The Otherworldlies

by Jennifer Anne Kogler

  “Oh . . . my . . . ,” she murmured. Vlad’s Legion of Hundred-Handers! Was this beast somehow connected with all that?

  A huge furry mass had attached itself to the edge of the top of the cave. It slowly crept out into the light. Soon the hecatonchire had filled the entire entrance to the cave. It crawled along the edge of the cave—using a hundred brown woolly arms connected to woolly hands. They were everywhere. The sight of the thing made Fern sick to her stomach. It was roughly the size of a small trailer.

  “What is it, Fern?” Sam said, crouching near his sister. His jaw dropped. “Whoa. What is that?” he asked, backing away. Fern made out the back of a round head amongst the fleecy web of arms and hands.

  A dull wail began and soon turned into a deafening screech. The hairy mass jumped down from the top of the cave. With a motion that looked like a windmill of appendages, the wall of screaming fur quickly approached the children and Chuffy. Once it reached the pool of water, it stopped.

  A hundred fists pounded the pool with furious anger. Water splashed high up in the air, dousing the plate glass in brown liquid. The dirty water obscured the onlookers’ view of the creature.

  The pounding soon stopped. The water stopped spewing forth like a fountain, and the spray lessened.

  The heck had disappeared.

  “Where’d it go?” Sam said, panicked.

  “Probably back in the cave or something,” Fern said, looking around behind her.

  The screeching started up again, only this time it seemed much louder to Sam and Fern. The McAllister twins covered their ears in absolute pain and horror, unable to think, unable to do anything but hold their heads, paralyzed. Fern was looking up at the glass from her crouching position. There was no sign of the heck, but the sound grew louder and louder.

  The sound of plaster hitting tile mingled with the terrible screech. Fern, Sam, and Chuffy turned around. The ceiling was falling down in front of them. Giant chunks of plaster and concrete crashed to the floor.

  The three backed up against the glass. There was nowhere to go. Fern panicked and thought of teleporting once again. But once again, she knew she couldn’t abandon Sam. Though she felt tremendously guilty for it, a small part of her wished she could relinquish the burden of protecting Sam.

  Chuffy jumped in front of Sam and Fern, holding his cane out as if he would offer them all the protection they needed. Dozens of slender hairy arms slinked through the new hole in the ceiling. Terror filled Sam and Fern.

  “Stay behind me,” Chuffy ordered, his voice quivering as the arms reached the ground and inched toward him. He growled at the creature. Finally, the thing funneled its entire body out of the hole it had made. It rested in front of them, over ten feet high and ten feet wide, blocking the only path out of the Preserve and back to safety.

  The thing was disgusting. It looked like a dozen couch-sized spiders piled on top of one another, squirming and writhing. It lay close to the floor like giant hairy spaghetti noodles, filling the entire hall. Sam and Fern cowered. Chuffy continued to stand guard bravely in front of them.

  Fern peered over Chuffy’s frail shoulder. A small round object lifted itself out of the mess of arms and hands. This was the heck’s head. She shut her eyes immediately, bracing for the worst.

  Sam continued to look on as two midnight eyes bulged out of a small globe in the middle of the web of arms. A mouth opened and let out a squawk that echoed off the glass wall. The sound had the force of a dozen small earthquakes all at once. The glass behind them cracked and then shattered into a thousand pieces around them. Fern looked at her brother, sure that they would both be ripped apart in a matter of seconds. The heck’s army of arms crawled toward the children.

  The heck snaked its head down until it was level with the Preserve’s visitors. The creature began using its hands to pound against the tile of the hallway. Shards of glass jumped off the floor from the reverberation. Fern and Sam stood absolutely still. The heck advanced. It shrieked again and again. After a minute, there was little doubt: The animal was shrieking at Fern.

  “Fern!” Sam yelled in Fern’s ear, over the thundering noise. “I think it’s looking at you.”

