire senses detect our destination.”
He walked forward, beckoning for the others to join him. They followed slowly, being careful not to trip over any of the large cracks and holes in the asphalt.
“There!” the vampire announced. Lenny peered ahead and saw a dim light in the shadowy area beneath the highway. They walked closer, until he saw what appeared to be brown canvas walls, barely illuminated by a pair of small lanterns—like a display you’d find at a camping store. Someone had erected tents in the space beneath the highway.
Karnowski raised a hand in warning, pointing to the left of the canvas walls. Deeper in that shadowed space was a group of figures, all wearing blood-red, hooded robes.
Lenny could hear something, too, in the silences between the rumble of trucks above; a faint, sonorous chanting, rising and falling, repeating the same phrase over and over.
“Hummina hummina hummina . . .”
“What does that mean?” Lenny asked. “Who are they?”
“Know from hidden tunnels, not to mention flashy posters! They are minions of Foo!”
Lenny tried to fit this new image with their experience in the tunnels. “But why—if they control hotels filled with dangerous traps and subterranean transportation stations plastered with propaganda posters—why are they hiding in tents?”
“Camouflage,” Lenore explained. “Secret societies like to appear as less than they actually are.”
“They can hide even from my kind,” the Baron agreed.
“Even now, we may be dealing with more than a single group of minions. It’s so difficult to tell,” Lenore replied with a frown. “The mysterious hood has never been out of fashion.” She glanced at Karnowski. “So far, we’ve only talked to Lenny about the secret societies. What if Foo is controlling one of the really secret secret societies?”
Karnowski nodded. “What we know of these shadow associations? Rumors, innuendoes, names half heard above roar of moving train, words half uttered before messenger suddenly shot.”
Messenger shot? Lenny thought. Those things didn’t really—
He reminded himself he was watching a group of weirdly chanting figures in blood-red robes.
“But we have ways to fight them, don’t we?”
“Ghosts, supernatural strength, certain psychic abilities, or so I’ve heard,” the Baron agreed. “And, until recently, the element of surprise the werevole brings. We do not yet know how you will replace that.”
“Here is different,” Karnowski replied. “Have supernatural strength—banished all ghosts from the vicinity.” The tall man gasped, his pale face drained of whatever blood remained. “Karnowski stand corrected. They have banished all ghosts but—one.” For the first time since Lenny had met the man, Karnowski looked genuinely shaken.
“Oh no,” Lenore agreed. The last two words were barely a whisper.
“Are we in danger?” Lenny whispered back.
“Not danger,” Karnowski replied. “Just Bob.”
“Bob the horse?” the Baron managed to hiss despite his fangs.
“What other Bob is there?” Lenore pointed into the middle distance, somewhere to the left of the chanting figures. Something semitransparent, and blue, galloped toward them across the vast parking lot. It was shaped like a horse, it moved like a horse, it looked like a horse in every way but one (well, except for the fact that the horse was blue). This was the first time Lenny had ever seen a horse who was smiling.
“Wow, guys!” The horse spoke in a deep but cheerful voice. “You’re really in trouble this time!”
“Nice to see you, too, Bob,” Lenore replied in a clipped tone that implied anything but “nice.” “Everything is under control.”
Bob pranced eagerly before them. “Of course it is! I’m sure you’ve figured some way out of the certain death creeping up on you this very minute!” He glanced at the red hoods, then turned his snout out toward the darkness of the fields, as though waiting for some invisible menace. “You know, nobody’s ever faced them and lived! I’m just sayin.’” Bob glanced at Lenny. “Hey! How come no one introduced me to the new guy?”
“I’m Lenny.” He started to raise his right arm. But how do you shake hands with a horse—especially a ghost horse? “And you’re Bob?” he said instead.
“Right the first time. And you can see me, too?” Bob did a little happy canter. “Ms. S. sure knows how to pick them!”
“He’s talking, isn’t he?” the Baron said in a hushed voice. “What if someone among the enemy can hear ghosts?”
“Karnowski can see ghosts clearly,” Lenore explained. “I sense them more than see them, and I can hear them after a fashion if I really concentrate, but only like a faint voice on the radio. The Baron, unfortunately, can barely hear or see those on the spectral plane.”
“I have trained myself for Terrifitemps!” The Baron squinted in Bob’s general direction. “Although I sometimes wonder why I bother.”
“Who makes up these rules, anyways?” Bob chimed in. “None of those guys in red care about me. I’m just a pooka! It would be different if I could die a horrible death at their deranged biddi
ng!”
“Is good, Bob,” Karnowski interjected. “But could you give little peace and quiet? Karnowski need to concentrate.”
The ghost horse shook his head agreeably. “Hey, anybody else would have run! But here you are talkin.’ How brave is that? Sure, go ahead and stick around, even though it’s like signing your death warrant. But do you guys care?”
Lenore glanced at Lenny, a hint of despair in her eyes. “Could you talk to Bob”—she waved back the way they had come—“somewhere over there?”
“Sure!” Lenny waved the horse to follow him as the three other team members gathered together to talk. Maybe he could get some useful information from this apparition. “So. You really know your way around here, huh?”
“Nothing a skilled pooka can’t handle!” Bob agreed.
Lenny frowned. This was even further beyond his understanding than usual.
“What do you do as a pooka?”
Bob paused for an instant before he answered. “Mostly, we pook.”
That didn’t tell Lenny anything. He tried again. “How do you pook?”
“You’d know if you were a pooka,” Bob replied with a toss of its ghostly mane. “How’d you get this job, anyway?”
Lenny still wasn’t quite sure about that himself. “It’s a long story.”
“Isn’t it always,” Bob said with a sigh. “You know, I’ve wanted to work at Terrifitemps for a long time. Such brave, foolhardy people. I’d fit right in. Someday, they’ll see how valuable a pooka can be.” He glanced back at the gathering in the underpass. “The vengeful horde should be noticing you just about now. Pookas know that sort of thing.”
Lenny saw movement among the robes. The group was standing now. Some of them pointed and waved their hands. But none of them made any move to come any closer.
“Uh-oh,” Bob said. “Now that’s really bad.”
Lenore ran toward them. “We’re splitting into two teams!” she said hurriedly. “The Baron can turn insubstantial, and get close to them, hopefully without their notice. Karnowski has overcome our enemy’s primitive wards and is even now calling up his legions of ghosts, who can move among the hooded ones and disrupt whatever they plan to do.”
Temporary Monsters Page 7
