Billy Hooten (15 page)

“I guess I'm just not as good as you thought I was,” Billy said, his confidence leaking away. He hung his head, feeling the most depressed he'd felt since his dad accidentally sprayed the garden hose over his issue of
The Snake: King-Size Summer Special Number One.

But at least he'd been able to get a new copy of the ultrarare comic. This was an altogether different situation. Nobody could make him a hero; this was something he had to do himself.

And he had screwed it up big-time.

Archebold didn't say a word, only reinforcing how disappointed he must be.

Billy wanted to crawl underneath a rock and hide.

The Bounders were close, the bouncing of their coiled-spring shoes on the factory floor momentarily distracting Billy and Archebold from their disappointment.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, puny
Owlboy,” Bailey Bounder called as his brothers jeered in the background. “We'll try not to make your stomping hurt too bad.”

Archebold looked at Billy, his goblin eyes wide and glistening in the shadows. “We'd better get you out of here before you get hurt,” he said, and started to stand—but for some reason he couldn't.

“What the …,” the goblin sputtered. “Great! I think I'm stuck.”

“Stuck to what?” Billy asked, unable to see much in the darkness around them.

Archebold continued to struggle as Billy pulled the tiny flashlight from his utility belt and shone it down upon the ground. The tank of adhesive was leaking, and Archebold was stuck to the puddle of glue that had collected on the floor.

“You're stuck, all right,” Billy agreed. He shone his light on the tank, finding the riveted seam in the metal where the sticky stuff had seeped out. “The tank's leaking,” he told his friend. “Give me your hand and I'll try to pull you free.”

Billy put his light away and took the goblin's arms. “On a count of three. One … two …
three!”

Prepared to use his Monstros City superstrength, Billy tugged with all his might, and Archebold came free with a loud ripping sound.

“What the … ?” Archebold said, looking over his shoulder. The butt of his tuxedo pants had been torn away, the material still stuck to the glue on the ground.

Billy was surprised to see that the goblin was wearing pink boxer shorts with great big red hearts on them. He would've bet good money on Archebold's being a tighty-whitey sort of guy.

“I'm really sorry, Archebold,” Billy said. “I didn't think the glue was that sticky, and …”

Suddenly, it hit him with the force of a phaser on stun: an idea that could very well change everything.

“Hey, Billy,” Archebold said to him. “What's wrong, kid? Snap out of it. They're only pants. I've got at least six pairs back at the Roost, no need to go into shock or anything.”

“I have a plan,” Billy said simply, a sly smile that he couldn't control creeping across his face. “I know how we can defeat the Bounders.”

“You do?” Archebold asked, self-consciously covering his exposed rear end with his hands.

Billy nodded, seeing the master plan unfold inside his head.

“I'm gonna need a big bucket.”

Billy watched as Archebold strolled out into the middle of the factory floor, whistling a casual tune as if he didn't have a care in the world—other than the fact that he had a pack of Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons after him—and that he wasn't wearing any pants.

They'd found a bucket in a janitor's closet not too far from where they had been resting, and Billy had immediately put his plan into motion.

The Bounders were somewhere inside the large room, probably lying in wait for Billy and the goblin. Billy hated to hold the poor guys up any longer than he had to.

“Yoo-hoo, Bounder boys!” Archebold called in a high-pitched voice that made him sound like Billy's aunt Mildred. “Here I am, all alone and helpless.”

Billy stuck his head around the corner to see if the monkey demons would take the bait.

His plan involved glue from the storage tank. Using his enhanced strength, he had managed to pull at the already loose seam of the tank, making the leak even bigger. He then filled the bucket they had found with the supersticky substance.

Archebold was doing some kind of crazy dance now, wiggling his butt in its heart-printed underwear in all directions as he attempted to draw the Bounders out
from hiding. He was the perfect lure; how could anybody—especially a Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demon wearing bounding boots—not want to crush him into paste?

“C'mon, boys,” Archebold called. “I'm getting kind of bored here. I thought you guys were supposed to be scary. Yeah, you're scary, all right. You're so scary I'm about to take my behind out of here and head on home to bed, that's how scary you are.”

The goblin looked over at Billy and shrugged. “I don't know where they are,” he whispered. “Maybe they suspect it's a trap.”

“You've got to get them really mad,” Billy suggested. “Maybe say something nasty about their teeth … or even better, their mother.”

