by Sam Fisher
Morton agreed that this was probably a sensible idea, and Melissa ran swiftly back to her room and returned a moment later with a small key-chain flashlight.
“You’ll still have to go first,” she said, shining the inadequate blue beam down into the dusty shadows. Morton was quite happy to do so. He was certain that James had taken these stairs minutes, if not moments before, and he trotted confidently down, gliding his hands along the wall for guidance.
After a dozen or so steps, Morton felt the air grow suddenly cooler, and a musty dampness wafted over his face. Melissa’s tiny light revealed what looked to be a wider landing of hard-packed dirt below and Morton felt, rather than saw, the narrow wooden passage open up into a larger space. They stopped when they reached the bottom, and Melissa held the flashlight out in front of her, as if willing the miniature beam to shine farther. They were now standing in a narrow brick tunnel with an arched ceiling. The bricks were old and covered in patches of white lime, and here and there Morton saw rusted metal brackets with frozen rivulets of wax hanging beneath them.
“Candles,” Melissa said with a snort of recognition. “John King’s favorite form of lighting.”
“Well, we know he’s been down here,” Morton said. “This tunnel is just like one he drew in a story.”
Morton crept cautiously forward and Melissa followed, holding the key-chain light above her head. Their footsteps echoed from all directions as they made their way along the passage, and the heavy musty air grew staler with each step. For a moment, Morton had the illusion that they were floating along in a bubble of light on an endless river of darkness, but then something changed. Morton caught the scent of fresh night air. Quite unexpectedly they arrived at a heavy arch-shaped oak door studded with metal bolts, like something from a castle or an old dungeon. The door was wide open, but all Morton could see beyond the frame was a dense thicket of thorny branches and tightly wound vines.
“Well, go on,” Melissa prompted. “We’re not going to turn back now, are we?”
Morton glanced up at Melissa with a frown. He wasn’t sure exactly how he was supposed to keep going beyond what appeared to be an impenetrable tangle of brush. But Melissa didn’t seem in the least perturbed by this. “Here,” she said, “I’ll go first this time.” And even though she was wearing her silken nightgown and fluffy slippers, she squeezed through the door and crept sideways along the exterior wall until she, and her light, vanished from view. Morton followed quickly and soon realized that it was much easier than it looked, although he did feel a few sharp thorns snag at his legs as he pushed his way through the branches.
At last he was outside gazing up at the starry night sky and Morton saw that they were standing at the back of the house. This part of the yard was still overgrown with bushes and small trees, and looked out over another field of clumpy, overgrown grass that surrounded their property, which was in turn surrounded by a hedgerow of shrubby trees. Beyond that Morton could just make out the silhouettes of distant rooftops.
“I guess that settles it,” Melissa said. “James has been night-prowling again.”
“Yes, and I think he went this way,” Morton said, pointing out a well-trodden path that cut through the long grass.
“Are you sure you want to go out there?” Melissa said.
“No,” Morton said, but he began walking anyway, and Melissa followed.
The path led to an opening in the hedgerow and Morton crawled through to find himself standing on a dark and narrow road. There was just enough light to see that he was on Spruce Street, not far from their house.
“I never realized our backyard was so big,” Melissa said, crawling through the gap behind him.
“I wonder if it’s all our property,” Morton said.
Melissa shivered. “Well, either way, there’s no sign of James,” she said, “and I’m not about to let you go off looking for him, so we might as well just go back.”
Morton nodded and he was about to return through the gap in the hedgerow, when a horrific screech filled the night air. He knew at once what it was. Robbie had described it as an angry whale, but to Morton it sounded like a giant, rusty ship scraping along rocks in a fierce storm. It was loud, painful, and easily the most terrifying sound Morton had ever heard.
“That wasn’t the rats, was it?” Melissa said, looking around nervously.
“No,” Morton replied. “Not rats.”
“Quickly! Back to the house!” Melissa commanded, and she turned and scampered hastily back through the hedge.
