The Midnight Door

by Sam Fisher

  “Yeah, but she’s not very hopeful that he’ll want to help her.”

  Robbie made a little chuckling noise. “Oh, he’ll want to help her. Don’t worry about that.”

  Morton was surprised by Robbie’s response.

  “What makes you so sure?” he asked. “I mean, he hardly knows her. And I don’t think he likes her much. I’ve noticed he gets very nervous around her.”

  Robbie made a funny smile and winked at Morton. “You’re kidding, right?” he said.

  Morton didn’t think he was kidding about anything and stared back at Robbie with a blank expression.

  Robbie frowned. “Look, don’t worry about it. She’ll get Jake to find out. She can just — be nice to him.”

  “Nice!” Morton exclaimed. “You have met my sister, right? I mean, being nice is not exactly her specialty.”

  Robbie puffed his cheeks in frustration. “Well, she doesn’t really even have to be nice. She just sort of needs to smile at him and do that thing that girls do when they want boys to do something for them.”

  “Thing?” Morton said. “What thing?”

  For some reason Robbie started to look very uncomfortable. “It’s sort of like … Well, they kind of … Look, I don’t know how they do it, but they do it all the time.”

  “Do what?” Morton said, starting to feel exasperated.

  “The thing!” Robbie replied, sounding equally frustrated. “You know, they just sort of get you to do stuff for them even when you don’t want to. Like one time, I said I was going to sell a set of collectible cat’s-eye marbles to this girl in seventh grade and she made me give them to her for free.”

  “She did?” Morton exclaimed, utterly shocked by this revelation. “How did she do that?”

  “She just sort of …” Robbie’s face went suddenly very red and he trailed off. “Look, I can’t explain it,” he said under his breath. “You just have to trust me on this one.”

  Morton scratched his cheek. “So, it’s a bit like magic, then, this thing?”

  “Yes, I guess it is,” Robbie said.

  “And you think Melissa knows how to do it?”

  “Like I said, all girls can do it.”

  Morton lapsed into silence for a moment, trying to make sense of what Robbie was telling him, but then thought of another question.

  “What if Jake found out Melissa was doing the thing to him? Wouldn’t he get angry?”

  “No!” Robbie said, now clutching his head. “Even when boys know girls are doing it to them, they don’t care. And Melissa’s very pretty, so she’ll be really good at it.”

  Morton almost fell off his stool at these words. Were his ears deceiving him? He’d heard people say that Melissa was pretty before. Mum, of course, had always told her how beautiful she was, and the boys who used to hang around outside their old house in the city used to say nice things about her. But Morton had never taken it seriously. Melissa was just sort of skinny with a long, beaky nose and a funny pointy chin.

  “Did you just say Melissa was pretty?” he asked.

  Robbie squirmed in his seat and glanced away. “Yeah, kind of,” he said in an overly casual voice.

  “Pretty, like the way Julie Bashford is pretty?” Morton said.

  Robbie shot Morton a strange look. “Julie’s not pretty,” he said in a stiff tone of voice that Morton had never heard him use before.

  Morton scratched his head. “She’s not?”

  “No! She looks like an albino turtle.”

  “She does not look like an albino turtle!” Morton blurted out. Unfortunately at that very moment Mr. Noble was walking by, and he stopped at Morton’s desk and gave him a reprimanding stare.

  “Morton, not only did you arrive late but you’ve obviously been spending more time talking than working. Please be so kind as to visit me after class to receive extra homework,” he said, and then returned to the front of the class.

  Morton groaned inwardly and returned his attention to the diagram of a Venus flytrap he was supposed to be drawing. He and Robbie didn’t speak again for the rest of the class, which Morton was actually relieved about. Carnivorous plants, it seemed, were far simpler to understand than people.

  As soon as Mr. Noble’s class was over, Robbie told Morton that he had a quick meeting with Nolan in the music room and asked Morton to come and meet him there as soon as Mr. Noble let him go.

