by Bruce Hale
Curious, I stepped closer. When I saw what was inside, my knees buckled, and the walls seemed to close in on me.
THE TANKS WERE full of monsters.
Each ten-foot-tall vat was packed with reddish goo, like Jell-O, only clearer and more liquid-y. But instead of fruit bits, suspended in this goop was a collection of creatures straight out of nightmare. Giant crabs with human faces. Snakelike beings with bat wings and tiger heads. Humanoids with frog legs and yellow fangs.
And this was only in the three vats we could see. Six more waited behind those.
Hanzomon had the makings of a monster army.
For a brief moment, I thought I would lose my dinner. Folding an arm across my stomach, I nodded toward the snaky things. “Uh, you…?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Mr. Hanzomon. The pride in his voice was as transparent as a shirt made of Scotch tape. “I created them myself—with a little help. Aren’t they marvelous?”
Benny looked positively green. “Not exactly the word I was searching for.”
The scientist patted the crab creatures’ vat. “From a purely scientific point of view, this is a tremendous breakthrough. The next step in humankind’s evolution.”
“Then why do I feel totally creeped out?” I said.
Mr. Hanzomon turned to face us. An eerie light shone in his eyes. “New ideas seem frightening to the untutored mind.”
So do totally loco ideas, I thought.
“And, uh, wha—” Benny cleared his throat. “What are you going to do with the monsters?”
Our host’s eyes twinkled. “Why, release them, of course. How else will new heroes emerge, without new monsters to face?”
This guy was going to turn all these monsters loose on our town? Hundreds of people might die. Who knew what damage the creatures would cause. Benny’s eyes found mine. I read in them the same thought I was having: This dude is totally whackadoodle.
Gingerly, I edged backward. “But why Monterrosa?”
“Yeah, how did we get so lucky?” added Benny.
Spreading his arms, Mr. Hanzomon said, “This place is monster heaven.”
“Funny, but they left that slogan off the town’s website,” said Benny, joining me. I’d noticed that the more nervous he got, the more he tended to joke. Me, too.
The billionaire cocked his head. “It’s something about the magnetic field here, ever since that earthquake in October. Quite fascinating. We’re not sure why, but the altered resonance encourages abnormality to flourish.”
“I can see that,” I said, still backing away. His comment explained a lot, actually. About why we’d had to tangle with were-hyenas, mutant mantises, and scorp-lions—all between Halloween and Christmas.
But that didn’t change one essential fact: he was still nuttier than the contents of a squirrel’s lunch box.
“So?” Mr. Hanzomon indicated the laboratory. “What do you think?”
“Words can’t express what I think,” I said.
Stroking his chin, the scientist said, “You know, this is a big project, and I recently lost my assistant. I could use some reliable interns with a passion for science. Interested?”
“Gee,” said Benny. “Sorry, but my pee-wee football league starts next week.”
I gestured toward the elevator. “And we really should be getting home.”
“Of course,” said our host.
I blinked. Was he really going to let us walk out, after all we’d seen? Benny and I stood just a few feet away from the elevator doors. The guards still blocked our path.
“So we can go?” said Benny.
“Certainly,” said the scientist.
“Just like that?” I asked.
He did that twitchy thing with his mouth that passed for a smile. “You two said you want to be heroes.”
I flinched. Me and my big mouth…
“My people have been monitoring events at your school,” said the scientist. “They told me how you responded to the creatures I sent there.”
A jolt raced through my limbs. “So you are the source of the scorp-lions.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, man.” Benny wiped his forehead. “You couldn’t have sent a mash-up of a bunny and a baby duck instead?”
Mr. Hanzomon ignored him, clasping his hands behind his back. “You want to be heroes, here’s your chance.”
“How do you mean?” asked Benny.
“If you can make it past my pets and over the wall, you will have proven yourselves heroic enough to leave. If not…” The scientist made a careless gesture. “Oh, well.”
