Scare Scape

by Sam Fisher

  Melissa pulled off her headphones and glasses. “We need to block up the hole before something bigger gets out.”

  James and Morton began to search the house. Morton ran around aimlessly and found himself in Melissa’s room. The only thing he could see was a collection of dolls perched on the back of her dresser. There were three of them — two smaller, slender dolls and one oversize baby doll with fat arms and a grotesquely large head. These were, Morton knew, the only remnants of a childhood Melissa now pretended she hadn’t had. He grabbed the larger doll and, without really thinking about it, pulled its head clean off. He ran out to Melissa in the hall, brandishing the find. Melissa snatched the pink hairy lump of plastic and was about to stick it in the hole when she recognized it. Morton braced himself for an explosive outburst, but to his surprise she just blinked at the object.

  “Oh. That used to be Mandy,” she said. A wave of sadness washed momentarily over her face and then was gone. A grim resolve returned, and she stuffed the perfectly sized stump of Mandy’s neck into the hole.

  “Now, no more arguments,” James said. “It goes in the closet.”

  Melissa snorted angrily through her nose. “Fine!” she said.

  Morton breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed one of the thick leather handles, and began pulling the trunk back toward Melissa’s bedroom. Melissa reluctantly joined in and pushed from the other side.

  They slowed as they approached Melissa’s closet.

  “Hold on,” she said. “I’ll open the door, just, uh, just make sure you don’t faint.”

  James made a scoffing noise and reached for the door.

  “No, seriously,” Melissa said. “I fainted the first time.”

  James and Melissa exchanged glances and James stepped aside to let her open the door. Morton took several deep breaths. He had no idea what to expect. Very slowly Melissa pulled the door open and allowed them to peer inside. At first Morton couldn’t understand what he was seeing. It was like looking at an optical illusion, or one of those three-dimensional drawings. But then reality came into abrupt focus. What he saw was not so much a closet but an artificial landscape. An immense chamber opened out and stretched off into the distance as far as his eyes could see. The entire space was crowded with racks and shelves and thousands upon thousands of hangers all stocked with brand-new clothing. It was like some surreal department store, arranged in narrow, impossibly long, corridors. Racks of dresses, shirts, skirts, pants, shoes, underwear, coats, and, off in the middle distance, endless displays of purses and accessories went on forever. Morton felt his head spinning. James obviously felt something similar because he grabbed on to Morton’s shoulder for support. “How … how big is it?” he stammered.

  “I don’t know,” Melissa said. “I walked as far as I could and turned back after half an hour.”

  “You found this half an hour ago?” James exclaimed.

  “Almost an hour ago, actually. But it’s harmless, right?” Melissa said in a pleading sort of way. “I mean, it’s just clothes.”

  James shook his head. “I don’t think it’s going to be that simple. Morton didn’t wish for his toys to come alive, did he? He wished for them to be more realistic. Obviously this magic twists things.”

  Melissa looked at Morton questioningly, as if he were some kind of expert. Morton just shook his head. He might have spent hundreds of hours reading horror comics and stories about dark magic, but this was completely different. This was the real thing. “Maybe,” Morton said. “I mean, the magic didn’t work until tonight, so I’m guessing that’s because of the full moon.”

  “What does that mean?” Melissa said.

  “Well, according to the stories I’ve read, it means the magic is very old, from a time when people worshipped the moon and the stars.”

  “Does that make it dark magic?”

  “It usually involves some kind of human or animal sacrifice, so I guess you’d call that dark magic.”

  Morton and Melissa glanced involuntarily at James. They’d both obviously just had the same thought. What exactly was still in store from James’s wish?

  “Come on,” James said, turning away from them. “Let’s get rid of this thing.”

  “Where exactly are we going to put it?” Morton asked, looking at the vast wilderness of clothing ahead of him.

  “As far from the door as we can,” Melissa said. “I don’t want them chewing their way back into my bedroom.”

  “Good point,” Morton said.

