Temporary Monsters

by CRAIG SHAW GARDNER

  The assembled masses studied Lenny with deep frowns on their faces, as though they were judging him and finding him less than adequate.

  Ms. Siggenbottom kept on talking. “All of that does not matter. It is not so much who Mr. Hodge is, or what he looks like, but what he can do.”

  Lenny was suddenly very aware of Lenore. She stared at him from her seat to his left, her eyes boring their way into his skull—as though she already knew what the heck Ms. Siggenbottom was going to say.

  “Mr. Hodge,” the older woman said. “You have the advantage over many of those seated here today. For a rank beginner, you have a lot of experience. For example—” She paused to smile at her audience. “We know how you survived that bizarre lemming migration outside of Minneapolis.”

  The lemmings? Lenny had nearly forgotten about them. And all that time, he was supposed to be in St. Paul.

  “Events like that do not happen to everyone,” their leader continued. “In fact, they hardly happen to anyone at all. Except for you, Mr. Hodge.”

  She pointed at Lenny. “You do remember encountering those dancing mole creatures in the Mississippi Delta? Performing Swan Lake?”

  Well, of course he did. But what of it? Anybody could have seen that. He just happened to be standing there when it happened.

  “You just happened to be in the right place,” Ms. Siggenbottom agreed. Lenny looked quickly at Lenore. Did everybody know what he was thinking?

  “I hardly have to mention that waterspout off the coast of France,” the older woman added.

  Lenny’s mouth fell open. Until now, he had been sure that mermaid had been his imagination. A chill passed through him. Maybe there was something to what Ms. Siggenbottom was saying.

  “We don’t have time to delve into any of the many, many other amazing occurrences. You have had a very active life, Mr. Hodge. If you have ever thought about it.”

  Thought about it? Lenny didn’t, all that much. He was always worried about making a little money, or whether or not he would ever get a steady girlfriend. Whenever his life got really bad, he would shut out the world and work on his stamp collection. And now, even his stamps had suffered! Things always did happen around him. Maybe not thinking about it (stamps included) was nothing more than a defense mechanism.

  “It is a strange gift, Mr. Hodge,” Ms. Siggenbottom agreed. “It could even make a person go crazy—unless there were a very good reason for it.”

  Lenny nodded. A very good reason? He would certainly like to hear it.

  “Many of those in this room make things happen, Mr. Hodge. But you are the only one, to my knowledge, that has things happen all around him, all the time. There are those among us who can call thunder and lightning from the sky. But only you, Mr. Hodge, by your very being, can cause the lightning to come to him.

  “Things happen everywhere, every day, Mr. Hodge. But you are a one-person human happening, and everything we need to happen will happen to you! With you in our employ, Mr. Hodge, Terrifitemps will triumph!”

  Lenny heard shouts and cheers. Everyone around the table rose together to give him a standing ovation.

  Lenny guessed that meant he really couldn’t leave.

  Ms. Siggenbottom stopped clapping. The rest of the audience stopped an instant later.

  “I know that this is a lot of information for you to process, Mr. Hodge. You have only now become aware of your abilities. You will only be able to learn to use them through experience. That is why I have assigned you to our most experienced team of agents. We are, unfortunately, minus one of their number already. But with you on the team, I’m sure your teammates’ fortunes, and indeed the prospects of all of Terrifitemps, will improve immensely.”

  They would? If Ms. Siggenbottom didn’t intimidate Lenny quite so much, he might have asked her how he was supposed to do that sort of thing. Not that he even knew what he meant by “that sort of thing.”

  “Very good,” Ms. Siggenbottom added when it was apparent that Lenny had nothing to say. “You will be under the command of Mr. Karnowski. Follow his lead, and I am sure you will do very well indeed.” She clapped her hands. “Now the rest of us must get back to work!”

  Well, Lenny thought, at least now he knew what he was expected to do. At least after a fashion. He followed Karnowski and Lenore out of the room.

