Monster Problems 2: Down for the Count

by R. L. Ullman

  “Here, kitty-kitty,” I call out.

  “Shhh!” Rage whispers, coming up behind me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Trying to find some cats,” I say. “Do you want to stay here all night?”

  “Well, no,” he says. “But I…”

  The next thing I know, Rage wobbles and I grab his arm, keeping him from falling over.

  “Whoa,” I say. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Just a little disoriented for some reason.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Lean against the wall here while I open these doors one by one. If any cats are up here, they’ll probably be in one of these rooms.”

  I try every door, but they’re all locked. And each one features a different plaque describing what’s inside, like: Medical Supplies, Sanitation Chamber, and Disposal Room.

  We’re halfway down the hall, when I notice something else. Beneath the farthest door on the right is a faint sliver of light. Is someone in there?

  I’m about to tell Rage, when he suddenly says—

  “I-I think I’ve been here before.”

  “What?” I say. But when I turn around, Rage is sliding down the wall, his eyes darting all over.

  “I-I know this place,” Rage says, breathing faster, like he’s hyperventilating.

  “Hey, relax,” I say. “Are you o—”

  But before I can finish my sentence, his eyes roll back in his head and he crumples to the ground, hitting his head on a doorknob on the way down.

  “Rage!” I yell, running over to him.

  By the time I reach him he’s out for the count. Fortunately, he’s still breathing. I slap his face lightly to rouse him, but he won’t wake up.

  “Come on, Rage,” I say, turning his head gently.

  Then, I freeze.

  There, on his left temple, is a thin trickle of blood.

  It’s not a lot, but it’s dripping down the side of his face. Suddenly, my stomach rumbles and I remember I haven’t eaten dinner. I lick my lips.

  Boy, that red liquid sure looks good.

  Wait, what?

  I shake my head a few times. I mean, what’s happening? Where did that come from?

  I… I don’t drink blood.

  Never.

  I try putting it out of my mind and focus back on Rage. I don’t know what happened to him but we can forget looking for these crazy cats. Rage needs help.

  I’ve got to get him out of here, but how? He probably doesn’t weigh a ton. So, should I try carrying him downstairs on my own or should I leave him here and go get the others?

  Just then, I hear footsteps coming from behind me.

  I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Crawler!” I say. “Thank goodness, Rage just passed out so maybe you can—”

  But when I look up my heart stops.

  Because I’m not staring at Crawler.

  But rather a pair of red, luminous eyes.

  CAT FIGHT

  I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

  Because standing over Rage and I, snarling in a low, rather unfriendly tone, is some kind of a half-boy, half-beast! His body looks completely normal, but his head is shaped like… a tiger?

  My instincts tell me to run, but I can’t just leave Rage lying here unconscious. I don’t know who this tiger kid is or what he’s doing here, but then it dawns on me. Could this be the cat Crawler’s scout was referring to?

  And if so, is he responsible for smashing through the boarded-up window at the end of the hallway? My eyes drift down to his sharp claws. Well, he certainly looks like he could climb up the side of a building.

  Then, I realize something. We’ve been staring at each other for a good few seconds and he hasn’t attacked us yet. Why hasn’t he attacked us yet?

  “Easy, fella,” I say, rising slowly.

  Tiger-boy growls and I freeze, my body stuck in a crouched position. That’s when I notice that he doesn’t seem much taller than I am. He’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that says, “Rock On,” and his arms are down by his sides which isn’t exactly a threatening posture. In fact, I don’t think he’s planning on attacking us at all.

  And then I hear him breathing. It sounds like he’s wheezing—like he’s struggling to catch his breath.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” I say, putting my hands up. “I’m not here to fight you.”

  He tilts his head, his pointy ears pricking up.

  I wonder if he understands me.

  “My name is Bram,” I say, pointing to my heart. “We just came here to find some cats. And, um, I’m thinking that might be you. Do you have a name?”

  But when I point at him he jumps back to the window so fast it surprises me.

