Stop Those Monsters!

by Steve Cole

  “Bob-ob-ob?” I heard a familiar squeaking groan in my ear.

  “Verity! Thank flip I’ve found you!”

  Her black eyes flickered open and she gazed at me. “What is this human thing called ‘Flip’?”

  “Never mind that. We’ve got company.”

  “I know.” She jabbed a claw to a squid-like thing beside her, which had frozen with its tentacles raised and its face to the bar. “I was trying to find you when that thing got me with a sucker-punch.”

  “You mean it hit you when you weren’t looking?” asked Zola.

  “No, it punched me with its suckers. Hey, who said that . . . ?” Verity suddenly noticed Zola and clutched onto my arm. “What’s going on here?”

  “For a start, you’re cutting off my circulation,” I gasped through gritted teeth.

  “She’s a gorgon!” Verity twittered. “Look! She’s turned everyone into stone!”

  “Excuse me! I think you’ll find I’ve got a little more imagination than that!” huffed Zola. “I actually turned them into an ice, slush and frost-glitter statement piece.” She smiled soppily at me. “Right, arty boy?”

  “Drop the act, sweetheart,” Verity scowled. “I know you gorgons. The only art you go for is statues. You turn other monsters into stone – forever! How come you’re not with the rest of them down on Level Six?”

  “I’m . . . not like the other gorgons . . .” Zola looked suddenly crestfallen. “The problem is, I can’t turn anyone into stone. The Council of Gorgons chucked me out of our land for being too soft and sensitive.” She gave a theatrical sigh and did some strange, ungainly ballet steps before leaning against the bar. “That’s why I’m stuck here, so far from home.”

  Verity sniffed. “I suppose not being able to turn people to stone is a bit of a disadvantage for a gorgon.”

  “So to make up for it, you’re . . .” I looked round doubtfully at the frozen bodies. “Artistic.”

  “You noticed! Well, you are a fellow artist, of course.” She beamed, and her snakes intertwined. “I never quite know going to happen when I let loose my gorgon glare. I turned a monster into cardboard, once. And another into a big bowl of green porridge. But this time I think I’ve excelled myself! Don’t you just what I’ve done?”

  “Er . . .” I looked at my feet awkwardly. “Have you killed them?”

  “” Her snakes gave a scandalised gasp. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Anything I transform turns back to normal in about five minutes.” She sighed again. “That’s another reason why I was thrown out of Level Six. No good at killing things, see?”

  Verity was still watching Zola with disapproval. “So how did you end up here?”

  “The landlord hired me to break up the worst fights before the whole place collapses.” Zola shook her head, and her snakes did the same. “It’s not the happiest life. In fact, it stinks. But I dream of earning enough money to put on a big gallery show somewhere, and being discovered as a famous artist!”

  Verity looked dubious. “Even if you had the cash, it’d take a miracle for the monsters round here to become art lovers.”

  “How much do you need?” I wondered.

  Zola started counting on her clawed fingers. “About three hundred plogoos.”

  “How many plogoos do you have?”

  “One.” Zola shrugged. “Still, the old fella upstairs pays me a zonk or two extra to freeze everyone now and then so he can do his experiments in peace . . .”

  “That’s right,” came a wavery old voice from the top of the stairs, “I do!”

  The voice made me jump. I saw yet another weird monster. He looked like a benign blue eel, wrinkly and well worn, with three-lensed specs for his three eyes, rearing up on a whole load of legs, leaning on a well-gnawed cane.

  “Uncle!” Verity scampered up the stairs and licked his face. “Uncle Voshto, it’s so good to see you.”

  “Verity? Is that Verity?” The old monster peered at her. “Goodness, child, it’s about time! I’ve been waiting so long for you to visit!”

  “Sorry, Uncle. Sometimes it’s hard to get away. But look what I’ve brought with me!”

  She pointed to me so proudly I couldn’t really object to her calling me a ‘what’ rather than a ‘who’.

  “A human? Here! A HUMAN?” He took a step towards me, muttering under his breath, his legs trembling like skinny blue blancmanges “Well, well, it’s just as I anticipated. A human has got through!”

  “A human?” Zola’s snakes stood on end as she cowered back. “You’re not going to fire toxic waste out of your—?”

