Fear the Barfitron Read online

  Gordon walked over to Shane holding a small wooden board with both hands. He held it up to Shane, who came at it with a karate chop.

  “Yuhhh!” Shane grunted and broke the board.

  A bit of weak applause floated up from the crowd. Shane bowed.

  “With months of training and focused discipline, you too could do the same thing,” Shane said. “But let’s start with the basics.”

  Shane reached his arms up to either side, and pointed to the left and right.

  “Let’s work out bad posture by stretching out our shoulders.”

  Ben, Gordon, and I demonstrated the stretch. The monsters lifted up their arms. Some of them had quite a hard time. Cracking, creaking, and popping filled the room. So did small yelps of pleasure.

  “Awoooo, that feels GOOD,” howled the werewolf.

  Instead of stretching them out to the side, all the zombies held their arms in front of them, as if reaching for brains. Big surprise. A Nurse pulled each of their arms out in the right direction.

  “Now, don’t be afraid to stretch a little harder,” said Shane. “Point your fingers as if you’re pointing to something far off in the distance. Look from side to side. Work that tension out.”

  The monsters all seemed to be enjoying themselves. But suddenly, one of the zombie’s moans turned to a screech. He was stretching as hard as he could when his arm flew off his shoulder and toward a witch. The outstretched palm slapped her large witch-butt with a sharp SMACK.

  Her screams made the other monsters turn. She stomped at the rude arm as it flapped around on the ground. The zombie shuffled forward to try to save it.

  Ben, Gordon, and Shane stared, disgusted, at the scene before them.

  “His arm…” Ben hiccupped.

  “What the…,” Shane started to say, but he just swallowed hard and turned white.

  Gordon scratched his head.

  The old monsters were agitated. Growls rose from the crowd. The Nurses realized that something was going on and looked at one another. They headed into the crowd of agitated monsters to break things up before they got out of hand.

  But things had already gotten out of hand.

  Just as we hoped they would.

  Just as we had planned.

  “Now’s our chance!” I yelled.

  I ran for the door with Ben and Gordon. As planned, Shane stayed behind to keep the lesson going when things quieted.

  “All right,” yelled Shane. He eyed the crowd nervously, trying to act normal. “When everyone settles down, I will teach you a basic low kick.”

  But nobody wanted to settle down.

  We flew through the door and were about to turn down the hall when another scream made us stop.

  This time, Shane was screaming.

  We turned to see all of the zombies surrounding Shane!

  His eyes bugged out with fear! He held his arms high above the circle of zombies, waving to get our attention, and then fell to the floor.

  “Shane!” Gordon yelled, and rushed back through the door.

  He was quickly pushed back into the hallway by a Nurse.

  “Not safe here!” the Nurse yelled, and then slammed the door in our faces. With a loud CLICK, he locked the door.

  Gordon pounded on the door. Ben and I joined him, screaming for the Nurse to let us in.

  We pounded until our knuckles were sore.

  “There’s nothing we can do here,” I said, frustrated. “Let’s get upstairs and find my lebensplasm!”

  “But Chris—” Gordon said.

  “But WHAT?” I snapped. “The door’s locked and we’re losing time. Of all of us, he’s the best prepared for what’s going on in there. He’s given us an amazing distraction. Let’s use it.”

  I looked at Ben and Gordon with pleading eyes.

  “Okay,” Ben said.

  “Fine,” said Gordon.

  We sped down the hallway and my heartbeat quickened.

  “I hope we don’t see the Director,” I said as we made our way into the lobby.

  We headed up the crooked staircase.

  “I forget—what exactly are we looking for again?” Gordon asked.

  We rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and down the long hallway.

  “A small jar of gooey stuff,” I said. “My stuff.”

  “His lebensplasm,” Ben said.

  We stopped in front of the door marked

  DO NOT ENTER

  Staff Only

  “Leg spasm? Wha?” asked Gordon.