  They pushed the trunk into the closet and continued pushing for at least twenty minutes. Morton was the first to slow down. The fatigue of the night’s events was finally getting to him. His whole body began to tremble. “I can’t … I can’t go any farther,” he said.

  Melissa and James stood up and stretched their aching backs. James looked around at the hundreds of aisles leading off in all directions like paths in an infinitely complex maze.

  “You could get lost in here,” James said.

  “Easily,” Melissa said. “You better follow me out.”

  Back in Melissa’s room they moved Melissa’s dresser up against the closet door to make doubly sure nothing escaped, and then they all flopped on her bed utterly exhausted.

  “We’ll have to do a search of the house,” Morton said.

  “What, for the Zombie Twins?” James asked.

  “No. They’ll be gone for sure.”

  “What exactly is the deal with these Zombie Twins?” Melissa asked.

  “Most of the monsters are just like any other animal,” Morton explained. “They’re pretty much just interested in eating things. But the Zombie Twins are a lot more intelligent and they can control animals using psychic powers.”

  “You mean monsters, or animals?” James asked.

  “There’s no difference. They’ll control whatever suits their purpose.”

  “So they’re out there right now controlling the monsters that got away?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what Dad’s going to say,” James said.

  “We’re not telling Dad!” Melissa said vehemently. “In fact, we’re not telling anybody.”

  “Oh, and why is that?” James said. “I suppose you want to keep your infinite supply of clothing all to yourself.”

  “That’s not it at all,” Melissa said. “Well, not entirely anyway. Think about it. Here we are, barely in town for a week and already we’ve unleashed a plague of unimaginably hideous monsters. How do you suppose the locals are going to react to that? For all you know they’ll lynch us or burn us at the stake for witchcraft.”

  “I’m with Melissa,” Morton said. “What would Dad think if he knew what I’d wished for?”

  “He already knows you’re crazy,” Melissa said flatly.

  “Melissa!” James said. “That’s not fair.”

  “The truth is never fair,” she said unapologetically.

  Morton swallowed hard. How could he argue with her? Would any sane person really have made the wish he did?

  James sighed heavily. “Look,” he said. “It’s getting late. We’ll agree not to say anything to anyone for now. But that means we’ll have to clean up and, like Morton says, do a thorough search of the house for stray monsters.”

  To Morton’s surprise Melissa agreed without so much as a breath of argument. No doubt she was as tired as he was.

  For the next two hours they scoured every inch of the house, checking each and every shadowy corner and dark place. Morton found a few Flesh-Eating Slugs, which were easily disposed of down the toilet, and James had a near fatal encounter with the deadly Kamikaze Cobra, which explodes when cornered. Fortunately Morton came to the rescue and easily outwitted it by shaking a bag of rice to charm it and then chopped its head off with a meat cleaver before it could self-destruct. Aside from that, the house was all clear.

  “Well, look on the bright side,” James said as they stood in the living room. “Things can’t get any worse, can they?”<
br />
  Morton didn’t say anything. He was thinking about the verse that had been carved into the gargoyle. “Selfish thoughts you must banish,” it had said. He realized with a sinking feeling that both he and Melissa had made utterly selfish and vain wishes. If the stories he’d read in Scare Scape were anything to go by, then that sort of behavior usually spelled disaster. Things probably were going to get worse, he thought. A lot worse.

  Morton awoke to the sounds of Dad and Melissa talking downstairs. Wearily he dragged himself out of bed and fumbled into his clothes, buttoning his shirt crookedly twice before getting it right. His whole body ached from the struggles of the night before, and his head felt as if it were full of sawdust.

  When he arrived at breakfast he learned that Dad had returned to find all the lights on and Melissa fast asleep on the couch. She claimed to have fallen asleep doing homework.

  “What happened to your promise about lights out by nine?” Dad was saying as Morton sat down and helped himself to cereal.

  “Dad, you didn’t literally mean turn the lights out, did you?” Melissa said. “You just meant go to sleep. It just so happens I went to sleep on the couch — with all the lights on.”

