Scare Scape Page 10

  “You can’t kill them!” Morton warned.

  Melissa backed quickly into the corner beside Morton.

  “You can’t?” she said breathlessly.

  Morton shook his head.

  “Then what are we supposed to do?”

  Morton didn’t answer. He was trying to remember how the worms had been defeated in issue 377. They’d tried burning them, pulverizing them, sticking them in the microwave. None of that had worked, but what had they done in the end … ?

  “Dad’s pickled eggs!” Morton called out.

  The statement was so incongruous that Melissa dared to take her eyes away from the advancing threat to look directly at him.

  “You can’t kill them, but you can contain them,” he explained pointing to a large, half-empty jar of pickled eggs.

  The Toxic Vapor Worm closest to Morton hissed wildly and leaped for him as if it understood his words. Of course Vapor Worms couldn’t understand speech but, Morton realized too late, the Zombie Twins could — and they were controlling the worms.

  In one swift motion Morton grabbed a carving knife from the draining board and deftly chopped the attacking worm in two. The worm instantly reformed into two smaller identical worms. Unabashed, Morton proceeded to chop each of those into two and the same thing happened again. Now instead of two worms they were surrounded by four smaller worms and one larger one.

  “Is that part of your plan?” Melissa said, squeezing more tightly into the corner.

  “They have to fit into the jar,” Morton said, and then handed her the knife and clambered quickly onto the kitchen counter. He dashed over to the jar of eggs, twisted off the large metal screw top and poured the remaining eggs and vinegar into the sink. Behind him Melissa squealed and lashed out at the larger worm. She hit it so hard with the frying pan that it flew across the room and exploded into blue smoke as it impacted with the wall. The worm reformed more rapidly than before, almost popping back into solid form, and immediately half-jumped, half-flew the full length of the kitchen, hissing savagely at Melissa. The worms then did something that even Morton didn’t expect. They leaped at one another and formed into one very large, very frightening Toxic Vapor Worm.

  The now waist-high worm propelled itself forward and snapped at Melissa, tearing her dress. Morton could see the toxic venom literally dripping from the creature’s fangs.

  He clutched the empty jar, not really sure how he was supposed to do this, and jumped down from the kitchen counter. Unfortunately his foot landed on a stray egg and he fell onto his back with a painful thud. To his surprise he found himself staring directly up into James’s face. James had stepped through the door seconds before, and standing beside him was Wendy. She was carrying her tennis racquet and the two of them looked like they’d been having a great time until about five seconds ago. Wendy screamed but, to her credit, did not faint at the sight of her first monster. James panicked and looked at Morton as if hoping for instructions.

  Morton grabbed the tennis racquet from Wendy and pushed it into James’s hands. “Just hit it!” he yelled.

  James swallowed nervously, but a loud scream from Melissa seemed to give him the resolve he needed. He gripped the handle of the tennis racquet with both hands, dashed gallantly across the kitchen, and promptly slipped on another pickled egg. He fell forward in typical clumsy fashion, but still attempted to hit the giant worm as he went down. Amazingly the racquet landed right over the worm’s head, and the force of James’s fall turned the inelegant slip into a surprisingly lethal blow. The fine nylon mesh sliced right through the worm’s body, dicing it into long blue french fries that fell limply to the floor and formed into a dozen smaller worms. Seizing his chance, Morton rolled onto his knees and scrambled over to the tiny worms. He scooped them into the jar with the metal lid and then quickly tightened it into place. The worms spat angrily and dashed their heads against the thick glass. They vaporized and reformed in a frenzied attempt to escape. Fortunately their efforts were in vain. The jar held.

  Everyone relaxed visibly.

  “I thought you were going to the optometrist’s,” Melissa said, staring accusingly at Wendy.

  Wendy didn’t respond. By the dazed look on her face Morton was pretty certain she hadn’t heard a word Melissa had said.

  Melissa switched her gaze to James. “It’s not what you think,” he said, pulling himself to his feet.

