by Sam Fisher
“It’s okay, I get it,” Morton said. “Life’s been way too complicated for you since I moved here, and you want your normal life back.”
“Normal life?” Robbie said. “What are you talking about? Look, I don’t even know why Julie would say something like that.”
“Maybe because it’s true,” Morton said.
“It’s not true! It’s …” Robbie trailed off, and Morton heard him breathing nervously on the other end of the phone. “Look, we can’t talk about that now. I have some important news. Nolan’s gone missing.”
Morton felt his anger drain away rapidly to be replaced by a crushing sense of dread. “Missing? You mean he didn’t show up to rehearsal again?”
“No, it’s much worse than that,” Robbie explained. “Inspector Sharpe came to our house this morning and asked if anyone had seen him. Apparently he vanished yesterday afternoon, and his parents called the police. Sharpe’s been to interview all the band members, but nobody’s laid eyes on him since Friday.”
“Did Sharpe ask you anything else?” Morton asked nervously, knowing only too well that if anyone were going to connect them with the strange events in Dimvale, it would be her.
“No, only questions about Nolan,” Robbie said, and the two of them lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
“Listen, I have to go,” Robbie said at last. “See you in school tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Morton said, and he hung up and turned to face James and Melissa, who were watching him from the dining room doorway with looks of concern on their faces.
“We heard you mention Inspector Sharpe,” James said.
“Nolan’s gone missing,” Morton said.
James’s face drained to a chalky white. “How? When?”
“All they know is he went missing on Friday night,” Morton answered, and then he continued up the stairs, still in no mood to talk to James.
For the rest of the day Morton holed up in his room on the pretense of tackling the very large assignment given to him by Mr. Noble. Unfortunately his thoughts were now even more fragmented than they had been the day before, and somehow the hours slipped by without him achieving anything. All too soon it was suppertime, and Morton finally gave up any hope of finishing the assignment and went back downstairs to join the others.
When he arrived in the kitchen, he found Melissa washing dishes at the sink with a sulky expression, and James drying, while Dad was throwing laundry into a hamper.
“Ah, Morton,” he said. “There you are. Can you help clean up? Mrs. Smedley will be here any minute, and I don’t want her to get the wrong impression.”
“If you don’t want her to get the wrong impression, then we should leave the house messy,” Melissa quipped.
Dad sighed tiredly at her comment but didn’t respond. Instead he simply turned to Morton. “Just pick up your things as quickly as you can and take them back to your room,” he said, then headed upstairs with the hamper tucked under his arm.
Morton didn’t really understand what the fuss was about, but he did as he was told and started collecting the schoolbooks, socks, and other odds and ends that seemed to sprout like mushrooms all over the house.
After about twenty minutes of earnest tidying, the doorbell rang.
“That will be her,” Dad yelled from upstairs. “Can you let her in?”
Morton ran to the door, but when he arrived, instead of the elderly lady he’d seen shuffling up and down the driveway of the house across the road, a complete stranger was standing on the porch. It was a very petite woman with pale green eyes and dark wavy hair, wearing a light woolen dress, a string of freshwater pearls, and canvas shoes. Morton had no idea who she was.
“Oh, hello,” she said a little nervously. “Is James home?”
Morton turned to call James, but James had already appeared and was now standing beside Melissa, and it was clear by his expression that he had no idea who this person was. Both he and Melissa looked baffled and simply stared at her.
“Oh, pardon me,” the woman added. “I mean James, your father, not James, your brother.”
Instead of running to get Dad, all three of them continued to stand there as if hypnotized. Fortunately Dad joined them at the door a moment later.
“Mrs. Smedley, so glad you could help out,” Dad said in a very formal voice. “We can’t begin to thank you enough.”
James practically jumped out of his skin. “Mrs. Smedley?”
The woman raised her eyebrows and looked questioningly back at James. “That’s me. Were you expecting someone else?”
