Digger Doyle's Real Book of Monsters

by Daniel Warriner

  Digger felt the rope at once tighten around one wrist.

  Big Bee examined the mirror, rubbing his thumbs in greedy circles over the precious stones. “Aye, this’ll fetch a grand price. The mirror’s older than this here cave, I reckon.” He spat on the floor by Digger’s feet. “Braden’s got the jewel on ’em. Bruno, you hold onto the mirror. Make sure not to drop—”

  A noise.

  Digger heard it, too. And Yukiko.

  “What the—?” Braden let go of the rope before tying Digger’s other hand, or either of Yukiko’s.

  Yukiko sat still, not uttering a word, her eyes fixed on the cave’s darkness.

  First, there was a plodding sound, like sandals over sticky mud. These were stretchy noises, and coming closer, increasing from a single flurry of footsteps to two, to four, to eight, to too many to count . . .

  Big Bee held the mirror like a tennis racquet, at the ready to strike whatever came at him.

  In a back crawl, Yukiko pushed herself to the cavern wall. Digger—his wrist still held by the rope—reached for his rucksack. But it was too late to run.

  Out of the black sprang a Kappa.

  Scraggly green-brown hair hung loosely over the creature’s pointed ears. It scampered swiftly over the floor. Its webbed hands, with twig-thin fingers, were reaching out for the attack. Its shell rose and fell rapidly with each step, but the saucer-deep dip atop its head barely spilled a drop of water.

  Then there were more.

  “Kappas?” Yukiko was stunned, then snapped out of it. Digger was as still as a statue, but that crumbled fast, and he and Yukiko scrambled to their feet, the rope hanging from Digger’s wrist now snaking along the floor.

  The first five Kappas barged into Big Bee, smashing him with their heavy shells. He stumbled back toward the cavern’s mouth and dropped the mirror by Digger.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Yukiko screamed.

  Bruno dived for the mirror.

  Then other Kappas stormed out of the depths, furious and screeching at the intruders. They too crashed into Big Bee, forcing him to lose his balance, and he knocked a bunch more shells to the floor. The Kappas latched on to his every limb. He gave out a roar, spun himself round, and fell sideways. Unable to regain his balance, Big Bee tumbled out through the waterfall, taking half a dozen Kappas with him.

  “Come on,” Yukiko urged Digger. “This way . . .” She was already climbing out of the cavern’s mouth, from the side opposite the stairway. “Hurry!” She clambered through a jumble of plants, then was gone. Braden followed her, but not Bruno. He was busy slipping the mirror under his shirt, at which point a nimble Kappa dived for his legs. His knees buckled, and shells slid and twirled as both boy and creature wrestled back and forth for the mirror.

  At last, Bruno let go, and the mirror again fell near Digger.

  The Kappa’s webbed foot, like tight plastic, pressed against Bruno’s face. Digger reached for the mirror. “Do NOT pick that up,” the creature warned.

  Digger’s arm froze but his tongue and mouth immediately stretched and widened—in very strange ways. He stammered at the Kappa: “I, I, I won’t take it.” The words sounded so weird to him as they left his mouth. His tongue and cheeks had moved unnaturally. His lips, too.

  The Kappa picked up the mirror, and with its bulging green eyes looked Digger over from head to toe, astounded that a human boy had understood its Kappa words, and responded in Kappanese. “What did you say to me?” the creature asked, struggling to hold Bruno down.

  Gasping for air, Bruno jerked to one side and managed to get back on his feet—with a shard of wood, which had splintered off a shell support. He, too, had heard Digger. He stood motionless and stared, confused as to how Digger had spoken those Kappa words.

  As more squishing sounds rushed through the cave, Bruno lunged at the Kappa he’d wrestled with and, scrambling for the mirror, drove the shard of wood into the creature’s side, just beneath the brim of its shell. The Kappa twisted in pain, and the mirror fell yet again. But Bruno didn’t risk picking it up. There was no time. Three Kappas had darted out of the blackness, and were running straight for him. To escape he leapt out through the waterfall, with all three shell-backed creatures springing after him in pursuit.

  Only Digger and the injured Kappa remained.

