Gremlins (29 page)

“Billy!” he shouted.

Bursting from the car, he embraced his son, all the while bombarding him with questions.

“What’s been going on here, anyway? Is your mother all right? Why are you running?”

“Sorry, Dad,” Billy replied, pulling away. “We’ve got to catch that— Did you see a Gremlin go by?”

“A what?”

Billy explained as quickly as possible what they were chasing, not going into why. Rand pointed toward the department store door. Nodding, Billy grabbed Kate’s hand and started to run off, but Rand managed to get hold of his other arm and spin him around.

“Wait a second!” he shouted. “Don’t run off. I want to know how your mother is.”

“O.K., I think,” Billy replied, backing toward the door as he spoke. “The phone’s out but she’s locked in the house. Sorry, Dad, but I’ve gotta catch that Gremlin.”

“Why? It looks dangerous.”

“It is.”

“Then let the cops do it.”

“No time.”

“Wait. I’ll help.”

The offer was delivered to empty air, Billy and Kate having already disappeared into the department store.

Momentarily confused and indecisive, Rand stood on the sidewalk scratching his head. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew he hadn’t driven all night just to be a spectator. If Billy had a problem, it was his problem, too.

And maybe even Barney’s, Rand thought, moving quickly back to the car.

“Come on, boy,” he said to the impatient Barney, pushing the front seat forward so the dog could jump onto the sidewalk. “Let’s go help Billy.”

As he slammed the door and started to turn away, Rand’s eyes fell on an object lying in the back seat—his Bathroom Buddy. It was perfect now, he was sure of it, and several people at the sales meeting had expressed interest in marketing it on a major scale. Knowing that, and remembering that one door of his car still refused to lock, he made a quick decision.

“Maybe I just better take this along,” he said, reaching into the back for the device. “I’d sure hate to have somebody come along and steal this baby just when she’s about to make a lot of money for us.”

Holding the Bathroom Buddy in front of him with both hands, rather like a high port arms, he ran with surprising speed into the Montgomery Ward store, followed immediately by Barney, whose flashing eyes and agitated nose indicated he was eager for the hunt.

General David Greene was starting to become more than a little angry and frustrated. It was now well after five o’clock and the sky was beginning to lighten considerably. For the better part of two hours his men had been going from house to house and building to building in the northern section of Kingston Falls, searching for the little green monsters. Their lack of success so far had been total.

“Well, what do you think, Medved?” he muttered to his aide, who was never more than thirty inches away.

Major Josh Medved knew better than to respond immediately. When General Greene asked you what you thought, it meant that he was going to tell you what he thought.

“Tell you what I think,” Greene continued. “I think either this whole town’s crazy, or they’re in cahoots with the Gremlins.”

“In cahoots, sir?” Medved asked, frowning. He understood exactly what the general was getting at—any fool could tell that—but from past experience Medved knew his superior officer appreciated thickheadedness above all other qualities.

“Sure,” Greene replied. “Maybe not willingly, but I think these people may be sheltering or hiding the Gremlins. Out of fear, maybe. It was like that in Vietnam, you know. Those natives didn’t help the VC because they liked ’em or believed in what they were doing. They were just plain scared.”

“Yessir. That makes sense.”

A lieutenant approached, looked around to see if the TV crew that had accompanied them was shooting. They were, so he saluted smartly.

Greene casually returned the salute and waited.

“Two things, sir,” the lieutenant said. “We talked to some people in the next block who say they saw Gremlins at three or three-thirty. Then they all started to gravitate south, almost like they had an appointment.”

“O.K. What’s the second thing?”

“Sergeant Williamson called and said a whole building’s on fire down at Main and Garfield. That’s south of here at the other end of town. Could be the Gremlins are involved with that.”

General Greene nodded and the lieutenant left.

“What do you think, Medved?” Greene asked.

Major Medved pursed his lips as if he were involved in serious cogitation.

“Tell you what I think,” the general said. “I think we oughta stop beating the bushes out here and head for that fire where the action is.”

“Good idea, sir.”

“Stripe couldn’t have picked a much better spot,” Billy said with a sigh.