  Fern opened her eyes. The heck’s head floated toward Fern like a balloon on a string. It snaked over Chuffy’s shoulder until it was inches away. It got closer—so close, in fact, that Fern could feel its steamy breath on her face. She quivered, looking into its cloudy black eyes. Go away, she thought. Please, go back to your cave and leave us. The animal opened its mouth, revealing seven clawlike teeth. It hissed at Fern. Its mouth was open so wide, it could have swallowed Fern’s head whole. What a terrible way to go, Fern thought, closing her eyes once more.

  Slowly the head snaked away. The army of arms was on the move again.

  The heck was climbing back into the ceiling!

  “What in the world . . . ,” Sam said, unable to contain his thoughts. He’d thought for sure they were all goners—that they were going to die in this miserable underground fortress. “Fern, you made it leave,” he said in disbelief.

  “I don’t know what I did.”

  Chuffy turned around after the heck was safely out of sight. He got down on one knee and grabbed Fern’s hand in his own.

  “You, young lady! You tamed the heck! With your eyes! Not in a thousand years has that happened!” A few minutes ago, Fern would have wanted to take her hand away from Chuffy’s immediately. But this frail white-whiskered man had stood between her and the ugliest and most unimaginable beast. He couldn’t have saved her, but he would’ve died trying.

  Tears formed in Chuffy’s eyes. “Young lady, you have prolonged my unworthy life. It is a deed so great, I will not soon forget it.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Fern said, helping Chuffy up. “I just stood here like both of you.”

  Footsteps echoed down the hallway. The doctor in the white coat they had met earlier ran toward them, along with four men just like him. They stopped short of the destruction on the floor of the hallway. It now looked as if a tornado had rolled through the end of the Preserve. Gathering around it, they all peered up at the large hole in the ceiling.

  “What an utter mess,” one of them said.

  “What happened here?” one of them yelled to Chuffy.

  “The heck. It escaped.”

  “Are any of you hurt?”

  “No, sir,” Chuffy responded.

  “How is that possible?” one doctor said to the other softly, but loudly enough that Sam and Fern could hear. “No one survives in the path of an angry heck.” He whistled to himself. The five men stared at Fern. She stared back.

  “We need to get this patched up immediately or we’ll have a hallway filled with crazed goblins and werewolves,” one of the men said. “Someone must have left the hatch open. I bet it climbed right into the ventilation system, the clever thing.”

  “Why don’t you get these children out of here?” the original white-coated man yelled to Chuffy.

  “Yes, sir, of course.” His voice trembled slightly.

  Sam and Fern didn’t even glance beyond the plate glass at the Preserve as they followed Chuffy out. They would have been satisfied if they never laid eyes on another goblin or giant again. Fern felt lost, confronted by another part of herself she couldn’t understand. Deep in thought, she fell behind Chuffy and Sam. It wasn’t long before she realized she was behind the group. Fern quickened her steps, still wondering what, exactly, the heck had seen in her eyes that she herself couldn’t see. Terrified as she walked along the tiled hallway, Fern hoped she could avoid looking in the direction of the glass wall and into the Preserve so as not to wake any of the other slumbering beasts.

  Chapter 18

  the bait

  “You’re famous,” Sam said, lying on his back with his hands under his head.

  “Quit being an idiot,” Fern said from the lower bunk.

  “Everyone in the cafeteria was staring at you.”

  “They were staring at you, to
o. They probably heard about the heck attack.”

  “They weren’t just staring at you. They were . . . admiring you. Like you were Santa Claus.”

  “What does that make you then?” Fern said.

  “Rudolph, I guess.”

  “Oh, shut up, Sam,” Fern said, unable to fully contain her laughter.

  “Hey, do you think I could special order one of those detector things from the lab?” Sam said, referring to their afternoon visit to the World Association for the Advancement of Vampire Equipment (W.A.A.V.E) laboratory. “I’d love to know who at St. Gregory’s is a vampire. I bet you a million bucks that Mooney is.”

  “Don’t insult my kind,” Fern shot back.

  “Can you believe Mr. Kimble’s run-in with that Millie woman?” Sam said.

  “I know! She totally hated him. I bet he dumped her.” Fern paused. “I can’t imagine him touching anyone, let alone dating someone.”

  “Vampires need to be loved too, Fern,” Sam said, bursting into laughter.