  “My soul, my life, I dunno. I’ve already explained twenty times, dude,” I said. “But we need to get it and it’s in here.”

  “Look,” he said, “I thought you were playing a joke on us this whole time—I wasn’t exactly paying attention.”

  “Did you forget our plan, too?” I asked Gordon.

  “No, no, no, I got it!” he roared back.

  “We have to hurry,” I said. “The Nurses will have things under control soon.”

  Ben sprang into action. He hopped down on his hands and knees below the candlestick. I stood on his back and got a good hold on the candlestick, then placed my feet on the wall. Ben jumped up and held my feet into place.

  “Ready?” I asked Gordon.

  “Ready!” said Gordon, who crouched in front of the screaming demon.

  I pulled down as hard as I could, and the candlestick popped right out of the wall. The sound of clicking filled the hallway.

  “NOW!” I screamed.

  Gordon rushed at the statue.

  “Huuuuuuuuhhhhhhh!” he grunted as he pushed. The statue slowly, slowly scraped to the right.

  “You’ve almost got it!” I yelled.

  “Help…me…Ben,” Gordon gasped. “I’m…pooping out!”

  Ben rushed over to Gordon as I hung in place. I could feel the candlestick begin to rise.

  “Hurry!” I screeched.

  Ben and Gordon grunted and groaned and…

  CLICK!

  “Yeah!” Gordon yelled, and high-fived a nearly-passed-out Ben.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “The candlestick is going back into the wall! Pull my legs, pull my legs!”

  Gordon and Ben each grabbed a leg, and tugged as hard as they could. The candlestick was still being pulled back in to the wall.

  “Harder!” I screamed.

  They tugged so hard it felt like my spine was snapping. I didn’t care.

  The clicking turned to grinding.

  “Mooooooooore!” I moaned in pain.

  The candlestick slowly pulled back out of the wall and the grinding slowed down until…

  CLICK!

  The door flung open. Cold air blew through the doorway. It smelled a little like a hospital—sterile and bleachy.

  I let go of the candlestick.

  It was pitch-black and eerily quiet inside.

  “You first,” said Ben. I could hear the fear in his voice.

  I felt exactly the same way.

  We held our cell phones up as flashlights and headed in. Ben followed close behind me and Gordon. We slowly made our way down the hallway. With every step I took, I expected something to spring out at us.

  “Don’t they have any lights around here?” Ben asked.

  “I dunno,” I said.

  We flashed our cell phone lights along the wall. There didn’t seem to be any switches anywhere. The doors in the hall were all closed, and had small windows in them, like in a prison or a psych ward.

  Gordon flashed his light into the first one.

  “Dudes, you gotta see this,” he said.

  “I can’t look,” said Ben.

  I came over to look. It was hard to see through the glass, since a lot of light reflected off of it. But inside was a room without any furniture. It looked like a jungle inside—with trees and vines. It was moist, and the light that did get through appeared foggy.

  “What’s in there?” I asked, and we looked at one another.

  We could see a slight movement in the le
aves, but couldn’t tell what it was.

  “Do you think that your lebensplasm is in there?” asked Ben.

  “I hope not,” I said. “Let’s keep looking.”

  We headed down the long dark hallway. Gordon and I peered into the next door. This room seemed normal, with a few pieces of furniture and a bed. There was something large on the bed. Something human? Perhaps not—it was hard to tell. We peered in as close as we could.

  “What is it?” asked Ben, and he pushed in between us to have a peek.

  I was about to turn away when the something jumped up and practically flew over to the window. In an instant, a huge grinning face with razor-sharp teeth—but skin where eyes should be—was in the window. Hot breath fogged the window up, as the creature let out a high-pitched growl-squeak.

  We yelled and jumped back, our sneakers squeaking on the cold linoleum floor.

  “Do you think it can get through the window?” Gordon whined.

  The blind monster lifted up a gnarled, slimy hand and pointed behind us.

  Ben covered his eyes.

