Always October

by Bruce Coville

  A terrible ripping sound filled the air as the monster thrust his right arm into the room, tearing through whatever invisible force had been holding him back. The smell of sulfur grew stronger. The monster’s hand—enormous and orange, its long fingers tipped with fierce black claws—stretched toward me.

  I heard a pounding on the door and feared it was yet another monster until I heard Mrs. McSweeney shout, “Jacob! Jacob, what’s going on?”

  Frantic, I turned again, grabbed the doorknob with my free hand, and twisted with all my might. “Mrs. McSweeney!” I cried. “Mrs. McSweeney! Help!”

  She stopped pounding on the door. For a terrible instant I feared she had fled, but almost at once I heard her chant some strange words I could not understand. She stopped, and I heard her try to work the knob.

  “Jacob!” she cried. “Try it from your side!”

  The knob still wouldn’t budge. I wanted to use both hands, but LD was clinging to me so tightly, I couldn’t put him down to try.

  Bracing one foot against the wall, I yanked with all my strength.

  Nothing.

  “No, no, no!” whimpered Little Dumpling again as he tightened his grip on my neck. “Bad! Bad!”

  That horrible shredding sound repeated. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the orange monster thrust his other arm into the room. He leaned forward, stretching both hands toward us.

  “Mazrak will break through in seconds!” bellowed the blue monster, the one called Keegel Farzym.

  Mazrak! That was the name Lily had found in my father’s journal, the one who had wanted him to “go to the cave.” Who was he? Was he responsible for my father’s disappearance? Turning toward the orange monster, I screamed, “What did you do to my father?”

  “Bring me the baby and I’ll tell you!”

  “Jacob, do not give him the baby!” cried Mrs. McSweeney through the door.

  “If you don’t want Mazrak to capture you, get over here now!” roared Keegel Farzym.

  My head was spinning. Mazrak must know what had happened to my father. But I could not imagine handing the baby over to him.

  “Jacob, do as he says!” cried Mrs. McSweeney.

  “Do as who says?” I screamed.

  “Keegel Farzym!”

  Mazrak’s anger was growing, his shouts getting louder, his red eyes blazing with rage. Suddenly the window didn’t seem like such a bad idea—or wouldn’t have if not for the fact that to get to it, I would have to pass uncomfortably close to the closet and Mazrak’s grasping hands.

  “Hurry!” bellowed the monster at the window.

  “Do it, Jacob!” cried Mrs. McSweeney.

  I bolted forward. Mazrak lunged for me, but the invisible barrier still held him from the waist down. I bounded over the bed to the window. Mazrak roared with new fury.

  “Give me the baby,” ordered Keegel Farzym.

  His voice was urgent but surprisingly gentle. Even so, I hesitated—until LD twisted in my arms and reached toward the bearded creature. Deciding to trust the baby’s instincts—I figured he should know more about monsters than I did—I passed the baby to Keegel Farzym. He tucked LD under his right arm.

  The baby almost disappeared beneath the monster’s enormous beard.

  Grasping the sill with his left hand, Keegel Farzym swung sideways and said, “Climb on my back!”

  “I can’t go with you!”

  “You would rather stay here with Mazrak?”

  Another roar from the closet, followed by more ripping sounds, banished my doubts. With a yelp of terror, I scrambled through the window and onto Keegel Farzym’s back.

  I had scarcely placed my hands on his shoulders when he leaped to the ground, which was about twelve feet below. The jolt of landing shook my teeth but didn’t seem to bother Keegel Farzym, who immediately loped away from the house.

  I heard a ferocious roar from behind. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Mazrak’s face at the window.

  “He’s broken through!” I screamed. “Faster!”

  Little Dumpling began to wail.

  Keegel Farzym’s pace was handicapped by the fact that he was clutching Little Dumpling at his side and had me clinging to his back. So when I glanced over my shoulder again and saw Mazrak squeezing through the window, I feared it wouldn’t be long before the orange beast caught up with us.

