The Monster Games

by Flint Maxwell

  I stood up, rubbed at my neck. It had gone through a lot in the last week or so. The fact it was still in one piece surprised me.

  The room was trashed. The fridge still hung open, cool air blasting out over the spilled contents. Mayonnaise had splashed the walls, mustard stained the bedspread. The television was shattered into a thousand pieces. Maddie’s bed was shredded as if the snake had struck out at her with its large, venomous fangs and got mattress instead.

  “Geez,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Zack said. “I’m glad they didn’t make me give them my credit card when we checked in.”

  16

  Surprise

  While we were in the process of cleaning up, Fizzler had come in with two guests.

  This is how he entered: “Knock, knock. I have surprise visitors for you.” He was trying his hand at a knock-knock joke.

  But then Octavius stepped through the closed flap with a smile and a Caribbean tan on his face and all the pain and fear and uncertainty went out the window.

  If you don’t remember Octavius, I’ll give you a refresher course. He was the former director at the NOD of BEAST, where the Fright Squad worked before we became the Fright Squad. When Doctor Blood and his gang of monsters attacked the HQ in search of his mutated she-vamp, a minotaur had broken off its horn in Octavius’s stomach. Luckily, he didn’t die, but he’d been in the hospital recovering for two weeks before he decided a much-needed vacation to the Bahamas was in order (against the doctor’s orders, that was).

  “What in the heavens happened here?” Octavius said.

  It was then I noticed the other unexpected visitor.

  Standing as high as Octavius’s knee was Slayer.

  “Slayer!” I shouted. “Glad you got away from the TV to come visit.”

  I bent down in the mustard and ketchup and pickle juice and opened my arms. The little goblin waddled over to me, his robe flowing out behind him, his sharp teeth broadcasting a goblin smile too big for his face. With the force of a meteor crashing to earth, the goblin ran into my arms and knocked me backward. I hugged him, got my feet under me, and lifted him up. Zack and Maddie pried him away, Zack ruffling his hair, and Maddie smothering him with kisses. If you told me a year ago that Madilyn Pepper was going to end up kissing a goblin just before the Monster Games, which she was participating in, started, I’d say you’re the craziest person I’d ever met.

  But life was like that sometimes.

  Sometimes you kissed goblins beneath the Rodanian Mountains.

  Fizzler stormed in behind Octavius. He surveyed the damage, his face as stolid as ever, then he caught sight of the basilisk and he nearly jumped out of his scaly, swamp-creature skin.

  “Don’t worry,” Zack said, kicking the basilisk with his shoe, “it’s dead. Abe killed it with a selfie. I kept telling him all those selfies were gonna hurt someone…” He chortled. Slayer echoed, his human laugh getting better. “Now look what he did.”

  Fizzler bent down and picked the basilisk up around its head. This huge snake must’ve weighed over five-hundred pounds, yet the gasling lifted it as if it weighed nothing.

  Ashes fell from the basilisk’s eye sockets, drifted down over the food-smeared floor like some sort of depressing snow storm.

  “I recognize him,” Octavius said. “He belonged to Marena Psydin.”

  “The mermaid?” Zack asked.

  His voice rippled through the tension currently thick in the air. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

  “Yes, the mermaid,” Octavius answered. “She wants you dead so she sent her pet. Now, Abe…” He looked at me, then at Zack and Maddie. I crossed my arms and put my foot down. This would’ve been more effective had my shoe not slipped in the various condiments on the floor but I guess you can’t win them all.

  “If you’ve come to talk us out of this,” I said, “you can’t.”

  “Well, I don’t know, Abe…” Zack said. “That gold doesn’t look as good now since a basilisk tried to strangle me to death, you know?”

  I turned around and glared at him. He shrunk away from my stare and sat on the bed with a plop.

  “Oh, I know,” Octavius said. “Your father was the same way, Abraham. Once he set his mind on something, there was no denying him. And though I don’t wholly agree with your decision to participate in the Games, I know I cannot stop you.”