  “You think you’re sooo funny, Sam,” Fern said, pretending to be upset but unable to stop herself from laughing right along with her brother.

  Although their mood was jovial, the fear and uncertainty of their circumstances lurked less than an inch below the jokes. After the hilarity died down, Sam spoke up.

  “Fern, do you think someone here wants to kill you?”

  “What?”

  “I mean someone at New Tartarus.”

  “I’m here because people up there want to kill me, Sam,” Fern said, pointing to the ceiling.

  “That man in the white coat said that someone ‘left the hatch open.’ You’re telling me with all the technology and stuff they have here, someone did something like that by accident?” Sam said.

  “They’re trying to help me here,” Fern said. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that no one in this whole mess was on her side—that maybe Vlad was more right than she wanted to admit.

  The mood had changed from breezy to broody.

  The starkness of their quarters didn’t help matters. Chuffy had deposited them here at the end of their long day. Their makeshift bedroom was three doors down from the chief’s office. It was a plain square room, with wood floors, bunk beds, and a sink. The sheets were overstarched and the place smelled like wet paint. Chuffy explained that since Kenneth Quagmire had become chief, there were actually very few places to lodge for the night at New Tartarus, namely because people were not encouraged to stay there for more than twenty-four hours. Otherworldlies, Chuffy went on, were meant to live aboveground just as Normals did. He then bade them good night, telling them they had provided him with a joyous day. Chuffy, Sam and Fern decided, was all right by them.

  Sam shifted in the bed above Fern until he was able to grip the edge and hang his head upside down. His fine blond hair hung down like it had been victimized by static electricity.

  “Hey there,” Sam said, now looking at his sister.

  “If you keep your head upside down like that, you’re going to get a blood clot in your brain,” Fern said.

  “What do you think is going on with the chief and Mr. Kimble?” Sam said, his tone suddenly serious.

  “Huh?” Fern said, yawning.

  “This morning. Didn’t you see it? They were acting like they hate each other,” Sam said, his face turning red from the rush of blood.

  “Maybe Mr. Kimble doesn’t like taking orders from Chief Quagmire,” Fern posited.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like Chief Quagmire. He’s a phony. Nobody’s that nice.”

  “Eddie’s that nice,” Fern said.

  “Eddie doesn’t count. He’s an alien,” Sam said.

  “At least he’s not a vampire.”

  “Oh, you know what I mean. Eddie’s just different. He’s in the clouds most of the time. It’s probably not a bad place to be.”

  Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Fern and Sam, both conditioned by the roving night presence of the Commander, quieted down instinctively. There was a knock on the door.

  Sam jumped down from the top bunk. He opened the door.

  Chuffy, wearing white satin pajamas and a long green nightcap that looked like a large sock, stood in the doorway.

  “Young lady, young sir, may I come in?” Chuffy questioned meekly. In his pajamas and nightcap, he looked like he’d escaped from the Sunset Manor Retirement Home and had lost his way.

  “Of course, Chuffy,” Sam said, ushering him in and closing the door behind him.

  Chuffy collapsed in the chair against the far wall of the room. Within seconds, he was sniveling and sniffing, blotting the tears flowing from his eyes with his satin sleeve.

  “Chuffy?” Fern said, getting out of bed. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m . . . I’m . . .” Chuffy breathed in deeply. His lip quivered violently. “I’m deeply sorry, young sir and young lady!” he cried out. “I had to bring you to the Preserve! But I failed both of you!”

  “Don’t say that, Chuffy,” Fern said, having nothing but warm feelings for the old man. “You were a great tour guide, and you had no way of knowing that would happen.”

  Chuffy looked up, his eyes full of appreciation.

  “You look so much like her,” he said to Fern. “You are her spitting image.”

  “Who?” Fern asked.

  “I do not believe . . . I do not believe Mr. Kenneth meant to injure you, but if I had known his plan, I never would have taken you there!” Chuffy said as sobs violently escaped between words. “He meant to test you. Please do not let anyone know that I have told you such things.”

  “Of course, Chuffy. You can trust us. Was Mr. Kenneth the one who let the heck escape?”