As far as Billy was concerned, there was nothing worse than insulting somebody's mother, and he guessed the creatures would likely have the same feeling here in Monstros City.

“Breaking out the heavy artillery, eh?” Archebold commented. “I like the way you think, boss. I've got just the right thing. Heard a heckleberry pie say this once, and I've been saving it up for a special occasion.”

The goblin turned his attention back to the broad expanse of the room, his eyes darting around, searching
for any signs of the nasty monkeys. They remained hidden.

“Hey, Bounders,” Archebold called. “Got a question for you guys. Is it true that your mother was so fat that she donated a hundred pounds to charity?”

Billy gasped from his hiding place.
Good one, Archebold,
he thought. That one would have surely sent any sixth grader at Connery Elementary School into fits of rage.

But the goblin wasn't stopping there.

“Or how about the recent rumors that your mom's so dumb that when stopped for breaking the speed limit, she offered to try to fix it?”

Billy winced. A double play: a
Your mom's so fat
followed by a
Your mom's so dumb.
He imagined that hurt big-time.

And he was right.

Screams of anger echoed around the abandoned factory, and Billy peered around the corner again to see the Bounders emerge from hiding. They were bouncing crazily across the factory floor, making their way toward a seemingly frozen Archebold.

“How dare you speak about our beloved mother in such a way!” Bailey cried.

“She thought she was doing something to help the community when she gave up that fat!” Bobby bellowed.

“And that business with the traffic cop was all a horrible misunderstanding,” Balthasar assured them. “Not that you care, you heartless, craven monster!”

Billy was actually a little surprised at how upset they seemed. It just went to show how dangerous it could be to make fun of somebody's mother, even the mother of a pack of Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons.

“What should I do?” Archebold asked, eyes riveted on the demons bouncing toward him.

“Stay right there,” Billy said. “Don't move an inch.”

“Great,” the goblin scoffed. “It was nice knowing you, kid. Hope you enjoy having Halifax as your new sidekick.”

Billy ignored him, watching as the Bounders bounded toward their prey.

Any second now,
he thought, readying his bucket.

Billy waited until he could read their nametags. At the last possible second, he jumped out and splashed the sticky contents of the bucket onto the floor in front of Archebold.

The Bounders roared when they saw Billy, not paying the least attention to the spot where the coils on their Bounder boots were about to land.

Holding his breath, Billy crossed his fingers, toes and eyes, hoping that his plan would work. If it failed, both he and Archebold were in some serious trouble.

The coils landed in the goopy substance congealing on the floor and stuck fast. The thick metal springs stretched upward but stayed stuck to the floor. One by one, the Bounders were caught in the glue trap.

“What's going on?” Bailey said, trying desperately to pull his boots from the muck.

“It's glue, I think,” Bobby answered, his voice filling with panic. “We're stuck!”

“This can't be happening!” Benny wailed, tugging on his ankles, trying to pull his feet out of the special boots.

Balthasar was way ahead of them and was actually managing to untie his boots and remove his feet, only to fall flat on his face and become stuck to the floor in the slowly expanding puddle of glue.

“A little help here!” he cried. But his brothers ignored his pleas, more concerned with their own predicament.

“That was some plan you had,” Archebold said, cheerfully giving Billy a high five. “Only a real successor to the Owlboy mantle could come up with something like that, let me tell you.”

Billy felt his mood soar higher than ever before. He'd been so bummed mere minutes ago that he hadn't thought he could ever feel this good again. “It was nothing,” he said modestly. “Just needed a minute or so
to put on my thinking cap and then it just sort of came to me.”

Bailey Bounder let out a ferocious shriek that made the hair on the back of Billy's neck stand at attention.

“When I get out of here, I'll make you wish you'd never heard the name Owlboy,” he snarled ferociously.

Billy was about to come back with something clever like
Oh yeah
or
You and whose army
when there was an even louder commotion and the Monstros City police force made its grand entrance.

“Put your paws, tentacles, feelers, claws or whatever you got in the air, you're all under arrest!” Chief Bloodwart hollered, striding into the storage area with his men.

Detective Oozea was slithering around the Bounders, making sure to stay clear of the sticky puddle of glue.

“They got us stuck,” he heard one of the Bounder boys complain to the gelatinous detective.

“And they made fun of our mother,” proclaimed another.

Oozea rubbed his rubbery chin with a stubby tentacle. “Is it true that she got pulled over for breaking the speed limit and then offered to fix it?”