  They had not walked ten feet before they heard another blood-curdling scream. All three of them turned back to the office they had just left. The scream had come from somewhere inside.

  “Withers again?” Lenny asked.

  Lenore shook her head. “That scream came from someone more powerful than Withers.” She turned and ran back to the other room. Lenny followed as quickly as he could.

  As soon as Lenny stepped back through the door, he saw exactly what Lenore had been talking about.

  Ms. Siggenbottom now stood on top of a desk at the room’s center. She had a wild look in her eyes, far different from her usual strict composure. The employees crowded around the desk had all taken a step back, as if to give their director extra room.

  Ms. Siggenbottom looked straight at Lenny and his team. She announced, in a clear and commanding voice:

  “Giant economy corn dog!”

  “What?” the pale man said at his side. “Karnowski does not—”

  “Giant!” Ms. Siggenbottom’s voice rose close to a scream. “Economy! Corn! Dog!”

  “She’s having trouble speaking,” Lenore explained with her usual frown. “Something is interfering with her voice—no—her ability to communicate.”

  The director pointed at Lenore and shook her head vigorously. “Giant economy corn dog!” Her brow furrowed, as if she was doing her utmost to concentrate. “Giant!” She bit her lip, and took a deep breath. “Economy giant dog corn!”

  Karnowski looked grimmer than usual. “Everything else this morning may have happened before. This, Karnowski believes, is new.”

  “Corn dog!” Ms. Siggenbottom screamed in agreement.

  “Lenny!” Lenore cried over her shoulder as she rushed to their boss’s side. “Stay close! Perhaps together we can use our powers to restore Ms. Siggenbottom!”

  Lenore gripped both of the director’s shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. “Ms. Siggenbottom! Speak to me!”

  “Giant—” the older woman began.

  “No!” Lenore commanded. “Those are only words! Reach past them, and speak!

  “I—Oh—Eeee—” Ms. Siggenbottom began to tremble. “Shrah—shrin—shrink swelling in your mucous membrane!” She shook her head. “Membrane! Mucous mucous!”

  “I do not believe this is progress,” Karnowski murmured darkly. “What does Lenore see?”

  “I believe there are darker things, lurking beneath,” the young woman replied, her forehead creased in concentration. “But in her conscious mind, nothing but corn dogs.”

  “Lenny!” the younger woman called. “Take my hand! Together, we can bring her back!”

  Lenny took Lenore’s outstretched hand. Her fingers were cool to the touch. “Ms. Siggenbottom! We’re here to help! Look at us! What do you want to say?”

  “Mucous? Corn dog?” She shook her head violently. She tried to smile past her spasms. “Fa-fa-fa-fun for the whole family!”

  Karnowski caught her before she fell to the ground.

  Lenny felt a buzzing against his thigh. He had set his phone on vibrate. He couldn’t look away from the scene before him. Lenore and Karnowski both hovered over the unconscious Ms. Siggenbottom, while a dozen other employees rushed to and fro on errands Lenny couldn’t possibly imagine.

  It was not the best time to get a call.

  Chapter Five

  Lenny stared as a pair of overly muscled men hustled their employer out of the conference room. With Ms. Siggenbottom gone, most of the noise left the room as well.

  Lenny finally pu
lled his phone from his pocket. He had missed a call—from Sheila! Apparently she was determined to see him again. But when could he actually get away from here? Despite all the corn dogs and mucous membranes, the now unconscious Ms. Siggenbottom had been right. Things always happened to Lenny. But even he couldn’t remember them happening this fast.

  The tall man pulled a watch from the pocket of his vest. “Karnowski cannot delay! We must go to our—other location.”

  “There are other parts of Terrifitemps?” Lenny asked.

  Lenore nodded. “More than any one of us knows.” She glanced at her own phone. “But look at the time. It’s well past lunch, closer to dinner really. We need to get some supplies before we travel.”

  “Karnowski says eat on the run!” the ghost finder agreed.

