by Sam Fisher
“I don’t know anything about a John King, or anybody else who draws comics for that matter,” he said, without even looking at Morton. “As I already told you, we don’t sell children’s books here.”
Morton was as shocked by the answer as he was by Crooks’s brusque manner. He had been certain that this person had to be King’s brother. What were the chances that someone with the same name just happened to have opened a bookstore in Dimvale? Very slim, to say the least, Morton thought, but then, why would he lie?
“Was there something else?” Crooks snapped rudely, now turning to stare at Morton.
Morton felt a lump in his throat. “Oh, uh, I’ll just look around, if that’s okay,” he croaked, not sure what else to say or do.
Crooks merely shrugged and continued arranging books. Morton felt a great sense of relief the moment the man’s eyes were no longer on him, and he ventured deeper into the store, partly to avoid his unsettling gaze, and partly to give himself time to think.
A curious thought entered Morton’s head. If Crooks didn’t sell comics, then why did Nolan have one of his bookmarks? He wondered if Crooks, whether or not he was King’s brother, might have ended up with part of King’s lost collection of books. If so, was it possible that Nolan had stumbled on a book and that he was somehow involved in the mysterious happenings at school?
Morton began to scan the shelves carefully in search of anything that might have once been part of King’s collection. The closest he could find to books of magic was a New Age section, which was mostly books on silly stuff like how to interpret your dreams or how to make friends by drinking the right combination of herbal teas. There was nothing at all serious, or even very old, which Morton found odd, because most of the other sections had piles of older books, and some sections even had additional glass-fronted cases to protect the rarest, most valuable books.
Morton scoured the rest of the store as best he could but soon realized that aside from a few local history books there was very little here that might have belonged to King’s collection. He did, however, notice a very large section of classical sheet music, which, he realized, would be a much more likely explanation for Nolan’s visit to the store than anything to do with dark magic.
Morton couldn’t help but feel disappointed and was just deciding to leave, when Crooks descended from his ladder with a pile of books in his arms and made his way down the narrow alcove to slip behind the green curtain. Once again, Crooks took great pains to adjust the curtain behind him, as if wishing to conceal what lay beyond, and Morton had a sudden thought. He knew that some antique book (and comic) sellers kept their most valuable items tucked away for viewing only by appointment. Was it possible that Crooks had just such a collection?
Morton peered around the corner and listened for sounds of Crooks moving beyond the curtain, but it was strangely silent. He ventured down the alcove to get closer and listened again. Still nothing. Morton then stepped right up to the curtain and pulled it aside ever so slightly, but what he saw was so unexpected it almost made him stumble backward in surprise.
There behind the curtain was a smooth, solid wall — which made no sense because he was sure he’d seen Crooks vanish through there moments before. What was even stranger was the fact that the wall itself had an almost completely lifelike painting of a green curtain identical in every detail to the real one that hung in front of it, right down to the Staff Only sign.
He was so shocked that he simply stood there, trying to make sense of what he was witnessing, and was still standing there when something sharp and bony dug into his shoulder, startling him out of his trance. He turned to see Crooks leering down at him. Somehow, impossibly, he’d snuck up behind him, trapping him at the end of the alcove.
“If you can’t read, then why come into a bookstore?” he said, pointing at the sign with a malevolent grin.
Morton stared up at Crooks and had the sudden feeling that there was something decidedly unnatural about him. His skin seemed too gray and the proportions of his face were somehow wrong, and even his teeth, which were yellowed and coffee-stained, looked false, as if they were too large and didn’t fit properly in his head.
But Morton didn’t have time to dwell on these strange impressions. Crooks dug his fingers even deeper into his shoulder, causing him to yelp with pain.
“Don’t think I don’t know who you are,” he hissed, leaning in closer to Morton’s face, his dry, musty breath wafting unwanted into his nostrils. “You’re the thief! Came back to steal more books, did you?”
“I … I haven’t stolen anything!” Morton choked, attempting to pull free of Crooks’s bony grip, but Crooks squeezed tighter and began to shake him violently.
“You think I’m a fool? Do you? Think you can steal from me twice and get away with it?” he shrieked.
“N-n-no!” Morton stammered. “I’ve never been here before, honest.”
“A thief and a liar, then!” Crooks said, and to Morton’s absolute horror he saw that Crooks was holding a rope in his free hand and realized he intended to tie him up.
At that moment something clicked inside Morton’s head and with a sudden burst of enraged strength he twisted his body around so that Crooks lost his grip on his shoulder. He then dropped to the floor and dove at Crooks’s legs. Crooks stumbled forward and careened into an immense pile of paperback books, which avalanched over him, and he crumpled to his knees under the sheer weight.
Morton flew out of the alcove, yanked open the door, then leaped onto his scooter and tore down the street as fast as his legs would propel him. In the distance he heard Crooks calling out for him to stop, but he didn’t look back. He’d already seen more of Sydenham Crooks than he cared to, and as he raced away he felt that he would be happy if he never again laid eyes on him as long as he lived.
