The Monster Games (Fright Squad Book 2)

by Flint Maxwell

  Gizzler said, “You’re welcome!”

  “Call-Me-Zack, Maddie,” Fizzler said, “you too shall heal from the slime.”

  “Eh…” Zack said, sniffing the air and grimacing, “I think I’ll just opt for Neosporin and a few Band-Aids.”

  Maddie shook her head, dragged Zack toward a different pit near a cluster of eggs. Together they submerged their injuries.

  Fizzler came back. He was smiling.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry we didn’t win the Games.”

  Fizzler shook his head. “No, Abe, do not be sorry. You may not have won, but you have done something much more valuable than that.”

  “I have?”

  “Yes, you have taught us gaslings what it means to be brave.” Fizzler patted me on the back. Too hard.

  Then he left.

  Maddie and Zack healed up fast. Octavius didn’t. I stayed with him while the slime worked its magic. Maybe half a day later Octavius’s breathing steadied. I knew he was going to be all right.

  I told Zack and Maddie to go home. They didn’t. They stayed with me in that smelly cave. So did Slayer. Surprisingly, the goblin remained on his best behavior, but I could tell he was missing his best friend Spongebob Squarepants.

  I didn’t think I had shown the gaslings what it meant to be brave. I didn’t think I was very brave at all. Nor successful. I’d technically lost the Monster Games, I let myself be tricked into an attack by Doctor Blood, and I let him get away, all at the expense of many lives. That didn’t seem successful or brave to me. Not one bit.

  It wasn’t until two nights later I learned what Fizzler Bondano meant. We were sitting there, Zack, Maddie, Slayer, and I when the ground started shaking.

  I looked at them, confused.

  “What is that?” Maddie asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “It sounds like—like bulldozers,” Zack answered.

  We got up, went to the mouth of the cave.

  Sure enough, Zack was right.

  About half a dozen bulldozers sat idling in front of us. Stenciled on their sides was the Saber Corporation’s logo. Gruff looking monsters sat behind the controls. The lead one looked like a bullfrog, his neck stubbly, a cigar sticking out of his mouth.

  I stepped forward. Shouted over the rumbling of the engines. “What are you doing?”

  “Gotta plow through here, man,” the gruff bullfrog monster said. “Orders of the Saber Corp. They own this land now.”

  “But,” I said, searching for the words and not finding them. There was no way they could do this, not now. Not with Octavius healing in the slime, with the scores of gasling eggs incubating inside.

  “Move out the way, kid. Otherwise we’re gonna have to plow you over, too,” the bullfrog monster said.

  “Let’s kick their asses,” Zack growled.

  I stood tall. Over the hours, my injuries had healed thanks to the help of the slime, and I was able to project myself better. But that didn’t stop the Saber Corp.

  “You’re that human from the Games, eh,” the bullfrog monster said. It wasn’t a question. “Know what, never mind. You just stand there. It’d be an honor to crush your filthy bones into dust.”

  I would’ve liked to see this bastard try.

  The other bulldozer operators grinned and chortled.

  I didn’t budge. I knew Zack and Maddie wouldn’t, either.

  Maybe I would’ve eventually. I didn’t know. Not for sure. Luckily, it never came to that.

  Because the gaslings, led by Fizzler and Gizzler with the elders behind them came out of the shadows and stood in front of us. Even Fred was in attendance.

  “Leave,” Fizzler said. “Leave and you may live.” His voice was calm, but that didn’t make it any less frightening.

  “Leave?” the bullfrog monster said. “And who’s gonna make us? You?” He laughed again, his coworkers joining in on the fun. “gaslings are about as scary as butterflies!”

  “Yes,” Fizzler said.

  The gasling leaned back, flexed his muscles, and growled toward the darkening sky. It was a sound I can’t really describe. A sound from hell.

  Then the gaslings moved and they moved fast.

  Fizzler and Gizzler grabbed the blade of the bullfrog monster’s bulldozer and ripped it off. Two of the elders tipped another bulldozer on its side and threw the occupant, an unfortunate chupacabra, fifty yards.

