“We’ve got enough monsters in our lives as it is,” I said, a little embarrassed. The Fright Squad wasn't exactly the best model of professionalism.
“Right,” Val said.
I grinned and said “Thanks for the paper!” before she could go on about how stupid it was for us to not take the jobs offered by SOD. We had already heard that lecture enough in the last few months from everyone. So we streamed out, taking a wide berth around the werewolf, which, thankfully had saved us an uncomfortable goodbye with Val. Her goodbyes usually consisted of a sloppy kiss on the cheek with her cold lips and a much-too-long hug. Not to mention last time she threw in a death prophecy on my behalf for good measure.
Being apart of the Monster Games, I already knew death was very likely. I didn’t need a kooky old lady with a werewolf for a boyfriend to tell me that.
11
Monsters Rule, Humans Drool
Val’s door had just closed behind us when we were attacked.
The night was freezing and all of our minds, I think, were elsewhere because none of us saw the thing that hit.
I felt a knock on the back of my head and doubled over on my knees.
Maddie and Zack fell to the asphalt not long after me.
“Pieces of shit!” a deep voice said.
I felt another wallop on the back of my head. This one sent me facedown on the alley, which was slippery with sleet and garbage juice from a nearby dumpster. Or so I hoped. The werewolf’s most recent bathroom break was flashing through my mind. Did I land in his urine? Oh, God—
My ears were ringing, but I heard the shuffling, heavy steps of our attacker coming closer.
I was sure this next hit would be the one that killed me or at least permanently gave me brain damage.
I spun around despite the pain throbbing all over my body and got a good look at the thing.
He was tall, probably about seven feet or more, and wearing a long leather coat. His face was corpse-white, eyes sunken in deep in his head. Around his hairline were thick staples. One ear was higher than the other and a different color than the rest of his face. His eyes were mismatched and one was bigger. Stitches went up all around his face.
This thing, my friends, is what we at BEAST called a ‘Stein—and not meaning a large beer mug.
Yes, you’re correct in assuming that is short for Frankenstein, as in Frankenstein’s monster.
The large stitched-together man raised his boot, which was like a cinderblock painted black, and meant to crush my head into jelly.
While my fate hangs in the balance here, I think it’s important I should give you some background on the ‘Steins.
They are an ancient race of monsters. Much older than the book by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley that put their kind on the map. Mary Shelley was, coincidentally, a former BEAST monster-master when she wrote Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. She had discovered their race somewhere in Bavaria, where, also coincidentally, Dr. Frankenstein creates the monster in the novel. Not much is known about them aside from the fact that they were made in a lab with the remains of an innumerable amount of corpses, like Mary Shelley’s novel suggests. But there isn’t just one—there’s thousands of them, and since they aren’t technically alive, they can never really die. Or procreate. Or blend in with society. So it’s understandable why they’re constantly pissed off at the world.
But I was still surprised to see one in Ohio, in the city of all places. But not surprised enough to let him stomp my face into shards.
I rolled out of the way, feeling blood trickle down from my nose to my upper lip.
The ‘Stein’s boot cracked the concrete into jagged forks. Maddie and Zack were pulling me up. Our backs were against the Cruiser.
The ‘Stein roared as he swung his fist.
The Fright Squad dove out of the way.
Glass exploded from the passenger’s window, raining down on us.
“Motherfucker!” Zack yelled. “I just got her back from the shop!”
The ‘Stein spun around and faced us.
We were weaponless, our backs now up against a brick wall, which I thought the monster could shatter as easily as it had shattered the PT Cruiser’s window. Not good, especially when the ‘Stein wanted to shatter our faces.
It lurched forward.
“No humans,” he said. “No humans in Games.”
Both arms were out in front of him in the classic Frankenstein pose.
“Uh, guys,” I said. “Plan?”
“None,” Maddie said.
Zack started banging on Valentine’s door, but she didn’t answer. Her and the werewolf must’ve been pretty busy not to hear all the commotion outside.