Morton had never been so relieved as he was twenty minutes later when he rounded his scooter onto Hemlock Hill and saw the conical turret that had once been John King’s study peeking above the trees.
His whole body was still trembling, and his brain was struggling to process what he’d just seen and learned. Obviously somebody had been stealing from Sydenham Crooks, and Morton had a very strong suspicion that it was Nolan. But there was something more happening — something about that secret door….
Morton caught sight of James and Dad sitting on the porch deep in conversation, and he dismounted his scooter and walked slowly toward them, giving himself a little extra time to steady his breathing.
Both Dad and James appeared to be very serious. James had a particularly deep frown, and Morton wondered if something terrible had happened, but the moment they saw him they looked up and smiled broadly.
“Morton, we were just talking about you,” Dad said.
Morton propped up his scooter and walked over to join them. “You were?” he said. “You looked very serious.”
Quite unexpectedly Dad let out a peal of laughter. “Yes, yes, I have no doubt we did,” he said. “It’s not exactly easy trying to solve the riddle of Morton’s mind.”
Morton thought this was a very odd thing to say and hoped that Dad would explain himself, but he quickly changed the subject.
“By the way, I have some bad news. I have to rush in to the observatory this weekend. I know I don’t usually go in on weekends, but we’re watching a supernova and we want to get regular luminosity charts, obviously. I drew the short straw for both tonight and tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay,” Morton said as he always did when the subject of Dad working nights came up, even though he secretly always felt a lot happier when Dad was home.
“Yes, but the really bad news,” Dad continued, “is that I don’t have time to cook, so I’m afraid I’ll have to order pizza for supper.”
“Pizza!” James and Morton exclaimed excitedly.
Dad laughed and ruffled both James’s and Morton’s hair. “Well, you might try to sound a little disappointed,” he said, getting to his feet. “Come on, then. Yo
u can choose the toppings.”
They all stood up and were about to go into the mudroom, when a loud grating metal sound rattled from the direction of the street. They stopped and turned to see Jake’s old yellow car pull up at the bottom of the driveway. Jake and Melissa climbed out.
“Hello, what’s all this, then?” Dad said. “A boy on the scene?”
“Oh, he’s just a friend,” James said. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing —” James spluttered to a stop because at that exact moment Melissa put her arms on Jake’s shoulders and kissed him squarely on the lips.
Dad turned suddenly and began ushering James and Morton into the kitchen. “Oops! I don’t think we were supposed to see that,” he said.
James, however, was frozen to the spot, staring with his jaw open wide. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “She told us —”
James didn’t have time to finish because Dad leaned over from the doorway and literally yanked him into the house.
“James!” he said very firmly. “I want you to promise not to tease her about this. Heaven knows she’s had a hard enough time settling into Dimvale as it is.”
“Yes, but, Dad —” James began, but Dad cut him off.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “I want you to promise you won’t tease her.”
James finally managed to close his jaw and he mumbled something that sounded like a promise just before Melissa bustled into the kitchen humming happily to herself.
Morton, James, and Dad stood in a mute row, staring at her. She gave them a broad smile and continued humming as she breezed through the kitchen and up to her room.
Dad looked at his two sons. “Was she humming?” he said.
James and Morton nodded, and Dad made the tiniest smile.
Later, when they sat down to eat pizza, Morton wondered if Melissa was just pretending to be happy, but her buoyant mood continued through supper and she didn’t bicker with James at all. She even started washing the dishes without being asked.
Morton noticed that Dad was also watching her very closely, though of course he didn’t say anything about Jake or her mood, and it suddenly dawned on him that Dad was remarkably good at minding his own business. This made him wonder if this wasn’t the first time Dad had pretended not to notice when strange things had been happening to them….
Very soon after supper, Dad gathered his papers and headed for the observatory. Morton half expected Melissa to stop what she was doing and revert to her usual stompy, grumpy self the moment Dad was out of sight, but she didn’t at all. She finished the dishes without a word of complaint and then drifted up to her room, still humming tunelessly to herself.
“Well, she’s obviously had an exciting day,” James said. “How about you? Where did you get off to on your scooter?”
Morton had been so confounded by Melissa’s behavior that only when James said this did he start thinking again about his chilling encounter with Sydenham Crooks. Of course, he had to tell James and Melissa about everything that had happened. But then even as he thought this, he realized that they might not be very happy with him for going off alone, and also, he still didn’t really know what exactly had happened. He knew he was still missing some crucial piece of information.
“Oh, I uh, just went out, you know.”
“Out where?” James asked with a skeptical tone.
“Uh, well, looking for used comic shops and stuff like that.”
“And did you find any?” James persisted.
Morton started to feel flustered and tried to think of a way to change the subject, but as it happened, he didn’t need to. At that very moment, Melissa returned from her bedroom wearing a tight skirt, high-heeled shoes, and a very glossy layer of lipstick.
James turned his nose up the moment he saw her.
“What are you wearing?” he said, part surprise and part revulsion.
“Clothes,” Melissa said, oblivious to the insulting tone. “Most people wear them. It tends to be less embarrassing than wandering around naked.”
James continued to look confused. “No, but I mean, you look like you’re going somewhere.”