  But Melissa didn’t have time to probe the situation any further. A sudden thump from upstairs made everyone turn toward the landing.

  “There’s more of them?” James said.

  “Bring a weapon,” Melissa said, still clutching the frying pan as she and Morton ran upstairs.

  As soon as they reached the landing they noticed that the oak table was lying on its side and the gargoyle was gone. A long scratch ran the length of the hallway, ending at the stair carpet. Morton and Melissa moved carefully up the stairs, followed by James and Wendy, now clinging fearfully to his arm. The scratch started again at the other end of the carpet and led directly into Melissa’s room. A loud scraping and banging came from inside.

  “What the heck do they want in my room?” Melissa whispered angrily.

  Morton shrugged. He honestly had no idea.

  “They better not be messing with my closet,” she said, raising her voice, and then without further warning burst angrily through the door. Morton felt obliged to follow. To his surprise, two of the Gristle Grunts were holding the gargoyle, one at the head and one at the feet, and the other two had dragged the dresser away from the closet and were now standing in the open doorway. The instant Morton entered the room he felt, rather than heard, an ultrahigh-pitched scream. He looked over to see the Zombie Twins hovering by the open window, their eyes glowing fiercely. The gray sinewy Grunts stopped what they were doing. The two holding the gargoyle dropped it with a loud crash and all four of them lumbered over to stand defensively in front of the Twins.

  “Who are these guys?” Melissa said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “They’re the Gristle Grunts. They’re really, really strong.”

  “How do we stop them?”

  Morton scratched his head. “Uh, well, their eyesight is bad, and they get out of breath quickly. They’re not very smart either, but that doesn’t help much if the Twins are controlling them.”

  “So, in other words, they’re easy to run away from, which doesn’t help us at all.”

  Morton shook his head. “Not really.”

  “Well, they can’t stay in my room,” Melissa said. “They’re ugly.” And to Morton’s complete surprise she handed the pan to him and leaped forward, aiming a well-targeted kick right in the center of one of the Gristle Grunt’s chest. Morton tried to stop her, but it was too late. The Grunt caught her foot with astonishing ease and twisted it, causing Melissa to yelp in agony and fall helplessly to the floor.

  Morton was on the move before he even realized what he was doing. It was as if the frustrations of the day’s events were suddenly taking control of his actions. He jumped over Melissa’s sprawled body, swinging the round metal pan at the lumbering Grunts. The Gristle Grunts might have been strong and Morton may not have hurt them, but in several fierce blows he sent all four of them rolling across the room like lumpy gray bowling pins. The high-pitched scream pierced the air again, and the Zombie Twins hovered quickly to either side of the open window. Immediately the Gristle Grunts, instead of attacking Melissa and Morton, began to retreat by flinging themselves fearlessly over the window sill right out into the void. A split second later the Zombie Twins too threw themselves down to the garden below.

  Morton stood panting, his arms trembling with shock and exhaustion. Melissa pulled herself to her feet, dusted her clothes off, and flicked her hair back from her face as if nothing had happened. “You didn’t need to do that,” she said. “I had the situation under control.”

  Morton gaped in disbelief but was too breathless to even attempt to point out that he may have just saved her l
ife.

  “Why did they run away without putting up a fight?” James said, peering around the door.

  “They’re cowards, obviously,” Melissa said, still straightening her skirt. “That’s one thing I’ve learned about these monsters: They’re all bark and no bite.”

  “The Zombie Twins aren’t cowards,” Morton said, though he had to admit he was surprised by their behavior.

  Wendy’s head appeared beside James’s. “Is it safe to come in now?”

  “Yeah. They’re gone,” Melissa said.

  Wendy inched cautiously into the room and her eyes fell immediately on the open closet. Her jaw dropped. “Is this some kind of magic?” she said in an airy voice.

  James, Morton, and Melissa all exchanged glances. This was not going to be easy to explain.