  Digger thought he heard his cousin shouting. Is that Corliss? And a girl shrieking. Pam? The ground outside was pounding like drums.

  A narrow stream of blood ran from the Kappa’s wound. The creature lurched forward in agony, then wrapped a hand around the column of the torii to stop itself from falling.

  Digger knew he had to follow Yukiko and Braden, or jump and hope to land in the poisoned river, rather than on a rock. However, the Kappa was seriously hurt. Its friends will come to help it, he told himself. Won’t they?

  The creature reached down and lifted up the mirror, wincing in pain.

  Digger heard more squishing . . . More Kappas. He was certain they’d attack him next, and maybe blame him for stabbing one of their own. He had to get out of there fast.

  He jumped over a fallen shell, toward the cavern’s mouth. Then he noticed the wounded Kappa lift its arm to hold out the mirror. The creature wanted Digger to take it.

  Trying hard to stand on its own, the Kappa extended its arm further, then, with a grunt, toppled forward.

  Digger instantly tossed the rope, and the Kappa grabbed hold of it in mid-fall, but not soon enough. The creature teetered, and then went over the cavern’s lower lip.

  Digger’s wrist was suddenly yanked. The Kappa, dangling on the rope, was unbelievably heavy, and Digger was tugged right to the edge. His wrist was being pulled so hard his whole hand felt like it was on fire, and there was little he could do to stop himself from falling out. When he caught sight of more Kappas, all sprinting out of the cave, it gave him such a fright that he slipped.

  Right then he would have fallen all the way down to the river, but Corliss grabbed him by the boots. His cousin had come just in time, though Digger was now upside down, hanging by his feet inside the falling water, while the Kappa continued to dangle from his wrist.

  Digger bent his head forward. All he could see was Corliss’s arms around his ankles, and his cousin’s face—strained, with terror-filled eyes.

  Digger bent his head back and saw the Kappa, tangled in the rope, and holding the mirror up for him. Digger reached down and took it. Next the Kappa began untangling itself, blood and water dripping off its shell.

  “Pull me up, Corliss,” Digger yelled. Corliss couldn’t hear him. “Pull Me Uuuuup.” But his cousin wasn’t alone.

  Corliss flinched and cringed as his entire body was jerked to one side. Digger watched it happen again. He couldn’t see the Kappas, but they were pulling and hitting Corliss. And Corliss was taking the tugs and blows while somehow keeping hold of Digger’s feet. But how much longer could he?

  Digger peered down at the churning water. There was only one thing he could do.

  But could he save his cousin at the same time? The Kappas might let Corliss go if they got the mirror back . . . Digger had to try.

  He hurled the mirror over Corliss’s head and into the cavern. That same second, he wrenched himself free of Corliss’s grip, and closed his eyes . . .

  He was falling, with a Kappa for an anchor, toward a river full of poisons.

  Chapter 19—After the Echoes

  A giant goblin had snatched up Pam like a mouse. As she shrieked and struggled in its grasp, there was nothing Corliss could do except avoid being captured himself. He made a run for it, straight to the waterfall to hide, and nearly bashed his head on the log stairway.

  Up he went, counting on the log to split into pieces if the second goblin climbed up after him.

  The very instant he entered the cavern he saw Digger about to fall. He lunged for his cousin and grabbed hold of his feet, not seeing any of the Kappas racing toward him.

  Flat on his chest and stomach, he held on as tightly
as he could, while Digger—ankles to head—dangled just below the edge. Then he felt the hands yanking at his legs, rucksack, and the P Z, making it impossible for him to pull Digger up.

  The muscles in his arms and shoulders were beginning to ache. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

  He twisted his neck enough to see a lizard-like hand clutching a strap on his rucksack. Then he saw those hissing reptilian faces, each with a set of sharp teeth. Right then he believed in Kappas. And they were attacking him.

  “Dig, I can’t hold on,” he shouted frantically, but the roaring waterfall drowned out his words.

  All of him was being stretched. He felt like the rope in a tug-of-war match. The strain was unbearable. He saw the extra weight—another Kappa—holding onto the rope below Digger. Is that thing reaching up with a mirror? Is Digger reaching down to . . . take it?