“But James is out here,” Morton said, still lingering on the street. “What if he’s in trouble?”
Melissa, who was now peering at him through the hedge, made an annoyed snorting sound. “I think we both know the only kind of trouble he’ll be in is the kind where he’s eating somebody else’s pet spaniel, or worse….”
The distant shrieking sound came again, and this time Morton felt a jolt of irrational fear course through his entire body. His heart doubled its pace, his hands and face broke out in a cold, clammy sweat, and his legs began to tremble. “It’s a Snarf,” he said. “No doubt about it.”
“What do we do?” Melissa said, clearly also affected by the strange airborne scent of dread.
“Run!” Morton screeched, and he leaped back into the field and tore off across the long grass toward the house. But now it was Melissa’s turn to linger, and she stood rooted to the spot, looking around fretfully in all directions.
“Melissa!” Morton yelled. “It’s the fear pheromone. Keep running!” Morton had barely finished speaking when suddenly an immense white, fleshy, wormlike creature came crashing through the hedge. The creature glared directly at them, and Morton had the strangest sensation that he recognized its dark and fearsome eyes.
The Snarf shrieked yet again, a horrific keening that tore through the cold night air, and Morton felt the ground tremble at the power of its cry. He bounded the few paces that separated him from Melissa and tugged violently on her arm. “Run!” he yelled at the top of his voice.
The creature made an odd, bony rattling, and its teeth vibrated like a series of electric bread knives arranged geometrically in its mouth. Unable to think of what else to do, Morton kicked Melissa hard in the shin. She yelped in pain, but this at least seemed to snap her out of her trance, and then they were both running for the thicket of trees and the heavy oak door hidden behind it. Morton struggled through the long grass, several times stumbling on dense tufts of undergrowth, and Melissa very quickly took the lead.
Morton heard the sudden cracking of branches and knew without looking that the Snarf had pushed right through the tall hedge and was now in close pursuit. Fear crashed down on him with such force his legs almost buckled.
Another cry ruptured the night behind him, this time so close that he felt the hot rancid air blast over the back of his neck from the depths of the creature’s brimstone-filled stomach. Scenes from a dozen Scare Scape stories flashed unbidden into his head. Stories in which naive children were eaten alive by savage creatures with hollow, merciless eyes.
At last he was scrambling through the thicket that concealed the arched doorway but then there was another cry — this time from Melissa — and before he really knew what was happening, she placed her hands on his back and pushed him into the passage ahead of her. He stumbled onto the packed-dirt floor inside and turned to see the creature’s head burst out of the darkness, its immense mouth open wide and its terrifying array of teeth gnashing hungrily at the air.
Morton glanced quickly around for a weapon — something, anything to drive the Snarf away — but at that very same instant, Melissa did the unthinkable. She flung herself into the path of the charging Snarf, shutting the door from the outside as she did so.
Morton let out an involuntary cry of terror, leaping to the door, but even as he approached it he heard a latch on the outside drop into place and he knew that Melissa had locked him in.
Morton lunged at the door, pounding on it with h
is fists. “Melissa! Open up!” he screamed, even though he knew it was futile. The Snarf would waste no time in devouring her, swallowing her whole, like a giant featherless gannet. But Morton continued to pound and kick anyway, cursing himself for not being faster and Melissa for being stupidly brave and James for … for …
Suddenly the Snarf sounds outside stopped and Morton fell to his knees, his fists bruised and grazed from the hard oak door. Hot tears seared his eyes. Surely it couldn’t end this way. Not like this.
The silence seemed to rise around him like black water, choking out all his senses, and for a moment, he crouched there in the absolute darkness and imagined that being dead would not feel much different to the way he felt in that very moment.
But then a sound cut through the darkness, a sharp metallic click from outside and, impossibly, the door swung open to reveal a slender silhouette against the faintly moonlit sky.
“Melissa?” Morton whispered, his voice trembling from the tears that still soaked his cheeks. “How … ?”