  “No,” I cut in.

  “You mean nose,” Verity corrected me.

  “You can’t stay here, boy!” Voshto was getting agitated. “Dear me, no. You’ll be starting wars—”

  “I won’t!” I said.

  “Polluting the place—”

  “I won’t!” I cried.

  “Eating all the wimblebeasts.”

  “What?”

  “Infecting innocent monsters with hideous human diseases . . .”

  I paused. “Er, I’ll try not to.”

  “Hmm. I think I know what to do with you. Come, the pair of you – to my secret workshop!”

  “Yes, you’d better go quickly,” Zola said sadly. “These brawlers will be thawing out and springing back to life at any moment.” She pulled out a camera and started taking pictures of the scene. “Just a few pics for the scrapbook. Don’t want to forget this little installation . . .”

  I, on the other hand, wanted to forget it as quickly as possible – and so I was very happy to run up the stairs to join Voshto. “Um, see you later, Zola,” I called back as I went. “Thanks for saving us!”

  Zola half smiled and put her hands on her hips. “I’d prefer it if you thanked me for making an incredible artistic statement. See you soon, artsy human boy!”

  “Bit of a bighead, isn’t she?” Verity grumbled as she bustled her uncle back up the steps and along the creaky wooden landing. I jumped at a sudden hubbub of voices as the pub’s patrons did indeed spring back to life. But at least their racket covered the noise of Uncle Voshto ushering us into his workshop, shutting the door and accidentally banging into a coffee table full of bottles and beakers, which fell everywhere.

  “Well, well. A real human!” Voshto prodded me with his cane. “What a shame we can’t keep him for proper study. But I know how he got here. I’ve been listening to the news reports on the radio-box. What a scene he must’ve caused! And now you’re involved too, Verity, eh?”

  “We’re in trouble deep, Unc,” Verity agreed. “Captain Killgrotty himself is after us both.”

  “Oh!” Voshto let out a fearful groan. “You must get this human away from Terra Monstra as quickly as possible – then perhaps Killgrotty will forgive you.”

  “I’m up for that,” I said with feeling, gazing round Voshto’s workshop. It was part grimy hovel, part Frankenstein’s laboratory. Wooden tables heaved beneath the weight of scientific clutter. Cupboards spilled secret experiments onto a floor carpeted with sheets of crumpled notepaper, which were marked with mindboggling equations. Beside a broken bed and a very dirty toilet I saw a huge, squat red tube, pointing up at the mouldy ceiling. It was connected to an oversized TV screen that showed a very familiar street . . . and a gaping hole in the ground where once there had been a house.

  My house.

  “What a hole!” I gasped.

  Voshto looked cross. “Yes, well, I haven’t hoovered, lately.”

  “He’s talking about what you’re looking at through the humanoscope,” Verity explained.

  “Ah, yes. Yes, I feared a human or two might end up here as a result of that, er, upheaval.”

  I frowned. “What upheaval?”

  “My special scanners picked it up! A huge energy surge from the monster world into yours – and back again! But first things first, human boy.” Voshto peered at me. “Your house.”

  “My poor house! It must be scattered all
over this crazy world of yours.”

  “More likely it’s been drawn right to the very bottom.” Old Voshto nodded thoughtfully. “You were lucky, you know. Since the back ways between our two worlds have long since been blocked, there’s only one way a human could travel to Terra Monstra safely – and that’s within an outer plasmic shell of brickwork, wood and glass that’s been exposed to eerinium.”

  “My house is made of brickwork, wood and glass . . .” I scratched my head. “But what’s eerinium?”

  “The eerie energy that powers our underground world!” Voshto said impatiently. “I believe your house was built on a tiny fault-line between the human world and ours. If enough eerinium leaked out through the crack into the foundations of your home . . .” He shook his head, touched his cane to his lips. “After many years, so much eerinium leaking into the area would eventually cause a weirdwind – a trans-dimensional tornado strong enough to blow the house straight through the magical barriers that shield Terra Monstra from human detection.”

  I struggled to take everything in. “So . . . it’s just my bad luck I happened to live in this house right on top of the weirdy leak thing? And you think it’s been pulled down into Monsterland?”

