Temporary Monsters

by CRAIG SHAW GARDNER

  That meant Lenny and Lenore were the other team. He was surprised how happy that made him. “And what should we do?”

  “We,” Lenore said as she grabbed his elbow, “are taking the bus.”

  “There’s a bus?” Lenny asked.

  Lenore waved at the vast expanse around them. “How else can people get to their cars?”

  “It’s been nice, guys!” Bob called over his shoulder as he galloped away. “But I think it’s time for even me to leave.”

  A great wailing rose from the hooded crowd. The asphalt in front of them began to glow a dull blue.

  “We need to get out of here!” Lenore shouted. “Now.”

  Lenny saw small, blue flames erupt from the pavement closest to the hooded crowd, then spread across the glowing surface, rushing toward them.

  Lenny turned and ran. That bus was sounding better and better.

  He stumbled when his feet hit the sidewalk. He ran into the street, then leaped onto the sidewalk on the other side, not really knowing what he was running toward, only trying to escape that ever-warmer blue light behind him.

  His legs felt like lead. His lungs like they would burst. But still he ran. A wind sprang up. It felt cool against his skin.

  Lenny stopped. He was surrounded by darkness. The blue glowing flames were gone.

  He looked around. The highway was still on his left, maybe farther away than before. He saw no sign of Lenore, or any of the others. He was alone, with no idea where he was or where he was going.

  “Woo-hoo!” a voice said in his ear. “I always like a little scare!”

  He turned to see a smiling Bob the horse.

  “Where is everybody?” Lenny asked.

  “Your friends from Terrifitemps?” Bob replied with a cheerful whinny. “Probably standing together in one final, futile attempt to turn back the tide of total destruction.” The pooka sadly shook its blue mane. “I wish you had their chance of survival.”

  A chorus of voices roared behind them. Lenny spun toward the noise and saw a dozen figures in red robes running toward them.

  A dozen to one? Lenny thought. Every one of the figures rushing in their direction was brandishing some sort of sharp object.

  His luck—or his ability—or whatever they had called it—had finally run out on him.

  The first of the red hoods ran at him with a sword. Its eyes were wild behind the hood. “Infidel!” it screamed. Lenny stumbled backward, losing his balance. He sat down heavily on the pavement as the sword whistled overhead.

  The second robe charged right behind the first, swinging what looked like a medieval mace. “Assassin!”

  The new attacker lost its footing as Bob the horse reared before it.

  “Don’t thank me yet!” Bob called over his shoulder. “I’m only delaying the inevitable!”

  A third robed figure attacked with what looked like an ancient ceremonial dagger. This close the eyes that showed behind his mask seemed to have no pupils.

  “Stamp collector!” it screamed. The dagger whipped toward Lenny’s chest and would have hit him if the previous two robed figures had not regained their balance and decided to renew their attack at the same instant. Sword clashed with mace. Dagger bounced off sword. Flowing red robes tangled together, so Lenny could no longer tell where one assailant ended and the next began. The three fell to the pavement as a heaving, thrashing mass.

  “Boy,” Bob called from beyond the entangled enemies. “Your luck just keeps getting worse!”

  “What?” Lenny demanded. What was the pooka talking about this time?

  “Only something worse than death itself!” Bob replied.

  It was then that the world went dark.

  Chapter Nine

  “Okay, I’m ready!” a new voice called close to Lenny’s right side. “Where’s that ghost-finder guy?”

  Lenny stared at the new arrival. Someone, or something, stood before him, somehow dispersing the unnatural gloom with an equally unnatural radiance. The glowing white figure was even more insubstantial than Bob, yet there was something vaguely familiar about the newcomer.

  The ghost finder? Lenny thought. “Karnowski? We were separated. I have no idea where he is.” Lenny stared off into the gloom. “I have no idea where we are.”

  “I’d say,” Bob added, “that we were in trouble.”