  Morton said he would and wandered to the front of the class to speak with his teacher. Mr. Noble didn’t seem to be in any hurry and made him wait a long time before he finally gave him a five-hundred-word essay on the evolutionary origins of carnivorous plants.

  “Five hundred words!” Morton gasped. “But that’s like a tenth-grade assignment.”

  Mr. Noble pulled open the top drawer of his desk and removed the lunch box that Morton had seen earlier while wearing the X-ray Specs. “It’s not like a tenth-grade assignment; it is a tenth-grade assignment. Hand it in to me this time next week,” he said.

  Morton stood for a moment longer, not quite sure what to say, but Mr. Noble simply opened up his lunch box and began placing its contents on his desk. Morton presumed he’d been dismissed and shuffled out of the room and went in search of Robbie. As he ventured up the stairs he lamented the fact that the last thing he needed right now was extra homework, but then, he could hardly complain. He had been talking in class. And at least the essay was a subject he was interested in.

  When Morton arrived at the music room the door was closed, so he sat on the bench across the hall to wait. The bench just happened to be directly opposite Nolan’s locker, which stood out from all of the others because it was papered from top to bottom with pictures and magazine cutouts of famous musicians.

  As Morton examined the images on the locker, which included everything from classical composers to modern pop singers, he noticed something colorful poking out from the bottom. It was the corner of a glossy page with very familiar lettering. Curious, he wandered over to get a closer look and confirmed his suspicion that it was an issue of Scare Scape. Morton thought this was very strange. As far as he knew, Nolan had no interest in anything that wasn’t strictly to do with music, so why would he have an issue of Scare Scape?

  A nervous twinge ran through Morton’s body. He hadn’t forgotten that when all the cats had gone missing, Nolan hadn’t believed the official explanation. He distinctly remembered him saying that he’d heard about the Zombie Twin sightings and even went so far as to say he thought something “bigger” was going on. Since then Morton had presumed that Nolan had lost interest in the subject, but now he was beginning to wonder if he’d been wrong about that.

  Morton looked again at the corner of the comic protruding from the bottom of the locker. Only the lettering for the title was visible, and it wasn’t quite possible to read the issue number. He crouched down and tugged gently on the edge. If he could inch it out a little farther … Quite suddenly the whole comic slipped right through the gap beneath the door and Morton found himself holding the tattered issue in his hands. At that very moment, the door to the music room burst open and Morton jumped to his feet, still holding the comic. Julie appeared in the doorway, but instead of coming out into the hall she stood there with her back to him.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t walk out this door and straight back to Scorch Harrison’s band?” she barked angrily.

  Nolan’s tired voice rang out from inside the room. “I will, if you’ll calm down,” he said.

  Julie turned, as if she intended to ignore Nolan’s request, but as she did so she spotted Morton staring directly at her and stopped in her tracks. She glanced down at the comic in his hand and then back up to his face. He felt a bead of sweat break out on his forehead, but fortunately she didn’t seem the least interested in the comic or where it had come from. “What are you doing here?” she said gruffly.

  “I … ,” Morton began, but Julie apparently wasn’t interested in his answer either, because she turned around again and s
tomped back into the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Morton breathed a small sigh of relief and was about to squat down to slip the comic back into Nolan’s locker when his eyes fell on the cover for the first time. This was a special collector’s edition of Scare Scape, called King’s Gold. The cover showed a man looking up at a tall crane that had just lifted a giant coffin from an equally giant hole in the lawn of an old stately home. Morton knew the image all too well. It was from the sequel to the original Wargle Snarf story. Could it be a mere coincidence that Nolan had a reprint of that particular story?

  Morton glanced quickly at the inside cover. There was a full-page illustration of what looked like a pirate’s treasure chest, but instead of gold and jewels, the chest was full of bones, maggots, and monsters. A short introduction was written beneath:

  Dare to lift the lid on this chest of ill-begotten plunder and you will find pestilence on every page, sin in every shadow, and death in every deed, for here are gathered a host of the darkest tales ever scribed by human hands. The grim, the ghastly, and the wantonly gory await you inside. But be warned, you will find no gleaming gems of wisdom, no silver threads of hope or gilded acts of kindness beyond this point. For this is not the gold of riches and wealth, but King’s Gold, a treasury of pure, raw terror.

