by Sam Fisher
Quite suddenly his face was wet with hot, angry tears. It took him a moment to realize he was crying. He hadn’t cried in so long that he’d forgotten what it felt like. In fact, he’d pretty much convinced himself he was no longer capable of crying. But now that the floodgates were opened, he felt as if he’d never be able to stop. His chest heaved and his hands trembled as giant sobs wracked his body. This was the end, he thought. James would turn into a monster and join the Zombie Twins, and he’d be left utterly alone in the world, trapped forever in a mound of decomposing slime.
That’s when someone put their hands under his elbows, dragged him back to the spongy surface, and pulled him into a tight hug. It was Melissa. Morton had momentarily forgotten that she was even there. But realizing that it was her only made him more confused. Melissa never hugged him, ever. But even as he thought this, he had a sudden flash of memory of a time when they were much younger and Melissa had carried him about the house and pushed him around in his stroller. There had been a time when she always hugged him, and Morton realized that he’d missed that feeling so much. Even sitting here in the stench of old soup and chicken bones, Melissa’s protective arms around him made him feel safe in a way that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Morton gave into it and continued to sob. He sobbed until he felt as if his entire chest were empty and there was nothing left inside, but Melissa continued to hold on to him. At one point he realized that she too was crying, silently, rocking him back and forth, and the two of them sat there until the sun had dropped completely below the horizon and real darkness swallowed the sky.
“I’m so stupid!” Morton said at last, feeling utterly forlorn and hollow. “It’s all my fault. I feel like burning my stupid comics.”
Melissa wiped her own eyes. “It’s nothing to do with your comics, Morton. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”
This was the last thing he’d expected Melissa to say.
“You only wished for a closet. How does that make any of this your fault?”
“James was angry when he made that wish, and I made him angry, so it’s my fault. I’ll never forgive myself for what I said to him.”
Morton cast his mind back to that fateful day. Melissa had goaded James about being a mummy’s boy for as long as Morton could remember. He knew it had just become a habit and had been a slip of the tongue, nothing more.
“I know you didn’t mean it,” Morton said.
“I did and I didn’t,” Melissa said. “I was always so jealous of James because I thought he was Mum’s favorite. I see now Mum didn’t have favorites. She just made sure we all got what we needed, and James needed her more than we did. I realize that now. She always told us you were the toughest one, you know.”
Morton looked up at Melissa in complete surprise. “Mum said that about me?”
Melissa nodded. “‘Don’t worry about Morton,’ she used to say. ‘He’s got the courage of a lion and the wisdom of an owl. He’s tougher than the rest of us put together. You’ll see.’”
Morton could hardly believe what he was hearing. He didn’t feel tough. He’d never felt tough.
“But that’s not true,” Morton said. “I just spent the last nine months reading Scare Scape trying to avoid everything. That’s not being tough at all.”
“You might not see it yet, but Mum was right,” Melissa said. “That’s why James and I are banking on you to get us out of this mess.”
“Me?” Morton said, even more shocked than before. “Why me?”
“I’d have thought that was obvious. You’re a natural at all of this. You’re not afraid of the dark or the monsters, you never panic and, well, you know this stuff like the back of your hand.”
“But James is the smart one,” Morton said. “I’m just —”
“Oh, James is just like Dad. He can solve any complex math problem, but don’t ask him to hang a shelf or, heaven forbid, change the batteries in the smoke alarm. No, James is the wrong kind of smart. If anyone can get us out of this, it’s you.”
Morton swallowed hard and wiped the last of the tears from his face. It had never for one moment occurred to him that James and Melissa were looking to him to find a way out of this mess, and he almost wished Melissa hadn’t told him. He wasn’t at all sure he could live up to their expectations.
Melissa stood up and pulled Morton back to his feet. “Don’t worry,” she said, looking him directly in the eye. “I know Mum was right about you, even if you don’t. Now come on, let’s get this food back to James before he eats Wendy’s liver.”
Morton should have guessed something was wrong when James came down to breakfast the next morning wearing sunglasses.
“Cool, don’t you think?” he said, bounding up onto a chair and doing an odd little dance.
“The word cool does not spring to mind,” Melissa said. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Never better,” James replied. “I slept so well last night I feel like a whole new person.”
“Is that because of the charcoal?” Melissa asked, casting a sideways glance at Morton.
Morton nodded. When they had returned to the house the previous night to give James the scavenged food, James had already eaten an entire bag of barbecue coals and was in much better spirits. The coal was definitely helping, but Morton now wondered if it was possible to have too much of a good thing.
“It’s amazing,” James said. “I feel … I feel like I could leap to the top of the house.”
“Please don’t,” Melissa groaned. “It might attract attention.”
James jumped off the chair and began eating cereal straight from the box. “Well, no, not literally. But I do feel like … I feel like singing. You know, I actually have a pretty good singing voice.”
Melissa and Morton gaped blankly at each other.
Fortunately Dad bustled in with a pan of scrambled eggs before James had a chance to demonstrate.
