The Last Monster

by Ginger Garrett

  Could this night get any worse?

  The Beast lifted his tail and expelled a big cloud of gas that shimmered like a rainbow in the refrigerator light. Lifting my shirt over my mouth and nose, I marched into the kitchen and grabbed the Beast by the scruff of the neck, just like I had seen mother wolves do on Animal Planet. I had to stand on my toes to do it, and stretch my arms until they burned, but it worked.

  The Beast whined and cowered, his big yellow eyes blinking at me innocently.

  “To the backyard,” I said through gritted teeth. “Right now.”

  I opened the back door and he followed me obediently. In the moonlight, protected from the neighbors’ view by our fence, I collapsed onto a patio chair to think, my muscles burning. The Beast sat on his haunches beside me. He was so big he blocked out the light of the moon, but I could still hear strange and awful noises coming from inside him. I stroked the Beast’s fur, trying to think of a plan. A Heimlich maneuver wouldn’t work, since I couldn’t wrap my arms around him. It wasn’t safe to get him human medicine either.

  The Beast’s breathing slowed. Under my palms, his muscles released and elongated. A little burp escaped his mouth.

  “You shouldn’t swallow things whole,” I scolded. He pressed his body against my hand, and it gave me an idea. Didn’t mothers burp their babies by patting them on the back? I pushed myself up and stood next to him, running my palms down his side, trying to position them near his stomach. When I felt the trapped animal push back, I began gently slapping his body in that spot. The Beast turned and lifted an eyebrow, curious but unaffected and slightly condescending. He was French, after all.

  I took a deep breath, made two fists, then punched him twice in the side. His eyebrows shot straight up in surprise. I did it again. This time I remembered to suck in my abs, because the physical therapists had told me that whenever I needed physical strength I should move from my core. I landed another one-two punch, and his mouth popped open, so I let more punches fly, until I was working up a sweat.

  The Beast looked up at the moon and his body trembled. I realized, almost too late, what he was about to do, and I scrambled to move away. His jaws opened wide, his giant pink tongue flopping to the side as he dry heaved once; then the squirrel popped back out, followed by Newman the cat, and then a coyote. The Beast opened his mouth wider, his head jerking back and forth, until at last a huge hawk, wings spread out in either direction, emerged and flew into the sky.

  The terrified animals looked around, then fled into the night.

  The Beast sighed and lay down, obviously exhausted. He coughed once more, and a can of Cheese Whiz rolled across our patio.

  The light came on above our stairs.

  I froze. The Beast leaped into the darkness and disappeared.

  I stood up just as Mom turned on the kitchen lights. Our eyes met through the glass of the patio door; then she turned her head and surveyed the damage.

  I walked into the kitchen without saying anything. Opened cans, shredded boxes, and torn wrappers were everywhere. Cabinet doors stood ajar. The sweat on my face was cold as it ran down in little drops from my forehead.

  “Well” was all Mom said. I started to clean but she waved me off, the heat of her anger and frustration rolling off her in waves. I went upstairs and got into bed, not even bothering to open the book. Xeno had said he was done for the night. My mom clearly was too. I wasn’t worried about that.

  I was worried about tomorrow.

  Tuesday, March 4

  “I’m in,” I said to Candy. She was sitting with her little coven of friends at the center lunch table. The source of so much frustration was now the answer to my problems. It’s too bad that colleges don’t give out scholarships for irony. I was in the accelerated program.

  Candy nodded in smug satisfaction, then took a long sip from her water bottle, her eyes never leaving mine. Xeno probably wanted me in this situation. He was using monsters to push me out into the open and ask others for help. Everyone around Candy smiled blankly, waiting to resume their private conversations.

  Walking away, I could hear them gossiping about Billy asking me to the dance. News spread fast in this school. I tossed my cookie wrappers into the trash on the way out the door.

  The intercom blasted my name. “Sofia Calloway, come to the office for early checkout.”

