The Monster Catchers--A Bailey Buckleby Story

by George Brewington

  One-eyed orange tiger-stripe and yellow-breasted Bill Collector ducked and dodged. Their new owner had been starving them of sugar to make them hungry and mean. The smell of the peanut-butter-honey mix nearly overpowered them. Bill couldn’t help but watch each sugar-packed ball fall to the street below.

  When Bill Collector’s head turned for a moment too long, Savannah nailed him straight in the chest.

  Sweet, sweet honey. Bill Collector began to lick and bite at his leather suit, soon ripping it to shreds. In his distraction, he forgot about the enemy and floated downward to the street.

  “GET BACK UP THERE, BILL!” boomed Mr. Boom through the megaphone. But Bill Collector was crazed with sugar lust and dove for more peanut-butter-honey.

  One-Eye could not be so easily tempted. He snarled, his bloodshot eye growing bigger as he revealed all five fingernails that he planned to use as knives on his former captor’s face.

  Dougie beckoned Bailey to come closer. “Son, I think this would be a good time—”

  But Bailey was one step ahead of him. He had a Frisbee in each hand and whipped them through the air. Pft and Pft!

  Both discs beaned One-Eye square in the forehead, but One-Eye’s leather helmet did its job. Instead of slowing him, the Frisbee hits only amplified the faery’s anger. The pint-sized orange killer fluttered toward them, his tattered wings buzzing. Then he zoomed in.

  Bailey’s father was agile, but not fast enough for an angry faery with a vendetta. Savannah picked up her sword and took a swing as One-Eye went charging by.

  Bailey’s father stopped her. “No, orphan girl, please don’t hurt him.”

  One-Eye pulled a fake, put his feet out at the last minute, and stretched out his clawed toes to pluck out Dougie’s eyes.

  Roump, roump … WHARP.

  Bailey’s father looked between his nine fingers. Henry sat on his haunches in front of him with One-Eye caught firmly in his mouth.

  “He did it,” Bailey said proudly. “Henry caught him in midair! He’s never caught a seagull before, but he caught the faery just like a Frisbee!”

  “Good boy,” Bailey’s father said calmly. “You’re a good sweet boy, but, Henry, DO NOT EAT THAT FAERY.”

  Bailey’s father reached for One-Eye, but like a golden retriever who doesn’t want the tug-of-war game to end, Henry pulled his blue head back so that his master couldn’t grab his new toy.

  “Henry, boy, that’s a fine specimen of a faery—an orange-striped beauty. Don’t eat him.”

  Henry wagged his head back and forth, shaking One-Eye vigorously as the faery lashed out with sharp fingernails and toenails, trying to scrape away Henry’s face and get him to loosen his grip. But Henry’s sea-giant skin was too thick to be penetrated, and he jumped up and down on all fours, barking with a full mouth of faery, “Wharp, wharp, WHARP!”

  “I know what to do,” Savannah said. “I’ll swap him a chicken.”

  “Good thinking, orphan girl. Henry will drop anything for his dinner.”

  Savannah took a raw chicken from their supplies and wagged it in front of Henry. “Dinner, boy?” Sure enough, Henry released One-Eye in exchange for the chicken, while Bailey’s father grabbed the faery by its neck, stuffed him into his canvas bag, and duct-taped it shut.

  “You belong to the Bucklebys once again, my one-eyed beauty!”

  Savannah peered over the edge of the steel fortress. “That bald-headed bully in the winter coat has a new friend.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE FAMOUS LABYRINTHIAN OF THE MOJAVE DESERT

  A SEVEN-FOOT-TALL BEAST paced nervously below. Hair sprouted between the buttons of a cotton work shirt much too small for him. He had the head of a bull with eyes wide apart and two white horns that curved up to the sky ending in black razor tips. The creature cracked his knuckles and kept pushing his shirt flaps into his jeans to maintain a respectable appearance. His steel-tipped leather boots had to be the largest size ever made, and they were well scuffed, like he’d done plenty of steel-tipped kicking. He looked entirely uncomfortable in his clothes and seemed like he’d rather be anywhere but Whalefat Beach.

  “Is that a minotaur?” Bailey asked. He’d never seen one in real life, though he’d read plenty about them.