  “She was doing her homework,” Morton said, coming to her defense.

  Dad looked suspiciously back and forth between Morton and Melissa.

  At that moment James appeared at the door, his face deathly white with heavy black shadows under his eyes.

  “Good morning,” Dad said. “You look a little pale. Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” James replied, “but I can’t find any clean socks.”

  “Oh yes. Sorry about that,” Dad said. “I seem to have broken the washing machine. Too much soap I think. You can borrow a pair of mine if you like.”

  “Uh, no, thanks,” James said. “I’ll just wear an old pair.”

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” Dad went on. “I’ll drop the laundry off at Mrs. Smedley’s this afternoon. She said she’d help out if we needed anything.”

  “What?” Melissa said, her eyes widening with horror. “You can’t give our dirty laundry to some old bat we haven’t even met.”

  “Please don’t call her an ‘old bat,’” Dad said in a reprimanding tone. “It’s not polite. And anyway, I really don’t understand why you have a problem with it.”

  “Well, it’s … it’s just not right is it? It’s personal,” Melissa stammered.

  “I don’t see what’s personal about James’s smelly socks,” Dad said.

  “Melissa means we should be doing our own laundry,” Morton interjected.

  Dad frowned. “I don’t think Melissa even knows what a washing machine looks like.”

  “Of course I do,” she snapped. “It’s that white thing next to the oven.”

  “That’s actually the dishwasher,” Dad said, “but kudos for trying.”

  Melissa growled. “Well, anyway, Morton’s right. It’s not fair to ask that old … uh, nice old lady to do our laundry. From now on we’ll do our own, even if we have to take it to the Laundromat.”

  Dad looked taken aback. “Well, that would be a big help. If you’re sure …”

  “We are,” Melissa stated firmly.

  “We are?” James said, still looking sleepy and confused.

  “Very well, we’ll see how it goes,” Dad said, and he sat down to join them for breakfast.

  At exactly eight thirty, the three kids sauntered off down the driveway together, smiling and waving to Dad as if everything were absolutely normal.

  “What was all that about?” James said once they were out of earshot. “I don’t want to do my own laundry.”

  “Oh, never mind that now,” Melissa replied. “We’ve got more important things to worry about, like keeping an eye out for stray monsters.”

  “That’s right,” Morton said. “Especially the Zombie Twins.”

  “I don’t even know what the Zombie Twins look like,” Melissa said.

  “They’re really short, like about up to my knees,” Morton said. “They have white skull faces with glowing red eyes and they always wear long brown cloaks, so you can’t see their feet. Actually, I don’t think they even have feet, they just kind of hover.”

  “Cute!” Melissa said. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  As they reached the end of the driveway, Morton spotted Wendy waiting on the street. She waved eagerly when she saw them.

  “Good morning!” she called.

  “If we’re going to be friends,” Melissa said, approaching Wendy, “there’s one thing you have to learn: There’s no such thing as a good morning, and that’s doubly true today.”

  “Hi, James. Hi, Morton,” Wendy said with a glowing smile.

  James suddenly began straightening his unruly hair with his hands. “Uh, hi,” he said in an unusually high-pitched voice.

  Morton grabbed James by the elbow and dragged him off toward school. He seemed to be acting very strangely.

  First period was biology again with Mr. Noble. Morton spotted Robbie sitting at one of the long tables near the back and went over to join him.

  “Are you okay?” Robbie asked as Morton approached.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

  “Oh, uh, I was just lying awake thinking about stuff, I guess.”

  “Well, I know how that is. I lie awake at night all the time. Especially when —”

  “Okay, everybody, settle down,” Mr. Noble cut in. “Today we have a fun assignment.”

  Mr. Noble produced a large Styrofoam cooler box and placed it on the desk dramatically. “Today,” he continued, “everybody gets to dissect a cow’s eyeball.”

