Tales from the Haunted Mansion Vol. 1: The Fearsome Foursome (13 page)

Almost immediately, his fear was replaced with a sense of purpose. Sure, about a second and a half later, the fear came back, but still, what a grand second and a half it was! He was going to save them—somehow. And Noah told them so. “Hold on! I’ll think of something!”

“We’ll wait,” replied Philip, unaware of how ridiculous that sounded.

Noah ran through a grocery list of anti-monster options. He could call the Eldritch Company, talk to their complaint department. All right, that was plain silly. By the time he got through, the creature would be on dessert, and besides, there really wasn’t anything to complain about. On the contrary: that thing in the pool certainly lived up to the advertisement. Talk about getting your money’s worth!

What about the police? Maybe get the military involved? The Japanese army? They could deal with it. They’d dealt with prehistoric monsters before. But time was of the essence. Noah heard a gurgle from the pool, a sound he recognized. It was the same one his stomach made right before breakfast.

He got up on his toes, just in time to witness—

With my most humble apologies, decorum prevents me from describing what he saw. It might cause nightmares for our more impressionable readers. On second thought, why not? We only die once. Here it goes:

A wall of blubbery flesh split down the middle, revealing a gigantic maw just below Philip and his dog. It was a gargantuan mouth attached to a throat leading to the creature’s pulsating empty stomach. The stench was that of an ancient world, where creatures such as those ruled the sea. There were plumes of steam rising from the newly formed orifice; its digestive acids were already beginning to brew, its fluids powerful enough to dissolve a car in minutes. For Philip and Dots, the suffering wouldn’t last long. The stinging vapors would instantaneously dissolve them into pools of unidentifiable goo. And for the parts that didn’t melt, the mouth had already begun to sprout teeth: layers upon layers of jagged fangs of varying lengths, some up to ten inches long!

Well, you know what they say: Where there’re
teeth,
there’re
tentacles.
Okay, nobody says that. But as the segue to our next passage, it’s dead-on!

A multitude of tentacles burst through the pool’s lining, snaking their way under the grass like living roots. Noah would be dead meat if they caught him. He tried making a move for the house, but a wiggly wall of feelers was already there, anticipating his route.

He returned to the lawn, hopping over tentacles at every turn. The neighbor’s fence was in range. He thought about giving it a shot, but at times like those, you had to recognize your own limitations, and Noah wasn’t what you’d consider a gifted climber.

A whiplike tendril snapped near his ankles. Noah ran across the yard in a serpentine pattern, just barely avoiding capture. There was one other option—the metal toolshed. If he could make it inside, perhaps he could come up with a plan, because when you’re running for your life, it isn’t the best time for planning. When you’re running for your life, you’re mostly thinking:
Oh god, I’m running for my life!

He took a breath and bolted for the shed. It wasn’t very far, about twenty feet, but given the circumstances, it felt like twenty miles. Noah’s flip-flops flew from his feet but he kept on going. No tears—they were from Dollar Duds. And in fact, they represented the best buck Noah had ever spent, because the tentacles, not being the sharpest extremities in the pond, busied themselves with his footwear, buying Noah just enough time to make it into the shed.

He closed the door and spun around, looking for something he could use as a barricade. There wasn’t much to work with. An old lawn mower, entangled with webs. The pool supply bin. A ball of twine, which he used to tie the door handles together.

Then all he could do was listen. But what was there to hear? Things had gotten awfully quiet in the yard. No more cries for help. No incessant yapping. Had the inevitable happened? Was the creature busy with breakfast? And how long before it started thinking about lunch?

Sometimes it isn’t your fault. Sometimes you do everything right and, still, the cards are stacked against you. That’s pretty much what happened to Noah. Because as quiet as he’d been, he hadn’t anticipated the musical interlude that ultimately gave him away. It was a text alert. And if it wasn’t the loudest rendition of “Night on Bald Mountain” ever heard, it was enough of a vibration for an inquisitive sea creature to respond to.

Noah clicked the phone to silent but the damage had already been done. The text, by the way, was from Steve:
NEED HELP ASAP
. What help could he possibly need at that hour? Advice on which chick to take to the movies? While Noah was trapped inside a shed, fighting for his life? Bad timing, Steve-o. Still, Noah knew enough texting etiquette to punch in a quick response:
CAN’T—BIGGER FISH TO FRY
.

In the time it took to hit send, the steel roof had crumpled into a ball of tinfoil. Then came the gnashing as the walls folded in on themselves.

A thick gray tentacle slid in through the damaged roof, forcing Noah into the opposite corner, where he wedged himself between the lawn mower and the supply bin. As it oozed down the wall, the tentacle lifted the lawn mower like it was a feather, and crushed it with similar ease. But the most nauseating part had to be the suckers, those puckery thingamajigs you see on squids and octopuses. Except, unlike those of the creature’s cephalopod cousins, these suckers had eyes. A bulbous black one erupted from the tip and was now searching for Noah. At first it couldn’t find him, and Noah thought about giving it a good poke. But there was all that eye gunk to consider.