  Then, with a snap of Digger’s wrist, the mirror came somersaulting through the air and over Corliss’s head. He heard it hit and then slide across the rock floor, and all the Kappas at once let go.

  But it was too late. Digger had slipped out of Corliss’s hands and was falling with the rope, the Kappa, and the water.

  Corliss scrambled to his feet and hurried into the cavern’s darkness. “Yukiko?” he whispered. No reply, only his own voice echoing deeper underground. Not a good move, he told himself. Keep quiet.

  The Kappas in there with him were searching around for the mirror. He caught his breath as quietly as he could, leaning against his rucksack, now sandwiched between his back and the cave wall, with the P Z at his side.

  The Kappas could attack—WILL attack, he warned himself. And soon. He slowly shifted sideways along the wall, further into the cave, choosing each step carefully so as not to knock over any Kappa shells. The tunnel curved slightly, and the floor was slanting downward. All the light was swallowed up.

  Corliss was never afraid of the dark. He wasn’t scared of these shelled creatures either, even though they looked much more vicious than the animals Digger had described. But what did put a lump in his throat were those huge goblins—and what they might do to Pam.

  He had to make it back outside so he could go after her. But to get to the log stairway he’d have to pass through a gang of Kappas. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

  The soft, squishy sounds of more Kappas creeping through the darkness bounced off the walls. He couldn’t see them but heard their raspy breathing. Which gave him a fantastic idea . . .

  What did Digger read on that page from his father’s book? Something about webbed feet . . . The smell of rotting fish . . . Hunched backs . . . Slimy yellowish-green skin . . . And their heads! A saucer-deep spot on top . . .

  If Kappas needed a tiny pool of water on their heads, then maybe they needed that water to breathe—like a fish.

  So what if it spilled?

  And how to spill it?

  Corliss didn’t want to hurt the creatures. All he wanted to do was throw them off balance so they’d lose their water. After that, they’d have to retreat—to run off for a refill in the river. He hoped.

  Little by little he lifted the Plastron-Zetetic.

  Time to spill some water.

  He turned it on.

  The blaring, jarring sound echoed in every direction. Throughout the cave, the noise was so overwhelming he was forced to put down the device and cover his ears. He pressed his hands against the sides of his head and watched as his father’s invention spun out of control across the floor. Its bell blasted like a siren, and its berserk flashing light radiated a raspberry red.

  Corliss felt like he was inside a megaphone with a strobe. And within each flash he saw the Kappas, for a split second, their hands also pressed against their ears, their frog-green faces twisting in torment, and water splashing and dribbling off their heads.

  There was something else catching the light—the mirror.

  In a panic, four or five Kappas bolted for the waterfall. Another writhed in agony on the floor. Corliss had to get out of there. Who knew what other monsters had been awakened?

  He raced to pick up the mirror, got it, and shoved its handle under his belt. Next, he opened his canteen. “Please don’t make me regret this.” He bent over the Kappa to pour all he had left onto the creature’s head. It breathed the water in deeply, and as soon as Corliss saw that, he ran. Not to the cavern’s mouth, where the other Kappas had gone, but into the cave’s depths, as if chasing after a million screeching, screaming echoes.

  Chapter 20—Bamboo Cage

  Dazed and dizzy, Digger could barely open his eyes . . .

  Nighttime . . .

  How long had he been asleep?

  Crisscrossing bamboo stalks, bound together.

  Everything moving up and down, up and down.

  Was the bamboo floating?

  Was he floating?

  He adjusted his head. His neck and chest ached.

  He was in a shelter.

  No . . . A cage.

  The rope gone from his wrist.

  The bamboo hard against his back.

  His legs lay spread over the square gaps in the cage floor.

  Leaves rustled . . .

  All he could see through the cage walls were murky shadows, trudging in unison through the darkness.

  He was so groggy. His thoughts came together with pieces missing. His eyelids felt heavy. His arms and legs weren’t ready to move. He took in the cool night air, and let it out slowly—in, out, again, again, again . . .

  Minutes passed before his eyes were half-open. Was someone else stirring inside the cage?