  Half an hour later they were sitting in the kitchen. Wendy clutched a hot cup of mint tea and stared pensively at the Toxic Vapor Worms in the jar on the table as if it were some oversize lava lamp. They’d just finished telling the whole story, and she had yet to say a word.

  “The thing I can’t understand,” she said at last, “is why you would make those wishes.”

  “Obviously we didn’t know we were making real wishes,” Melissa said defensively. “And it’s not so bad that I wished for a closet, is it? Wouldn’t any self-respecting woman wish for the same thing?”

  “No!” Wendy said. “There are far more important things than fashion.”

  “My thought exactly,” James said. “The world is a complete mess and her first thought is for vanity.”

  “But we didn’t think it was real,” Melissa said again, pleading her case.

  Wendy looked away from the Vapor Worms twisting hypnotically in the jar and stared down at her mint tea. “And you really have no idea what you wished for?” she said to James.

  James shook his head.

  “Well, let’s hope it turns out to be something good.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope,” James said, his voice suddenly croaky.

  Wendy drank the last of her tea and stood up slowly. “I’d better be going,” she said. “My parents will be expecting me home soon, and I don’t want them to start worrying that something, uh, odd is going on.”

  Melissa jumped to her feet. “But we’re still on for homework club tomorrow afternoon, right?” she asked eagerly.

  “Actually my optometrist’s appointment was rescheduled for tomorrow, which is how come I ended up playing tennis with James, so let’s take a rain check,” Wendy said with an apologetic smile.

  Melissa’s face dropped. “Okay. Maybe Sunday, then?”

  “Maybe,” Wendy said in a very noncommittal way. She gave another forced smile, made a nervous waving gesture to Morton and James, and left in a hurry, running down the driveway without once glancing back.

  Melissa walked over to Morton, who was still sitting at the table, and stared at him with fierce eyes.

  “What?” Morton said.

  “I hate you,” she growled. “You and your stupid comics and your grizzly monsters and your ridiculous wishes.”

  Morton swallowed hard and looked up at Melissa. Normally he would have leaped to his feet and given her a good dose of her own medicine, but after everything that had happened today he was starting to believe that maybe Melissa was right. Maybe she’d been right all along about his obsession with Scare Scape.

  “Just leave him alone,” James said, tugging at Melissa’s arm.

  But Melissa spun around and turned her hateful eyes on him. “You’re just as bad,” she said. “It’s all secrets and lies with you. Secret wishes that you’re too ashamed to admit to, running off with my friends behind my back — you don’t even play tennis!”

  “I never said I could play, and I’ve told you a dozen times, I don’t know what I wished for!”

  “Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes. The way you rub your hands, that incident with the pie. You think we’re idiots, but we see. Even Morton sees. What is it, James? Did you wish to be immortal? Or wait a minute, maybe it’s something to do with girls. You never had any luck with girls before and suddenly Wendy’s all over you and you’re like half her age….”

  “You’re just jealous!” James shouted, losing his temper.

  Something in Morton snapped. He leaped to his feet and stepped between James and Melissa. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” he yelled. “The Zombie Twins just burst in here trying to steal the gargoyle, and all you two can do is fight!”

  “You have a better idea?” Melissa hissed. “You want us to read more of your messed-up comics?”

  “We’ve got to figure this out,” Morton pleaded. “Why did the Zombie Twins try to steal the gargoyle? And why are they raising an army of cats? And what happened to King? I mean, doesn’t anyone else think it’s weird that he just fell down a well?”

  James started to rub his hands but realized Melissa was watching him and stuffed them in his pockets instead.

  Melissa took a deep breath and managed to calm herself down. “The Zombie Twins weren’t trying to steal the gargoyle,” she said quietly. “They were trying to take it into my closet.”

  Morton looked up at her and wondered why he hadn’t realized that himself. If the Zombie Twins had wanted to steal the gargoyle, they would have marched it straight out the door, but instead they’d carried it up to the closet. “You’re right,” he said. “But why would they do that?”