  “Then what do we owe the pleasure?” Maddie asked.

  Octavius said. “Slayer and I have come to cheer you on. Lord knows you need all the moral support you can get. And to give you pointers when I can.”

  “Coach us?” I asked.

  Octavius said, “Not quite. They certainly won’t let me. But I’ll do my best. The Games are brutal and dangerous. The chances of winning are quite slim when you are a monster. But when you are a human? The chances are nearly nonexistent. You’ll need all the help you can get, my friends.”

  Of course, we knew all of this. The only time in history a human participated in the Games was a decade before Vladimir Spires won the last Games two-hundred years ago. The human was crushed to jelly by the jaws of a hellhound. They didn’t even say his name in the history books. These books were written by monsters, of course, which might’ve had something to do with it.

  “It is Marena Psydin’s basilisk, I’m afraid,” Fizzler said. He almost sounded like he didn’t believe himself. “I remember those markings.” He pointed to the diamond shapes along the snake’s hide.

  “What does that mean?” Zack asked.

  Octavius crossed the tent and examined the snake closer. “It means,” he said, “you have greater enemies in these Games than your competitors.”

  “Saber Corp,” I said and looked and Maddie and Zack. “I knew I didn’t like her.”

  “Ah, makes sense,” Zack said.

  “You’d think they’d be a little more coy about it,” Maddie said.

  “Why should they?” Octavius asked. “The public doesn’t want you in the Games. Saber would be seen as heroes had they succeeded in getting rid of the scum before the competition started.”

  “Don’t hold back, Captain,” Zack mumbled.

  “They’re scared,” I said. “They know we’re a threat.” Which didn’t really make sense. We were the least threatening beings at the Games. Except for the pixies…maybe.

  “The slime,” Maddie said.

  Fizzler perked up at the mention of his species’ greatest resource.

  “They know we can stop them from getting the slime,” Maddie continued. “So they figured it would be easier to just kill us outright. Eliminate any chance of us standing in their way. The public would love them for it.”

  “I’m afraid,” Octavius said, “they will not let you stand in their way, no matter what. If you win, they will go back on their promise to leave the gaslings’ habitat and kill you all anyway. Yes, Fizzler here has informed be all about your agreement. I must say, the Fright Squad continues to surprise me.”

  I could tell Octavius was proud. That felt good. I smiled at him.

  Octavius nodded back. “Luckily for the Fright Squad, you know what you are doing.” He looked down at the remains of the basilisk.

  “And unlucky for them,” Zack said, “we’re gonna win these Games.”

  17

  I Punched a ‘Stein and I Liked It

  The rest of the night went by too fast. Before I knew it the sun was shining through the canvas and I was waking up with the smell of mayonnaise and pickles encrusted in my nasal passages.

  I didn’t sleep well. Judging by the way Maddie and Zack looked, their eyes bloodshot, their hair tousled, they didn’t sleep well, either.

  Octavius, Slayer, and Fizzler walked into the tent with beaming smiles on their faces. They were the epitome of chipper. I wasn’t a morning person at all. As a monster-hunter, the mornings were about as detrimental to my health as the sun was to a vampire without sunglasses.

  Luckily, there would be no competition today. It was only the Opening Ceremon
ies and the feast later on in the day.

  The first competition, which we would find out about at the Ceremonies—I hoped—would begin tomorrow night at sundown. The rumors floating around the grounds, according to Octavius, were that it would involve some kind of rabid monster. That sounded just dandy. The element of the first task was air. We knew that for sure.

  This is how the Opening Ceremonies went:

  We were ushered into the spectators’ arena. It was larger than the Colosseum in Rome. A lot newer, too because it had just been renovated. The large Rodanian Mountains loomed overhead. The sun was behind them. All around the arena were large video screens. You might know them as jumbotrons like you’d seen at various professional sporting events, but these were much bigger than those. I would call them humongotrons.