  I felt an insane urge to kick Keegel Farzym’s sides and shout, “Giddyap!” Only I didn’t know whether that would encourage him to run faster or simply to turn around and kill me. I sank my fingers into his beard—the coarse black hairs were as thick as my mother’s yarn—and held on for dear life.

  Keegel Farzym circled the house, barreled along the driveway, and turned onto the road. The night was misty. Wisps of fog, made bright by the full moon, swirled as high as the monster’s knees.

  I heard a howl, then another. Then a pack of wolves leaped from out of the darkness. I flinched, bracing myself for their attack. It never came. Instead they ran alongside Keegel Farzym, who gasped, “Welcome! Welcome, children of the night!”

  A moment later I saw where we were heading. I should have guessed anyway. The cemetery lay dead ahead.

  Mazrak was only steps behind us now, still roaring his anger.

  “Geer-up, Hai!” shouted Keegel Farzym.

  At these words the wolves turned away. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw them form a half circle in front of Mazrak. They crouched and growled, as if daring him to try to get past them.

  The orange monster bellowed a curse. Then he spread his arms and began to chant. His voice, deep and powerful, gave me chills. After a moment he slammed his hands together, making a sound like a small explosion. Even as far away as we now were I caught a whiff of something unpleasant. The wolves uttered a series high-pitched yelps, then bolted into the darkness.

  “You can’t escape me, Keegel Farzym!”

  The words were terrifying—though not as terrifying as the knowledge that if the orange monster managed to catch up with us, I would be the first thing within his grasp.

  Reaching the cemetery, Keegel Farzym raced through the gate. He waved his arm. The gate, which had been rusted open for as long as I could remember, slammed shut.

  Howling with renewed rage, Mazrak grabbed the iron bars and shook them like a prisoner in a jail cell. He shouted more words I couldn’t understand. Orange light crackled around his hands, and the gate burst open again.

  Mazrak was in but again Keegel Farzym had bought us precious time. Leaping over marble headstones, ducking to avoid low branches, my bearded blue mount wove between patches of bright moonlight and dark areas where that same light caused the shadows of tombstones to stretch ahead of us like graves waiting to be filled.

  I could tell Keegel Farzym was getting tired. He ducked behind the Crawford family tombstone, which was enormous, and leaned against it, gasping. Still clinging desperately to the monster’s beard, I held my breath and hoped Little Dumpling would stay quiet.

  Mazrak snorted and growled off to our left. “You can’t hide from me!” he bellowed. “I’ll sniff you out, wherever you are.”

  Little Dumpling whimpered.

  “Shhh,” I hissed.

  The baby fell quiet.

  From the sound of his shouting, Mazrak was getting farther away. I thought we were safe.

  Then Little Dumpling sneezed.

  With a roar, Mazrak turned and came crashing toward us.

  Keegel Farzym leaped to his feet. Only by grabbing another handful of beard did I manage to avoid slipping to the ground. He bolted toward the mausoleums. As he did, I realized he planned to go inside one.

  “Don’t!” I cried. “We’ll be trapped!”

  Ignoring my warning, Keegel Farzym shot into the very mausoleum Lily and I used for our hideout.

  The door slammed shut behind us. Keegel Farzym pivoted toward it and chanted, waving his hands. A soft blue glow appeared around the doorframe. I had the feeling he was trying to seal it, to keep Mazrak out.

  He t
urned again. The inside of the mausoleum should have been pitch-black. Instead, it was roiling with a gray mist, lit by jagged lines of bright purple that were shooting through it like tiny lightning bolts. Little Dumpling laughed and tried to catch one. I tried to stop him, afraid that he would get zapped. As I did, I brushed against one of the lines myself. It prickled, but not unpleasantly.

  Mazrak had reached the mausoleum and was pounding on the door, his voice angrier than ever. Keegel Farzym started to run again. I braced myself for the collision with the back wall.

  When it didn’t come, I felt a new wave of fear. Where’s the wall? I thought. Then, more importantly, Where are we?

  The light shifted from the gray mist to something that spoke more of moonbeams in a forest. When we had gone a little farther, I heard a pleasant sound to our left. It took me a moment to realize it was a waterfall.

  Clearly, we had left the mausoleum.

