Boogers from Beyond #3 Page 12

  Frederick looked shocked, but he pulled himself together.

  “Quincy, go get the other monsters,” I said. “Tell them to get down here immediately. NOW!” I turned to Frederick. “How do we get into the ship?”

  “Ship?” Frederick asked.

  “Yes,” Shane said, pointing up. “The rocket ship.”

  “You called it a monument,” said Ben. “Don’t you even know what it is?”

  “My time here was short,” said Frederick, “and I was confused in my first weeks. That’s why I ran away from my father. Without thinking. By the time I remembered where he was, I couldn’t get back. But I always had the image of this magnificent structure in my mind. I couldn’t believe my luck when we moved here.”

  “Neither can we,” I said. “That ship is going to take us to the moon, but we have to leave in the next four minutes. How do you open it?”

  “How should I know?” Frederick said, frustrated.

  “But you’re the engine that powers it,” said Gordon. “Maybe you have some special power to open the door.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Ben, standing at the base of the rocket ship. “I think we just pull this lever.”

  He pulled the lever, and the stairway slowly came out of the bottom of the rocket, clinking and clanking.

  With a great SCREEECH, it came to a stop . . . two feet above the ground.

  “This thing is pretty old,” said Nabila. “Are you sure we want to do this?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” I said. “Now, where are those monsters? Frederick, come with me onto the ship. We’ve got to figure out how you power it up as soon as possible.”

  I helped him reach the first step, and then we both rushed up the stairs. As soon as Frederick was inside, small bulbs lit up. We could see more metal and glass.

  “Where would the engine be?” I said.

  We ran deeper into the ship, passing large mazes of crisscrossing pipes. I noticed that most of them led to the same place.

  “Let’s go that way,” I yelled, and we turned down a tight hallway, filled mostly with the pipes, that led to . . .

  “The engine room!” I yelled.

  Insanely large generators lined the walls, and in the center, surrounded by glass, was a metal chair with a metal helmet hanging above. It looked ominously like an electric chair.

  “I think you’re supposed to sit there,” I said to Frederick. “Get strapped in, quick! We’ve only got three minutes.”

  Frederick sat down in the chair, and the metal helmet lowered onto his head.

  CRACK. SNAP. SNIP! CRACK!

  Lightning shot through Frederick, leaving dark marks on the glass.

  Now I know why that glass is there, I thought.

  The lightning got stronger, and Frederick spasmed in the chair.

  “YARRRRGGGGHHH!” he screamed, shaking and sputtering.

  “Frederick, are you okay?” I yelled over the cracks.

  “This is amazing!” said Frederick. “Finally, something that utilizes all of my energies! It’s absolutely thrilling.”

  His body shook, and the lights on the ship glowed brighter. The generators hummed softly.

  “I’m running to get the others,” I yelled. “Keep it going!”

  I jumped down the stairs of the rocket, forgetting the last step was two feet off the ground. I fell, but caught myself and rolled. I stood up to find all of the monsters there.

  “ALL RIGHT!” I yelled. “There’s a cargo hold in the second level—everyone pack in!”

  “There’s no way I’m going into space,” cackled one of the witches.

  “We’ve just recovered from a major attack,” added Roy.

  Half the crowd erupted in protest.

  “What are you going to do?” yelled Shane over the crowd—and the growing hum of the rocket ship.

  I reached in my pocket and felt the bloodstone there. I could feel its power as I rubbed it.

  “QUIET!” I yelled.

  The monsters were quiet, but I still needed to yell over the roar of the engine.

  “Director Z needs our help. ALL of our help. We’ve got two minutes to get on the ship. Let’s get going. I COMMAND IT!”

  That was all it took. The monsters rushed aboard, the stronger ones helping the older ones onto the busted staircase.

  “Gordon and Ben,” I said. “Stay with the monsters and get them into the cargo hold. Shane and Nabila, we’ve got to find the bridge.”

  Between the roar of the engine and the screams of the monsters, my head spun. There was only one place I hadn’t seen on the ship, so I ran there, my friends following.

  “Here it is!” I said, bursting onto the bridge.

  “It looks like the bridge of an ocean liner,” said Shane.