  We walked into the arena with the other competitors. There were only about twenty or so species involved in the Games, as it turned out. The species not there had either denied sending representatives or had moved and forgot to notify the committee about their new mailing addresses. Among the species that had accepted their invitations were werewolves, vampires, cyclopes, minotaurs, centaurs, demons, ghouls, banshees, ‘Steins, and pixies to name a few. Since the vampires were the last race of monsters to win the Games, they went out first.

  Maddie, Zack, and I were dead last. The demons were in front of us. They looked pretty stereotypical in case you’re wondering. Their skin was bright red. They had horns and forked tongues and a wiry tail that ended in a spade. One of them even had a pencil-thin mustache that he kept twirling all devilishly whenever he looked back at us. They all held pitchforks that were sharpened to deathly points.

  We were waiting in the shadows as the announcers of the Games called the monster races out through a portcullis one-by-one. Every species was met with raucous applause and cheers from the audience. Some cheered on louder than others.

  Octavius, Fizzler, and Gizzler waited with us.

  Octavius said to me, “No reason to be nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Zack said. He was holding Maddie’s hand tightly. Maddie’s teeth were chattering.

  I should’ve been nervous. I don’t know why I wasn’t. We had no weapons, no plan, no idea what the tasks would be. Not to mention every monster in the Games hated us and wanted to rip our guts out. But we only had so many guts to go around.

  The banshees were two spots ahead of us. The announcers called them out into the arena now. There was a smattering of applause but the bulk of the noises that followed the banshees entrance was a horrible screaming/screeching. I absentmindedly wondered if that was a sign of how many of the monsters were about to die or if the banshees were just really pleased to be taking part in the Games.

  “Yeah,” one of the demons said with a grin. “You’re all gonna die.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  The announcers called the demons out. They traipsed toward the turf and the platform beyond like a bunch of happy monkeys.

  “Remember,” Octavius said, “do not listen to anything they say to you. Ignore their jeers. Focus. Focus.”

  I nodded. Walked forward so I was in front of Maddie and Zack, who were still holding hands.

  The announcer said in his slippery voice: “Last and certainly least, taking the place of our gracious hosts the gaslings, are the humans.”

  The crowd went deathly quiet then broke out into a series of boos, curses, and screeches of what I thought was pain.

  “Abraham Crowley, Madilyn Pepper, and Zack Murphy are the humans’ representatives for the Games.” The announcer raised his voice so he could be heard over the raucous crowd.

  I walked forward. It took a lot for me to put one foot in front of the other, but somehow I was doing it.

  A glance over my shoulder at Maddie and Zack and then I entered the light. I made sure to stand up as straight as I could and when the monsters in the crowd—so many of them that they all kind of blended together—started throwing things at me, I made sure to just take it. Eyeballs bounced off of my back and shoulders. Popcorn and fried bugs spilled from above over our heads.

  “Death to all humans!” some old crone was yelling.

  “Burn! Burn!” a large worm gurgled.

  Up the walkway we went. The monsters on the platform watched us with smug looks on their faces. The werewolves stood tall and proud with their large, hairy paws clasped behind their backs, a snarl beneath their snouts.

  The crowd continued booing.

  I stood at the bottom of the platform steps. The announcer and judges up there looked down at us with indignation.

  “Not very nice,” Zack said behind me. He had to speak loud to be heard over all the jeers.

  As I led the way down the line toward our place on the platform, a ‘Stein stuck his huge boot out in the aisle. I saw it at the last minute. Wasn’t fast enough to avoid it.

  I tripped. Fell down on my knees with a clatter.

  The crowd went absolutely crazy. The ’Stein’s deep laughter shook the entire stage. I raised my head and saw the cameras had zoomed in on my face. I was broadcast on all those screens around the arena, looking about seventy-five feet tall.

  This was a pivotal moment. I knew that. In the shadows from where we had entered from, I knew Octavius, Slayer, and the gaslings were watching, waiting with baited breath. If I showed the pain on my face, I would’ve lost before the Games had even begun.