  Lenore led them to the back of the room, opening the door to a much smaller room beyond—a room that held a few small tables and a pair of vending machines.

  “Karnowski says they need to stock these more often!”

  Lenny could see exactly what the other man meant. The soda machine had half a dozen choices, all but one of which had a red “out” light above the name. Lenny put in some quarters and pushed the last remaining choice. He studied the can. He hadn’t even known they still made grape Nehi soda.

  The other machine displayed shelf after shelf of prepared food, except all but two of the display rows were empty as well. One row showed three pale-white sandwiches. The other showed something blue and green and lumpy, as though whatever had once been there had long ago surrendered to mold and mildew.

  “What’s that?” Lenny asked.

  “Nothing for humans,” Karnowski grumbled.

  “Nothing for what?” Lenny asked.

  “These machines have to provide sustenance to everyone,” Lenore began. She looked at the green moldy thing. “We’ll have to explain that later.”

  “Is sandwiches for Karnowski.” He inserted a bill into the machine’s cash slot and pressed a row of buttons. Three of the pale sandwiches slid to the bottom of the chute.

  “Cream cheese and olive. No crust. Very refined.”

  Lenny unwrapped the cellophane and took a taste. He supposed they were edible. But not much more.

  “When Ms. Siggenbottom not hungry, they stay in machine forever,” Karnowski added.

  Lenny had never been so grateful for the taste of grape Nehi.

  “But we must go,” the ghost finder said after finishing his sandwich in three bites. He took a step back into the larger room. Lenny finished the last of the soda and left the rest behind as he and Lenore followed Karnowski.

  Karnowski pushed the stem on his watch and a row of bookcases moved aside, revealing the battered green door of an ancient elevator. Lenny wondered if there were any walls in this office that didn’t hide something.

  “Much is always hidden from view,” Lenore intoned.

  Karnowski stepped forward. “Going down!” The aged metal doors opened with a groan, revealing a metal grate. Karnowski pulled the grate aside and the three of them walked in. Lenny saw that the controls consisted of six mahogany-brown buttons. Even though they, too, were worn with age, he could faintly discern the labels B1 through B6.

  “We’re going all the way down, aren’t we?” Lenny asked. Karnowski nodded as the elevator lurched into action.

  Lenny was beginning to get the hang of this.

  The ancient elevator shuddered to a halt at B6—the bottom floor. Karnowski led them out into a dimly lit hallway, then, three doors down, into an even more dimly lit room. Once Lenny’s eyes got accustomed to the light from the single overhead bulb, he saw that the room was empty, except for four coffins leaning against the far wall.

  Lenore frowned back at Karnowski. “Isn’t it time?”

  The tall man consulted his watch. “Half an hour past.”

  Lenore sighed as she walked up to the second coffin from the left. “I guess I’ll have to knock.”

  Lenny wondered if he could wait in the other room—any other room. But he took a deep breath and stood absolutely still as Lenore strode forward to bang on the coffin lid.

  Nothing happened. Lenny started breathing again.

  Lenore was not happy. She had knocked twice on the largest of the four coffins, the noise echoing around the cavernous room. She pulled her arm back and really pounded on the lid.

  “Who disturbs my eternal rest?” a voice rumbled at last from deep within.

  Lenore was unfazed. “Can it, Herbert. You’ve got to go to work like the rest of us.”

  The coffin lid opened slowly to reveal a man in an old-fashioned tux, his hands folded across his chest. The man’s face was very pale, with the slightest indentations in his lower lip where the tips of two very pointy teeth peaked from beneath his upper lip.

  Lenny had watched enough horror movies to know just what was going on. He already knew were-creatures and ghosts were part of the Terrifitemps team. Why not vampires? Especially vampires who could make coffin lids swing upward without moving their hands?

  The hinged lid stopped with a groan once it had swung aside, and the man stepped from the box with a heavy sigh.

  He surveyed the room as if it were every bit as disappointing as he had imagined.

  “Where’s the romance?” he moaned.