“Run?” I asked, never taking my eyes off of the monster.
“Sounds good to me,” Maddie said.
Just as we planned on bolting, the ‘Stein lurched. He moved a lot faster than I thought he would.
With his humongous corpse hands, he gripped Zack and me around the neck and raised us off of the ground at least ten feet.
For a moment, I thought he was either going to pop our heads off or throw us over the five story building.
“I kill…youuuu,” the monster growled. “I kill you with my bare hands.”
Maddie ran at him and began banging her fists on his midsection. The sound this act made was like a rubber mallet hitting a brick wall. The ‘Stein wasn’t fazed in the slightest.
“I kill you nowwwwwwww!”
His grip got tighter. My brain felt like it was leaking blood. Darkness came over my eyesight as I kicked with my legs for some kind of purchase and gripped the monster’s hands with my own. His flesh felt like cold leftovers.
Zack was wheezing something. Through the ringing in my ears, I could just make it out.
“Fuck youuuuuu—”
“No,” the ‘Stein said. “Kill you.”
And I was sure this was the end. Damn myself for thinking I was safe without some sort of weapon. Except, what I’d need to beat this particular monster would be either an angry mob with pitchforks and torches or a flamethrower, both of which I probably wouldn’t have brought with me. The Academy hadn’t taught us any other ways to dispatch a ‘Stein because they’re just too damn big and strong.
“Unless…” the ‘Stein said as Maddie graduated from beating him with her fists to smashing various heavy objects procured from the nearby dumpster against his legs. A fluorescent light tube shattered against the ‘Stein’s kneecaps. I figured Maddie would have better luck trying to grow wings and fly us out of here.
“What?” I managed to choke out. “What?” My vocal cords burned with fire. I was pretty sure my eyes had popped out of my head and were dangling somewhere near my mouth. Pretty sure I could taste them, too. Either that, or I was tasting blood coming up my esophagus.
“Unless…you no go to da Monster Games. Human do not belong there,” the ‘Stein said.
Great, I thought. Not only was I going to die at the hands of some monster, I’d have to disappoint the gaslings, too…you know, by letting what was left of their race die out.
“So?” the ‘Stein demanded, giving us a shake.
Maddie was now searching frantically for the Cruiser’s keys. I think she was so distraught, she was going to attempt running him over. That wouldn’t have been very good for the Cruiser, I thought.
“Your answer?” the monster demanded.
I’ll be honest here. I was one-hundred percent prepared to tell ol’ big, tall, and ugly that we would back out of the Games when Valentine’s door banged open.
Out of my peripheral vision, I saw she was holding a large torch. From it, came a huge ball of flames. In her other hand, still on the leash, was the werewolf. No muzzle on his snout. Spike was growling and slobbering like a rabid dog.
“Get off of my property!” Val yelled.
Once the ‘Stein caught sight of the flames, he dropped us.
We landed roughly in the bits of glass from the broken fluorescent bulbs, but t
hat was way better than having your head squeezed off.
The ‘Stein backed away slowly, a dumb look of shock and terror on his face.
“Back, you beast!” Val shouted. “Or I shalt killeth thee wh're thee standeth!”
Spike was tugging at his chain. I was sure he’d break free and run the ‘Stein down.
That was a fight that would end up very bloody and loud, one that would draw too much unwanted attention—if our scuffle hadn’t already.
The ‘Stein put his hands up, pivoted, and disappeared into the shadows.
“C’mon!” Maddie lunged forward.
Zack, on his knees, reached up and gripped the tail of her shirt.
“What—” he wheezed and spat blood from his mouth, “—are you doing?”
“We have to go after him!” she said.
“He’d kill us,” Zack said. “We have no weapons. Let him go.”
Maddie looked desperately at me. I shook my head, which was pretty painful, as I rubbed at the raw skin around my neck.
Looking dejected, Maddie helped us to our feet as Val disappeared back inside and came out without the werewolf this time.