  He summoned the strength to peer over his shoulder. Then felt dizzy all over again when he saw the Kappa slumped in a corner.

  Digger closed his eyes. It’s the water, he told himself. It’s made me woozy. It’s making me imagine things.

  The Kappas . . . The fall . . . The cage . . .

  None of it’s real, he desperately wanted to believe. It’s all some sort of dream—because of the poisonous water.

  He had no memory of hitting the river or its sandy bottom. The impact had knocked him out cold. Water had filled his mouth and throat. The poisons flowed through him, disorienting him, stripping away memories, twisting truths, playing tricks on his eyes.

  If Yukiko was caged up with him, and awake, she would say something. He listened, hoping to hear her voice, but what came was the slippery, slimy speech of the Kappa.

  “Are you rousing yourself, special one?” Its words sounded wet. They joined together with a stickiness and driveled out like grease.

  Digger didn’t want to open his eyes again. His heart felt like it was beating in his neck. The creature’s oily voice sent shivers down his spine. The language was foreign to Digger’s ears, but at the same time it somehow sounded familiar.

  He sensed the Kappa creeping closer.

  “Do you choose not to speak, special one? Did you not hear Slithis?”

  Sliding across Digger’s already clammy forehead was what felt like a rubber glove—the Kappa’s webbed hand. It smelled of pond scum, and in that sour foulness also lingered the creature’s boggy breath.

  Bolts of fear shot through Digger, causing his grogginess to quickly fade. He sat up, wild-eyed, looking every which way. Then, on all fours, he scrambled backward over the bamboo into a corner. This spooked the Kappa, which at once retreated to its own corner. Digger’s hand and arm fell through one of the square openings and he collapsed onto his back, his arm dangling through the floor.

  “So, so, sooooo,” hissed the Kappa, and Digger knew that meant “Yes, yes, yesssss.”

  The creature leaned back on its shell with a painful grunt. Although Digger couldn’t see the Kappa well, it was clearly in a lot of pain.

  “We cannot go anywhere. Nowhere but to the village of these tree goblins. Nowhere but their kingdom in the sky.” The Kappa peered out at the plodding shadows. Digger too saw the sweeping motions of the beasts carrying the cage.

  Two bamboo poles jut
ted out from either end of the cage top. How long they were, Digger couldn’t tell, but they must have stuck out far enough to rest on the shoulders of the two giants, one in front, the other behind.

  It was too dark to make out a face or a limb or even a body, but he felt the rhythm of their strides in the rising and sinking of the cage, similar to the ups and downs of Wendy Windsplitter on rolling waves.

  “We are not alone, special one. Did you not see the others before us?”

  Digger placed a hand over his sore ribs and rubbed his neck with the other. He remembered more. Details were popping back into place . . . The cavern. Grudgings. A mirror. Corliss. And this Kappa.

  “Not just one coop? Not just two coops. But three coops.”

  Digger tried hard to understand those slimy words.

  “Did you not see your friends—in the coops?”

  Coops? Digger couldn’t make sense of the word at first. Bird coops? Or cages perhaps? Did the Kappa see other cages like this one?

  Digger sat up as best he could and strained to see through the blackness, hoping to catch any sight of other cages up ahead.

  “So, so, sooooo! You DO understand Slithis. You are a very special one, aren’t you? You listened to me, yes? You heard and then looked for the others right away. You understood. But you cannot see far. Slithis may not see well like you in the light, but at night I can see farther than any skin-man.”

  Slithis. It has a name.

  Again, Digger strained to catch any glimpse of another cage. For all he knew, the Kappa had seen the Grudgings, and not his friends.

  Digger stretched his lips and flexed the muscles in his tongue. “Who . . . did . . . you . . . see?” Each word wiggled out wobbly.

  “So, so, so! Slithis was not wrong.” Excitedly, and rather painfully, the creature bent forward. One of its hands pressed against its side and the other rested flat atop its head of wiry hair. Its webbed feet gripped the stalks of bamboo flooring. Its head twisted back and forth, making croaky bursts of what Digger believed could only be laughter. Digger was puzzled. He’d asked such a simple question, but it had riled up the creature.