“James, take those ridiculous sunglasses off,” he said.
“Sorry, Pops. It’s the new me,” James said with a mock swagger.
“The new you, is it?” Dad said. “I don’t know; growing like a string bean, losing your appetite for mashed potatoes, and now making wayward fashion choices. I think I preferred the old you.”
“The world turns, the sun burns,” James said incongruously.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Dad asked, moving closer to him. “You know, you don’t seem to have ever recovered from that stomach flu. And your skin looks paler than ever.”
James waved his hands dismissively. “Dad, take a chill pill,” he said. “I’m just fine.”
Dad sighed, shook his head, and began serving the eggs, although Morton could almost hear the gears turning in his brain and wondered how much longer they could keep him in the dark.
Half an hour later, as Melissa and the boys parted company at the end of the driveway, Melissa leaned in close to Morton and whispered in his ear. “Maybe we should cut down on the coal next time,” she said. “It’s making him weird.”
Morton nodded in agreement.
For the rest of the day James continued to wear his sunglasses. Morton approached him at lunchtime and suggested that he take them off, pointing out that the other kids might think it strange. James insisted that he was starting a new trend and said Morton was too young to understand.
By afternoon recess Morton was starting to get really worried. He met up with Robbie at the lockers in the main hallway and told him about James’s increasingly odd behavior. “There’s something wrong with him,” he said.
“You mean, something more than the fact that he’s turning into a Snarf?” Robbie asked, genuinely confused.
“Well, maybe not,” Morton went on, “but he won’t take those sunglasses off.”
Robbie scratched his ear, clearly not understanding.
“The Snarf is nocturnal,” Morton explained. “It can see in total darkness, but bright light blinds it. I think daylight hurts James’s eyes now.”
“So did I,” Morton sighed. “Something’s not right.”
“Morton! Morton!” Timothy Clarke yelled, appearing suddenly at the end of the hallway pushing his way through the crowd. The urgency in Timmy’s voice made Morton’s mind leap immediately to James. Had something happened already?
“What is it?” Morton gasped as Timmy approached.
Timmy was out of breath and stood panting for a moment. “It’s, it’s …”
“What?” Morton snapped, grabbing Timmy’s shoulders in panic.
Timmy looked up, momentarily confused, and then handed him a large canvas bag. “It’s my Scare Scape toys,” he said. “I finally got them in the mail. I ordered them from the back pages of the comic, just like you told me to.”
Morton sighed with relief. He’d completely forgotten that he had shown Timmy how to order his own toys and even helped him fill out the form.
“They’re totally cool!” Timmy was saying. “Take a look.”
Morton opened the bag and pulled out each of the toys in turn. There was a large purple Hydra Snake, two King-Crab Spiders, and several Two-Headed Mutant Rodents. It was strange to see them in their primitive plastic form again now that he’d had so many face-to-face encounters with the real things.
“Oh, that’s great,” Morton said, pretending to be enthusiastic, but in fact still recovering from the rush of fear that had consumed him.
“So, when can I come over?” Timmy said, still bouncing with enthusiasm.
“Huh?”
“You said you’d invite me over to see your collection when mine arrived, remember?”
Morton grimaced. He’d forgotten that too. But how was he going to break it to him that he didn’t exactly have a collection anymore?
“You know what,” he said, “Dad’s renovating, so I had to pack them away.”
Timmy’s face dropped. “Oh. I really wanted to see your Zombie Twins. They’re like super rare collector’s items now. Maybe you could bring them to school?”
Morton held the bag out to give it back to Timmy and was wondering if he could order some new Zombie Twins to get Timmy off his back when the bag began wriggling in his hands. Timmy, who had just reached up to take it from him, froze in midaction. His eyes widened incredulously, and he looked back and forth between the bag and Morton. The bag jerked suddenly in Morton’s hand, and he dropped it to the polished tile floor where it quickly started to swell. Timmy stumbled fearfully away. With incredible speed the bag swelled to twice its size and the stitched seams split open and, almost before Morton could draw a breath, several snarling creatures burst free of the now completely shredded canvas.
Morton gasped, and somewhere behind him several kids started screaming. Robbie’s eyes widened until they looked like they might fall right out of his head.
The monsters paused, looking hungrily around at the densely packed corridor of now terrified but fascinated students.
Fortunately Morton managed to recover from the shock before the creatures had time to act. He whipped off his jacket, threw it over one of the King-Crab Spiders, and tied the sleeves together. Robbie followed suit and attempted to do the same thing with the other Spider, but one of the Mutant Rodents raced forward and sank both sets of its teeth into his ankle. Robbie let out a scream. Suddenly James appeared from the crowd, still wearing his sunglasses, and snatched a baseball bat from the hands of a nearby seventh grader. In one swift motion, he squashed the Two-Headed Mutant Rodent. Its two heads squealed in a final chorus of high-pitched agony. Robbie fell to the floor clutching his injured ankle.
Morton meanwhile realized that the Hydra Snake was slithering down the hall, heading directly for a small blond-haired girl who stood paralyzed with fear, staring at the impossible sight before her.