“Thanks, Val,” I managed.
“But where the heck were you two minutes ago?” Zack asked. His neck was turning purple near his collarbone. Maddie held him up as if he’d lost the ability to stand on his own.
Val, despite all the chaos, smirked, mischief in her eyes. “Well, you see, Spike and I—”
“On second thought, don’t wanna know,” Zack said.
I mumbled my agreement. That was a mental image I wanted to keep out of my head.
Later on, Val had given us a cream made out of ground-up toadstools and witch blood for the lacerations on our necks. Maddie helped her pick the pieces of glass from the fluorescent light out of our palms and knees, feeling bad and taking the blame for that.
We didn’t talk much until we were about to leave again, this time armed with our own torches. Just in case.
“So,” Val said, dropping her Shakespearean accent, “you three have found yourselves entwined in the Monster Games, have you?”
I nodded. Our heads were bowed, not meeting Val’s eyes. I think we all felt a little guilty for not telling her immediately.
In a spewing of overlapping words, we told her all about the gaslings’ predicament and the shady reasoning we thought the Saber Corporation had revived the Games for.
Val nodded sagely.
I said, “I suppose you’re gonna tell us we’re idiots for joining the Games, aren’t you?”
Val looked at us sternly, her eyes like cold steel. For a moment, she didn’t speak. It felt like an eternity. Then, she said, “No, you are not idiots, Abraham. You have a good reason to do what you are doing.”
“We’re not?” Zack said, and looked at Maddie and I, surprised.
Val shook her head. “Your courage is admirable.”
12
Another Broken Heart
I tried and succeeded at not contacting Octavius.
If he had found out about our participation in the Monster Games, I think he would’ve ended up back in City Hospital after he flew back from the Bahamas and broke both of his feet kicking our asses. Still, his advice and wisdom would’ve helped us after the inevitable ass-kicking.
The very next day after our run in with the ‘Stein, I got a visit from Lola.
She knocked on my door at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning.
“Abe!” Lola yelled.
Hearing her voice while I was currently drenched in sweat, smelly with morning breath, and half-asleep was somehow much scarier than any nightmare I could’ve had. I crept out of my room and glanced at the shower, now stripped of its curtain, wondering if I’d have enough time for a quick rinse-off.
The door rattled again.
“Abe! Open up! You’re in some pretty deep shit!” Lola said.
I opted for a change of clothes, moving as fast as Clark Kent in a phone booth with the fate of Metropolis in the balance, lazily tried stamping my cowlick down with my palms, and squirted some toothpaste in my mouth, which turned out to be a horrible idea.
Then, feeling as if I’d done all I could do, I opened the door.
Lola burst through before I had the door open all the way and wrapped her arms around me, nearly knocking us down.
“You big idiot!” she said, grip tightening like an overzealous boa constrictor.
I’ve never been really good with the opposite sex. In high school, I once asked a girl to prom during lunch, and in the process of asking, I thought it’d look pretty smooth if I took a swig of my chocolate milk. Well…it went down the wrong pipe and I wound up blasting milk out of my nose and all over my potential prom date’s face. I remember her screaming “Why is the milk so warm!?”
Suffice to say, she didn’t accept my proposal. I didn’t blame her. Ever since that incident, which was about four years ago, talking to the opposite sex seemed as difficult as calculus to me—and I’m pretty terrible at math.
Here Lola was, though, hugging me in my apartment without me having to invite her.
Life was just weird sometimes.
“What?” I managed. “What’s wrong?”
She held a newspaper in her hands, rolled up like she was about to wack me over the nose like a puppy that had piddled on the floor.
I saw the large name of the paper: The Daily Bite, which wasn’t shocking. The shocking thing was the picture below the name and the headline over this picture.
The picture was of the Fright Squad, Zack, Maddie, and myself, each one a portrait from our times at the Academy. One look at it and I was glad I had cut my hair.
The headline read: Community Calls for Human Resignation from Much-Anticipated Monster Games.