  My stomach lurched, and not just because I had eaten three oatmeal cream pies. There was only one reason I had ever gotten checked out early: the doctor.

  Mom was waiting in the office but refused to give me any details. She was amazed that I had been hungry for breakfast that morning, and even a little suspicious that I was feeling so good. Plus, I wasn’t due for blood work for another month and I’d already had my teeth cleaned a few weeks ago. I started to go a little nuts in the car, but Mom’s only response was reaching over to pat my leg, except she patted my prosthesis, not me.

  When we arrived, she parked under a big magnolia tree that cast a dark shadow across the lot. Gray clouds hovered above. I had another odd feeling, as if something were not right. I glanced around, expecting to catch a glimpse of Olympias. Xeno had been so wrapped up with me asking questions that he hadn’t told me what to do about her.

  We walked toward a plain one-story building. The lobby was brightly lit by a harsh blue light that buzzed overhead. In front of the elevators, Mom pulled out a piece of paper from her purse, checking it, then walked down the hall to the left. She kept looking from her paper to the signs on the doors. Finally she stuffed the paper back in her purse, straightened her posture, and took a deep breath.

  MARIE INEZ CAPISTRANO, MD, PhD

  The sign on the door was thick gray plastic with black letters.

  Mom was already turning the knob before I could stop her.

  “Who is that?” I asked, pointing to the sign.

  Mom ignored me and walked to a receptionist’s desk with a frosted glass window made to slide open. Nobody was there.

  “All my labs came back normal,” I protested again. “I’m not due for any more tests until the end of the month.”

  An old woman, with white hair swept all around her head into a big fluffy bun, opened the door into the waiting room from the inner office. Her hairstyle looked like it had been shot out of a can of whipping cream.

  “Sofia?” she asked. She had on an embroidered shawl with fringe that swayed when she moved, and big doughy cheeks that swelled up around her eyes. “Come with me. Your mom can stay out here.” Her body moved from side to side as she turned to walk down the hall. I followed, only stopping once to turn back and glare at Mom.

  The woman led me into an office. A movie poster from the old black-and-white Frankenstein film was on the wall behind the desk. I counted four diplomas hanging on either side of it. A plastic dragon sat next to a box of tissues. I leaned forward to examine it closely.

  “Like it?” she asked, waddling around to her chair.

  “It’s kind of dumb,” I replied, without thinking. What I wanted to say was that I was wondering how accurate it was. I hadn’t seen one yet.

  “Good,” she laughed. “You’re honest.”

  I felt my cheeks get hot. I hadn’t meant to insult her statue. The rest of the office was decorated in normal adult fashion: practical, uncomfortable, and beige.

  She settled down into her chair with a wiggle. A pile of mail sat unopened on her desk, including a newspaper. The front page had a photo of the girl from the hospital next to an illustration of odd-looking bite marks. I hadn’t had time to ask Xeno what had happened to her or which beast had attacked, but the marks didn’t look like they’d come from anything normal. Beneath the photo I read the words “Animal Control Warns the Public: Unknown Animal Still on the Loose.”

  She caught me staring at the article and I glanced away. We took turns stealing glances at each other, sizing one another up. This definitely did not feel like a normal doctor’s appointment. Looking anywhere but at that paper, I noticed she had a big cooler next t
o her on the floor. This lady packed some extremely large lunches, but there was no medical equipment in sight. She had several black-and-white movie posters: Dracula, The Wolf Man, The Mummy. I looked back and caught her staring at me.

  “What are you?” I asked. “I mean, obviously you’re a doctor. A doctor of what, though?”

  She glanced out the window to my left, craning her neck and frowning, as if checking something. Turning her attention back to me, she smiled politely. “I’m a psychiatrist.” She tapped her forehead as if I didn’t know what a psychiatrist was. “I’m on staff with the hospital. I teach at the university. I’m a specialist in childhood fears and post-traumatic stress disorder. Your mother thought you might benefit from my services. She found a paper online that I wrote on the role of monsters in the history of mental health.”