  Lenny turned to the pooka and saw half a dozen figures silhouetted by streetlights rushing in their direction. Most of the hooded figures brandished knives, which, with their oddly curved blades, might be ceremonial, though their edges still looked plenty sharp. The ones without knives simply brandished guns.

  “Oh,” Lenny said. In the confusion, he had forgotten to flee.

  “Excuse me,” the spectral stranger remarked as he turned toward the onrushing mob. Its ghostly image grew tenfold, sprouting half a dozen arms, all of which held sharp claws. It reared up before the approaching crowd.

  The running horde slowed, then staggered to a halt.

  “Rarrarrarrharrarr!” the specter roared.

  The hooded figures ran in terror.

  The ghost returned to its earlier indistinct form.

  “Couldn’t they see we were talking? Now where were we? We’ve met before, back in the hotel. I’m—” The ghost sighed. “Not remembering your name makes it very difficult to introduce yourself.”

  Now Lenny recalled the ghost. “You were the fellow from the pit? I thought you were trapped there.”

  “So did I. Apparently I just had nowhere to go. But then Karnowski called. Here I am, out and about, ready to see the sights.” The ghost paused. “There’s not much to look at around here.”

  “It’s the problem with dark places,” Bob agreed. “Too much dark.”

  “I don’t care,” the spirit replied. “I’ve come to join a team of bold adventurers. You will lead me to confront danger and perform noble deeds! Tell me, adventurers, where are you bound?”

  “Um,” Lenny answered, “I think we’re trying to find a bus stop.”

  “Really?” The ghost paused again. “Well, I’m sure it must be a noble bus stop.”

  “I hate to interrupt,” Bob interrupted, “but we’re in even more trouble than we were before.”

  Lenny saw a couple of vague shapes approaching them through the gloom. Why was it that Bob only warned him about danger when it was too late to do anything about it?

  The two figures drew closer, yet remained in shadow. At least Lenny could tell there were two of them. Where Bob was bright blue, and the ghost was a hazy white, the two newcomers wore dark raincoats, with the spaces above their collars still lost behind those persistent shadows. Lenny recognized them nonetheless. They, or another pair equally indistinct, had come calling on him at his apartment just before Sheila and the first day cover had disappeared. And they brought the darkness with them.

  “Trouble again, huh?” the friendly ghost asked. “Time for me to go into action.”

  The specter once again grew in size. Lenny almost jumped. From this angle, Lenny could view the whole spirit, including its six eyes and the glow-in-the-dark teeth.

  The shadowy figures watched the spirit grow.

  Sparks flew as the ghost brandished its many claws. This was certainly holding Lenny’s attention. The spirit was really getting into it.

  The shadowy figures glanced at each other. The ghost opened its frightening jaw mere inches above them.

  “Rohahahaharrrr!”

  Lenny had trouble standing as the piercing cry washed over him.

  The apparition returned to its original form with a satisfied chuckle. “Nothing like a good scare.”

  The all-too-shadowy fellows were still there.

  “Very enthusiastic,” one of them said.

  “Still, it lacks a certain polish,” the other replied. “We are here to collect Lenny
Hodge. Is that one of you?”

  “He has made friends with ghosts. That would fit with his profile.”

  “He may have escaped us before, but not again. We’re almost entirely certain that he is the Lenny we are looking for.”

  “Without a shadow of a doubt. Well, perhaps a very small shadow. And why wouldn’t he come with us? He will barely be inconvenienced at all. We simply need to ask him a few questions, run a few tests.”

  “Hardly any trouble at all. Unless we can’t determine his special gift.”

  “That?” A hint of disappointment seemed to enter his cheery tone. “We might—only as a last resort—have to dissect him. Purely in the interests of science. How do humans deal with dissection?”

  “I believe it tends to kill them.”

  “That would be unfortunate. Necessary, but unfortunate.” His tone was resigned, and final.

  The two shadow figures shifted slightly, so that they might actually be looking at Lenny. “But enough idle chitchat. You slipped through our fingers before.”