  “I . . . would . . . never . . . hurt you. I . . . will not . . . let such a thing . . . happen again,” Chuffy sputtered. “I . . . will . . . do . . . whatever I can . . . to . . . help.”

  “We know it’s not your fault,” Fern said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Chuffy, can I ask you a question?”

  “Anything you wish, young lady.”

  “When Chief Quagmire threatened to ‘send you back,’ what did he mean?”

  “The Reformatory,” Chuffy said in a quiet voice. “It is the most awful place in existence. It is where deficient Otherworldlies are sent.”

  “Why are you so loyal to Mr. Kenneth? You could live somewhere else and not be at his mercy,” Sam said. “You know that, right?”

  “Mr. Kenneth saved me from my evil ways—from a depraved existence—and he rescued me from the Reformatory,” Chuffy said. “I am nothing without . . . his help.” Chuffy looked up and wiped his eyes once more. They glimmered in the fluorescent light. “But this time . . . he has gone too far.” Anger replaced sorrow. “I will not rest until I have repaid you in some way.” The room grew quiet.

  Footsteps echoed in the hallway once more. Two voices accompanied the footsteps. Chuffy’s eyes widened as he put his finger to his lips.

  The voices grew louder.

  “Who is it?” Sam whispered.

  “It’s Mr. Kimble and Chief Quagmire,” Fern whispered back.

  “What are they still doing here?” Chuffy said softly. “No one is to stay overnight.”

  “Can you hear what they’re saying?” Sam whispered.

  The voices grew distant as Fern honed in on them. A door slammed shut. The voices and footsteps were gone.

  “I must go!” Chuffy said, getting up hurriedly. “If I am caught here, oh dear! It will be bad,” he said. “Very, very, very bad for us all!” He shuffled toward the door and opened it. “Don’t pay too much mind to a foolish old creature and his musings,” he said as if he were a broken record.

  “Good night, young sir and young lady.”

  As soon as he was gone, Sam jumped to Fern. “Focus, Fern. See if you can hear them!”

  “I’ll try,” she said. “But I can usually only hear people who are talking about me.”

  Fern was in luck, for at that moment, Kenneth
Quagmire and Alistair Kimble were doing exactly that.

  Chief Quagmire, though capable of great charm and gregariousness, was speaking with a gruffness Fern had not heard before.

  “If we wait, the problem becomes more serious,” Quagmire said, his voice dripping with authority.

  “We haven’t used all our resources to explore other possibilities,” Mr. Kimble said, his voice reaching new heights of volume.

  “Listen to me, Alistair. Vlad is out there, and we’re no closer to figuring out what his plan is than we’ve ever been.”

  “Our failing has nothing to do with Fern McAllister,” Mr. Kimble insisted.

  “It has everything to do with Fern McAllister. Right now she is our only link to Vlad and the Hundred-Handers,” Quagmire said harshly. “We have reliable sources telling us that Vlad has someone from the Legion watching her. If she disappears for a week, it will raise suspicion that something is out of the ordinary.”

  “Even when you were convinced that she was another false case—that there was no way Phoebe Merriam produced an Unusual—you wanted her down here for safekeeping. Now you believe she is an Unusual and you want to release her?” Mr. Kimble said, his voice full of accusation.

  “Things have changed,” Quagmire said with a surly tone.

  “Have they changed because you found out she can tame a hecatonchire?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Quagmire said disdainfully.

  “Must I spell it out for you? There’s only one person who could have let that hecatonchire out of the Preserve: you.”

  “I’d be very careful about making wild accusations like that, Alistair,” Chief Quagmire said. Fern heard two hands hit the table. “You must calm down.”

  “Fine,” Mr. Kimble said. Fern could tell he was holding back anger.

  “What happened today was unfortunate,” the chief began. “I’ll find those responsible for the security breach and have them held accountable. But, yes, some good did come of it. No one has been able to fake the ability to tame a heck. Fern’s status as an Unusual is a certainty, we know that now. The fact of the matter is, she can’t stay here any longer. She and the boy have been enough of a disturbance as it is. I can’t imagine they’re entirely happy themselves, being shoved down here with no place to go.”