  “It’s okay,” I say, reassuringly. “We’re not here to hurt you.” I look down at Rage who’s still not stirring. “My friend needs help. Do you need help?”

  Tiger-boy slowly moves in front of the last door on the right. That’s the one with the light coming from beneath it. But then I notice the door is still closed. For a second I’m confused, because I assumed he came through that door. But clearly he didn’t.

  Suddenly, he turns the knob and pushes the door open. As it swings inward, more light pours into the hallway and I can see Tiger-boy even more clearly. For the first time, I notice that he doesn’t look so good. His orange fur is mangy and there are bald patches on one side of his head.

  “Are you sick?” I ask. “If you come with me, I can help you. I have friends that can help you.”

  For a brief second, his eyes grow wide, like he wants to come with me more than anything, but then he nods towards the open doorway and growls. It’s like he wants me to go in there. But before I can ask him what’s inside, he rushes to the window with uncanny quickness and leaps outside!

  “Wait!” I yell, running to the window.

  But by the time I get there, he’s long gone. I try spotting him in the underbrush but I can’t. And all he’s left behind is a shred of his t-shirt that’s hanging off the windowpane. Man, he’s powerful. I mean, we’re three stories off the ground!

  Ugh, now I’ll never know who he is or what he was doing here. He looked like he was in some kind of serious trouble. Speaking of trouble, I’ve got to get back to Rage.

  But as soon as I turn around, I hear moaning.

  Rage is still out so that couldn’t be him.

  Am I hearing things?

  Then, it comes again. It’s a bit louder this time, and it’s coming from inside the open room! I hesitate. Maybe I should call the others.

  “Ohhh,” comes a girl’s voice.

  This time I hear it clearly. Someone is definitely in there, and she sounds like she’s hurt. There might not be time to get the others.

  I approach the door cautiously and peer inside. The room looks like a patient recovery room, with a hospital bed and monitoring equipment. The first bed is empty, but there’s a curtain drawn across the center of the room, blocking the second bed.

  “Uhhhnnn,” comes the voice again.

  Okay, that came from behind the curtain!

  I step inside softly, and as I get closer to the curtain I can see the shadow of someone lying on the bed.

  I hold my breath, grab the curtain, and yank it back.

  Then, I do a double take.

  Because lying on the bed is a half-cat, half-girl!

  ***

  “She’s stable,” Dr. Hagella says, “but barely. It’s a good thing you found her when you did. She’s definitely malnourished and I’m not sure she would have survived another day in her state. I need to get more fluids. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  As Dr. Hagella exits I breathe a sigh of relief. Cat-girl is resting comfortably in Dr. Hagella’s infirmary, hooked up to monitors and an IV. Dr. Hagella cleaned her up a bit, and as I study her face it’s interesting how different she looks from Tiger-boy.

  While Tiger-boy was more like an animal than a human, Cat-girl is more human than animal. Yet, her cat featur
es are clearly there. White, fuzzy ears protrude from her platinum-blond hair, and razor-thin whiskers extend beyond her cheeks. And it’s hard not to notice her sharp fingernails, pointy teeth, and long, furry tail which is hanging off the bed.

  Fortunately, Crawler and the others showed up right after I found her. And based on Crawler’s reaction when he first saw her, she wasn’t the type of cat he was expecting to find either. On the ride back to Van Helsing Academy, I told the team about my encounter with Tiger-boy, but apparently nobody else saw him but me.

  I’m just glad we were able to get Cat-girl into Dr. Hagella’s care when we did. Dr. Hagella is an expert in monster biology, and she seemed to know exactly what Cat-girl needed. Which is more than I can say for myself.

  Honestly, this whole episode has left me more than a little freaked out. Our run-in with the cat-kids wasn’t the only bizarre thing that happened. I mean, I nearly drank Rage’s blood! I look over at poor Rage who’s lying unconscious in the next bed.

  Where did that crazy urge come from? I mean, I’ve never E-V-E-R had the desire to drink anyone’s blood. I’ve been trying to put that near-disaster out of my mind, but I just can’t seem to shake it.

  Maybe I should tell Van Helsing?