  “Where are we?” I cried.

  “Always October,” panted the monster.

  Always October! The statement was both thrilling and bewildering. But before I could ask Keegel Farzym to explain, we spotted something that caused both of us to cry out in shock.

  15

  (Lily)

  THE HIGH POET

  When that hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed me, I shrieked and nearly fainted.

  Then I realized it was my grandfather.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, unintentionally repeating his question.

  There wasn’t really time to discuss the matter because the roaring was getting closer. I pressed myself to the back wall of the mausoleum. No, that’s not quite accurate. I tried to press myself to the wall. Only there was no wall. I just kept moving. That was scary. On the other hand, it meant we could still run from the approaching monster.

  Grampa had figured that out too. “Let’s skedaddle!” he cried.

  We ran until the sounds were far behind us, then stopped beneath a huge tree—a tree larger by far than any in the cemetery. Mist curled around our knees as we stood gasping for breath. It was only then that I realized that Grampa had brought his pickax with him. He clutched it as if he intended to use it on the first thing that came near us.

  As our breathing slowed, he turned to me and asked, “What were you doing in that mausoleum?”

  Before I could figure out what to say, Jacob showed up, riding on a big blue monster. Clutched in the monster’s right arm was a furry baby who I assumed must be Little Dumpling. Well, that settled one thing—Jacob had been telling the truth about the baby turning into a monster!

  Not that by this time I had any reason to doubt him....

  “What are you doing here?” cried Jacob when he saw Gramps and me.

  “Never mind that now,” growled the monster he was riding. “We must keep moving until we reach someplace safer. I don’t know who you two are, but you had better come along. You can explain why you’re here later.” He squatted and said to Jacob, “Slide down. I don’t need the extra burden!”

  Jake slid off the monster’s back. The moment his feet hit the ground, the monster took off at a slow trot. By running, Jake, Gramps, and I were able, just barely, to keep up with his long-legged stride.

  About the time that a stitch was blossoming in my side, we entered a boggy, foresty place. The mist was thicker here, and waist high. The ground squelched beneath our feet. The scraggly branches of the trees looked like clutching hands eager to grab and hold us.

  It was wonderful.

  The blue monster stopped beneath another huge tree. The ground surrounding it was rumpled by thick roots, and through gaps in the mist I could see that it was covered by fallen leaves painted in a thousand shades of yellow, orange, and red. The smell of October, which I love, was rich in the air.

  I started to ask a question. The monster held up his right hand, which was the size of a small frying pan, cautioning me to silence. He was clearly concentrating. I realized he was listening for any sound of pursuit.

  After a moment he nodded and said, “With luck, we’ve left Mazrak in Humana.”

  I knew the name Mazrak from the material we had found in the tower room. The very mention of it made me tremble. But the other word … “Humana?” I asked.

  “It is our name for the world you come from,” said the monster. Turning to Jacob, he said, “I tried to seal the gateway after we came through. If I managed it properly, Mazrak will have to go back to your closet to return to Always October.”

  “Do you think he’ll go straight back?” Jake asked nervously. “My babysitt—My friend was still in the house. I’m worried he might hurt her.”

  “He’s not after anyone else, but he will be dangerous if someone tries to stop him. His only interest is in the baby, and his main concern right now will be to get back here as soon as possible. Truly, I fear we have not seen the last of him.” Turning to Gramps and me, he said, “I believe this would be a good time for you to answer the boy’s question, which is mine as well: What are you doing here?”

  “Suppose you tell us where here is first,” snapped Grampa. “Not to mention what you were doin’ in my cemetery!”

  I flinched. Leave it to Gramps to talk back to a monster!

  “My name is Keegel Farzym. I came to your side of the Great Tapestry to protect this baby.” The monster looked at LD with astonishing tenderness. “I had good cause to believe there would be an attempt to steal him tonight—as, indeed, there was. I am glad I was able to thwart that. Even so, having the baby back in Always October creates serious problems. There, I have answered your question. Please return the favor.”