The detective and some of the other uniformed officers started laughing as the Bounders crossed their arms, stewing.

Archebold tugged Billy's arm. “Quick, let's get out of here or we'll be here all night answering their questions.”

Billy allowed himself to be pulled toward the back of the factory, but not before making eye contact with the rocky-skinned police chief.

The chief began to speak, and Billy was certain that he was about to order them to come back.

But he was wrong.

“Good job, Owlboy!” Chief Bloodwart called.

And at that very moment, Billy Hooten truly believed that he was a hero named Owlboy.

Wasn't that the craziest thing?

CHAPTER 12

B
illy stood at the wall of Owlboy portraits in the snack room, drinking his mug of ghost juice—a thick but invisible liquid made from the fruit of the bogey bush, which, according to Archebold, who loved the stuff, ripened only once a year in the spectral fields of the Phantom Farms. Billy was wondering if someday there would be a picture of him hanging on the wall.

“So what do you think?” Billy asked his friend, who was sitting across the room in an overstuffed chair, eating from a bowl that was filled to overflowing with what looked like tiny multicolored brains.

Billy took up a position in an empty space large enough for another portrait and posed, holding his mug
of ghost juice. “Will I fit in with the others?” he asked Archebold.

“You'll fit just fine,” the goblin answered, popping a handful of colorful brains into his mouth and starting to chew.

Billy returned to his own comfortable chair. “Bet you wouldn't have thought that before I came up with that plan to stop the Bounder boys,” he challenged, helping himself to a piece of fluffy white cake so light it floated above the plate like a cloud.

Archebold set the bowl of brains down, licked his clawed fingers and wiped his hands on the front of his new pants. As soon as they had returned to the Roost, he had immediately gone to his room for a fresh pair, complaining all the while that his legs were cold.

“I did have my doubts for a bit there,” the goblin admitted. “But much to my pleasure, you proved me wrong.”

Billy finished his piece of cloud cake, enjoying the strangely pleasant sensation of the dessert floating around inside his stomach.
“You
had doubts!” he exclaimed. “I was ready to take off the costume right then and there—but then I would have been practically naked, too—so I guess I had to come up with something else.”

“And there was only room for one of us to be nearly
naked on this case,” Archebold said with a wink, and laughed.

“Better you than me,” Billy said, starting to giggle.

The goblin took the pitcher of ghost juice from the table. “Give me your mug,” he said, and Billy held it out for the goblin to refill.

Well, at least he thought it was filled, but how could he tell—the drink was invisible.

Archebold refilled his own glass, then held it up.

“I want to propose a toast.”

Billy lifted his mug.

“To Billy Hooten, the newest Owlboy,” Archebold proclaimed, his dark, beady eyes twinkling proudly. “Evil doesn't stand a chance.”

Two pitchers of ghost juice and more snacks than either of them could keep count of later, Billy and Archebold sat in their comfy chairs, stuffed close to bursting.

“I think if I ate another bite I might explode,” Billy said, patting his swollen belly with a gloved hand.

“I can just imagine how mad Halifax would be, having to scrub burst superhero off the walls,” Archebold said, leaning over to help himself to a giant chocolate-covered slug.

Billy felt his eyes growing heavy. He knew he would
soon lose the battle against sleep. “I think I should probably be heading home,” he said, stifling a yawn.

“I'm pretty tired myself,” the goblin agreed, sliding off his chair. “C'mon, I'll show you the way out.”

Billy followed his tiny friend through the winding hallways of the Roost, struggling to keep his eyes open and wondering if this was how it felt to sleepwalk. The two at last ended up in the observation room, the hundreds of television screens still tuned to the various locations and happenings in the city of monsters.

Something caught Billy's eye, and he strolled closer to one of the monitors. “What's that?” he asked, thinking there might be a situation brewing that could require his attention.

But it wasn't trouble at all. Quite the opposite, really. There was a party going on in the streets. All kinds of monsters were dancing and laughing and having a general good time.

“What's going on?” Archebold asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he trudged over to stand beside Billy. “Well, I'll be. Would you look at that,” he continued, his voice filled with awe.

And then Billy noticed the signs.

WELCOME BACK, OWLBOY! read one of them.

WE MISSED YOU! read another.

“It's really something, isn't it?” Archebold said, putting a friendly arm around Billy's waist.

“Yeah, it really is,” Billy agreed, pulling his tired eyes from the scene playing out on the television and walking with the goblin to the door that would lead him back to the shadowy passage, and finally to the stairs, and home.