“We … We thought … ,” James said, fumbling badly for words, and looking suddenly very worried. “We saw an old lady collecting your mail and thought …”
“Oh, I see,” Mrs. Smedley said, with a soft, sympathetic laugh. “That would be my mother. She visits sometimes on weekends.”
James inched backward and a strange, almost frightened look crossed his face. At the same time, Melissa was now looking at Dad with an equally strange expression, although not one of fear. Morton couldn’t really read Melissa’s expression, but if he’d had to guess he would have said it was one of realization, or recognition. In a peculiar way, Melissa seemed to be looking at Dad as if she were seeing him for the first time. None of this made any sense whatsoever to Morton, and he had the distinct feeling that he was missing something.
“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Smedley said, clearly also aware of the odd behavior. “I hope I haven’t confused you.”
Dad stepped forward. “I’m just realizing there was some confusion,” he said, putting a hand on Melissa’s and James’s shoulders, “but I think we’re on the same page now, aren’t we?”
Melissa made a nervous smile and nodded politely, but James, for some reason, began rubbing his hands anxiously and looked away.
Dad cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose I should introduce you. This is Melissa, James, and Morton.”
“Lovely to meet you at last,” Mrs. Smedley said, shaking each of their hands in turn. Morton couldn’t help noticing that Mrs. Smedley’s hands were buttery soft and that she smelled ever so slightly of violets.
“Well, do come on in,” Dad said, still sounding a little nervous. “I’ll show you the ropes.”
Dad spent the next twenty minutes showing Mrs. Smedley around the house while the kids lingered in the kitchen. Both James and Melissa were unusually silent and sat at the table without saying a word.
“Is everything all right?” Morton asked, his sense of confusion mounting.
“Yes, fine, of course it’s fine,” Melissa said, with a distant smile. James, however, didn’t respond, and the room fell immediately back into silence.
“Uh, Mrs. Smedley seems nice,” Morton persisted.
“Yes, very nice,” Melissa said.
James nodded in agreement, but Morton could tell there was something he wasn’t saying.
A few minutes later, Dad and Mrs. Smedley returned to the kitchen.
“Hopefully those rats won’t pay a second visit to my garden,” Dad was saying. “But don’t hesitate to call me at work if there are any problems.”
“We’ll be fine,” Mrs. Smedley said. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your work. I’m sure it’s very important.”
“Well, hardly,” Dad said, “but it does pay the bills. And I don’t like being away when things are so …” Dad struggled for words. “Unusual,” he said at last.
“I assure you, I will take care of everything,” Mrs. Smedley said, and Dad seemed to relax visibly at these words.
“Well, the good news,” Dad said, “is that it sounds like they’ve found a quick way to get rid of the rats.”
Morton jumped to his feet. “They have?” he exclaimed, completely surprised by the pronouncement.
“Yes, I heard it on the radio. Apparently your teacher Mr. Noble has helped devise some method to get rid of them by releasing poisonous gas canisters in the sewers.”
Morton had a sudden
horrible dizzy sensation and had to grab on to a nearby chair for support. “Did you say gas canisters?” he asked, knowing full well that was exactly what Dad had said.
“Yes. It’s some special kind of gas though. Something to do with rapid chemical decay, so as not to contaminate the ground water. Sounded very clever actually. They hope to use it this week.”
Morton could hardly believe what he was hearing and now had to sit down. Despite what Dad and Mrs. Smedley, and no doubt everyone else believed, using poisonous gas was the worst possible thing they could do.
“Are you all right?” Dad said, noticing Morton’s sudden change in mood.
“Oh, yes, it’s just that I have a big assignment to write for Mr. Noble,” he said, forcing a smile.
Dad wandered over to Morton and put his hand on his forehead and looked directly into his eyes. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
Morton nodded. “Really, I’m fine,” he said. “You’ll be late for work.”