  “You are necessary to the completion. We must take you now.”

  Lenny wished he knew where the rest of his team had gone. They would be able to deal with this. But shouldn’t his special gift be showing up? According to Ms. Siggenbottom, something should be happening right about now. An earthquake, maybe? A tornado? A meteor?

  “But—” Lenny began. He couldn’t think of anything to follow that.

  Slowly, the two raincoats approached him.

  “Hi guys.” A cheerful voice popped up behind him. “What’s up?”

  The two newcomers stopped. They turned their shadowed faces to look at each other. Both turned back to Lenny.

  “Is that Bob the horse?” two voices asked as one.

  Lenny heard a quaver in their speech, a sound he hadn’t heard before. He glanced over his shoulder. “You’re back?”

  Lenny hadn’t even realized the horse was gone.

  “Just taking care of pooka business!” Bob replied.

  Lenny glanced back at the strangers. Instead of moving forward, the mysterious duo were ever so slowly moving away.

  “We are almost certain we have an appointment elsewhere,” one of them said.

  “And there’s always the chance—ever so slight—that we might be mistaken,” the other added.

  The two raincoats became one with the gloom.

  Lenny looked out into the void where the two shadowy figures had stood. Bob the horse cantered up beside him.

  “Nice fellows. Good listeners, too, if you can corner them. I remember one time—we must have talked for hours!” Bob whinnied with delight.

  “They weren’t even scared!” the ghost said by his other side. “What should I expect? Being stuck in that pit year after year, it dulls your edge.” The ghost sighed, the sound of a chill wind in February. “Shouldn’t we proceed with our quest?”

  “Quest?” Lenny asked. Oh. The bus stop. Lenny not only had to learn to lead, he had to do it when other things got in the way.

  Lenny saw a pool of light maybe a hundred feet away, with a small, half-enclosed structure and a black-and-red sign at the street corner.

  “This way,” he called to the others as he walked toward the light. Maybe he could have some time to think on the bus.

  “Whoops!” said Bob the horse as they reached the bus stop. “Now this is really bad!”

  The shelter was occupied—by a man wearing robes of royal purple. Robes, but no hood. He grinned as Lenny approached.

  “We have not met, but I know you. You may call me Foo.”

  Well, Lenny thought, he was waiting for something to happen.

  Chapter Ten

  Lenny’s two companions didn’t seem particularly happy to see the newcomer.

  “This is the man who made me what I am today!” the ghost complained.

  “I doubt very much he could even pass the pooka test,” Bob added.

  Neither of these remarks made Lenny feel any better about his situation. He studied the man called Foo. For a mysterious cult leader, he looked awfully ordinary. Foo had a pasty complexion and thinning hair, and sported a smile that was as large as it was insincere. He looked like somebody’s uncle who really should stop smoking. Especially if that uncle sold used cars.

  Lenny looked to either side of the bus shelter and out into the street. The night was still and empty. Apparently Foo had come alone.

  The cultist was still grinning. “You will want to come with us. Someone you know is waiting for your help.” He held out a cell phone displaying a photo. Lenny looked at the screen. It revealed his ex-girlfriend, Sheila, tied to a chair. She had a gag in her mouth, but her eyes looked angry. Not scared. Sheila was never scared. But, as Lenny recalled, she could get angry.

  “You don’t want to disappoint her now,” Foo added.

  Lenny stared at the image. He thought of Sheila’s disappearance, and the incomplete text message she had sent. How could he have known? Sheila leaving without another word? Sending messages he didn’t understand? It was no different than the last few months of their relationship.

  “This is exactly the sort of thing that turns people into ghosts,” the nameless spirit remarked.

  “But not into pookas!” Bob added enthusiastically. “That takes years of training!”

  “You are not alone, are you?” Foo asked, smile still firmly in place. “Ghosts, perhaps? I can sense these things, although I cannot see them—yet.”