Melissa staggered into the passage, clearly exhausted from terror, and turned on her small key-chain flashlight to dilute the darkness. “I knew he wouldn’t eat me. Not his own sister.”
“But … but what happened?” Morton asked in a tremulous voice.
“He … he cried,” Melissa said.
“Yes, I heard that, but …”
“No, I don’t mean that kind of cry. He came right up to me and sniffed me all over and then sort of looked at me and tears started running out of his eyes. Big yellow tears that sizzled when they landed on the grass. I just stayed really still and then he turned and ran off, just like that.”
Morton was speechless. He had been fairly certain that Snarfs did not cry.
“I … I don’t understand how he … how he transformed so quickly,” Melissa stammered, still obviously in shock. “I mean, we just saw him a couple of hours ago and he was normal. How is that possible?”
“Anything’s possible when it comes to magic,” Morton said, unable to provide a better answer.
“I know. That’s what I hate about all this magic,” Melissa whispered, a little of herself returning to her voice. “Anything is possible. It’s enough to make you crazy.”
Morton knew exactly how Melissa was feeling. He’d once thought that magic would be fun, that a world in which anything was possible would be exciting. But now, more than ever, he just wanted a normal world, like the one he’d grown up in.
“Come on,” he said at last. “There’s nothing more we can do here tonight.”
Melissa nodded solemnly, and the two of them ventured back toward the narrow stairs.
A few minutes later, Morton emerged into James’s brightly lit bedroom. Melissa sidled out behind him, brushing twigs and leaves from her hair, when her face suddenly twisted and she pushed her fist into her own mouth to choke a scream.
Morton froze for the briefest moment, wondering what in this world, or any other, could possibly bring such a look of pure terror to Melissa’s face.
Whatever it was, he decided, he didn’t want to have his back to it any longer, and he spun rapidly around to see …
“James? Wendy?” he said, feeling certain that he must now be dreaming.
James and Wendy were sitting on the bed, both with dirt on their clothes. They jumped instantly to their feet when they saw Morton and Melissa, obviously equally surprised to have this midnight rendezvous, but neither of them spoke.
Melissa pulled her fist from her mouth and stared in confusion at James.
“But … but I just saw you. You’re a Snarf. You turned into a Snarf.”
James made a tired, annoyed sigh. “That wasn’t me, you idiot. It was Brad. Brad’s turned into a Snarf.”
Melissa recovered quickly from her shock. Within moments she was marching back and forth in James’s bedroom like a prisoner in a cell.
Morton, meanwhile, was sitting on the bed feeling completely stupid. He, of all people, should have guessed that Brad turning into a Snarf was a possibility all along, but he had been so terrified at the thought of it happening to James that he just hadn’t been thinking clearly.
“I just … I don’t understand this at all,” Melissa was saying. “I mean, who is this Brad anyway?”
“Brad used to be the lead singer in Nolan’s band,” Morton said. “He tried to beat us up, remember?”
“But why is he a Snarf?”
“Because when I was turning into a Snarf, he cut himself on my spines,” James explained.
Melissa started rubbing her temples with both hands as if her head was aching very badly. “How does that explain anything?”
“The Snarf spines are venomous,” Morton said. “Anyone who gets cut by them slowly turns into a Snarf. I should have guessed right away. It’s just like the rats. Reversing my wish got rid of my rats but not Timmy’s, so reversing James’s wish turned him back into a human but obviously it didn’t stop Brad from changing into a Snarf.”
Melissa, who was still pacing, suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and stared accusingly at James and Wendy.
“Okay, fine, so that makes sense, kind of, but why did the two of you feel the need to go skulking around like night ninjas and keep this whole thing a secret from us?”
James clenched his jaw. “Can you blame me?” he growled. “After what you two got up to in the attic? Chasing after a Snarf is a dangerous business. I didn’t want Morton taking risks on my behalf, and you didn’t seem to be very good at keeping promises.”