Dad glanced up at the clock and realized that Morton was right. “Good gracious!” he exclaimed, and immediately began his last-minute bluster of pre-departure confusion.
A few minutes later they all walked Dad to the car and waved good-bye to him as he shot up the driveway, skidding his tires on the gravel as he went.
“Well, it’s certainly going to be fun to get to know you all,” Mrs. Smedley said as they returned to the house.
“Uh, it would be, but I have homework,” James said, and walked straight out of the kitchen. Melissa watched him go with a scowl and then turned back to face Mrs. Smedley.
“Actually, very sorry, but I have homework too,” she said, and despite the fact that she used a much politer tone than James had, she didn’t waste any time following him up the stairs.
Mrs. Smedley’s face dropped. “I didn’t realize I was such a scary ogre,” she said lightly to Morton.
“Oh, uh, no, you’re not at all,” Morton stammered, feeling very awkward. “They’re just … Well, things are a little weird right now.”
“Yes, I suppose this two-headed-rat thing is a bit out of the ordinary,” Mrs. Smedley said. “And right after that odd affair with the missing cats too. You must think Dimvale is the strangest place in the world.”
“Well, it’s not just that,” Morton replied.
Mrs. Smedley frowned and smiled at the same time, which up until that very moment Morton hadn’t realized was even possible. It made her look sympathetic and kind. “No, I suppose it’s a lot more complicated,” she responded. “I imagine none of this is easy. Your mother passing away so suddenly. Moving to a new town. Starting a new school and making new friends. Your father tells me you’ve all been very strong and brave, and I can see exactly what he means. It’s a tough little chestnut of a family you have here.”
“Chestnut?” Morton said, surprised by the odd choice of words. His mother had always recited a little poem about chestnut trees when she tucked him into bed at night, and he knew that the chestnut had always been her favorite kind of tree. “Why a chestnut?” he asked.
Mrs. Smedley shrugged. “I don’t know. It just popped into my head. Maybe because chestnuts are hard and strong on the outside but very sweet on the inside.” She laughed out loud at her own words, revealing delicate white teeth that matched the pearls around her neck. “Oh, don’t listen to me! I spend far too much time reading poetry. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do. I know you have homework, so why don’t I set to making something nice for tomorrow’s breakfast and you can go finish it off.”
“It’s true I have a big project,” Morton said, although the assignment was now the furthest thing from his mind. “I guess I’ll see you later,” he added, and bounded off after his siblings.
When Morton arrived at the top landing he saw that James’s room was empty and heard angry whispers coming from behind Melissa’s bedroom door. He poked his head in without knocking to see James and Melissa standing with their noses almost touching in what appeared to be a stand-up fight. The moment they saw him they stopped their heated whispering and backed away from each other.
“Well, you might as well come in,” Melissa said in a stiff voice, “and close the door.”
Morton stepped in and pushed the door firmly shut. James sniffed and sat down heavily in the swivel chair at Melissa’s desk and spun it around so that he had his back to them.
“Look, I don’t know what you guys are fighting about,” he said, “but I hope you realize we have a real problem.”
“We have lots of real problems,” Melissa said. “Which one are you talking about?”
“The gas canisters, of course.”
James scratched his chin. “I thought that was good news. I mean, it sounds like the authorities have got it under control after all.”
Morton clutched at his head in frustration and groaned loudly. “No! You don’t get it. It’s not going to work. In fact, it’s going to make things worse, much worse.”
James and Melissa stared blankly at him and he realized that neither of them had a clue what he was talking about.
“I’ve told you before, the rats can’t be poisoned,” he said.
“Not with normal poison, no,” James responded. “But Dad said this is some special kind of poison.”
“But, it’s not going to work!” Morton repeated. “That’s exactly what happens in the story. They try to kill the rats by putting poisonous gas in the sewer, but the poison doesn’t kill them, it just drives them all out onto the streets.”
James and Melissa stared at each other, both looking suitably shocked.