I didn’t much like the sound of oh, well, or of his “pets.” But I was afraid if we stayed there much longer, Mr. Hanzomon would try giving us giraffe necks or hawk feet. Keeping wary eyes on the billionaire, we approached the elevator.
At a nod from Mr. Hanzomon, the giant guards moved aside. “Release Fluffy and her kittens,” he said. Amazon Number One went to a control panel on the wall and flipped a switch.
Benny tried to chuckle. “Fluffy?”
“We’ll see if you’re still laughing when you meet her,” said our host.
We stepped into the open car and pushed the button for the ground floor.
“In case I never see you alive again,” said Mr. Hanzomon, “it’s been…interesting. If you’re the best your school has to offer, the new age of heroes may be off to a slow start.”
I blurted, “Oh yeah? Well, you have terrible taste in pants.” The doors shut.
“Terrible taste in pants?” said Benny.
“It takes me a while to come up with good insults,” I said.
As the car rose, we checked our book bags. The contents of mine weren’t very reassuring: a flashlight, several hard-boiled eggs, a PowerBar, and one of Zeppo’s old tennis balls. “I hope you’ve still got your distraction,” I said. “We might need it.”
Benny flashed me a thumbs-up. Then the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Showtime.
We poked our heads out. The hallway lay empty, as quiet as midnight at the morgue.
“Which way to the door?” whispered Benny.
I pointed right. “This way, I think.”
“Let’s go.”
Both of us walked tiptoe, carrying our bags in one hand, braced for the slightest threat. My head swiveled. My muscles were as tight as Green Arrow’s bowstring.
Past one high-tech office after another we went. One room was entirely lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, another with racks of animal figurines. A clock ticked down the hall. A faint buzzing came from somewhere nearby. But everything else was still.
The farther we went, the more my heart tried to climb out through my throat. We were crazy—no, worse than crazy. Two fourth graders trying to be heroes? It was ridiculous. I couldn’t even keep my parents together; how could I imagine that Benny and I might save our town from monsters?
We paused at a cross-corridor, listening intently. Fancy track lighting cast little spotlights on various gold-framed paintings. A potted ficus shed a leaf. That was all.
“What do you suppose Fluffy is?” I whispered.
“If Wan-chan is anything to go by,” said Benny, “a total freakazoid.”
“Wonderful,” I said.
We made it past another few offices without incident. At the next intersection, we stopped again. The buzzing was louder now, like the inside of an enormous beehive. The sound seemed to come from everywhere, and I knew it couldn’t possibly mean anything good. The pit of my stomach felt emptier than a bully’s compliment.
“Maybe it’s a snore,” whispered Benny. “Maybe Fluffy’s sleeping.”
“Maybe.”
Somehow, I didn’t think we’d be quite that lucky.
As we stood looking down the other corridor, a droplet landed on my neck. I reached to brush it off while glancing up for the source.
My blood froze. Directly above me, clinging to the ceiling, was a new kind of horror. The head and body were that of an enormous tabby cat, big as
a lynx. But from that body extended eight hairy spider legs, which gripped the ceiling.
Another drop of drool fell on me.
“¡D-D-Dios mío!” I choked out, pointing upward.
“Yikes.” Benny’s eyes went round as softballs. “N-n-nice kitty?” he crooned.
With a sinking feeling, I realized that the buzzing was coming from this mutant creature. She was purring, probably over the thought of dinner.
And that dinner was me.
TWO ENORMOUS AMBER eyes stared down at us, unblinking. A gooey strand shot out from somewhere near Fluffy’s butt. Webbing.
I dodged, and it hit the wall beside me.
Benny’s hand dipped into his book bag and emerged with a massive squirt gun. He fired a stream at the spider-cat.
The monster hissed and recoiled.
“Run!” he cried.
I didn’t need an engraved invitation. Turning, I dashed down the hall with Benny at my heels.
“You brought a squirt gun?” I said.
“You didn’t?” asked Benny.
As we pelted down the corridor, I realized that we should have reached the side door by now. The hallway ended in a sunken break room as big as my entire house. We skidded to a stop.
Uh-oh.