  As if on cue, two of the other three coffins popped open. A woman stepped from each—their skin unusually pale, their lips an unnatural red. Their long hair cascaded across their bare shoulders; one the lightest shade of blonde, the other the deepest shade of black. Each wore a slightly tattered ball gown; the blonde wore rose, the brunette wore violet. But it was what was beneath those ball gowns that Lenny found fascinating. They both had what used to be called hourglass figures. Impossibly small waists, full, supple hips—and the cleavage, full, rounded globes nearly spilling out of the low-cut evening wear.

  Lenny had never found cleavage quite so fascinating. He took a step forward with no conscious thought, as though he were being controlled by a will greater than his own. He dragged his gaze upward, away from the chests to the faces. They were both stunningly attractive, a cross between every prom queen, pop star, and fashion-magazine cover girl that Lenny had ever been drawn to. He took another step.

  Vampires, he told himself. It was time to stop walking.

  Both women smiled. They had beautiful smiles. You will come to me now, the smiles said.

  Lenny couldn’t look away. He stumbled forward. Vampires, he reminded himself again. Pointy teeth, sucking blood, living dead vampires. The woman in violet extended a slim, pale hand in his direction. He needed to touch that porcelain skin. His brain might scream no, but his shuffling feet said yes, yes, yes.

  What else could Lenny think about? Something, anything!

  Well, there was that fourth coffin. Three vampires already stood before him. What hideous thing lurked behind that closed lid?

  The woman in rose smiled back at him. “New blood?”

  Lenore stepped in front of Lenny, blocking his view of both vampire beauties.

  “Ladies, I’m afraid he’s part of the team.”

  Lenny shivered. His feet stopped moving. He remembered to breathe. He had wanted to get very close to those women very quickly. And—according to all those movies—he would have ended up very dead.

  “Does anybody show up here who isn’t a team member?” the vampire in violet complained. It was her turn to sigh. “Another night without a decent meal.” She glared at the male vampire. “It was different, long ago . . .”

  “Isn’t that just like him?” the rose vampire agreed, staring at the Baron. “When you first meet, it’s all fangs and candlelight. And then once he gets you home . . .”

  Both fanged females snorted derisively.

  “Brittany. Taylor,” the male vampire chided, looking first at the blonde, then the brunette. “W
e can discuss this another time.” He turned back to Lenny and the others. “You may call me—the Baron.”

  “The Baron is the final member of our team,” Karnowski explained.

  “A mere member?” The Baron might have sneered. It was hard to tell with the fangs. “Would the team exist without my skills?”

  The vampire women laughed, a sound as cold as winter wind. The Baron seemed not to notice.

  Lenny’s brain—once again his own—kept trying to find positives. Ghost hunter, psychic, werebeast, vampire—that pretty much covered all the bases. And these creatures were his co-workers, after all. Better to have them with you than against you, right? His gaze wandered back to the closed coffin.

  “We mostly do night work,” Karnowski explained, perhaps unnecessarily.

  “Herbert,” Lenore said to the Baron. “We have a situation here.” She briefly told him about Wither’s unfortunate conversion.

  The Baron grimaced, showing far more of his fangs than he had before. “This is what happens when I am not available. They’ve transformed him during the day?”

  Lenore nodded. “We don’t know how they did it. We have no idea even who did it. We have to suspect them all. But there’s more.” She quickly went on to describe Ms. Siggenbottom and the corn dogs.

  The vampire’s eyebrows rose in excited alarm. “It’s about time our team had a real challenge!” His pale hand clenched into a fist as his blood-red eyes looked to the ceiling. “We will finally have a chance to test our true power! The Baron will triumph again!”

  “Ooh, the big bad vampire!” Brittany cooed. “Why can’t we see more of that at home?”

  “How long has it been since we’ve had any real excitement?” Taylor chimed in. “It’s just been one long, endless night!”

  “I should have listened to my mother!” Brittany agreed. “You know what she always said: Why should a vampire buy the cow when he can suck its blood for free?”