  Gordon and I turned to see one of the old vampires. It was the vampire that had been licking his lips at me ever since I started at Raven Hill.

  “Chris?” Ben whimpered. “Can we go now?”

  In the pale light of our cell phones, I could see that the vampire was drooling a little. A wad of drool fell off of the left corner of his mouth and PLOPPED to the floor.

  The vampire was hungry.

  He backed up toward the main entrance to the hallway. The monster in the prison cell behind us giggled a high, piercing giggle. It didn’t sound human.

  We were cornered.

  “I’ve had enough of this. Outta my way, old man!” Gordon yelled.

  He stomped toward the doorway and the light beyond. I grabbed Gordon before he got too close to the old vampire.

  “That’s not just any old man,” I said. “He’s a vampire.”

  “What?” Ben said, and finally looked up from his hands.

  As if on cue, the old vampire bared his teeth for us to see.

  They looked remarkably pearly white and healthy for a vampire of his age. And his incisors looked very, very sharp.

  “RUN!” I yelled.

  I grabbed Ben and Gordon by the belts of their karate uniforms, and turned down the dark hallway. I had no idea where it led, but I knew it led away from the vampire. That was good enough for me.

  We ran past another half dozen doors and the medical/hospital/bleach smell got even stronger. At the end of the hallway, there was a small room with beakers and vials—a laboratory. We ducked inside.

  “Look for a door on the other side!” I screamed.

  “He’s halfway down the hall,” Gordon yelled.

  Gordon sounded terrified.

  Ben slammed the door shut, but there was no lock. We scrambled around the room, looking for a door to anywhere but here. But there was no door, and there was no window. The old vampire would be here any second, and he looked ready to feast.

  I looked around for wood to make into a stake, but there was nothing but steel and stone in the laboratory.

  “How are we going to defend ourselves?” I asked.

  “I dunno,” said Gordon. “How about this?”

  He held up a beaker labeled ACID.

  “It’s worth a try,” Ben said.

  I rummaged through a drawer of rusty old medical tools and found a scalpel.

  The door slowly creaked open, and the sound of laughter filled the laboratory. The old vampire was giggling.

  “Ready for dinner?” asked Gordon as he stepped forward.

  He flung the vial of acid at the vampire. It broke and the vampire started smoking, but it didn’t slow him down. He giggled even more and lunged forward. Gordon backed right into a cabinet, and the vampire pounced and held on tight.

  “GORDON!” Ben screeched.

  “Get him off me!!” yelled Gordon.

  I jumped forward and stabbed the old vampire in the throat.

  The scalpel just stuck there as the old vampire leaned in to bite Gordon. He didn’t even seem to feel it.

  “Chris! Ben!” Gordon yelled. “Help me out! DO SOMETHING!!!”

  But it was too late. The vampire opened wide and let out one more drooly, excited giggle.

  And then, right before I closed my eyes—

  FWACK! CRACK!

  The old vampire’s dentures fell out of his mouth, bounced off of Gordon’s neck, and rattled to a drooly stop on the linoleum floor of the laboratory.

  The old vampire let Gordon go and slowly leaned down to scoop up his dentures. Gordon ran out into the hall. I leaned down to grab the dentures before the vampire did.

  Neither of us would get the dentures, though.

  They started clicking…

  And took off down the hallway!

  “Gordon!” I yelled “WATCH OUT!”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Taylor,” said a voice that was not Gordon’s, “your friend is just fine. Grigore’s dentures are just heading back to his coffin.”

  “The Director?!” I yelled.

  Sure enough the Director came through the door, dragging Gordon by his ear.

  Grigore started crying as soon as he saw the Director. He rushed over and grabbed a hold of his suit, weeping into his perfectly pressed shirt. The Director let Gordon go and he came over to stand next to Ben and me. Gordon rubbed his ear, which was beet red.

  “Mr. Taylor,” the Director said, cradling Grigore in his arms, “you have broken into the private wing. You’ve soiled my laboratory, most likely ruining weeks of research. But, most despicably, you have frightened Grigore.”