  But if I do, what will he think of me? I mean, it only happened once. I’m sure it won’t happen again. Right?

  Well, it’s a moot point for now anyway. As soon as we brought Cat-girl back to school, Van Helsing took one look at her and informed us he had to leave immediately. I then overheard him whispering to Crawler about rounding up some of the other professors and heading back to Moreau Labs.

  Then, they took off.

  “Man,” InvisiBill says from somewhere on the other side of the room. “I’m wiped. I’m gonna head back to Monster House for some shuteye. Anyone want to come?”

  “I’m in,” Hairball says, stretching into a big yawn. “There’s nothing for us to do here. You coming, Aura?”

  “No,” she says. “I don’t need sleep, remember? And besides, I want to stay until Rage wakes up.”

  “Suit yourself,” Hairball says. “Night.”

  “I’m good,” I say to no one in particular. “Thanks for asking.”

  As Hairball exits, Stanphibian waves a webbed hand and follows him out. I see a bunch of cords move on their own by the doorway which likely means InvisiBill is right behind them.

  It’s just Aura and me.

  “Funny how we keep ending up together like this,” I say.

  But Aura doesn’t respond. Instead, she crosses her arms and floats closer to check on Rage. Great, she’s still mad at me. Talk about holding a grudge!

  I’m about to apologize again for ruining the Monster Cup when—

  “Stop!” Rage yells, sitting up suddenly.

  “Rage, relax,” Aura says. “It’s okay. You’re back at school.”

  “What?” Rage says with panic in his eyes. “Where?”

  “Back at school,” Aura says. “At the Van Helsing Academy. You’re home now. It’s okay.”

  Rage looks around and then wipes his forehead which is covered in sweat.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “Do you remember anything before you passed out?”

  “Y-Yeah,” he says, looking confused. “We were at Moreau Labs, and suddenly everything came rushing back. I-I remembered… things.”

  Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. When I first met Rage, he told me he had no memory of his past. In fact, he said his very first memory was waking up here at the Van Helsing Academy.

  “What kinds of things?” Aura asks.

  “I-I remember being wheeled down a hallway on a gurney,” he says. “It was a long, narrow hallway just like the one we were in. And… and I remember the smell. It smelled… medical. Like… disinfectant. And…”

  Rage opens his mouth but no words come out.

  “And what?” Aura prods. “Come on, Rage. This could be important. You can do it.”

  “And then I remember being pushed into a room with a bright light overhead.” Rage says. “Everything was kind of foggy but I could hear scraping. Like metal on metal. And the room was so cold I was shivering. And then, out of nowhere, I saw… him.”

  As Rage’s voice trails off I can tell he’s back there—back in that moment when his nightmare started.

  “Who?” I say. “Who did you see?”

  “A-A man,” Rage says. “An older man, with white hair and… cold, gray eyes. And before he put his surgical mask on he smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry, this won’t hurt—at least not too much.’”

  Aura looks at me with sad eyes.

  “I… I think that was him,” Rage says.

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Moreau,” Rage says. “I-I think Dr. Moreau did this to me. I think Dr. Moreau made me into a monster.

  TRANCE-SYLVANIA

  Unfortunately, Van Helsing isn’t back from Moreau Labs yet, so we have to sit tight on Rage’s shocking news.

  I feel bad for the kid. I mean, I can’t even imagine the horrors he’s reliving in his mind. And after he told us that he was one of Dr. Moreau’s victims, another stress wave kicked in and he passed out again. Not that I can blame him.

  And since Cat-girl hasn’t woken up yet either, Dr. Hagella said there’s no point in us just hanging around doing nothing. So, so she sent us to class. Yippee. That’s pretty much the last place I want to be right now.

  Especially since it’s our first day with super creepy Dr. Renfield.

  “Welcome, students,” Dr. Renfield says, standing at the front of the classroom with a pointer in his hand. “Please take out your notebooks. Today, I will be providing a comprehensive introduction to Monster Mindset 101, the fundamentals of monster psychology.”