  The room was filled with levers and switches, and in the center was the biggest lever of them all, next to the ship’s wheel. It was labeled QUARTER THRUST, HALF THRUST, and FULL THRUST.

  “But how do we start it?” I asked.

  “Wait, over here!” Nabila said. She pointed at a huge red button. “This has to be it.”

  “Unless it’s the self-destruct button,” said Shane.

  “No time,” I said, leaning forward and pushing the red button.

  The whole ship shook violently, rattling our teeth.

  “Guys,” yelled Ben as he came in. “There wasn’t enough room! We’re all on, but not everyone fit into the cargo hold.”

  Twenty old monsters came in after him, crowding the already-small bridge. Two zombies blocked the massive lever in the center.

  “Move to the side, guys,” I said, and pulled the lever as far as I could. “I can only get it to half thrust!”

  The stronger monsters pushed through the small crowd that had formed on the deck to help. Grigore, who still had real teeth and black hair, jumped forward and pushed down . . .

  CLICK.

  The lever was now at full thrust, and the ship began shaking even harder.

  Nuts and bolts flew down from the ceiling.

  “There’s got to be something that starts the liftoff sequence,” I yelled. “Shane, try that lever.”

  Shane pulled a lever. NOTHING.

  Nabila pulled another lever.

  A metal panel exploded from the wall, showering sparks over Howie the werewolf. His hairy neck caught on fire. Shane jumped on him to put it out, while Roy, trying hard not to singe his fur, put the panel back in place.

  “Look!” yelled a witch.

  She pointed at a small clock on a panel on the right side of the bridge.

  It was at T-minus fifteen seconds and counting.

  “Okay, hold on, everyone!” I roared, and grabbed the wheel.

  Ten seconds.

  The ship sounded like it was falling apart. I could hear Frederick screaming.

  Five seconds.

  A crack formed in the glass in front of us.

  “Wa-hoooooo!” hooted Shane.

  Three seconds.

  Two . . .

  One . . .

  Later That Night

  “Hello? Helllooooo?!”

  Chris’s mother knocked furiously at the front door of Gallow Manor.

  “Open this door this instant!” she insisted. “I know that you’re in there, Chris! Shane!”

  She paused for a minute, and a worried look washed over her face.

  “I hope you’re in there!” she said. “It’s so late! You should have been home hours ago.”

  The headlights of a car flashed into her face, as it came up the road. It stopped in front of her, and the principal of Rio Vista Middle School stepped out of the driver’s seat.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” said Chris’s mother. “I couldn’t think of who else to reach out to. I wasn’t ready to call the pol
ice and make a fuss . . . not yet!”

  “I’m sorry I’m so late,” said Principal Prouty. “I volunteer at the animal shelter after school, and we’ve been having a problem with overpopulation. And my allergies have been terrible. What seems to be the matter here? Surely somebody must be home?”

  “No, and I’ve been knocking for the last half hour,” she shrieked.

  The door slowly creaked open. She and the principal looked at each other.

  They both headed to the entryway, but were pushed back by a ghostly old figure in what appeared to be a naval officer’s uniform. He glowed strangely in the moonlight.

  “Why are you at my door?” asked the old man.

  “I demand to speak to Director Zachary!” Chris’s mother screeched. “Or a nurse. Or anyone! Where is Chris Taylor?”

  “They’ve all left,” said the mysterious old figure.

  “All of them?” asked the principal.

  “What do you mean, ‘they’ve all left’?” asked Chris’s mother.

  “I mean exactly what I said!” hissed the old man. “Nobody’s home. They’re all gone. And I have no idea when they’ll be back. Satisfied?”

  The door slammed in their faces.

  “How could they all be gone?” asked the principal. She looked confused and sad. “We’ve got to find them. Right away.”

  “Your concern for your students is touching,” said Chris’s mother.

  “It’s not just the students I’m worried about,” said the principal.

  Chris’s mother gave her a questioning look.

  “I’m also worried about my grandfather.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR . . .

  M. D. Payne is a mad scientist who creates monsters by stitching together words instead of dead body parts. After nearly a decade in multimedia production for public radio, he entered children’s publishing as a copywriter and marketer. Monster Juice is his debut series. He lives in the tiny village of New York City with his wife and baby girl, and hopes to add a hairy, four-legged monster to his family soon.