  “A bullhead? I bet he’s a descendant of the Bullhead Brigade, too!” Savannah shouted, raising her sword in the air.

  “Ah! You’re a student of true American history, orphan girl,” Bailey’s father said approvingly. “Fine warriors, the Bullhead Brigade. Although this minotaur must be experiencing hard times if he’s thrown in his lot with Candycane Boom. But we are Bucklebys and will fight any monster that might oppose us.”

  Mr. Boom shouted through his megaphone: “You’re up next, Nikos. Don’t disappoint me.”

  As the minotaur stepped into the middle of the street, he gave his bald employer a look as if he didn’t like his kind at all. Nikos carried a very large rusted chain at the end of which was an anchor at least four feet in length, quite capable of mooring a yacht. In an impressive show of strength, he started swinging the anchor and chain in a great circle, and then hurled it toward the roof. Bailey and Savannah had to jump out of the way for fear of being crushed. The anchor hooked one of the pulleys and stuck fast.

  Bailey’s father tried to lift it off, but the anchor was too heavy, even for him. The minotaur held the chain tight, and then, hand over hand, started to climb up the steel plank wall.

  “What do you think you’re doing, friend?” Dougie shouted down.

  The minotaur grunted as he took one slow step after another. “Climbing your wall.”

  “Who are you?” Bailey asked.

  “Nikos Tekton—the famous Labyrinthian of the Mojave Desert,” he said. Bailey’s father tried again to lift the anchor, but to no avail.

  “I’ve never heard of you,” Bailey’s father shouted down.

  The minotaur paused in his ascent. “Surely you have! Minotaurs have lived in the Mojave Desert for two hundred years and have built the most magnificent mazes ever seen. We are a frequent travel destination for those humans who believe we are real. I named my labyrinth the Lost Hoplite, and it is more complicated than any maze you will find.”

  Bailey’s father shouted back, “Labyrinths are those things where you intentionally get yourself lost and then try to find your way back to where you started, right?”

  As the minotaur climbed, he snorted in frustration. “Labyrinths are an important part of Western culture. They challenge the mind in beautiful ways. Have you heard of the Reignac-Sur-Indre in France? Or perhaps the Maze at Ashcombe in Australia?”

  “No, buddy,” Bailey’s father said. “I haven’t, but could you stop climbing my wall, please?”

  The minotaur paused briefly. “You must have heard of the labyrinth of ancient Greece that Theseus entered to wage his legendary battle with the greatest minotaur ever known—my ancestor Asterion?”

  His father shrugged. “No, I haven’t, and honestly, you think too highly of yourself. To me you’re just another thug threatening my family.”

  Putting one hand in front of the other, Nikos Tekton continued to make progress. “I admit, we don’t receive as many customers as we would like. Our location is a bit too remote for humans. Unfortunately, I had to borrow money from some unscrupulous men to complete my maze’s construction, requiring me to take on additional and often dishonorable employment. But I am dedicated to my art.”

  “Pottery is better,” Bailey’s father shouted.

  “Pottery is for simpletons!”

  Dougie chuckled to himself. “Everybody loves a good pot, buddy. You wouldn’t be strong-arming for a loan shark if you had gone into pottery.”

  The minotaur only answered with a snort and continued to climb.

  Bailey’s father looked at his son with fierce determination. “We can’t budge this anchor and he’s almost here. We have to dynamite him.”

  Bailey shook his head. “No, Dad. We can’t solve all our problems wit
h explosives.”

  “Bailey,” his father sighed. “As you grow older, you’ll learn that sometimes—when you’ve exhausted all other options—a good stick of dynamite is the only thing that will save you—”

  Suddenly the minotaur leapt over the side of the roof, boots first, and gave Dougie Buckleby two steel-toed boots right to the forehead. He fell like a bag of bricks. Nikos leaned over and offered him his hand.

  “Come on, Mr. Buckleby. Upsy-daisy. I hit you pretty hard there.”

  Bailey’s father sat up, but he seemed a bit confused. His eyes were rolling around in his head. “What day is it? Is it yesterday?”

  “No,” Nikos said calmly. “It’s Monday.”

  “So it’s tomorrow, then,” Mr. Buckleby said with relief, and then fell back on his elbows, out of commission.

  The minotaur clicked his bull tongue. “I must apologize, children, but Candycane Boom hired me to help him obtain the baby sea giant by removing your father as an obstacle.”

