by Bill Myers
She wasn’t hurt, but she wasn’t thrilled, either. “I thought these things were vegetarians,” she called from inside the creature. “They’re not supposed to eat people.”
“Stay there while I go get a rope,” Sean had ordered.
Having no other place to go, Melissa figured she’d obey.
A few minutes later Sean had found a rope and had thrown it down to her.
“Just grab it and pull yourself up.”
It wasn’t easy, but with lots of effort, Melissa managed to climb back up the throat and into the mouth. From there she was able to step outside and onto the ladder. It was great to finally see daylight again. Well, what little daylight there was. Apparently, when they’d closed the museum, they’d also shut off the lights. All of them.
“Great,” she sighed as she moved down the ladder. “Do you have any idea how to get to the basement from here in the dark?”
“No problem,” Sean answered. “Trust me.”
She groaned. “I thought we already tried that.”
Unfortunately, she was right. Within twenty minutes Sean had gotten them so lost that Melissa thought they’d never get out. Then there was the matter of the shadows. The ones that seemed to lurk and loom wherever she looked.
“It’s just around this next corner,” Sean called over his shoulder. “I’m sure of it.”
Melissa sighed and followed his voice. “That’s what you said about the last seven corners. I don’t want to complain, but if you ask me—”
Suddenly a huge arm reached out and grabbed her!
She let out a scream and began fighting the giant, hairy creature. But try as she might, she could not break free of its grip. She hit and kicked and clawed, but nothing worked.
Then she tried something new. She tripped and fell. But the creature fell right along with her, its arms still locked around her in a deadly embrace.
“Misty!” Sean called. “Misty!”
After plenty more kicks, hits, and a few screams thrown in for good measure, Melissa finally managed to break free of the thing. Desperate to get away, she started crawling on her hands and knees.
“Misty!”
She staggered to her feet and ran directly into a large clump of trees. Trees filled with lots of long, slithering things. Long, slithering things that looked and felt exactly like—
“SNAKES!” she screamed.
She grabbed them off her arms and flug them away. But others continued falling. For every one she peeled off, three more fell in its place. “GET THEM OFF!” she screamed. “GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF!”
“Hang on!” Sean shouted. “Don’t panic!”
But panicking seemed like a pretty good idea as the snakes continued raining down upon her arms, her shoulders, her hair. “GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF!”
Melissa stumbled out of the exhibit, slapping at them and yanking them off, when she suddenly ran face-to-face with something even more hideous . . . and terrifying . . . grotesquely human yet not human at all. Menacing lips curled into a sneer, crazed eyes glared at her. Melissa tried to scream, but she couldn’t find her voice. Come to think of it, she couldn’t find her breath, either. And then, just when the room started to spin, just when her head was growing light and she was about to pass out . . .
Sean managed to find the lights. Suddenly the room was bathed in brightness. Blinding, wonderful, beautiful brightness.
“Are you okay?” he called in concern.
Melissa managed to nod as she leaned over, trying to catch her breath. She looked about the room. They were standing in the African exhibit. Across the floor, lying on its side, was her first attacker. A stuffed gorilla. She turned toward the stand of trees. Like the gorilla, they were also fake . . . as were the dozens of rubber snakes lying on the floor. Finally, she turned to the hideous face beside her. It was a tribal war mask made of fiberglass.
“None of it’s real,” she gasped, still trying to catch her breath. “It’s all . . . fake.”
Sean nodded. “Yeah.”
She threw him a look, expecting some sort of wisecrack. But he said nothing. Instead, he approached her and actually looked concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”
Again she nodded, only this time she fought off an involuntary shudder. And then another. She was starting to shiver. Immediately, Sean’s jacket was off and he was wrapping it around her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
He nodded, then glanced around the room. “It’s just like Dad said, isn’t it? Sometimes the very things we’re afraid of . . . when we stop and look at them, we see that they’re fake, that they really don’t have any teeth at all.”
Melissa nodded and looked at the floor surrounding her . . . the gorilla, the snakes, the mask. It was true, everything she’d been afraid of, everything she’d freaked over, was a fake.
Clank.
They froze and listened.
Clank. Clank.
It was coming closer.
Melissa turned to Sean. “Do you think . . .” Her voice caught, and she tried again. “Do you think it’s just a guard?”
Clank. Clank. Clank.
“Not unless he’s wearing metal boots.” Instinctively, Melissa backed up, moving toward the nearest wall. Sean headed back to the switch.
Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank.
She saw him reach for the lights, and a moment later they were standing in total darkness . . .
9
facing the lion
SUNDAY, 17:44 PST
Sean held his breath as the sound of the knight’s footsteps approached.
Clank. Clank.
He pressed flatter against the wall, trying his best to blend into the shadows, yet wondering if it would do any good—wondering if ghosts could see in the dark.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
He began to pray. Nothing long or detailed. He wasn’t interested in how God would save them, just that he would save them. He hadn’t even finished before—
Clank. Clank.