  He then turned to the Snarf story closer to the back, just to be sure it was the same one. It was. The story was called “Return to the Wild Place” and followed the plight of a scientist who discovered a Snarf corpse and became infected by its poison-tipped barbs, even though the creature had been dead for over a hundred years.

  One thing Morton distinctly remembered about this story was that it actually listed all the ingredients for the only spell that could apparently reverse a Snarf transformation forever. Another thing he remembered was that the spell involved bat’s blood and, rather coincidentally, a blank page from The Book of Parchments that King had mentioned in his diary.

  Morton gazed at the cover for a moment longer and then suddenly realized that he’d better put the comic back where he’d found it.

  He was about to slide it back into the locker when the music room door burst open again. Morton jumped to his feet and this time he managed to stuff the comic up the front of his shirt before anyone emerged, which was just as well because Nolan was the first to step into the hall. He had dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days, and seemed to lack his usual upbeat energy. Robbie and the twins followed him out and they too seemed a little perturbed. Only Julie appeared to be in good spirits. She swaggered out of the room wearing a smug smile.

  “Melvin, you’re still here?” she said.

  Morton felt his face flush. “It’s Morton,” he said firmly.

  Julie made a dismissive sniffing noise. “ ‘Morton’? What kind of name is that anyway? Is that even a real name?”

  “It’s a lot more real than ‘Scorch,’ “ Morton said, clenching his teeth.

  “Yeah, well, when you’re the most talented songwriter in Dimvale, you can have any kind of name you like,” Julie replied.

  Nolan, who had meanwhile opened his locker and retrieved several sheets of music, flinched visibly at this comment, but Julie didn’t seem concerned. She just chewed nonchalantly on her gum.

  Robbie made a nodding gesture to Morton and, even though break time was almost over, they headed out to the school yard to get some air.

  “Why is Julie so angry at Nolan?” Morton asked.

  “Oh, she’s all full of herself because Scorch offered her a spot in his band. She wants to be the lead singer now.”

  “What? But you’re the lead singer.”

  “I know. It’s ridiculous. I mean whoever heard of a drummer who sings lead vocals? That’s so eighties.”

  “So what happened?” Morton asked.

  Robbie shook his head and frowned. “Nolan said he’d let her try singing lead on one of his new songs. He didn’t seem to care much one way or another. He hasn’t been himself these last few days. To be honest, I think he’s really upset about his grandma.”

  By now they had arrived in the school yard and were standing in their usual corner, beside the gate to the sports field. Morton stood there awkwardly fumbling with the comic that was still tucked up his shirt.

  “Is something wrong?” Robbie said, noticing Morton’s unusual mood.

  Morton thought again about Julie’s words and wondered if he shouldn’t just come out and tell Robbie what she’d said before. But now hardly seemed like the best time to discuss something so trivial.

  “No, it’s nothing,” Morton lied. “I was just thinking about Derek’s laser.”

  “Speaking of Derek,” Robbie said in a hushed tone, “check that out.”

  Morton followed Robbie’s gaze to a large circle of kids on the far side of the school yard.

  “Looks normal to me,” Morton said.

  “No, it’s not normal,” Robbie said. “Look who’s in the center.”

  Robbie led them closer and Morton saw that the circle of kids was clustered around Derek, who was talking in an animated fashion, as if he were giving some kind of lecture. Morton had to admit this did look a bit unusual, but not so unusual that it warranted the look of panic on Robbie’s face.

  “So Derek’s a popular kid,” Morton said.

  “But he’s not a popular kid,” Robbie shot back. “And look who’s in the group: Barry Flynn, Timothy Clarke, even Simon Bean. Last time I checked, they all hated Derek. Now it looks like they worship him.”