  “He’s not my father,” Savannah screamed, raising her sword. “But you’re gonna wish you hadn’t messed with us!”

  “Wait,” Bailey said, trying to keep cool, even though his father had most likely suffered a very bad concussion. He knew he couldn’t best the huge and muscled minotaur in strength, so he tried very hard not to get angry, to think carefully, and to formulate a plan.

  “My father may not have heard of Asterion and the history of the minotaurs, but I have,” Bailey said cautiously, recalling page 110 of his favorite book. “I know that minotaurs value their honor more than anything else, and that the greatest possible honor they can earn is by victory in one-on-one combat.”

  The minotaur nodded in agreement. “Yes, that is true, although we prefer our duels to be held in the center of a labyrinth. Sadly, I haven’t been in a labyrinth in years, but Mr. Boom has hired me to do a job, and although he is not an honorable man himself, I intend to complete my contract with him.”

  “Over our dead bodies,” Savannah said, narrowing her eyes.

  Nikos Tekton shook his great bull head. Bailey could see his beard was ragged and loose, even though Dr. March’s book told him that minotaurs were very proud of their beards and kept them tied neatly together with gold rings. Bailey suspected this minotaur had to pawn his gold beard rings long ago.

  He spoke carefully. “I offer you a duel, sir. Whoever falls to the ground first loses, and the winner takes Henry.”

  Henry wagged his tongue and barked roump! Nikos eyed the big blue baby, pulling on his ragged beard as he considered the offer. “It’s a tempting proposal. Your offer would allow me to honor my contract to Mr. Boom and circumvent me from doing any fatal harm to children and allow me the honor of one-on-one combat against a clearly formidable foe.”

  The minotaur studied Bailey carefully. Bailey waited, not sure what he would do if the minotaur refused. But Nikos finally extended his hand. “Your offer is fair, Bailey Buckleby. How shall we begin?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  AN HONORABLE DUEL

  THERE WAS A light spread of gravel on the rooftop, and Bailey had always wondered why it was there. When he was younger and used to walk toward the edge of the roof with his eyes closed, he would listen to it crunch under his shoes and wonder, Did someone used to have a rock garden up here? At the edge of the roof, there was a slightly raised and slanted plastic trim all around the perimeter, for decoration mostly, but also to allow the rain to slide off and not collect on the roof. Even with his eyes closed, Bailey could feel when there was no gravel beneath his shoes and where the plastic perimeter began, alerting him that he was very, very close to falling three stories down.

  As he watched the sun dip past the horizon of the Pacific, and the whole Monday evening became a little dimmer, Bailey hoped that this knowledge would give him a slight advantage. He stalled so it could get even darker.

  “I’d like to go get a few more Frisbees for our battle,” Bailey said.

  “Be my guest,” Nikos said, bowing. “I have heard that you are a fine Frisbee thrower, so I would expect that to be your weapon of choice.”

  “What will yours be?” Bailey asked.

  Nikos tapped both of his horns. “These are all I need. They are quite sharp, but I promise not to purposely impale you. We agreed that whoever falls to the ground loses, correct? Those are the words you chose.”

  “Yes,” Bailey agreed, letting out a nervous breath. “No one need be impaled.”

  “I’d prefer my horns not be responsible for your death,” Nikos said calmly. “Please go fetch the Frisbees you need, but do not dilly-dally.”

  “Are we in the Amazon?” Bailey’s father asked, holding his head in both hands.

  “No, Mr. Buckleby,” Savannah said, and decided she shouldn’t tell him any more.

  Bailey went down to his tower of Frisbees next to the register in the front room and grabbed seven red discs and a flashlight. Then he walked slowly up the staircase to the hatch that led to the roof. The longer he delayed, the darker it would be, which would give him a critical advantage over the minotaur. Also, he didn’t want to rush his death.

  When he stepped out onto the gravel of the rooftop, he heard Mr. Boom’s voice through the megaphone. “WHISTLING WENDY, WHAT’S TAKING SO LONG UP THERE?”

  The minotaur did not need anything to help raise the volume of his voice. He shouted back, “The boy and I are about to have a duel of honor.”

  “I DIDN’T PAY YOU TO DUEL!”