“Where’s the danged exit?” said Benny.
“We must have gotten turned around.” I glanced behind. Fluffy was scuttling along the wall toward us with jaws open wide. “Yaah!”
“No fair!” cried Benny. “She’s got eight legs, we’ve got two.”
We charged across the break room, using a leather sofa as a trampoline and going airborne. I didn’t quite stick my landing, though—a lamp and side table crashed to the floor. Toward the far end of the room, I spied another hall entrance.
“This way!” I cried.
We leaped up the steps and barreled around a blind corner—straight into a mass of sticky strands.
“Eeugh!” Benny fought to free himself. I struggled. The fibers were as gooey as a cobweb, but a whole lot stronger.
A flash of movement from above drew my eye. Clinging to the ceiling and upper wall were three smaller versions of Fluffy.
I pointed. “Spider-kittens!”
Benny angled his squirt gun and blasted away. The creatures hissed, scuttling backward. And then his gun ran out of water. “Whoops.”
Something made me turn my head. Behind us, scrambling over the break room furniture, was Fluffy. And she clearly didn’t like how we were treating her babies.
I elbowed Benny. “We’re surrounded. Will your big distraction work on spider-cats?”
“Let’s find out.” His book bag was hopelessly snarled in the web, so he focused on unzipping it. While he worked, the kittens started creeping back. Mama Fluffy continued her steady advance.
“Anytime now.” I freed my other arm. Good thing this web wasn’t woven by anything bigger, or we’d never escape.
Benny shoved several items into my hands.
“Fireworks?” I said. “Indoors? That’s super-dangerous!”
He fumbled with matches. “Would you rather be dinner?”
“Fireworks it is,” I said.
As soon as Benny lit the fuse to the ground spinner, I set it down and kicked it along the floor toward Fluffy. She stopped, wary of the crackling sound. Her tail lashed the air.
We set the cone and the missile rocket on the ground, pointing roughly toward the spider kittens. The fuses sizzled. The creatures watched, fascinated.
Frantically, Benny and I wrenched our limbs and bodies away from the sticky spiderweb. I didn’t want to find out what happened when a rocket went off almost under your feet.
At last, we freed ourselves. “Go, go, go!” Benny yelled. I yanked my book bag free of the web and followed him toward the break room.
The spinner went off first. Red, then yellow, then blue sparks fountained as it whirled. With a yowl, Fluffy headed for the hills. All that fur standing on end made her look a bit like an enormous, eight-legged hedgehog.
Sparks stung my bare calves as Benny and I dodged past the firework. I glanced back.
With a sensational ka-POW, the cone exploded in a rainbow of light. Beside it, the missile boomed and launched, lodging itself in the ceiling near where the kittens had been. But they were long gone. At the first explosion, they’d retreated down the hallway in a blur.
A smoke alarm wailed like a baby ghoul with a wet diaper. Ceiling sprinklers blasted into action.
“Over here!” Benny called from a corner of the room. “The front door!”
When I joined him, I noticed an alcove we’d missed earlier. It led to enormous double doors whose frosted glass was set with wrought-iron scrollwork.
“¡Híjole!” I sighed. “About time.”
We blasted through the doors into the cool night air. An earsplitting burglar alarm added its voice to the din, but I didn’t mind. My spirits soared. We’d escaped Mr. Hanzomon’s pets!
Pounding down the flagstone path, Benny and I headed for the circular driveway. We were in the home stretch now.
But just as we hit the bricks, a furious barking arose from behind us.
The three-headed dog!
Around the corner of the house he raced, galloping along with alarming speed. All three heads glared at us, fangs bared.
“Not fair!” cried Benny.
I eyeballed the distant gate. The billionaire’s headquarters had way too much driveway; we’d never escape before Wan-chan caught us. And no handy trees grew nearby.
Grabbing Benny’s arm, I said, “Wait.”
“Are you crazy?” he cried. “He’ll eat us up!”
I dug into my bag, and my hand closed around the hard-boiled eggs. “Here.” Handing him an egg, I took the other two for myself.