“Willow!” Morton cried. But Willow didn’t even seem to hear him.
He broke into a run. Robbie started yelling, but Morton could hear nothing over the pulsing of blood in his own ears. The snake was practically on top of Willow now, less than a foot away. Morton threw himself toward the snake and slid on his belly, managing to snatch the creature by its tail a mere millisecond before it sank its venomous fangs into the still-paralyzed Willow. Four hissing heads turned immediately on him, but he threw the snake hard up at the wall where it landed, dazed, on top of the row of lockers.
Morton then realized what Robbie was yelling about. The first King-Crab Spider had somehow wriggled free of the jacket, and he and James were now desperately swatting at two Spiders in an attempt to keep them at bay. Morton sprinted back and kicked one of the Spiders, sending it spiraling twenty feet down the hall. The spider hit the floor, bounced, rolled, and then quickly got back to its feet. The group of kids cowering at the far end of the hall screamed and scattered like frightened ants. At the same time, the Hydra Snake recovered from Morton’s attack and began hissing at a clutch of children huddled below, while the remaining Two-Headed Mutant Rodents were still busily snapping at ankles all over the hall. Morton’s heart sank to his stomach at the sight of the chaos spreading like wildfire all around him.
But then something unexpected happened. An intense, high-pitched whistle filled the crowded corridor. Every single student clutched their ears painfully.
Suddenly, eyes glowing like red-hot embers, hoods pulled up around their bony white faces, the Zombie Twins floated in through an open window. Yet another outbreak of screams pealed through the school. Simon Bean broke away from somewhere in the crowd of terrified children and began pointing in excitement.
“That’s them! Look! They’re the ones who stole my cat!”
“The Zombie Twins,” a dazed and bemused Timmy Clarke murmured, emerging from his locker where he had apparently been hiding the whole time.
The Hydra Snake slithered along the top of the lockers as if answering a call from the Twins and threw itself out of the window. Immediately afterward both King-Crab Spiders turned, ran along the corridor, skittered up the wall, and crawled out through the same narrow opening, accompanied by the surviving Mutant Rodents. A moment later the Zombie Twins drifted back through the window and dropped out of sight.
An eerie, shocked silence filled the corridor.
Morton made his way over to the still motionless Willow. “Are you all right?” he asked, panting.
Willow nodded.
An instant later the entire school flooded in around them, jabbering excitedly.
“You saved her life,” one tall girl said admiringly.
“Those Zombie Twins were cool,” Timmy was saying.
“That’s Morton,” a first grader whispered in awe. “His brother beat up Brad.”
It was then that Morton noticed Brad in the crowd. He had a large white bandage around his right hand that would have made him appear comical had it not been for the murderous expression on his face. He stared silently with cold, unblinking eyes, while everyone else chattered in nervous excitement around him.
Morton was beginning to feel dizzy when the sound of clicking heels echoed down the hall. Principal Finch and several other teachers were running toward the huddle of students. Mr. Brown limped along behind them.
“Just what exactly is going on here?” Finch demanded.
Morton realized with a sense of panic that everyone was standing facing James, Robbie, and himself. Finch pushed through the crowd and stepped toward them. “Well, explain yourselves,” he said, looking directly at James.
“Sir?” James said innocently.
“Take those ridiculous sunglasses off when talking to me, Clay,” he snapped.
James didn’t move at first, but Finch stared him down until he had no choice. He drew them slowly away from his face. Practically every kid in the school let out a loud gasp. The whites of James’s eyes were a vivid green — almost, Morton thought, the shade of mint ice cream.
James squinted painfully. So Morton had been right. Daylight hurt his eyes.
&nbs
p; A look of confused suspicion crossed Finch’s face.
“What the devil … ?” he began, but quite suddenly Mr. Brown appeared from behind James and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“James has a rare form of jaundice,” he explained, returning the glasses to his face. “He’s not to remove his glasses. I have a doctor’s note in my office if you wish to see it.”
“When did this happen?” Finch snapped suspiciously.
“Actually, he’s had it for several weeks, but the symptoms only flare up from time to time,” Brown said evenly. “No doubt the stress of recent events is a contributing factor.”
Finch did not seem convinced, but neither did he pursue the issue. “In any case, how do you explain all of this?” he said, gesturing to the chaos in the hallway.
The boys stood mutely. They couldn’t really have explained it even if they’d wanted to.
“I think this might shed some light on the matter,” came a voice from behind Morton.
Morton turned to see Mr. Noble, the biology teacher, peering over his spectacles at the limp remains of a squashed rat. “This rat seems to have two heads.”
Mrs. Wallis, the art teacher, clapped her hand to her mouth and let out a muffled yelp, and the other teachers all began to mutter among themselves.
“It must be some kind of mutant strain,” Noble went on with an excited glint in his eye. “This could be the scientific discovery of a lifetime!”
Principal Finch did not share in Mr. Noble’s optimism. “More like the health hazard of the century,” he said bitterly. “Are you sure it’s real?”