  Nikos shouted back, “You haven’t paid me anything yet, sir, so be patient!”

  Bailey looked over the side of the roof and saw Candycane Boom and the four sophomores staring up at them.

  “Are you ready, Bailey?” Nikos asked.

  Bailey nodded yes and gave the flashlight to Savannah.

  “Please be careful, Bailey,” she said, looking worried. “Bullheads have the strength of ten humans and are easily angered.”

  He smiled and whispered, “Just shine this flashlight on my Frisbees when we begin.”

  Savannah nodded.

  Bailey backed up as far as he dared toward the roof’s edge until he felt the plastic trim beneath his feet. With only a crescent moon and a few stars in the night sky, there was very little light left.

  Bailey started to spin two Frisbees vertically, one on each index finger, the other five in his hoodie pocket. He weaved them back and forth, one over the other, as Nikos snorted and kicked gravel with his boots, getting ready to charge. Bailey nodded to Savannah and she shone the light.

  As Bailey spun the Frisbees and Savannah pointed the light at them, all Nikos could see in front of him was a hypnotic, spinning red glow. Page 110 of In the Shadow of Monsters had also taught him that minotaurs, like their bull relatives, were easily hypnotized and angered by the color red. Nikos stopped snorting and kicking for a moment and stared.

  “Please don’t do that,” the minotaur said. “It’s very distracting.”

  Bailey whipped one of the red Frisbees in between Nikos’s bull eyes. Pft!

  “Grrr!” the minotaur yelled, infuriated. He charged, but just as he reached his opponent, Bailey darted to the right, keeping two spinning red illuminated Frisbees in front of Nikos. The minotaur stopped himself just before running off the roof, and Bailey skipped backward blindly until he felt the plastic edge of the roof beneath his feet.

  Nikos snorted. “I see what you are trying to do, young Buckleby, but I’m no simpleton.”

  Bailey said nothing. He kept the red Frisbees spinning while Savannah lit them up with the flashlight.

  “Grrr!” Nikos charged again with his fist cocked, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the red Frisbees, so when Bailey sidestepped again at the last minute, the minotaur kept charging forward, again nearly falling off the edge of the roof as he slipped on the gravel. As he went by, Bailey knocked him on the head with three Frisbees. Pft, Pft, and Pft!

  Bailey skipped backward and took his original position at the other end of
the roof, this time at the very edge so his heels hung over the side. If he lost his balance or the ocean wind picked up, he would likely fall three stories to the street. He started to spin the Frisbees again, knowing he only had one left in his pocket.

  “Bailey Buckleby—” Nikos growled, but he couldn’t concentrate with the red Frisbees spinning in front of him. The minotaur charged again, but just as his horns nearly pierced Bailey’s stomach, Bailey zipped all three Frisbees into his opponent’s forehead—Pft, Pft, and Pft!

  Momentum carried Nikos forward, and he would have surely plunged to his death or at least very serious injury if Bailey hadn’t turned quickly and grabbed the minotaur’s belt with both hands.

  “Savannah, help me!”

  She ran over and grabbed the minotaur’s belt, too, as he stood on the edge of the roof, waving his arms frantically, trying to regain his balance.

  “HOLY HOPPING HANNAH, WHAT’S GOING ON UP THERE?” Mr. Boom yelled through the megaphone.

  Bailey feared that the floundering minotaur would pull him and Savannah over the side. But finally, they pulled him back in time for him to steady himself. The minotaur dropped to one knee.

  “I nearly fell,” the minotaur gasped.

  “But you didn’t,” Savannah said proudly. “So you should thank us, Mr. Bullhead!”

  The minotaur stood up, towering over them, and snorted. Even by the crescent moon, Bailey could see he was angry and quite capable of tearing them into multiple parts. But Nikos extended his large hand so that he could shake Bailey’s and congratulate him.

  “I do thank you, not only for a fair and honorable fight, but for saving my life. I am in debt to you both. I must admit, you are quick on your feet, young Buckleby.”

  “Not quick enough to beat me at Four Square.” Savannah grinned.

  “It was a good duel,” Bailey agreed.

  “Now that I have been defeated honorably, I must suggest you find a new location to hide your baby sea giant—Candycane Boom is determined to acquire him. He has a buyer who will pay quite handsomely for him.”