  The class suddenly erupted into a peal of shouts, both of excitement and revulsion. Cries of “Ew!” and “Gross!” were perfectly balanced by calls of “Cool!” and “Awesome!”

  “Oh, great,” Morton said. “That’s all I need this morning.”

  “What?” Robbie said in a surprised voice. “I thought you loved this stuff?”

  “Well, normally I would, but after last night … I mean, well, I’m just tired.”

  “Then this is perfect,” Robbie replied. “It will stop you from falling asleep. Trust me. It’s the classes where you have to listen to some teacher droning on that are the real killers.”

  “I suppose so,” Morton sighed, and it turned out that Robbie was right. For the next hour they had the best possible time slicing up the gelatinous cow eyes. Robbie proved to be a whiz with a scalpel, and of course Morton knew all the names for the various parts of the eyeball, like the retina, the cornea, and even the aqueous and the vitreous humors. Mr. Noble was so impressed that he gave them both top marks, even though they spent more time laughing and making silly squelching noises than anyone else.

  They were still laughing when they got to their lockers at lunchtime. Morton was stuffing his oversize biology textbook onto the top shelf of his locker when somebody slammed the door on his back so hard that he fell right inside. Mocking laughter echoed down the hallway. Morton struggled to his feet in time to see Brad, Sid, and Dave striding away from them making rude gestures.

  “Hey, Robbie,” Brad called. “Looks like your new buddy can’t stand up for himself.”

  Robbie made a rude gesture in return, but Brad had already turned his back.

  “Sorry about that,” Robbie said, picking up Morton’s books.

  “Why are you sorry?” Morton said. “It’s not your fault those guys are jerks.”

  “Yeah, but it’s me they hate. They’d leave you alone if you weren’t hanging out with me.”

  “Why do they pick on you anyway?” Morton asked.

  “They think I steal stuff,” Robbie said solemnly. “Everybody thinks I steal stuff.”

  Morton wasn’t really surprised to hear this. Robbie had a certain look about him. His clothes were wrinkled and his hands were always dirty, but Morton had read enough stories in
Scare Scape about kids from the wrong side of the tracks to know that you couldn’t tell anything about people from the way they dressed. According to what he’d read, it was all in the eyes.

  “Do you steal stuff?” Morton asked bluntly.

  “Of course not! But that doesn’t seem to matter. Every time anything gets stolen, like phones or watches or lunch money, Brad and the others go and tell Principal Finch. Every single time they say it was me, but I never stole anything, ever!”

  As Robbie said this he looked directly at Morton with a clear, steady gaze, and Morton decided then and there that he must be telling the truth.

  “Well, why don’t you tell the principal that they’re just trying to cause trouble?” Morton suggested.

  “You don’t know Finch,” Robbie scoffed. “All he cares about is how his school looks in the end-of-year report. ‘If someone files a complaint, I have to look into it,’ he always says. And then he calls my mom and, well, it makes a lot of trouble.”

  “That’s horrible,” Morton said.

  “That’s my life,” Robbie said, looking down at his feet. “You might as well know now that nobody trusts me in this school. So, you know, if you want to stop hanging out with me, I’ll understand.”

  Morton felt very sad and angry at the same time. “I’m not going to let some fuzzy-faced overgrown punk singer tell me who to be friends with,” he said defiantly. “In fact, I was going to ask if you wanted to come to our house for supper tonight.”

  “Really?” Robbie said, his face lighting up.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d like to see the inside of your house,” Robbie said, “but I can’t come for supper because I have to do chores. Maybe after supper? I could bring a pie. Mom bakes pies all the time.”

  “Sure,” Morton said. “Actually it’s probably safer that way. Dad’s cooking isn’t so great. It takes a while to get used to it.”

  “Your dad cooks?” Robbie asked in surprise.

  “If you can call it cooking,” Morton said. “I take it your dad never cooks, then?”

  Robbie’s light demeanor changed in an instant. His face went pale, and he just sort of shook his head.

  “Uh, my dad’s uh, not … He’s not …”