  So what did I do?

  I smiled.

  Stood up.

  The ‘Stein was still laughing. “Stupid human,” he said. He, like the demons, was stereotypical in his appearance as well. I figured that was because the species elected to send the best of the best and the best of the best was usually the image that had burned into the collective culture’s mind. So this ‘Stein had bolts coming out of his neck and his hair looked like it had been colored on the top of his head with the blackest Magic Marker in existence. He wore a green suit coat and black pants that you couldn’t even find in the biggest of big & tall men’s stores. He was almost a spitting image of Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein.

  Still, that didn’t stop me from punching him in his large, stitched-together corpse’s face.

  As soon as the punched connected I instantly regretted it. The ‘Stein was obviously made out of more than old body parts. He was made out of steel or cinderblock.

  I instantly cringed. Felt my knuckles crackle like I’d broken them, and began shaking my hand as if I could shake the pain away.

  “Damnnnnn,” Zack was saying.

  The crowd went off louder than before. Pure pandemonium.

  The ‘Stein toppled over and fell back into his two other teammates—a woman ‘Stein that had a large beehive-looking hairdo streaked black and white and another male ‘Stein a little shorter than the one I’d just decked in the face.

  “Order! Order!” the announcer was saying. He was half-worm so he didn’t run to us so much as he inched over by scrunching his lower half in and out, in and out.

  But there was no order. Not anymore. If one could call a million spectators shouting death threats at you order.

  Now a werewolf and a vampire fell out of their spots and held the ‘Stein back while Maddie and Zack held me back. I made a big show of putting up a fight. I’ll admit that I shouted a few obscenities, too.

  The half-worm announcer was back at the podium. Maddie and Zack dragged me through the slime-trail he’d left. He tapped the microphone. A screech of feedback attacked our ears. Terrible.

  “Gonna kill you!” the ‘Stein was shouting. “Gonna rip you apart!”

  “Good luck!” I shouted back.

  Back to our places on the podium.

  “Stupid, stupid,” one of the demons said to me. “Angering a ‘Stein.”

  I ignored him.

  Next to the demons were the werewolves. They were looking at me with a curiosity that I took as a good sign.

  “What a start! What a start!�
�� the announcer said. “But please, contestants, save the violence for the Games!”

  The crowd cheered. They were amped up beyond relief.

  The announcer went on. I mostly tuned out and planned my next move.

  Zack spoke loudly. “What the hell, man? Where did that come from?” He was grinning from ear-to-ear.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Maddie said, frowning.

  “They wanted a show,” I said, “so I decided to give them one.” But this was all talk. Trying to make myself seem more confident than I’d actually felt.

  One of the werewolves’s ears perked up and turned their head toward me. He was one of the biggest werwolves I’d ever seen. Made Buddy Wolverton look like Slayer. Across the beast’s muzzle were three deep gashes, bleached white against his black fur. The fur was so dark, I figured you couldn’t see the wolf in the night even if the moon was at its fullest and brightest.

  “Good job, human,” the werewolf said.

  His voice caught me off-guard. Because it wasn’t a male. It was a female.

  “T-Thanks,” I said. Tried to hide my fear. Knew that it was worthless. The werewolves could smell your emotions from a mile away.

  But that was all the she-wolf said to me. At least for the time being. Because the announcer was going on about the sacredness of the Ceremonies. Octavius had briefed us on what those entailed. Like everything else in the Monster Games, they seemed stupid.

  This is how they went:

  The self-proclaimed Monster Monarch entered to bigger applause than we’d heard so far. I had never seen him in person, but we’d studied him pretty extensively in the Academy. He was, in regular terms, the Boogeyman. His supporters were far and wide. Those who didn’t support him called him the Booger-man. Those who didn’t support him were small in number. I, personally, wasn’t a big fan. In the Academy we’d learned about the countless lives he’d taken. He was an immortal agent of fear. Many times, BEAST had tried to take him down and found they just couldn’t do it.