  Melissa chewed her nails nervously and avoided meeting anyone’s eyes, as if she was feeling guilty about something. “The closet wasn’t my idea,” she mumbled.

  “What do you mean?” James said.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Melissa replied.

  James and Morton looked back at her blankly.

  Melissa took another deep breath and then grabbed her purse from the mudroom. To Morton’s complete surprise she pulled out a very wrinkled issue of Scare Scape and handed it to him.

  “Hey!” Morton said, noting the tears in the cover and the folded-over corners. “Where did you get this?”

  “Never mind that now!” Melissa snapped impatiently. “Just read the Disturbing Things story. Maybe you can make sense of it.”

  With that she stomped up the stairs, leaving Morton and James with the comic. Morton flipped to the King story and skimmed quickly through it, while James read over his shoulder.

  The story told the unfortunate tale of a poor girl who could never afford decent clothes and was hated by all the other girls at school. Then one night she helped an old lady who had fallen on the side of the road. The old lady granted her a wish and she wished for an infinitely large closet, just as Melissa had.

  Morton could hardly believe it. Melissa must have read this story before she made her wish.

  He read on eagerly.

  The closet was just like Melissa’s, vast and filled with amazing clothes. At first the closet solved all of the girl’s problems. She became fashionable and popular. Girls started following her around. Boys started asking her on dates. She was pronounced Prom Queen and life was good. But as time wore on she began to prowl ever deeper into the closet. At first she’d only venture inside for a few hours at a time, but hours became days and sometimes she’d be gone for as long as a week. She became so obsessed with the endless fashions available to her that she started to lose touch with her friends. For all of her incredible outfits and her overwhelming glamour, she became reclusive and eccentric. People began to tease her again, saying she was strange. This in turn made her spend even more time in the closet until one day she wandered so far from the entrance that she became utterly lost and was never seen again.

  Morton let James pull the comic from his hands. He still didn’t know what this meant, or why the Zombie Twins would want to take the gargoyle into the closet, but one thing was very clear: The closet, like the monsters, was a product of King’s dark imagination.

  “This can’t be good,” James said.

  Morton was forced to agree.

  By the time Mo
rton dragged himself out of bed on Sunday morning, it was almost noon. He had spent an entire day reading comics and then most of a restless night lying awake thinking. Everything was going wrong. Melissa seemed to hate him more than ever, James was growing secretive and distant, and so far, reading Scare Scape hadn’t helped with any of their unanswered questions.

  And then there was the trouble with Robbie, which for some reason upset Morton more than everything else.

  When he finally made it downstairs the house was empty. He found Dad in the backyard, raking and mowing the overgrown lawn with the help of the now-repaired mower. Dad had hardly made any progress at all since Morton’s first failed attempt, though that didn’t seem to have dampened his spirits.

  “What do you think?” he said proudly, leaning his rake up against a tree and turning to face Morton.

  “It looks great,” Morton said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Do you need any help?”

  Dad looked in surprise at Morton. “Not reading your comics today?”

  Morton shrugged and looked down at his feet.

  “Oh, growing out of them are you?”

  “I dunno. Maybe,” Morton said.

  “Well, what about going to see your friend Robbie?”

  Morton shook his head. “Things aren’t going so well with Robbie.”

  “Oh dear. What’s wrong?”

  “It turns out he’s not the person I thought he was.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?” Dad asked.

  “I found out that last year he stole a lot of money and they sent him away to a correctional school. That’s why everybody else avoids him, because they know he’s a thief.”

  “That’s very unfortunate,” Dad said. “Did he tell you why he stole the money?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it does.”

  “He lied to me,” Morton said, the pain surfacing in his voice. “He told me he never stole anything in his life.”

  Dad took off his gardening gloves and perched himself on the side of the wheelbarrow. “You can’t always take things at face value,” he said. “It seems to me that you should at least give Robbie the chance to explain himself.”