“Geez,” I said, “they could’ve asked for a picture. I told the headmasters to burn this one. Apparently they didn’t listen.”
“Abe!” Lola said. Her eyes looked wet and the makeup around them was runny, like she’d been crying. But why? For me? No way. “What the hell are you thinking entering the Monster Games? You’re gonna die before the Opening Ceremonies!”
“Thanks for all your confidence in me,” I said with a sarcastic smile. I took the newspaper over to the couch and scanned the article. Slayer was passed out, snoring and hugging a plush toy of Patrick, the starfish from Spongebob. He didn’t even move when I sat next to him.
“Well,” I said after I’d read the article, “this explains the attack last night.”
Lola brought a hand to her mouth and gasped. “Attack?”
I shrugged. “No big deal. A pissed-off ‘Stein thought he could send a message by strangling Zack and me to death.” I absentmindedly rubbed at the faded bruises around my neck, thankful for Val’s healing cream.
Lola looked positively shocked. “Are you okay?” she asked and put a hand on my shoulder. Her touch brought a tingle to my skin (which I know reads like a bad romance novel, but it was the truth). I hadn’t seen Lola since our string of crappy, awkward dates. Like I said earlier, she took a job at the SOD and left our relationship pretty much nonexistent. No texts, no calls, no emails.
She sat down next to me. I neglected to tell her a rather large and slimy monster had sat in the same spot only last night.
I think that would’ve ruined the moment, even though, in reality, nothing could ruin this for me. Lola looked radiant. Splendid. Alluring. Every known synonym in the world for beautiful. Her hair was tousled and her skin was as smooth as porcelain. She smelled overwhelmingly of flowers and vanilla—thankfully, because I was sure I didn’t smell too good myself.
“Why are you doing it? Are you crazy?” she asked me.
I smiled. “Yeah, probably. I don’t know, though. I haven’t gotten an official diagnosis. No health insurance since I was in high school and it seemed pretty counterproductive to ask Val what she thinks, considering she’s crazy herself—” and I would’ve gone on and on, babbling away if Lola hadn’t cut me
off.
“Abe, you can’t. It’s suicide,” she said.
“I know. But it’s for a good reason.” I told her about the gaslings and their impending extinction and their miraculous slime and how the Saber Corp wanted it and how I didn’t think it was for any good reason. I talked until I was short of breath.
Lola still called me dumb, though she had warmed up to the idea slightly.
“It’s not your job to save a race of monsters, Abe,” she said, putting her hand on my wrist. “Tell BEAST.”
I laughed. “Yeah, because they’ll jump right on it,” I said sarcastically.
“Abe.”
“Lola.”
It was then I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before. I don’t know if it was because I was too tired from last night, too overwhelmed from the impending Monster Games and Lola’s arrival or what. But what I noticed was that Lola had looked like she’d just showered. Her hair was slightly damp, the blonde curls not as springy as normal. That didn’t make sense. She had moved down to Columbus when she took the job with the SOD. If she drove to Akron after her morning shower, her hair would’ve been dry by the time she got here, right? I’m not an expert on women’s hairstyles or anything like that or a scientist when it comes to figuring out the correct amount of time it would take to dry such and such volume of hair, but the wetness, the strong scent of vanilla and flowers, the keys in her hand that didn’t read KIA like the car she drove the whole time she was employed at NOD…something was up.
Oh, no.
This meant—
“Abe, are you all right?” she asked me.
I shook my head, blinked a couple times, aware that I’d been staring at her like an idiot.
“The Games are really getting to you, aren’t they? You look like you’re about to vomit,” she continued.
“Y-Yeah,” I said. “The Games. Yeah, that’s what it was.”
The rest of her visit carried on in semi-awkwardness. It could’ve just been me, yeah, but I couldn’t help myself. I really liked this girl—maybe even loved her—and the reason she’d been around Akron, I thought, was because she was here visiting a boyfriend.
The Monster Games Page 9