  The rest of the drivers got the message: the gaslings were not to be fucked with.

  Idling engines screeched into gear as dozers were thrown in reverse and pivoted away from the cave, disappearing over the hill.

  Fizzler turned back toward us. “See?” he said. “We have lacked courage for so long. The Fright Squad has taught us what it means to be courageous. For that, we are forever grateful.”

  The next hours of that night went by slow. I left the cave for fresh air, for that breathtaking view of the Rodanian Mountains framing the full moon.

  I thought a lot out there. What else was there to do when one was alone?

  So I was deep in thought when I heard twigs snapping behind me. I spun around, expecting the worst, ready for another fight.

  But I was wrong.

  There, coated in a sheen of that gasling slime, was Octavius. He smiled. His skin looked radiant, his eyes bountiful.

  “Abraham,” he said, and then he hugged me. For a while we didn’t talk. We just looked up at the moon, at the mountains. Then Octavius said, “I’m sorry I never told you the truth about your father—”

  “Another time,” I said. I didn’t really want to know in all honesty. There was enough on my plate I couldn’t fully comprehend. No need to add any more.

  He nodded. Understood.

  “But there is something else,” he said. “Something I saw whilst I was lying on the ground and you put yourself between Blood and I.”

  “What?” I asked, still staring at the moon. I wasn’t sure I could look him in the eye just yet.

  “I saw what you did with the Boogeyman’s orb.”

  I shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”

  “Not many could’ve done that,” Octavius said. “Perhaps no human but you. Not since your father…”

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the mountains before us.

  “You are special, Abraham. Just like I’ve always known.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not really meaning it. Again, my mind was everywhere else. Too much. It was all too much.

  “No, I’m not just saying that,” he said. “You possess a power. A raw, untethered power.”

  I looked at him now.

  He looked at me, too.

  “One that can be refined,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a soul-slayer,” he said.

  It just couldn’t be true. They were a myth. If they had ever existed at all it was many, many years ago. They could bend the souls of any creature to their own will, could control the souls like puppet masters control marionettes. The legend said they had grown too powerful for their own good. In the fabled Soul-Slayer Wars of 1424, they had wiped each other out, extinguishing the soul-slaying bloodline for good.

  But…I’d done it. I’d controlled those souls. I knew I had. I’d done what only the Boogeyman himself could’ve done. And I was human…wasn’t I?

  Octavius studied my face and said, as if reading my mind, “Anything is possible, Abraham. Look, you’ve taught one of the most docile creatures on earth to stand up for themselves. You’ve survived the Monster Games, one of the only humans to do so. You’ve battled a Wraith not once but twice and lived to tell about it. You are special, Abraham. You have the potential to be very powerful. Let me train you. Let me refine your skills. Together we can make this world a peaceful place.”

  I said nothing.

  Octavius turned to go. “Thank you,” he said. “And think about it.”

  I nodded. I would.r />
  We left the Rodanian Mountains not long after that. I must’ve slept for a week straight. No joke.

  Then, one afternoon, while the Fright Squad congregated in my apartment living room, someone knocked on the door.

  I opened it. No one was there. But there was a box. A large box I didn’t think would fit inside.

  “What is that?” Zack asked. “Are you buying bulk deodorant off the internet again?”

  I shook my head.

  After much maneuvering we got the box inside. It was heavy.

  We opened it.

  A soft yellow light lit our faces as we looked in.

  “No way,” Zack said.

  Maddie squealed. That was so odd. You’d never hear Maddie squeal, but then again, we’d never been in the presence of something like this before.

  It was the gaslings’ weight in gold.

  A note was attached to one of the bars. Thank you, Fright Squad, it read.

  “Oh, man,” Zack said. “Imagine all the designer shades I could get with this. A motorcycle, too!”

  Maddie shook her head, as usual, but she was smiling. We all were smiling.