“See you soon?” Archebold asked, opening the door for him.

Billy stopped, turning to his new friend.

“What do you think?”

Night-vision goggles activated, Billy walked through the dark, twisting passage until he reached the stairs that would take him back up into the normal world.

Billy didn't think he'd ever quite reach the end as he trudged up the curving stone staircase, but he got a second wind when he saw a light growing gradually closer above. He was truly exhausted, his first real adventure as Monstros’ superhero rattling around inside his skull as he at last crawled out of the stone Sprylock coffin.

Billy thought it was sort of weird; as he looked around the dusty old mausoleum, it felt good to be back in the real world, but at the same time he found himself missing the bizarre sights of Monstros City.

He left the mausoleum as he had found it, closing the door behind him and jogging down the cemetery
path toward the wall that separated his yard from the final resting place of the dead.

Billy wasn't sure he had ever been so tired. He remembered a time when he and Tommy Stanley had stayed up all night watching horror movies, eating frozen pizzas and reading comic books. This time, he was even tireder than that.

Over the wall and then into the house,
he thought, trying to psych himself up. The image of his nice, comfortable bed was the most wonderful vision he had ever seen, and he yearned to crawl beneath the cool sheets, blanket and heavy comforter.

Hopping up onto the wall, minus his superabilities, and dropping down into his yard, he reminded himself to be extra quiet. He wouldn't want to wake his parents and have to explain why he was dressed the way he was.

As he crossed the yard, he glanced across the way to Victoria's house. Remembering his promise to play superhero with her the next day if she went to bed, he half expected to see her tiny face appear suddenly in the window.

That should be fun,
he thought sarcastically, climbing the porch steps and letting himself in, but he was too tired to worry about it now. He'd deal with it in the morning, after he'd had a chance to rest.

Billy stood in the kitchen, carefully listening, and
heard the sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from the television in the other room. The movie his folks had been watching—sleeping through was more like it—was still playing, and he again marveled at how different the passage of time was in this world and in Monstros. According to the kitchen clock, he'd been gone for less than forty minutes.

It was an amazing thing.

Creeping down the hallway, he peered into the living room to see his folks still fast asleep in front of the TV.

Perfect,
Billy thought, beginning the last leg of his journey up the stairs and to bed. But the closer he got to his room, the more his experiences bubbled up in his thoughts, and the more excited he became.

He couldn't wait to do it all again, but first he needed to sleep. Too tired even to wash his face and brush his teeth, he removed his Owlboy costume, taking the time to put it on a hanger—which might have been a first for any article of clothing he had ever owned. He held the costume out at arm's length, admiring it and what it represented before hanging it far back in the closet.

His bed seemed to call to him, speaking in the language of sleep, and Billy answered its siren call, shuffling zombie-like across the room and falling onto his
mattress. He barely had the strength to cover himself before drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Billy Hooten didn't need to dream. His dreams had become reality.

Archebold the goblin reclined in the observation room chair, watching the many television monitors.

One in particular.

He heard the door open, heard the shuffling footfalls that could only be Halifax coming up to stand alongside him.

“Hello,” the troll said. He was holding a broom and started to sweep the floor. “Mind if I tidy up a bit in here?” he asked.

“Knock yourself out,” Archebold said, eyes fixed on the monitor.

The troll swept for a while, humming softly beneath his breath.

“So how did it go tonight?” he asked casually, sweeping some dust bunnies—which actually looked like tiny rabbits—into a small pile.

“Went good,” the goblin answered. “Thanks for that information tonight, by the way. It really helped out. Sorry we got you out of your bath.”

“No problem. I needed to get out anyway, my fingers
were getting all pruny.” The troll wiggled his sausage-sized fingers.

“I hate when that happens,” Archebold added, eyes still fixed on the monitor.

“So, this new kid,” Halifax asked, leaning on his broom. “Think he's going to work out?”

Archebold said nothing, reaching down between the cushions of the recliner for the remote control. Programming a code on the remote, he pointed it at the monitors and pushed a button.

All the monitors flickered momentarily before returning to normal, but they no longer showed multiple views of what was going on in Monstros City. Now they showed only one scene, a scene of celebration.

A celebration of Owlboy's return.

Archebold turned his head to look at Halifax, who was staring at the images, surprise showing on his hairy face.

“Do I think the kid's going to work out?” the goblin asked with a sly smile.

“What do
you
think?”