  It was hard to pay attention. She had huge white eyebrows that jumped and batted each other like kung fu caterpillars when she spoke.

  “I don’t need a psychiatrist.”

  Dr. Capistrano shrugged. “Your mother thinks you do. And the only other psychiatrist here who treats children works with functional constipation.”

  It was my turn to shrug.

  “Children who refuse to poop.” She glanced out the window, then scowled slightly. She turned back, smiling at me next as she folded her hands, resting them on her big pudding-bowl belly. “Don’t be embarrassed by your interest in monsters, my dear. It’s all very normal.”

  It was anything but normal, I wanted to yell.

  “You see, by fearing monsters, we stay in control of our emotions. We use our fear of monsters to distract us from what we cannot manage ourselves. Monsters are a beautiful illusion, a dream that protects us from feeling pain.”

  The hair along my arms stood up, the same uneasy feeling creeping back: something definitely wasn’t right.

  “But what if you’re wrong?” I asked.

  The air around me turned cold.

  “What if they’re not an illusion?”

  The doctor was rummaging through the cooler, grumbling beneath her breath, not listening to me. Did no one ever listen to what I was trying to say?

  A monster hovered outside the window, watching us both. It had huge red feathered wings, each feather three or four feet long. Its body looked like a man’s, but with bulging muscles. Its skin shimmered like gold. The skin on its face was black and lumpy and hung in folds. Instead of a mouth, the creature had a long beak, so white that it made its black eyes sparkle like a scalpel. I searched my mind for images from the book. What was it? What did it eat? I hope it didn’t eat people, but if it did, my odds of survival were pretty good with Dr. Capistrano sitting there.

  The monster floated outside the window as it watched us.

  Nodding as if she was satisfied with something, Dr. Capistrano sat back and picked up a pen. Didn’t she see the monster? She scribbled thoughtfully in my patient file, her head down. And how could she diagnose me so fast? She had no idea what the real problem was.

  I looked back at the window. She might be about to find out.

  “I have a patient waiting,” the doctor said, smiling to herself as she recapped her pen. I knew she was lying; the waiting room had been empty. “This was a brief consultation, but I think I have all I need to make a recommendation for therapy.” She snapped the folder closed and pointed to the door. “Let’s go find your mom.”

  This monster must have followed me here. It needed me. I couldn’t leave it floating outside, but I couldn’t go out into the parking lot with my mom either.

  “Go on.” Dr. Capistrano motioned with her head for me to leave. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  I stood still, goose bumps popping on my arms, my stomach flipping in every direction. I couldn’t let it get inside. What if it tried to eat her? If a monster attacked a human, whose side was I on?

  “I can’t leave,” I said weakly. “You might need me.”

  She paused and her eyes grew wide. “You see him, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” I said, then looked back at her in surprise when it hit me. “You see him too?”

  “Cover your eyes, quickly,” she demanded. I did, just as the creature crashed through the plate-glass window. I tilted my head down as glass flew everywhere, followed by a sharp cold wind. I opened my eyes to see its red wings spread and open, creating a dark screen that blocked out the sun. Fear rooted me in place.

  “That’s the third time in a month,” she muttered. “By the saints, those windows are expensive.”

  The monster chirped and then clicked his razor-sharp beak at her.

  “Excuse us a moment,” she said, then pulled a human foot from the cooler and tossed it to the monster. He caught it in midair and took a step toward her, chirping again.

  “Who’s a good boy?” she cooed.

  She pulled out another foot and tossed it. The creature craned its head, catching it easily and swallowing it whole.

  Then it took a step toward me, talons on each foot scraping against the carpet.

  “Don’t be afraid, dear,” she said. “He’s not bad. He’s just hungry.”

  The monster cocked its head and bobbed side to side, making clicking sounds in its throat.

  I tucked my good foot under the chair to keep it safe. I was beginning to get a little protective of it after the Kappa. I used my prosthetic foot to scoot away from the creature. Without the Bestiary, I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the Native American monster the Thunderbird. A Jesuit priest had written of its existence in America back in the 1600s.