Just as James said this they heard the distant honking of a car horn and Melissa ran to grab her purse from the coatrack by the front door.
“I am. I’m going out driving with Jake.”
A look of total panic crossed James’s face. “But you spent the entire day with him!”
“So?”
James seemed genuinely upset that Melissa was leaving, which Morton found surprising. He personally hated the idea of Melissa going out and leaving the two of them home alone, but he didn’t think James would have cared one way or another.
“Look, you asked me to get Jake to find out who bought King’s books, so I’m doing it,” Melissa said, getting cross.
“But does it have to be tonight?” James said, now almost in a pleading tone.
The car horn sounded again. Melissa glanced back toward the window. “First you say this is urgent, then you say you want me to delay it until tomorrow. Honestly, sometimes I think you’re intentionally trying to drive me crazy. I’ll be back by ten, okay? It’s no big deal.” And with that she strutted out the door and vanished into the twilight.
James watched her go and then turned back to Morton. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t really have to go out with him again tonight,” he said irritably.
“Maybe she just wants to have some fun,” Morton suggested.
James made a begrudging smile. “I guess you’re right,” he agreed. “And I don’t suppose we can blame her for that. The closest thing she’s had to a night out since we arrived in Dimvale was that night we spent in the backyard when the cats ate Mr. Brown.”
Morton chuckled in spite of himself. Even though the memory of that night still sent shivers of dread down his spine, James always had a way of making things sound not as bad as they really were.
“Speaking of living normal lives,” James said, “I think I’m going to turn in early. I really need to get some sleep.”
Morton agreed and the two of them brushed their teeth and went to bed.
Unfortunately, as so often happened, even though he’d been exhausted just minutes before, the moment Morton’s head hit the pillow a nervous energy seemed to spring up from the depths of his unconsciousness and his brain clicked into overdrive and he lay awake churning questions around in his head.
About an hour later, he was still lying awake, thinking, when he became aware of an odd scratching noise coming from the hallway outside. He sat bolt upright. In any normal house at any normal time Morton might have dismissed a faint noise like that as a mouse, but after the recent intrusion of the Bat Eyes, he wasn’t about to make any such assumption.
He slid silently out of bed and glanced around his room, wishing for one of Melissa’s swords or even Dad’s trusty frying pan, but he’d left his baseball bat in Dad’s study the night he’d found Melissa in the secret attic, and he could see nothing else that would be of much use as a weapon. He was going to have to take his chances unarmed.
Steeling his nerves, he gripped the white ceramic doorknob, ready to yank it shut if anything attempted to push its way in, and silently opened the door. The hallway was a patchwork of shadows, but it appeared to be empty. The sound, it seemed, was coming from the bathroom down the hall.
Morton took a deep breath, trying to force himself to remain calm, and tiptoed along to the bathroom door. He then turned the handle, inched open the door, and pushed his eye up to the crack. He saw at once what was making the noise.
There, in the gray shadows, were three truly enormous Two-Headed Mutant Rodents, one chomping into the toothpaste, another chewing the toilet paper, and the third scampering around in the bathtub, chasing a slippery bar of soap.
Morton wondered how they had managed to get in, and then answered his own question a split second later when he saw a fourth rat in the toilet bowl. He knew that even normal rats were sometimes smart enough to find thei
r way up from the main sewer and slither around the U-bend in the toilet to get into houses. Tonight, four had found their way into his bathroom.
Morton gasped, and the rats turned their heads toward him. Their black eyes targeted his own and, as if with one mind, they let out a resonating chorus of high-pitched shrieks.
Morton slammed the door closed.
His first thought was to get Melissa, but she was still out, so instead he tore along the hall and burst into James’s room without even a thought of knocking.
“James! Wake up!” he yelled, fumbling for the light switch. “It’s the Rodents — they crawled in through the toilet pipe.”
Morton continued to grapple along the wall until he finally found the switch and flicked it on. The bare bulb hanging from the ceiling burst into life and Morton squinted, momentarily blinded. He looked over to the bed to see a motionless lump. James could sleep through anything!
“James, will you wake up!” he said, running over to the bed and reaching for the covers, but the instant he touched them he realized something was wrong. The motionless lump was not James but a crumpled-up pile of blankets. Astonishingly, James was not there at all.
Morton became paralyzed. If James wasn’t in bed, then where was he?
Squashing down a rising sense of dread, Morton dashed through the house, checking every room and calling out for James. His heart sank with the realization that the house was in fact utterly empty.
There were only two possible explanations. One was that James had left the house to do normal human things, like get a breath of air. The other was that James had left the house to do something else. Something entirely not human …
Morton bounded out through the mudroom and onto the dusty porch. He’d expected to find the yard empty and silent, but this is not what he found at all. Dark shapes writhed and hissed and crawled about in the shadows of Dad’s garden. He reached up and yanked the pull cord on the porch light above him, and a dim yellow haze spilled out over the surrounding darkness, confirming his fears. The lawn was swarming with Two-Headed Mutant Rodents, thousands upon thousands of Two-Headed Mutant Rodents.