  Gramps scowled but appeared unable to think of a reason to refuse. Lips tight, he said, “I was sittin’ at my kitchen table when I heard a big ruckus, lotta shoutin’ and stuff. Came out to see what was wrong. Saw you and that other critter runnin’ around and felt stupid I didn’t bring my shotgun instead of my pickax. Decided to take shelter in that mausoleum, only it was all wacky inside, what with the mist and the light and everything. Didn’t wanna go back outside, though, with the two of you still there. I was tryin’ to figure things out when Lily here came stumblin’ in …”

  He shot me a look, as if I had some explaining to do myself … not only to the monster, but to him.

  “I heard the ruckus too,” I said quickly. “I came out to see what was going on, just like Grampa.”

  Okay, that wasn’t strictly true. But I didn’t think there was any point in getting into a discussion with my grandfather about why I was outside well before the fuss began. Besides, my brain was buzzing with the idea that Always October, which I had read about in Arthur Doolittle’s stories, was actually real—and that we were actually there. I was trembling, and I honestly can’t say whether it was from fear or delight.

  Gramps picked up the story. “It was not more than a few seconds after Lily showed up before I saw you headin’ toward us. My only thought then was to get away. So we started to run too.”

  “Actually, what we tried to do was press ourselves against the wall,” I put in. “Only it wasn’t there!”

  “Right,” said Gramps. “That was when we started to run. The missing wall was pretty dang weird, but at least we had somewhere to go. We had stopped to catch our breath when you showed up. So that’s our story. Now why don’t you tell me just what this is all about!” With a squint, he turned to Jacob and added, “Or can you answer that question, boy?”

  “I have no idea what’s going on,” said Jacob, his fingers tapping against his thumb faster than I’d ever seen before. Turning to Keegel Farzym, he asked, “What are you going to do with us?”

  “I wish I knew,” the creature replied. He looked a bit cranky.

  “Are you going to kill us?” asked Jacob.

  The monster’s laugh sounded like rocks dropping on a kettle drum. “If I wanted you to die, I would have left you with Mazrak!”

  As if frightened by this, LD called “Jay-Jay!” and reached out for Jacob. To my su
rprise, the blue monster, who was nearly twice Jacob’s height, handed the baby down to him. I could tell that it calmed LD to be in Jacob’s arms. Oddly enough, I could see that it also calmed Jacob to cuddle him. I noticed that LD was still clutching his green plastic rattle.

  Patting the baby’s back, Jacob said, “Why did you bring us here?”

  Keegel Farzym raised the shaggy brow that topped his good eye—the action looked like a giant black caterpillar humping up—and said, “We were being chased by a furious monster intent on stealing the baby and probably doing you great harm in the process. Did you have someplace safer in mind?”

  Jacob shivered. “Not really. But who are you? Why did you save us? Did you save us? Why was that other monster after us? What is this all about, anyway?”

  The blue monster chuckled at the barrage of questions. Then a serious look crossed his face. His nostrils flared and he stuck out his jaw, displaying his lower fangs, which were about two inches long and glistened in the moonlight. Extending an enormous hand, he said, “I am Keegel Farzym, the High Poet of Always October.”

  Jacob hesitated, then shifted LD so he could hold him with his left arm. He stuck out his right hand. “My name is Jacob Doolittle,” he said as his hand disappeared within Keegel Farzym’s grip. “Pleased to meet you. I guess. I mean, am I pleased to meet you?”

  Jacob was blithering. I couldn’t blame him. I mean, how often do you have to shake hands with someone who is eight feet tall and blue?

  I cleared my throat.

  “This is my friend Lily,” said Jacob quickly. “And her grandfather, Gnarly—uh, Mr. Carker.”

  Keegel Farzym nodded solemnly and again held out his hand. His knuckles were the size of golf balls and he had rough pads on his palms. Even so, his grip managed to be both firm and gentle. Since he could easily have turned my hand to jelly if he wanted, that was a relief.

  That handshake made me feel better about the monster, and about our situation.

  He shook my grandfather’s hand next. I tried to read Grampa’s expression, but his face was blank, not showing fear, or excitement, or … well, not showing anything. I wondered what was going on inside his head.