Instinctively, he reached into the supply bin, feeling around for something—anything—to defend himself with. What he needed was a military-grade bazooka. What he got was an inflatable frog float.
Ribbit ribbit.

The eyeball saw the float and paid it no mind. The frightened lad who was holding it—now, that was its prize. The tentacle forged a deliberate path to Noah’s bare feet, inching forward in a wormlike rhythm. It was biding its time. The hunt was over, its prey was trapped, and the sea creature wanted the human boy to embrace the terror of his own demise.

By now, you know the rules of being scared witless. Let’s review. One: Noah froze in place. Two: Noah dropped the floaty.
Ribbit–plop.

The tentacle slid under his foot and curled around his ankle. It was as cold and unforgiving as the sea. In an instant, it lifted Noah from the ground. It could just as easily have crushed him, but the sea creature preferred its sustenance alive and kicking and afraid. As it hoisted him toward the roof, Noah realized he had no one to blame but himself. Spitefulness had led him there. Still, that wasn’t the way he planned on going out.

With one last-ditch effort, Noah shoved his hand into the supply bin and came out with a fistful of white powder. Without thinking, he flung it into the monster’s eye.
Grrrrrrrrrr!
It burned; it stung! The tentacle released Noah and started flopping about like it was on fire.
Clang! Clung! Cling!
It slammed into all four walls of its metal enclosure. Noah scurried back into the corner, watching in terror as the thick tentacle retreated through the broken roof.

He was thankful to be alive. Right away, he understood what had saved him. It was that powder! Noah checked the supply bin and saw the sack of shock treatment. As it turned out, the best weapon against ancient sea creatures was good old-fashioned chlorine! Not such a waste of Philip’s money after all.

Noah sprung to his feet—
sprung
being a relative term. He now had a weapon, and it was time to wage war, Gilman-style.

Noah loaded the sack into the wheelbarrow. The creature’s limbs had retreated back into the pool, where the nameless monstrosity felt safe. Noah wheeled the shock treatment across the yard, maneuvering over and around the countless tentacle tracks engraved throughout the lawn.

Arriving poolside, he spotted Philip and Dots, their heads barely above water. Using a plastic shovel the part-time dude from Pools 4 Fools had thrown in for free, Noah began heaving the powder into the unswimmable swimming pool.

The reaction was swift and powerful. The sea creature wailed another supersonic boom—
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!
—blowing out the remaining windows. Its tentacles thrashed aimlessly about, pounding the walls of the pool. Noah backed away, fearing it might burst.

It didn’t.

The once mighty sea creature was now spinning out of control in an unrelenting whirlpool of its own creation. Noah watched with awe and perhaps a touch of pity. A change was taking place. The creature was shrinking right before his startled eyes, getting smaller, smaller,
smaller…
until it matched the illustration in the ad, in both size and appearance. With a final sucking sound, the ancient thing spiraled down into the pool drain, along with every last molecule of salt water.

And then there was silence as the first rays of sunlight entered the yard.

Noah stood up as he listened to the first sounds of the day. The song of the morning bird. A lawn mower revving up next door. And children laughing. Those were the best sounds he knew. They were the sounds of summer.

Noah closed his eyes, soaking it all in…until he remembered. “Philip and Dots!” He retrieved the ladder and climbed to the top rung, peering down into the pool. The water was all gone. It was empty except for Philip, sitting by the drain, with Dots nestled in his arms. “You saved us. You’re a hero.” Philip got to his feet, extending his hand. “My hero.”

Noah hesitated. Was this for real? Well, considering what he’d just been through, it was no less real than an ancient sea creature. Noah decided to go for it. He shook Philip’s hand for the first time in about a year, and he had to admit it felt pretty good. But Philip wasn’t done. He pulled Noah in for a hug, whispering, “I’m proud of you, Son,” into his ear.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, this wasn’t the longest hug. And it wasn’t even the warmest. But for Noah, it was a pretty great start.

And can you believe it? Dots—even Dots!—jumped up to give Noah a thank-you lick! Well, don’t believe it. The dang dog still didn’t like him. But from that moment on, things were going to change for the better around there. Philip even said the words: “From this moment on, things are going to change for the better around here.”

Noah thought about his dad, and he smiled. He smiled about the past. And for once, he could smile about the future.

Noah smiled right up to the moment when a regenerated tentacle burst up from the drain and dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the deepest primordial recesses of the earth.

T
he librarian finished reading.
“Shock treatment, indeed.” He looked up from the page, eyeing the individual faces of the Fearsome Foursome. “Critiques? Comments?”

“Dumb,” blurted Steve. He looked at Noah to see if he agreed.

“Dumb,” repeated Noah before adding, “but…it’s true about the pool. We’re opening it next weekend.” He winced as he touched a nasty patch of sunburn on his shoulder.