“So what do we do?” Melissa asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
“We stick to the plan,” James said.
“What plan?” Morton said in an exasperated tone. “We don’t have a plan!”
“We can’t do anything until we find out who bought King’s books,” James stated, clenching his teeth in mild anger. “And Melissa is going to find that out very soon, right?”
“I’ll find out,” Melissa said, “but if Morton is right, then it might already be too late. It looks like we’re going to drown in a sea of yellow teeth before the end of the week.”
Morton lay awake in bed, rolling from side to side. A faint sliver of moon was visible through the window, and he had already watched it creep halfway across the black November sky. It had been several hours since they had all said good night to Mrs. Smedley, but he’d long ago given up on the idea of sleep, and he had no idea what time it was when he heard the soft padding of feet shuffling along the corridor toward his room. His door drifted silently open and Morton looked up, wondering if Mrs. Smedley had come to check on him, but when he saw the blue nightgown with matching fuzzy slippers he realized it was Melissa.
“What are you doing awake?” he asked.
“It’s James,” Melissa said. “He’s gone again.”
Morton felt a surge of adrenaline run through his body and sat instantly upright.
“Are you sure?” he said.
“Of course I’m sure. And this time I checked under his bed.”
Morton jumped to his feet and was about to bound down the hall to James’s room, when Melissa put her hand on his chest.
“Just remember to keep it quiet,” she said. “We don’t want to wake Mrs. Smedley.”
Morton nodded and continued on his way more quietly, followed by Melissa. When they arrived at James’s door, it was already partially ajar. Morton pushed it open all the way and peered into the blackness beyond. It was silent. Utterly silent.
“James!” Morton whispered. “You in here?”
Melissa pushed into the room. “I already told you, he’s not,” she said, and she flicked the light on, momentarily blinding Morton. When his eyes adjusted he saw what his ears had already confirmed: the room was completely empty.
Morton shook his head. “This makes no sense. I’ve been awake all night. There’s no way he could have snuck out without me hearing him.”
“
Not to mention the fact that Smedley’s on guard down there,” Melissa said, creeping over to the windows to inspect them, just as she had done the night before.
Morton looked around too. He noticed that James hadn’t really finished unpacking, despite the fact that they’d been living in the house for some time. His model airplanes, which once hung from the ceiling of their shared bedroom, were still lying jumbled in open cardboard boxes, and his books were spilled haphazardly on the floor in front of the small inset bookshelf. Morton thought this very out of character for James, because he usually kept them neatly arranged in alphabetical order. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was sure he’d seen James arranging his books on the shelf just a few days earlier….
Recognition came to Morton in a flash. He’d known since they moved into the house that King had drawn many of its rooms and hallways into his stories, and he suddenly remembered that he’d seen a narrow inset bookshelf just like this in a harrowing tale about a boy whose parents wouldn’t let him own a dog, so he ended up raising a baby Shark Hound in a hidden part of his basement.
“It’s a secret passage,” Morton said. “I should have realized there’d be at least one in this house.”
Melissa looked closely at the bookshelf. “That can’t be a secret passage. It’s on an outside wall. Where would it go?”
“Down,” Morton said, stepping over to the shelves and examining them closely. “There should be a release catch here somewhere.”
It didn’t take him long to spot a small bronze lever at the back of the unit. He pressed the lever down and there was a metallic clunk and the whole unit swung open. Melissa rushed over to Morton’s side and they both peered through the newly opened door. There, in a narrow passage jammed between James’s bedroom and the outside wall, was an unusually narrow staircase that descended steeply into the darkness.
“So James has been sneaking out all along,” Melissa said. “Now what are we going to do?”
“We follow him, of course,” Morton said, and he stepped closer to the narrow stair and peered down into the swallowing darkness.
“Wait!” Melissa whispered, tightening her long fingers on his elbow. “There’s no light. At least let me get a flashlight.”