  So the overlord couldn’t see Lenny’s companions? Maybe Lenny could use that to his advantage. Still, how useful an insecure ghost and a pooka named Bob the horse would be was currently beyond him.

  “I have people for that sort of thing,” Foo continued. “Spectral resources. All a part of my management strategy.”

  “Management strategy,” Lenny replied when it became apparent he should say something.

  “The first phase of my team-building prognoses,” Foo agreed. “Yes, my team. I hope, soon, to add you to their ranks.” Foo’s grin had grown larger. “The day you appeared on my radar, Mr. Hodge, is the day your life changed forever. My conquests are legion. My logistics are unsurpassed. Foo will soon control all media!” He looked past Lenny. “But I get ahead of myself. Our bus has arrived.”

  A large, black bus with tinted windows pulled up beside them. Air hissed as the door opened.

  Lenny hesitated. This had to be a trap of some sort. But why were they letting him just climb onto the bus, rather than grabbing him, maybe sticking a bag over his head—all that kind of stuff?

  He glanced at Foo. “Weren’t you just trying to kill me?”

  “Our strategy might have been a bit shortsighted. I assure you, Mr. Hodge, we have revised our projections. Just say I’m big enough to change my mind. Now, after you?” Foo waved the cell phone in Lenny’s face. “Don’t forget. You’re on a mission.”

  Lenny glanced once more at the photo of his ex. Even though Sheila had dumped him, he had been surprised to realize he still had feelings for her. If he could do anything to help her, he would. Even if it meant going willingly with the legions of Foo.

  Lenny climbed onto the bus.

  “Don’t worry, boss,” a cheerful voice spoke right behind him. “Bob is with you every step of the way.”

  “Don’t forget me!” a somewhat more uncertain voice added. “We will haunt another day. Do you think any of these folks scare easily?”

  The bus door hissed closed behind them. It took Lenny a moment for his eyes to adjust to the indirect lighting. Foo guided him through a doorway just past the driver’s seat.

  Lenny stepped into a spacious lounge decorated with black couches, black tables, black curtains, and black throw pillows. Two people waited on the far couch.

  “Wow!” the ghost said behind him. “After a few decades in a pit, this is what I
call living!”

  “May I introduce the rest of our company,” Foo said as he stepped next to Lenny. He waved to the man on the left, a slight figure wearing a turban. “Swami Phillip Bruce Flalgalfaltal; one of the great mystics of a long European tradition.”

  “From the Bavarian Flalgalfaltals?” Bob whispered close by. “Wow, Lenny! You really rate!” The pooka and the ghost floated to Lenny’s other side.

  The man with the turban stood and bowed. “You may call me Swami Phil.” He held up his hand. The gesture reminded Lenny of Lenore. “I sense the presence of others.”

  “See?” Foo was proud of himself. “Tell us more, Swami!”

  The turbaned gentleman stared at the ceiling. “There are two spirits from the beyond.” He waved dismissively. “The ghost is easily banished.”

  The air around the nameless spirit shimmered.

  “What?” The ghost’s image blurred, his voice fainter with every word. “But I just got out of that pit. This is no fair at all! You haven’t heard the last . . .”

  The spirit faded from sight.

  “Excellent!” Foo cheered.

  “The other one—might take a minute.” The swami sighed. “It’s a pooka.”

  Foo frowned at that. “A pooka? What does a pooka do?”

  “Well, mostly they poo—” Swami Phil caught himself. “Explanations are useless. You would have to be an advanced swami to understand.” He frowned in concentration. “I can at least banish him for a while. But pookas have a way of coming back!”

  “Nothing will stand in the way of my five-year projections. Remove the pooka!” Foo commanded.

  Swami Phil began an elaborate series of hand gestures—waves, slaps, finger wriggles, even a gesture that might be considered obscene in certain parts of Europe.

  “Hah!” Bob the horse said. “An amateur!” He sidled up next to Lenny. “Don’t worry, Boss! I’m here for the duration.”