  The monster danced from foot to foot, coming closer. I held my breath, my spine pressed against the back of the chair. It cawed loudly right into my face, the fetid burst causing my bandana to slip backward on my head. The smell of nasty, dead feet made my eyes water. I reached up to adjust the bandana, blinking back tears. The monster nudged my hand with its beak, like it wanted to be petted. I shrank back.

  Turning, it looked out the window before flying out, eclipsing the gray sky with its red feathers.

  “So you’re a believer too.” Dr. Capistrano clapped her hands together and studied me with delight. She closed the curtains to disguise the shattered window and sat back down. “Well, this changes everything.”

  “You’re treating it like a pet,” I said quietly. “You shouldn’t do that.”

  She paused, studying me. “But I’m not afraid of it. We’re not afraid, right?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I helped monsters, but I didn’t trust them. They were shadowy dreams and nightmares, but it was my job to protect them, not make friends.

  “You keep body parts in there?” I pointed to the cooler.

  She pulled the cooler closer to her knees and opened it. I stood and peeked inside.

  “Most monsters are carrion eaters, and they like roadkill. A few prefer human flesh, so I buy cadaver parts from the medical college, or I just steal medical waste. You wouldn’t believe what an arm and a leg cost.”

  I didn’t laugh.

  She frowned, obviously disappointed that I shared her secret but not her sense of humor. With a sigh, she set the arm back in the cooler. I sat back in my chair.

  “We used to live in perfect harmony, you know,” she said. “All over the world. Every monster had a tribe, every tribe lived in peace. Monsters were created to be scapegoats for the human race, and they accepted their job with grace.”

  She sighed as if the story hurt her to tell.

  “Then medicine killed the monsters, in a manner of speaking. People don’t have to feel fear anymore; we could take a pill. But science can never change the human heart. Without monsters, we’re cruel to each other. We still need these creatures, Sofia. And they need us, because what could be worse than knowing you are invisible? That no one sees you?”

  She leaned back in her chair and opened the desk drawer. Pulling out a bag of M&M’s, she tore them open and tilted her head back, pouring a few in. I watched her chew, and then she spok
e. “We’ll save the manatees and protect forest snails, but no one gives a rip about monsters.”

  “I give a rip,” I said, leaning toward her desk.

  “When did you first see one?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. She was testing me, I think. But how much was I allowed to reveal?

  “Recently.” Vague answers might be best until I knew if I could trust her.

  She jerked her head back. “Recently? That’s odd. Little children sometimes see a monster, or the telltale signs that one is near, perhaps even under the bed, but no one takes them seriously. That’s why adults rarely witness these miraculous creatures. Adults are not willing to believe, so they are not able to see.” She clasped her hands together as if she were praying. “As a doctor, I was trained to set aside my personal prejudices, to listen and observe. Medical school made me curious about mysteries, not afraid. I had been a doctor for eight years when I saw my first monster.” She lowered her voice. “So what happened recently? Something must have changed you.”

  I looked down at my knees. Xeno said not to share his secret, but Dr. Capistrano already knew it, didn’t she? And what else did she know? I needed a lot of answers. Relief washed over me. I hadn’t realized how hard it had been to do this alone.

  “I was given a book,” I said. “It belonged to Aristotle’s last student, Xeno, and he uses it to communicate with me. He understands the monsters and helps me take care of them. But I’m not the only one who knows about the book, or the monsters. There’s a ghost of a woman following me, or the book, but I don’t know why.” My words spilled out faster. “I don’t think she wants the book or she would have taken it by now. I don’t know what she wants, and I never have enough time…”

  Dr. Capistrano’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “It exists?” she whispered breathlessly. “The Bestiary? And you have it?” She paused. “You’re the Guardian, aren’t you? Their very survival depends on you.” She began furiously scribbling notes in my file.

  “I don’t do much for them,” I said, embarrassed.