  Great. Just what I need.

  As I look around I realize I’m far from alone in my thinking. Stanphibian is doodling in his notebook, Hairball is half-asleep, and InvisiBill’s chair appears empty because it probably is.

  Then, there’s Aura.

  No surprise, she’s sitting front and center at full attention. She loves learning new things, but even more impressively, she somehow retains it all. I bet she uses all of that time she’s not sleeping to study.

  Me? I could use a good snooze. Especially right now.

  “Now,” Dr. Renfield continues, “I am sure you are wondering what the exciting field of monster psychology is all about.”

  No, not really. But I am wondering if I’m going to survive this class. I mean, Dr. Renfield isn’t the most dynamic teacher I’ve ever had. Hmmm, I wonder how long it would take me to count the ceiling tiles?

  “As Headmaster Van Helsing explained,” Dr. Renfield drones on. “It is frequently said that the human mind is one of nature’s most astonishing creations. That may be true, but I can assure you that the monster mind is a wonder unlike anything produced in common nature. First, we will—”

  “Pssst,” comes a sharp whisper from behind me.

  I turn around to find Harpoon staring at me with her beady, yellow eyes. Then, she smirks and passes me a note. What could this be?

  “I have psycho-analyzed every major classification of monster,” Dr. Renfield continues, completely oblivious to what’s going on, “and nearly every sub-classification. I have dedicated my life to understanding the motivations of monsters. From shapeshifters to spirits. From the undead to the abnormal. Here, in this classroom, we will unlock the mysteries of the monster mind together. But this class will be more than lectures. It will also be quite hands-on. You see, most of my findings have been discovered through the science of hypnosis. Hypnosis is the—”

  I tune Renfield out as I quietly unfold Harpoon’s note under my desk. It reads:

  I DARE U TO PASS THIS NOTE.

  UNLESS U R A CHICKEN.

  Seriously? And what’s with the chicken thing?

  I look back at Harpoon who mouths chicken noises. This is ridiculous. I’m not going to pass a note in the middle of class. I crumpl
e it up.

  “Pssst,” comes another whisper, this time from over my left shoulder.

  I turn to find Gnatalie and MinoTodd mouthing the same chicken noises. Okay, the last thing I need is for all of the Howlers to think I’m a chicken too. Especially after losing to them in the Monster Cup.

  If passing this note will get them off my back, then I’ll just pass the darn note.

  But to who?

  Hairball is closest, but he looks like he’s snoozing. If I give it to him, I’ll just have to be sure he won’t make a scene. I wait for Dr. Renfield to write on the blackboard, and then whisper sharply—

  “Hairball.”

  “Wha—?” he says, jolting upright, his big hairy arm slipping from his chin and banging on his desktop.

  Oh jeez!

  But thankfully, Renfield doesn’t notice.

  “Take this,” I whisper, handing over the note.

  But before Hairball can grab it—BOOM—it explodes into a ball of black smoke!

  What happened?

  “Who did that?” Dr. Renfield says, looking my way.

  But when I turn around, all I see are the Howlers laughing to themselves, including Lucky and his cursed amulet. Suddenly, it all makes sense.

  They set me up.

  That note was cursed the whole time.

  I’m such an idiot.

  “You there,” Dr. Renfield says, pointing at me. “Come to the front of the class.”

  Great. Here we go.

  As I stand up, I debate whether I should tattle on the Howlers or not, but then decide against it. After all, what use would it be? I passed the note, so I’ll just have to take my punishment like a man.

  “Stand here, child,” Dr. Renfield says, pointing to a spot in front of the whole class.

  I dutifully take my mark and stand quietly, my hands fidgeting behind my back. I try to appear calm but my imagination is spinning. Why did he pull me up here? Why didn’t he just send me to Van Helsing’s office? At least I could set my own punishment then.

  “You are Mr. Murray,” Dr. Renfield says. “Is that correct?”

  “Um, yeah,” I say, surprised that he even knows my name. I mean, he didn’t even take roll call when the class started. But then I remember him staring at me after the assembly.