Her eyes flitting from side to side as she tried to adjust them to the darkness, Kate knew exactly what he meant. Montgomery Ward was spacious, with most of the merchandise spread over a four-acre, single-floor area. The aisles seemed endless—some, as the store’s advertisements proclaimed, were a quarter mile long—and were jammed with displays. The illumination was minimal, coming now from small amber night lights at the intersections of the aisles.

“He could hide in here forever,” Billy said.

Kate looked up at the ceiling. Billy, immediately understanding the movement, looked up too.

“Yeah,” he said. “I wonder if we can find out how to turn on those overheads.”

“Why don’t we split up?” Kate suggested. “You keep looking for Stripe and I’ll try to find the lights.”

“Good. I think they may be somewhere near the office. Do you know this store?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Seems to me there’s a room where they have everything—lights, P.A. system, burglar alarm switches, the works.”

“O.K. If it’s there, I’ll find it.”

“Maybe you’d better take Giz,” Billy said, handing her the knapsack. “He’ll be safer with you, and I’ll be able to move around better.”

Gizmo peeked out of the canvas bag sadly, stretched forth a beseeching paw.

“Sorry, little guy,” Billy said, smiling. “I’d better go on this one alone.”

Kate and Gizmo headed in the direction of the office. Billy, noting that he was in the sporting goods department, grabbed a baseball bat from a nearby rack, tested it for heft, then began a systematic search of the aisles.

Alone in the semidarkness of the huge store, he was suddenly apprehensive, even more so than when he and Gizmo had tracked Stripe into the YMCA building. That episode seemed a long time ago now, although the actual passage of time was less than twelve hours. During that brief period he had learned the essential thing about Gremlins—that their mischievous pranks could lead to violence and death. Although he tried to drive that depressing thought from his mind, it was definitely with him as he walked from aisle to aisle. How much better it will be, he could not help thinking, if I discover Stripe before he discovers me.

And how much more unlikely, another part of his mind replied.

Annoyed and distracted by his flip-flopping mental gymnastics, he forced himself to concentrate on positive methods of locating his Gremlin adversary rather than just walking along, hoping to stumble upon him.

“What would I do if our places were reversed?” he asked himself. The answer seemed self-evident: “I would create a distraction so I could spring a trap.”

Spring a trap with what?

With any of a hundred things, for the store abounded with potentially lethal weapons, especially to the person who was nervous about being ambushed. That thought having entered his mind, Billy saw the possibility of sudden terror striking him from any part of the store. Remembering the sports equipment section, he envisioned himself being laid low by another baseball bat similar to the one he now carried, shot at by a rifle, struck with weights, a tennis racket, pool cue, or garroted by jump rope. Passing the automotive section, he saw it presented an equally juicy choice of weapons, including tire wrenches, snow chains, trailer hitches, shock absorbers, or decorative hubcaps. The Lawn Care Center presented grisly death via spading fork or rake, and KitchenWare threatened him with mutilation by an attacker armed with matching steak knives or barbecue forks. Even the women’s clothing section contained items that a clever or desperate attacker could use to terminate him—namely, spiked heels, belts, heavy handbags, or metal coat hangers.

“You are letting yourself get carried away,” he whispered to himself.

As he spoke, he heard a whirring noise to which was soon added a faraway metallic singing voice and the rat-a-tat of a tiny drum. A moment later rock music augmented the mix into a swirl of overlapping sounds. Advancing cautiously, Billy peeked around the corner of the aisle into what was obviously the toy department.

The floor of the entire department was alive with small mechanical devices—robots, windup trucks and cars, animals, dolls and cartoon characters—each one singing or talking or making its own particular sound designed to enchant kids. Now, with all of them operating simultaneously in the semidarkness of the deserted store, the effect was eerie rather than charming, but it was difficult not to watch.

In short, a genial distraction.

The distraction, Billy thought, immediately before the—

Thwock.

—trap.

His mind completed the end of the thought even as a blindingly bright silver object passed in front of his eyes and tore into the wall behind him. Wincing in pain, Billy threw his hand to his cheek and brought down the dark wet stain he knew was blood. Disoriented, he spun around, sensing rather than hearing the approach of another flying object. Just in time he managed to hurl himself to the floor, the second object passing inches above his head.

