Zachary Pill, Of Monsters and Magic

by Tim Greaton

Zachary stared at the message that kept flexing and jiggling like the living things from which it was made. Though he didn’t know what it meant, he instinctively knew it was bad.

  “COME HOME PILL!”

  “I told you to get away from there,” his father ordered, halting only a few steps from the table, glowing wand in his hand.

  “Maybe it’s one of Uncle Ned’s tricks?” Zachary said, backing toward the living room. But even as he said it, he doubted it. There was something malicious about the message, especially the method of delivery, and—if anything—Uncle Ned would have been rushing to protect them from whoever was behind it.

  “Zachary, get out of sight,” his father hissed. “They might not have seen you yet!”

  Confused and frightened, Zachary ducked around the corner―but not before his own plate presented its own worm message. Goose bumps swept across his shoulders and back as he read: “HELLO ZACHARY.”

  9) Dark Plans

  “Lip Fraize Abla Berrace!” Zachary’s father bellowed. The alien pronouncement was followed by a huge flash of blue light and the crash of broken glass.

  Blinking bright spots away from his vision, Zachary peered around the corner to see their kitchen table flipped upright against the outside wall. Like a catapult, his father had used it to magically launch both plates and their squirming heralds out into the Boston night sky.

  “You can come out,” his father said, his angry expression calming. “It’s safe…for now.” He breathed heavily and moved to stare out the only intact kitchen window.

  “What if someone was down there?” Zachary asked, referring to the busy street and sidewalk fourteen stories below. Kids at school often said if you dropped a penny on someone’s head from that high, it would kill them. What kind of damage would two plates have done?

  “Nothing will fall until it hits the Atlantic,” his father said, stuffing his wand into his front pocket where its blue symbols fell dark. “Chances of any boats being there, a mile off shore, seem pretty small.”

  Zachary used his good hand to tip the table back down onto its legs. A quick glance at the empty floor confirmed that everything—silverware, glasses, worm-filled plates—had been launched through the shattered window at the same time. An ocean breeze flowed through the remaining jagged pieces of glass, flapping the curtains and bringing with it the faint scents of salt and seaweed. Normally, Zachary loved that smell, but tonight it made him feel small in comparison to the world and its dangers, many of which he had never even imagined when the day began.

  His father stood there unmoving, eyes locked on the night sky. Zachary wanted desperately to ask a thousand questions, but given the intense look on his father’s face he instead got a cloth from under the sink and began wiping sauce from the table and window frame.

  “Careful,” his father warned.

  Zachary nodded and stayed clear of the glass shards that hung like jagged knives from the window frame. He had no intention of cutting himself and requiring a return to Gefarg’s clinic. A fleeting thought of the skeletal nurse sent shudders down his spine.

  He was rinsing his cleaning cloth out for the third time when his father said, “I’m sorry, Zach.”

  “For what…the worms? You’re the one that got rid of them.”

  “No, I’m sorry I screwed things up so badly.” He turned toward his son. “Now that he knows about you, we have to leave right away. You won’t be able to finish your finals…or talk to Stephanie Travis.”

  “St-Stephanie?” Zachary gawked at the older Pill. “I never told…how’d you—?”

  His father tapped the wand in his pocket. The blue symbols flashed briefly with each touch.

  “I’m beginning to think I should have used it more often over the last fourteen years. I had hoped that by hiding I could keep you safe.” His gaze fell to the floor. “But I was wrong.”

  Suddenly, a missed opportunity with a girl he hardly knew didn’t seem to matter much at all.

  “Where will we go?” Zachary asked.

  “Most anyplace away from here would be safer for you.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then he’s going to pay!” His father slammed a hand down on the newly washed table! There was a horrendous crack, and a good-sized chunk of the wood table broke free and bounced on the floor.

  Zachary’s mouth fell open.

  The table was over two inches thick!

  He wouldn’t have thought that even his uncle, with muscles stacked on top of muscles, could have done that. But there was no denying the splinters hanging from the table and the chunk of wood on the floor. Zachary suddenly saw his father in a whole new light. Maybe it was good he had never chosen to get into fights.