Was it possible? The noise seemed to be changing direction.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
Yes, the footsteps were fading away. Sean breathed a quiet prayer of thanks, then whispered over to Melissa, “It’s moving away.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“Great, let’s follow it.”
“Are you crazy!?” she demanded.
“It’ll know the way out. C’mon.” Sean moved from the wall and started out of the room.
“Sean . . .” Melissa whispered after him. “Sean!”
After a few minutes he heard her start to follow. They moved from one exhibit to another. He could still hear the clanking, but it was off in the distance. He planned to keep it that way—just stay close enough to follow the sound, but no closer.
Four, maybe five, minutes passed until they finally saw glimpses of the late afternoon sun pouring through the lobby windows. Sean eased around the last corner just in time to see the knight open one of the front doors and disappear outside.
“What’s going on?” Melissa whispered from behind.
“It’s gone.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. It sounded like such a good idea that Sean tried it, too.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Well, Plan One would be to follow him. Or Plan Two—”
“I vote for Plan Two,” she interrupted.
Sean saw her point. He wasn’t thrilled about taking the chance of running into the knight again, either.
“By the way,” Melissa asked, “what is Plan Two?”
“I’m not sure. Probably going back down into the basement and checking out the age of that plaque.”
“And I had to ask,” she muttered.
They made their way across the lobby and over to the basement stairs. As they headed down the steps, it grew darker and darker. This time, however, Sean found the light switch early. They winced as the fluorescents flickered on.
There, in front of them, were the dozens of suits of
armor all sprawled out across the floor.
“Nice work,” Melissa said.
Sean nodded. “Practice makes perfect.”
They both looked over to the stand holding Sir Richard Falcrest. It was completely untouched. Well, untouched except for it being completely empty. The armor was nowhere to be seen. Without a word, they crossed toward it. When they arrived, Melissa stooped down to examine the plaque.
“See where it looks like another part’s been added?” Sean asked. “Down at the bottom where the names are.”
Melissa looked closer and nodded. She rose and stepped back. “Go ahead and fire up that Age Detector thingie,” she said. “Let’s see what it says.”
Sean set down his backpack and quickly pulled out the cone-shaped machine. He found the power switch and snapped it on.
It hummed loudly.
“Wait a minute,” Melissa said. “The paste . . . we need to put the paste on the cone.”
Sean nodded as Melissa reached into the pack and pulled out the jar of thick, brown gunk. She unscrewed the lid and made a face as she dipped her hand into the goo. But this was no time to be squeamish. She pulled out a giant blob and quickly spread it over the cone.
“That’s good,” Sean said. “Now stand back.”
She didn’t have to be told twice.
“Here goes nothing!”
They both braced themselves as Sean aimed the cone at the plaque and pulled the trigger.
But this time there was no smoke, no explosion, and no deafening Boing-ing-ings.
There was only a louder hum.
Sean glanced down at the digital readout on top of the cone. “It reads, four years, eleven months, and twelve days,” he said.
“That makes sense,” Melissa said as she stepped a little closer. “That’s about how long this exhibit’s been here. Now aim it down at that bottom half of the plaque.”
Sean readjusted the cone and pointed it toward the bottom of the plaque. A brand-new set of figures appeared. “Two days, twelve hours, and sixteen minutes,” he said.
Melissa caught her breath. “That means somebody’s just added it!”
Sean nodded. “So the curse isn’t for real. There’s no ghost, just someone who added all these names. But why?”
Melissa moved in and reread the names: “Morrisey . . . as in Morrisey Jewelers. Rickey . . . as in Hickey’s Antiques. And Bowman . . . as in Bowman’s Coin Shop. They’re all there. Exactly in the order they were robbed.”
“Except for this last one,” Sean said. He pointed to the name and read, “Deacon Fierce’’
Melissa looked at him.
“Pierce . . .” he repeated. “As in Pierce and Jennings Steel Mill.”
“You think that’s where he’s going next?”
Sean nodded. “I know he is. And I bet he’s going
there right now. Whoever our wannabe ghost is, you can bet he’s on his way to finally forge his sword at the steel mill.”
Melissa swallowed. “So what do we do?”
Sean looked at her. He didn’t like giving the answer any more than she liked hearing it. “I think we need to go there and expose him.”
“You mean look into the lion’s mouth?” Melissa asked.
Sean slowly nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
SUNDAY, 18:50 PST
Twenty minutes later the two were on their bikes, approaching the Pierce and Jennings Steel Mill. The sun hung low in the sky, and when they arrived the Mill was deserted . . . except for a single pickup, whose driver’s-side door was still open.
“What’s that doing here?” Melissa asked.
Sean squinted at the building. “Looks like our knight couldn’t find a horse.”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed. “Over there by the building.”
Melissa looked and fought back a cold shiver. There it was. . . the knight. Fifty yards away. It was striding away from the building and holding a large can of gasoline, which it was pouring out onto the ground.