“Three eggs won’t stop Wan-chan,” said Benny.
“No, but they might slow him down. When I give the word, toss yours a couple feet to the right.”
The monster dog bore down on us. With each step, I could see more detail, and the details scared the fajitas out of me.
“Wait,” said Benny. “I throw to my right or his right?”
“Your right.”
Wan-chan was only ten feet away. His reddish eyes glowed in the security lights. His legs were a blur of movement.
“Wan-chan!” I yelled. “Fetch!”
I tossed one egg to the creature’s left, and one egg above him, out of reach. Benny’s sailed off to his right. I held my breath. This was either the dumbest idea in the world, or…
The huge dog put on the brakes, skidding across the brick. Each head surged in a different direction—the Rottweiler to the left, the wolf behind, and the Chihuahua to the right. Confused by three different sets of orders, the body twisted first this way, then that, as the heads tried to claim their prizes.
The Chihuahua snapped at the wolf, the Rottweiler lunged at the Chihuahua. Fur flew.
We were totally forgotten.
I tapped Benny on the shoulder. Laying a finger across my lips for quiet, I motioned toward the gate. We speed-walked down the driveway. As we began scaling the gate, I glanced back. Wan-chan was still struggling with himself.
“How did you know?” asked Benny as we climbed.
“Same technique you use with your parents,” I said. “Divide and conquer.”
NERVES STILL JANGLING from our close call, I reached home just as the first glimmer of dawn touched the sky. I was burning to tell someone about Monterrosa’s own Dr. Frankenstein. But as I eased through the back door, a more immediate concern took over. Something clattered in a nearby room. My dad was up!
I hustled into the kitchen, hoping to make it to my bedroom before he saw me. No such luck. Around the corner he shuffled, bed-haired and stubble-cheeked.
“Carlos,” he said, dark eyes serious, “we need to talk.”
I froze. “Uh.” I was thoroughly busted, and my dad was about to ground me until I was a grandparent.
“I, uh, I’m sorry?” I sa
id.
His frown was puzzled. “For what?”
I caught myself. Was it possible he didn’t know I’d sneaked out? “Um, for…drinking milk straight from the carton,” I said. “What did you want to talk about?”
“It’s your mom and sister.”
I gripped the back of a chair. “What’s wrong? Are they okay?”
“Yes. No. They’re fine,” said my dad. “They’re coming home tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Veronica’s winter break on the TV show was almost a week away. Why would they come home…? Suddenly it felt like a lead muffin had landed in my stomach. Were my mom and dad so eager to get divorced they couldn’t wait a week?
“Are we—I mean, are you—?” I began.
My dad stepped close and kissed me on the top of my head. “Gotta run, chamaco. I’m late for an early meeting. Your abuela will take you to school.”
“But—”
He spun and hurried toward the bathroom, calling, “Don’t worry, we’ll talk about it tonight.”
I sighed. That was exactly what I was afraid of.
Benny met me by the flagpole just before school. I’d convinced him that we needed to tell Principal Johnson about the monster lab, and he’d convinced me that we had to edit our story a bit if we didn’t want to use up our last detention passes. Kids swirled around us as we headed for the office. And out of that swirl stepped Esme Ygorre.
“So?” she said. “Did you find my mom’s ex-boss?”
Benny glanced at me. “Yeah,” he said.
“You could say that,” I added.
“And?” She leaned in close, half whispering. “Did he have any cool monsters?”
At the mention of monsters, my hands trembled. “If you call a three-headed dog that tries to eat you ‘cool,’” I said, “then, yeah.”
“Awesome,” she breathed. “I’d love one of those. But Mom won’t let me.”
Benny sent her a deadpan look. “Your life is so hard,” he said.
“I know,” she agreed, oblivious to his sarcasm.
The flow of students around us was slowing to a trickle. We’d have to hustle if we wanted to talk to Mrs. Johnson before class started.
“Look,” said Benny, “we’ve got an important meeting with the principal, so would you mind—?”