Thwack.

Rolling behind the protection of a display at the end of the aisle, he lay on his stomach watching the second silver abject slide down the wall and come to rest on the floor beside the first missile. Both objects were members of the rotary saw blade family, one six and the other eight inches in diameter.

And more relatives were on the way.

Giggling furiously all the while, Stripe leaped from his hiding place to unleash a deadly barrage of similar blades from a display case, quickly shredding the trash box Billy was partially hidden behind and very nearly decapitating him with several expertly thrown carom shots. Trapped in a corner, Billy could do little but try to deflect the hail of flying steel with the remains of the cardboard box. When the saw blades were all used, Stripe continued his attack with a variety of hammers, wrenches, small cans of paint, and just about everything else he could get a grip on with his claws.

Billy hurled himself backward to avoid a flying crosscut saw and slammed into a display case, which tipped and crashed over, trapping his legs beneath the shelves. Still clutching the shaggy section of trash box as a pitiful shield, he lay on his stomach in a litter of tools, accessories, and home improvement items.

Stripe decided to finish him off while he had the chance. Looking about for a suitable device with which to apply the
coup de grace
, his eyes lit up as they fell on a wonderfully lethal-looking heavy-duty battery. The thing was so leaden Stripe could barely lift it, but the edge of the monster cube felt even deadlier than it looked. He could easily imagine it crushing his enemy’s skull after the shortest of falls.

Quickly wrestling the battery to within a few feet of his fallen foe, Stripe held it at his own chest level, poised for the descent onto the back of Billy’s head. Then, suddenly dissatisfied at the short distance the battery would have to fall and gain killing momentum, he decided to raise it as high as possible so it would strike with even greater force.

Billy began to thrash free from the pile just as Stripe got the battery above his own head. Fear that his quarry was about to escape, combined with the weight of the dense object and Stripe’s lack of gripping ability, caused the battery to slip. The battery bounced off his shoulder and landed squarely on Stripe’s left foot.

“Yyyyeeeeggggggrrrrrrrr!!!”

With a howl of pain, Stripe looked down at the pulpy mass of discolored flesh and shattered bone that used to be his foot and limped quickly away.

For a moment Billy could see nothing but blackness, the battery having finally come to rest not more than an inch in front of his eyes.

Pulling himself free of the wreckage, he leaped to his feet and started down the aisle after Stripe. At an intersection of four new aisles, he stopped and looked in all directions but the Gremlin was nowhere in sight.

“Darn,” he sighed. “Where did he go? I sure could use those lights now. I wonder what’s happening.”

Gizmo shivered as he heard the noise of battle from far across the store. It sounded like someone dueling with ladders or a wall collapsing. The heavy silence that followed, however, was even more ominous, causing him to imagine all sorts of terrible things. If Billy had been victorious in that contest of flying objects, wouldn’t he have cheered or shouted to Kate and himself? If the chase was still in progress or, even worse, if Billy lay injured or dying, Gizmo knew he was needed. Kate, while looking for the panel that controlled the lights, had placed the knapsack on a table just outside the store office. Gizmo knew he would be safe there, but the desire to help Billy was vastly more powerful than his sense of self-preservation.

Flipping the knapsack cover down, he crawled out of the canvas bag and lowered himself to the floor.

Not sure where to go, he padded along aimlessly for a short time, painfully aware of his lack of speed, another facility creator Mogturmen had overlooked while putting together his species.

“There has to be a better way,” Gizmo murmured. “It’ll take me years to get to the other end of the store on these legs.”

He found what he was looking for a few minutes later in a tangle of wreckage on the periphery of the toy department. Its wheels were still spinning uselessly, the vehicle having become trapped in a corner. Gizmo approached it cautiously, located the
ON
/
OFF
switch and flipped it, causing the motor to die. Pushing it free of the fallen boxes at the end of the aisle, he rolled it to the middle of the corner and carefully pointed it in the direction he wanted to take.