Suddenly a voice called from her digital watch, “Hey, guys, what’s baking?”
After the usual jumping out of her skin, Melissa glanced down and saw Jeremiah grinning away.
“We’re at the steel mill,” she said in a lowered voice. “The knight is right over there.” She held out her wrist so Jeremiah could see for himself.
Jeremiah gulped. “Well, I see by the clock on the wall that it’s time to make like a tree and bud.”
“You mean leaf. Make like a tree and leaf?”
He gave a nervous giggle. “Yeah, that too.”
“But you just got here.”
“I know, but curiosity killed the 3-D, computer-generated image.”
Before Melissa could answer, he was gone. Just like that. She shook her head. What Jeremiah lacked in verbal skills, he definitely did not make up for in bravery. But he had a good reason to be frightened. Come to think of it, so did she. What on earth were they doing there?
“Misty?”
She glanced over at Sean. They were much closer to the building now. He pointed to two large fifty-five-gallon drums pushed over and chugging out their contents along the wall. Contents that looked exactly like the trail of gasoline the knight was running to it.
Suddenly she understood. “It’s trying to set the mill on fire!”
Sean nodded.
They watched as the knight finished pouring the trail of gas, then set down the can. It reached into a small bag for something. It was hard to tell at that distance, but it looked like a book of—
“Matches!” Melissa whispered. “It’s lighting that trail with a match.”
“We gotta stop it!”
Before Melissa could answer, her brother swung his bike to the right. He began riding directly toward the knight, shouting and yelling at the top of his lungs.
“HEY, YOU!” he cried. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”
The knight looked up, startled.
Melissa wasn’t crazy about the idea but saw no other choice. She turned her own bike and followed her brother, also shouting. They closed in fast. Thirty yards away. Twenty. Melissa had no idea what they’d do when they arrived. She hoped Sean had a clue . . . but suspected he didn’t. Why should things change now?
The knight looked back down at its matches. It was a struggle trying to light one while wearing metal gloves, but at last it dragged it across the striker and it flared up.
Melissa and Sean were ten yards away.
“PUT THAT DOWN!” Sean yelled. “PUT IT DOWN NOW!”
Unfortunately, the knight was only too happy to oblige. It dropped the burning match onto the trail of gasoline.
WHOOOOOSHHH . . .
It lit the trail and started following it toward the fifty-five-gallon drums.
Sean veered to the left, racing to the front of the burning trail. Once there he slammed on his breaks. His back wheel slid around, throwing dirt across the trail and scattering the gasoline. The flame reached the bare spot and came to a stop, still burning but having no place to go.
Melissa watched, impressed.
Unfortunately, the knight wasn’t. It turned and quickly stomped toward Sean. But her brother rode away, staying just out of reach.
Good for him . . . not so good for the mill.
As soon as the knight arrived at the bare spot, it poured more gasoline over it. The fire flared up and resumed its course, heading down the trail toward the building.
Sean hopped off his bike and ran a few feet ahead. This time he kicked and scuffed the gas aside with his
feet, once again stopping the flame. But he worked so furiously that he didn’t see the knight quickly approaching.
“Sean!” Melissa cried. “Sean, look out!”
But Melissa’s warning came too late. The knight arrived and lunged for Sean. Its steel claws grabbed the boy’s arm. Sean let out a cry and struggled. But it did no good.
The knight had him.
Without thinking, Melissa turned
her bike and headed straight for them. Some would call it an act of bravery—she figured it was more like suicide. But that was her brother there. What else could she do?
“Leave him alone!” she shouted as she raced for them. “You leave my broth—”
But that was all she got out before they hit. On the Hunter Catastrophe Scale, it rated an 8.9. It was tremendous, a work of art, destruction at its fine—well, I’ll save you the critics’ review. Let’s just say the air was filled with more flying metal and kids than a carnival ride gone berserk.
When Melissa finally hit the ground, she scrambled to get to her feet. But she’d barely made it to her knees before she felt a cold steel claw grab her arm. She let out a scream and spun around to see most of the knight hanging on to her.
“Most” only because, amidst all of the smashing and crashing, the knight had lost its head. Literally. Its helmet had been completely knocked off. And instead of a face, the missing helmet revealed nothing. No face . . . no head . . .
No nothing.
If Melissa had screamed loudly before, she really let loose this time. In fact, it might have been a world record . . . if it hadn’t been for her competition. It seems her brother was held in the other claw just as tightly and was busy screaming just as loudly.
But the knight would not let go. Gripping them fiercely, it slowly lumbered to its feet.
10
checking for teeth
SUNDAY, 19:02 PST
“You, Hunters!” The voice bellowed deep within the headless armor. The knight pulled them in closer as they screamed and hollered and fought and struggled. But it did no good. “You have plotted against me, and now you shall pay. Like your ancestors before you, you shall—”
whop-whop-whop-whop
The noise came from behind the steel mill and grew louder by the second.
WHOP- WHOP- WHOP- WHOP