  “Right down to the lowest levels, where the ancient eerinium lies thickest. It’s lucky you fell out when you did, and luckier still that someone as kind and human-fond as Verity found you.”

  “Lickier still, too!” Verity slurped my cheek fondly, ignoring my grimace. “So, Unc – how are we going to get the human home, huh?”

  “Well, I believe there IS a way, but . . .” Voshto regarded me thoughtfully. “Do you trust him, Verity? Are you certain he is what he seems to be?”

  Verity nodded. “Abso-nibblin’-totally.”

  “Only, all manner of strange and sinister forces would love to get hold of my research!” Voshto seemed gripped by a sudden passion (or possibly wind). “For so long now, I have been peeping into forbidden corners of understanding! Gathering secret knowledge! Piecing together the evidence from ancient relics and halftranslated scrolls – finally making an indescribably important discovery . . .” The weird professor stooped and rummaged on the floor (for quite some time) until finally he snatched up a sheet with a scribbled drawing on it. “Yes, WHAT a discovery. After a lifetime’s effort, I have learned the location of . . . THIS.”

  I studied the picture. “Er . . . a worm wearing a bikini?”

  “What? Oh. Sorry. Where did that come from?” Voshto blushed and turned the paper round. “I mean . . . THIS.”

  Now I was looking at a drawing of a many-sided gemstone, sitting on a cushion.

  “What is it, Unc?” Verity whispered. “Tell us.”

  “THIS . . . is the Humamon Star Jewel.” Voshto spoke softly, reverently. “It belonged to the greatest human magician that ever lived. One thousand five hundred years ago, he used the jewel’s uncanny powers to help create Terra Monstra beneath the earth . . .”

  I found myself caught up in the spookiness of the moment. “What magician?”

  “We monsters call him the Great Divider or the Lord of the Lair.” Voshto smiled and nodded. “But you, child . . . you would call him Merlin.”

  “Merlin?” I spluttered. “Seriously? I thought he was, like, made up.”

  Voshto frowned. “I don’t believe he wore make-up. But surely his private life is his own affair.”

  “No, I mean, I thought he wasn’t real. That he was just a story.”

  “Many real things from those long ago days are believed now to be nothing more than stories.” Voshto shook his eelish head. “But as sure as bishtops are anthroblobs, Merlin created the Humamon Star Jewel as a gift for his master, King Arthur. And what a gift! According to ancient wisdom:

  “Whoe’er doth hold

  the Star Jewel in their hand

  Whate’er their heart’s desire

  may truly be

  Good or bad, receive it

  so they shall

  In less time than it takes

  a Nog to wee.”

  “Oooooooh,” cooed Verity.

  I looked blank.

  “A nog is, like, totally famous for doing really fast wees,” she clarified.

  “Right,” I said dubiously. “So, Merlin made this jewel for Arthur. Then what?”

  “Well, there were many monsters on the Earth in those times,” Voshto revealed. “And almost immediately, the jewel was stolen by the worst of all – an evil monster named Bosstradamus.”

  “Who?” I said.

  “Bosstradamus had a run-in or two with Arthur, and her heart’s desire was to banish that mighty human king to a hellish underground pit, where he would be trapped forever more.”

  “Ouch,” I said, sympathetically.

  “But that evil she-monster did not know that Merlin had charmed the jewel so it could never hurt Arthur. Her dark wish backfired, and the jewel transported her to that hellish pit deep underground instead.”

  Verity seemed entranced by the tale, nibbling her claws. “Couldn’t she wish herself out again?”

  “It was useless to her from the moment she wished harm on Arthur,” said Voshto. “In anger, she threw it away . . . And the mighty king was so angry to lose his magic jewel that in his temper he desired to rid the world of monsters forever.”

  “So Merlin created Terra Monstra and banished all the monsters down here,” said Verity.

  Her uncle nodded. “He used the powers of the jewel, combined with eerinium in the earth. What a wizard he truly was.”

  “But why would Merlin leave the jewel here?” I wondered. “Why not take it back with him?”