  So, yeah, we were rich. Pretty well-off. The Fright Squad would live on, but I didn’t find myself feeling any better now that I would have a seemingly unlimited amount of cash in my checking account.

  Because I couldn’t get the image of Doctor Blood out of my mind. Couldn’t shake the fact that he’d gotten away again. Or the fact that I could’ve been a soul-slayer.

  So a few days later, I found myself visiting Octavius.

  He opened the door. I didn’t even go inside. I spoke just three words to him.

  They were: I am ready.

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  Keep reading for a preview of FRIGHT SQUAD 3: The Night of the Slasher!

  Afterword

  This was another fun one to write. That’s pretty much all I have to say about it.

  In this second volume, I’ve grown to love the characters more and more, and I’ve discovered something else.

  This series will probably not have a long-running story to it like my Jack Zombie series does. Each Fright Squad book can be enjoyed on its own. Sure, reading all the books in order will probably help you understand the characters and the world a little more, but it won’t be pertinent.

  Think of them like monster of the week episodes. That’s how the old Star Trek shows were. You could pretty much just jump in on any episode and see Kirk and Spock being their usual badass selves, just like you can jump into any Fright Squad book and see Abe, Maddie, and Zack being their badass selves.

  Some plot points will be resolved over time (like Doctor Blood’s fate), but when? I don’t know. So far, he hasn’t made an appearance in book 3. That could change, though.

  I guess the point I’m trying to make is that I’m just going with the flow, and I don’t really have a plan for the overall story. I enjoy writing them as the ideas come, just as I hope you’ll enjoy reading them as the books get published. In whatever order you choose, of course.

  As always, thank you.

  F. M.

  May 9, 2018

  Preview: Fright Squad 3

  Copyright © 2018 by Flint Maxwell

  1.

  Gone Camping

  This is the story of the Fright Squad’s time at Camp Moonfall. You might know it better as Camp Nightmare. If not, allow me to explain.

  Sometime in the eighties, Camp Moonfall was home to a series of terrible murders. These murders shut the place down, seemingly for good. Dozens died.

  Except one—the final girl.

  Her name was Rhonda Fowler. When interviewed by the police, her sitting in the back of the ambulance with a rough blanket over her shoulders, a pale-faced cop in front of her shaking so bad he could hardly jot the words down on his notepad, Rhonda said the killer, the person who’d wiped out nearly fifteen camp counselors and two dozen unlucky campers, wore a bear trap over his face. Like it was attached. Like he’d grown it.

  Get that? A bear trap.

  After that fateful night, Rhonda spent some time in a mental institution. Thirteen years, to be exact. She died in the mid-nineties, and her last words were: “He’s still out there…”

  Scared yet?

  I am.

  I hadn’t known this gruesome story beyond what I’d gleaned off the internet—which was hardly ever accurate—so when Octavius told us about it in his new office at the SOD in Columbus, about what really happened, I wasn’t surprised.

  This is where that story begins. In Octavius’s office. It’s quite a wild one.

  Enjoy the ride.

  About the Author

  Flint Maxwell lives in Ohio, where the skies are always gray and the sports teams are consistently disappointing. He loves Star Wars, basketball, Stephen King novels, and almost anything horror. You can probably find him hanging out with one (or all) of his five household pets when he’s not writing, reading, or watching Netflix.

  Get in touch with Flint on Facebook

  Also by Flint Maxwell

  Jack Zombie Series

  Dead Haven (Book 1)

  Dead Hope (Book 2)

  Dead Nation (Book 3)

  Dead Coast (Book 4)

  Dead End (Book 5)

  Dead Lost (Book 6)

  Fright Squad Series

  Fright Squad: A Comedic-Horror Adventure

  Fright Squad 2: The Monster Games

  The Midwest Magic Chronicles

  The Midwest Witch (Book #1)

  The Midwest Wanderer (Book #2)

  The Midwest Whisperer (Book #3)

  The Midwest War (Book #4)

  Something Dark: Horror Stories

  Let Us Out: A Supernatural Horror Novella