“I didn’t break my promise!” Melissa retorted. “Morton found me. What was I supposed to do?”
“You weren’t supposed to go in the attic in the first place,” James shot back.
Melissa sniffed angrily and was about to respond when Wendy cut in. “I think we’d better just put that behind us,” she said. “We’ve all been doing what we thought was for the best, right?”
Melissa and James calmed down, glancing guiltily at each other, as if they both realized this was hardly the time to bicker, although Morton could tell Melissa was seething inside at the thought of Wendy and James making plans behind her back.
“So is there more to the story?” Morton asked. “Or is that everything?”
“Oh, no. That’s only the half of it,” James said.
“Hmpf! What’s the other half, then?” Melissa said in a sulky tone. “Wendy’s turning into a Flesh-Eating Butterfly?”
Wendy blushed and cast a hurt glance at Melissa.
“I’m sorry,” Melissa said. “I’ll shut up now.”
James sat down on his chair and pulled off his shoes. “The other half of the story is that Nolan has been collecting ingredients for some kind of potion, and I’m not sure, but I think he might be feeding it to Brad.”
“So Nolan is involved!” Morton exclaimed.
“Yes,” James said, rubbing his feet as if he’d been walking for hours. “A couple of nights ago, Wendy and I waited outside Brad’s house to see if he was up to something, and sure enough he snuck out after dark. We followed him, and for some reason he went to the old Wall of Noise rehearsal space. We had heard that Nolan was using a new space to practice with his new band, so at first we thought maybe Brad had rented the old space, that he was starting his own band, but then about an hour later, Nolan showed up too. He was carrying two grocery bags, and even from where we were hiding across the road we could smell rotten meat. He seemed very nervous, which is totally not like Nolan.”
“I admit that sounds weird,” Melissa said, “but it’s hardly proof that Brad has turned into a Snarf.”
“Oh, we have proof,” James said. “We saw him with our own eyes. Well, actually, not quite our own eyes. We saw him with these.” James rummaged in his pocket and produced the pair of X-ray Specs that Robbie had given to Morton.
“Hey, where did you get those?” Morton protested.
“You left them in the kitchen. I was going to destroy them, but the first time I tried them on I found the
secret passage behind my bookshelf, so I figured they might be useful and decided to hang on to them for a while. Good thing I did too. After Nolan went inside the rehearsal space, Wendy and I crept over to the door and I put them on. I saw everything. I saw Nolan go down the stairs into a little room in the basement, and by this time there was a full-grown Snarf in there. Brad must have turned completely in just two hours.”
“Are you sure it was a Snarf?” Morton asked, trying to imagine the scene.
“Trust me. I know a Snarf when I see one,” James said adamantly, and Morton realized that this was, of course, true. “Anyway, Nolan poured some kind of liquid onto the food and threw it into the room and then locked the door again and ran back up the stairs.”
Morton was shocked by this strange turn of events. He was trying to figure out firstly why Nolan would want to feed Brad and secondly why he wasn’t eaten alive.
“It gets even weirder I’m afraid,” Wendy added, obviously noting the horrified looks on Melissa’s and Morton’s faces.
“It does,” James said. “We followed Nolan after he left. It was easy with these on. I could see exactly where he was going. I could even see him right through the buildings. At first I expected him to go home, but he didn’t. He went to that old church, down behind the graveyard; you know, the one with the big sign asking for donations to repair the roof.”
Morton nodded.
“Somehow, we didn’t quite see how, he managed to get into the church and started to climb a narrow spiral staircase that led up to the top of the spire. And then he started catching bats with his bare hands. Literally, he started plucking them off the ceiling.”
Morton felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. He was fairly certain he knew what James was about to say next.
“At first I thought he was eating them alive,” James went on. “I saw all these little bat skeletons flapping around and I thought they were in his stomach, but then he turned to his side and I realized he was holding a bag. He was stuffing live bats in a bag.”