  The more Morton examined the scene, the more he realized that Robbie might have a point.

  “Maybe we should go investigate,” he suggested, and they walked briskly over to the gathering. Curiously, just before they got there, Derek saw them coming and immediately stopped talking. The kids all turned to see them and then, as if on cue, the whole crowd dispersed. Derek, however, stood his ground and scowled.

  “Come to break more of my toys, have you?” he said.

  “Of course not!” Morton replied, annoyed by the attitude. “We just came over to, uh, to see what the fuss was about.”

  “You’ll be the last to know,” Derek said, and then walked off and joined another group of kids not too far away.

  “Tell me he’s not up to something,” Robbie said.

  “You may be right,” Morton agreed, watching the second group of students cluster around Derek. “But up to what, exactly?”

  Robbie sighed. “Nothing good. And just when we’d finally gotten everything back to normal too.”

  Morton made a slight nod. He wanted to say that he didn’t think things had ever truly gone back to normal; that, in fact, he was pretty sure that whatever was going on had started long before they moved to Dimvale, and maybe even long before there was a Dimvale, but that was just a wild theory for which he had no proof. But something told him that very soon he would have proof, and that when he did, the idea of a normal life might be lost to them forever.

  Morton arrived home from school later that day to find the house eerily quiet. Usually at this time there was some activity in the kitchen — either Dad would be cooking frantically, Melissa and Wendy would be gossiping about the day’s events, or James would have all his books sprawled on the table while he did his homework. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon to have all three of these things happening at once.

  Morton slipped off his shoes and padded into the living room. “Hello?” he called. “Anyone home?”

  There was no answer, so he bounded up the stairs and was about to call again when he heard voices coming from Melissa’s room.

  “I thought we promised we were never going to look at that book again,” came the first agitated voice, which Morton recognized at once as Wendy’s.

  “I know, but that was then and this is now,” Melissa replied in a controlled but irate tone.

  “So? It was dangerous then and it’s dangerous now.”

  “Look, aside from the rats, that Bat Eye thing was following me, and so
me kid was floating on the bathroom ceiling at Morton’s school. Who knows what might happen next?”

  “I understand,” Wendy said, her voice growing softer, which somehow made it sound even angrier. “And I’m not saying what you did was wrong, just that we should have all talked about it first. We have to be honest.”

  “Don’t lecture me about honesty!” Melissa snapped.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Wendy retorted.

  “Look, it’s easy for you to stand there and suggest we arrange a committee meeting every time somebody wants to open a box of cookies,” Melissa hissed back. “But if things go back to the way they were, it won’t be your brother chomping his way through the streets like a meat-eating Weedwacker.”

  “He might not be my brother, but he is my b —” Wendy’s voice stammered to a sudden stop.

  “Well, go on, finish your sentence,” Melissa said in a goading voice. “You were going to say, ‘James is my boyfriend.’”

  Wendy gasped in outrage. “I was not! He’s far too young to be my boyfriend. I was going to say he’s my friend.”

  “Nice try, but friend doesn’t start with a b.”

  “Best friend. Aside from you, that is,” Wendy corrected, although even to Morton’s ears she didn’t sound very convincing.

  “Well, I’d like to believe you, but since you’ve been lying to me for days now, I honestly don’t think I can.”

  “Lying? I haven’t been lying.”

  “Oh no?” Melissa said, now forgetting to keep her voice down. “Are you sure? Because you and James have been playing a lot of tennis recently, which is pretty weird considering that the tennis courts closed down for the season at the end of October.”

  “Look, I … It’s not …” Wendy floundered.

  The room went completely silent, and Morton decided he’d better sneak back downstairs before he was discovered, but he was too late. Melissa’s bedroom door burst open at that very instant and a flushed, teary-eyed Wendy thundered out onto the landing. She spotted Morton at once, and her already miserable face twisted into an even more uncomfortable expression.