  “I don’t have ALL the answers.” Voshto seemed uppity all of a sudden. “My theory is that the Bosstradamus business made Merlin realise the jewel was too powerful to fall into the wrong hands. After all, if evil monsters could steal it, so too could evil humans – and that could prove far worse. So he hid it in a place of safety knowing that one day he could reclaim it . . .” Voshto moved to a drawer stuffed full of papers and pulled out a notepad. “However, I have set out to reclaim it first! I have worked out the jewel’s location and the best way to reach it. It’s all here in this book . . . ”

  “That’s wonderful, Uncle!” Verity cheered.

  “No, it’s not.” Voshto plonked himself down in a chair. “It’s taken me so long to work out the route down to the lowest level, I’ve grown too old to make the journey myself! My legs are way too wobbly, now.”

  I had to admit, Voshto moved about as quickly as a tortoise after a really nasty traffic accident.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle.” Verity looked sad. “I should have visited you sooner.”

  “Don’t fret, my dear. I’ve booked into the Monster Rest Home for Slightly Loopy Scientists up on Level One. I’ll be with others like me in happier surroundings. It will be most stimulating.” Voshto smiled at Verity. “So, I suppose somebody else will have to follow this map I’ve made, to find that gem.” His three eyes shone through his glasses. “Think of it! It’ll be the ultimate discovery – and solve your human friend’s little problem.”

  “Of course! Bob-ob-ob will be able to wish himself and his home back up above where everything’s good again!” Verity gave me an encouraging smile. “Won’t that be brilliant, Bob-ob-ob? And as for me, oooooh, what will I wish for . . . ?”

  “The Humamon Star Jewel is not a toy, young lady,” Voshto warned her sternly. “If possible, I’d like you to bring it back to me for scientific study. And so I can wish for a tap that runs slimeade and a toilet that turns into a rocket ship . . .”

  “Er, excuse me.” I was holding a hand up. “You said this jewel is down in the lowest level where the nastiest monsters are, right? Where we’ll probably be attacked and maybe killed by almost everything we meet?”

  “Yes, yes, yes! What an adventure, eh?” Voshto smiled happily. “How I wish I were going.”

  “I sort of wish you were too,” I confessed. My mind was still reeling; could an
y of this be true? A jewel that granted your heart’s desire sounded like something you’d find in 86% of Disney movies. There again, this underground world of monsters had sprung from somewhere, and if I didn’t at least try to find the gem, what else would I do?

  What else could I do?

  “All right.” With a sigh I held my hand out for the notebook. “Let’s find this star thing.”

  “Hmm,” said Voshto, “eager now, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I assured him.

  “Are you CERTAIN the human came here by chance, Verity?” Voshto clutched the notepad to his chest. “You’re sure he’s not being controlled by a ZOOLOOB?”

  “A who-loob?” I said blankly.

  “One of those floaty invisible brain things, you mean?” Verity shook her head. “Nahhhh. He’s legit, Unc. I know it.”

  “We’d best be sure,” said Voshto. “They can be seen when they’re wet, so . . .” Suddenly he grabbed a bucket and emptied the stinky contents all over my head.

  “What the flip—?” I spluttered, dripping wet.

  “Ah, yes. No zooloobs on him, then.” Voshto smiled.

  Hang on a sec, I thought, floaty invisible brain things? With a shudder, I remembered the old sci-fi film Fiend Without A Face. It told a tale of monsters that looked like brains-with-wiggly-spinal-cords-for-tails creepily jumping about the place. The idea that such things could be REAL here filled me with all kinds of ‘UGH!’

  “Well,” I said, “I’m just glad that bucket of smelly water didn’t come from the toilet.”

  “Er, yes. Isn’t that, um, lucky.” Voshto looked shifty. “Sorry to splash you. I had to be sure you weren’t being controlled by a wicked monster who’d managed to find out about my discoveries.” Voshto shook his head, and solemnly surrendered his notebook to Verity. “Now, do be careful, my child. Don’t draw any attention to yourselves.”

  I frowned. “What do we say if anyone asks where we’re going?”

  “” The door was kicked open from the outside – to reveal Zola standing dramatically in the doorway, wearing a long brown raincoat, a rucksack on her back, shades in place and her snakes peeping out through an old, brown trilby hat. “Tell them you’re travelling down through the levels cos you’ve caught an escaped gorgon and you’re delivering her to her shamed and angry family.” She smiled at Verity and gestured to the notepad that held our quest. “See, I want to come with you.”