  They were both still gaping at the hole in the table when an urgent knock came at the door.

  “Is everything all right in there?” the elderly woman from across the hall asked.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Whitaker,” Zachary’s dad said. “I was…fixing our table.”

  “You’re sure nothing is wrong? I could come in if―”

  “We’re fine, Mrs. Whitaker,” his father interrupted.

  “If you say so,” the nosey woman said with a harrumph.

  As soon as they heard her door close across the hall, his father spoke again. “I have to call your uncle, Zach. Don’t worry about the mess. Rest your arm. I’ll take care of it in a little while.” Not waiting for a response, his father disappeared into his small office.

  Glued in place, Zachary continued to stare at the large bite taken out of their table. How could his meek, violence-hating father have done that? This was the same person who allowed their car to be stolen right in front of them a few months before. Rather than try to stop the red-haired man, his father had pulled Zachary into the nearest store and warned him to be silent until their car was long gone. One time when the building superintendent had warned him about their dog pooping in the hallway, rather than explain they didn’t have a dog, Zachary’s father had promised not to let it happen again. Zachary had always assumed it had been fear that kept his father from speaking out or taking a stand, but a man who could smash a two-inch thick piece of wood out of a table certainly had little to fear. No, his father had instead been trying to keep their heads down; by avoiding issues with landlords, police, and even the staff at Zachary’s school, his father figured they wouldn’t be noticed by whomever had sent the worms.

  Suddenly, Zachary’s entire view of his father changed. How many times had the older Pill swallowed his pride just to keep Zachary safe?

  A million!

  “Your uncle’s coming,” his father announced, stepping out of his office. “We’ll need to have everything packed and ready. He’s bringing a truck tomorrow.”

  “Uncle Ned has a truck?”

  “No,” his father said. “He’s more of a sports car kind of guy, but I imagine he’ll rent one.”

  “Was it Doctor Gefarg?” Zachary asked, unable to hold the question in. “Is he the one who’s after us?”

  “No.” His father rubbed his eyes. “But he must have given our address away. I knew he couldn’t be trusted!” The older man’s face was drawn and pale, much the way it had been when Zachary’s mother had disappeared two years earlier. That had been a rough week for both of them.

  “Maybe you should get some sleep,” Zachary suggested. “I’ll clean up this mess. At least there aren’t any dishes to wash.” He gave a weak smile but his father seemed to miss the joke.

  “Just leave everything ‘till tomorrow, Zach. You’ve had a rough day and we have to start packing early.” He paused, eyes drifting down to the right the way they did when he was thinking. “I’ve got a few calls to make.” He shook his head, disappeared back into his small office and shut the door.

  Even though questions about Doctor Gefarg’s clinic and the worm messages spun wildly through his head, Zachary still found room to be excited at the prospect of seeing Uncle Ned who usually only swooped into town every few months. Often, when
he did, freaky things would happen like a six-legged frog suddenly appearing on the kitchen floor and like windows turning black as he passed then turning clear again when he moved away. There was one visit when all the faucets had turned on by themselves, almost flooding the apartment. Of course, Zachary’s father had always referred to those events as “parlor tricks,” but they had obviously been a lot more than that.

  His head still swam with the thought of it: magic was real! And he was from a family of real magicians! Zachary knew that he should have been terrified that some mysterious person was after his family, but he couldn’t deny the exhilaration of being part of something so amazing. Unfortunately—

  He lifted his cast.

  Being the son of a wizard hadn’t helped him defend himself.

  Zachary began cleaning up the wood splinters from his father’s assault on the table. The cast made things awkward, forcing him to step on the dustpan while sweeping with his good hand, but he finally got the job done. Finished, he leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at his father’s closed office door.

  Who’s he talking to?

  Tired and sore but still filled with nervous energy, he settled into his mother’s favorite green living room chair and flipped on the TV. He tried to watch a show about turtles but couldn’t find a comfortable position for his broken arm, which had begun to ache again. He also couldn’t stop thinking about the unbelievable events that had suddenly turned his life upside down. He wanted—no, needed to—know