  The old vampire cried louder at the sound of his name.

  “I’m extremely disappointed in you. You were the perfect candidate. But I see now that I should never have trusted you. Certainly not today. Most likely from the beginning. I let you in after the raven tried to block you. You’ve been up to something the whole time you’ve been volunteering here. What is it?”

  “I’VE BEEN UP TO SOMETHING?!” I yelled. “What have you been up to? Sheltering monsters!”

  “Well, I don’t really think of them as monsters,” the Director said, patting Grigore’s head. “Just elderly with special needs.”

  “Very special needs,” said Gordon.

  “But,” the Director continued, “I will agree with you that I’ve been sheltering them. It is my duty to shelter and protect them. They have nowhere else to turn. And you gentlemen have stuck your noses far too far into our affairs.”

  An intercom next to the door crackled and a voice said, “Great Room secure.” It sounded like one of the Nurses.

  “Very well,” said the Director. “Meet me at my office.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Follow me, gentlemen,” said the Director, “or I’ll lock you in this wing and open up all the doors.”

  He didn’t have to tell us twice.

  Ben, Gordon, and I all sat in the Director’s office with our heads down.

  Shane was nowhere to be seen.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” whispered Ben. “They killed Shane! I think I’m losing my mind.”

  “It’s okay, Ben.” I patted him on the back.

  I had absolutely no idea if it was okay.

  “Where’s Shane?” I asked the Director.

  The Director paced behind his desk and stared at us. And stared at us. And stared at us. He looked very, very angry. And still he didn’t say anything.

  Two Nurses guarded the door. The office itself was actually quite warm and inviting—books on the shelves, a small fireplace, a nice view of the hillside. The furnishings were all wood and leather, and there was a rug that looked like it could have actually been manufactured in the last twenty years.

  “If this is your idea of a joke…,” Gordon started to say to the Director.

  But then Shane came into the room—with the zombie who had lost his arm!

  Shane gave
the arm, which had been reattached, a shake.

  “It was great talking with you, too, Billy!” he said as the zombie turned to leave. “If they ever let you out of here, you should check out the dojo I go to. Remember—start slow—ease your body into it.”

  Shane sat down next to us. We all just stared at him.

  “What’s up, guys?” he asked casually.

  “Wait,” Ben said. “You made it! We thought you were done for! This is crazy! Was that really a zombie?”

  “The zombies are actually pretty chill dudes,” said Shane. “You just have to talk to them on their level, you know what I mean?”

  The Director sat down behind his desk, sinking slowly into his chair. He clasped his hands together, but still said nothing.

  “So…,” Gordon said, “can we go now?”

  “No,” the Director said, “you cannot go now. Nor can you go…ever. I’ve made up my mind—you can never leave this place. You’ve seen too much, and…”

  The Director hesitated for a moment.

  “…and I need your help with the residents.”

  “Wait!” I yelled. “You can’t just keep us here!”

  “Actually, I can,” the Director said. There was not a hint of joking in his voice.

  “What are you going to tell our parents when they come looking for us?” I asked.

  “Oh, your parents will never come looking for you,” the Director said.

  “Don’t you dare hurt them,” I said.

  The Director grinned and said, “I’m not going to hurt your parents. I have some rare monsters—”

  Gordon interrupted the Director with a loud snicker.

  “Yes, monsters—in the very same wing where I caught you. One of them is a jungle worm that can crawl into the brain of its victim through the nose and eat their memories. We’ll introduce a few to your parents, and they’ll soon forget they ever had children. We’ll do the same to your teachers. To your principal. To your grandparents, if in fact they still exist. Your friends might miss you, but who will believe a kid who talks about imaginary friends? The worms hurt terribly, but your parents won’t remember that, either. So I won’t, technically, be hurting them.”

  “That’s disgusting,” said Ben, and let out a little burp. “Oh, man, someone get me out of here!”

  “What an idiotic plan,” I said.