The Beasts of Upton Puddle (27 page)

Flarp pressed against the doors of the restricted area. Glutinous strands oozed down to the corridor floor as the globble shuddered with the effort of squashing against the metal.

“It's okay, Flarp. We'll have her out of there any minute now.”

Joe pressed Scott Duggan's ID card against the reader by the side of the door and watched the tiny red light flash green. Metal and stone ground in response.

“We're in,” said Joe.

The doors swung inwards to a dark room saturated with a stench like unwashed socks and the sound of weeping. Flarp had already flown inside, racing toward
the far end, swallowed by darkness. As Joe followed, pinspot lights illuminated a circle of space but not quite enough to show what lurked in the corners.

The hairs on his neck prickled as he closed in on the sobbing. “Mrs. Merrynether? Is that you?” Joe whispered, trying to ignore his instinct that the sobbing sounded too guttural, too liquid to be human.

More lights switched on as he reached the cool glass of a tall box. Then a whole series of lights flickered on to reveal an entire row of glass boxes against the wall, each containing a variety of animals Joe had never seen before.

“Argoyle Redwar has his
own
vault,” he said, hardly believing his eyes.

The enclosure directly in front of him contained the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. Its shape was vaguely human, but the resemblance went no further than that. Its claylike skin covered in green, bubbling warts and boils made it look like somebody had scooped a pile of mud from the bottom of a stagnant river and tried to make a person out of it. The thing sobbed into a pair of clubbed hands, and as Joe approached, it lifted its head to reveal a featureless face. The pathetic visage lasted only a moment, though. As if in terror of Joe's presence, it squeezed itself against the back of its prison and melted like a lump of mouldy lard in a frying pan until it was no more than a rancid puddle.

Joe staggered back and gawped at the other enclosures.
Some had the same type of creature inside, all of them weeping. One had a sleeping serpent. Another looked like a tree in the shape of an octopus. But the one that really caught Joe's eye was the glass box Flarp had fixated on. Joe rushed to it, hoping, dreading, to see Mrs. Merrynether inside, but he didn't.

It was another globble. Each eyeball pressed against a side of the glass like a mirror image.

Joe felt a desperate urge to smash the glass and set the other globble free—to set all of them free. It was then that he noticed a black panel on one side of the container. Joe rushed to press the ID card against it. The glass front hissed into the ceiling, and Flarp's counterpart shot out of its enclosure, spinning and whooshing around them.

Joe looked at the other glass cases. Should he open them? These things could be dangerous. They might even hurt each other. But Joe couldn't just leave them here to suffer. What was Redwar doing with them? Where did he get them? And where—?

Thunk! The doors to Redwar's vault slammed shut.

“Attention, intruders,” echoed a smug voice from a hidden speaker, “you are trespassing in a restricted area. According to health and safety procedures, Redwar Industries is obliged to keep you sealed inside your current location until such time that you can be apprehended by security. Thank you.”

Joe's breath seized in his throat as he listened to
Redwar speak again, but this time in much more sinister tones. “Oh . . . and, young man, please don't expect to tell anyone the things you have seen in here today. If you leave this building, nobody except Mrs. Merrynether will believe you . . . That is . . .
if
you leave this building. And one last thing, boy. Don't expect a rescue from your little seraph friend either. Little blue lights in the sky make very easy targets for my marksmen. She looked just like a falling star when my men shot her down. The show's over, I'm afraid.”

Joe thought his blood had stopped pumping. He felt so cold. It was from shock, he knew, because his hands trembled and his vision was fuzzy, like looking into the night sky from the bottom of a revolving well. The weeping of the creatures in their enclosures mingled with Joe's own sense of loss, and the temptation to fall to sorrow was enormous.

But this was no time to pass out or allow grief to take hold. “I have to get a grip,” Joe said to Flarp but more to himself.

This wasn't the first time he'd heard news like this. He was almost nine years old when the police came to the door holding their hats and frowning. His mum broke down before she'd even reached the armchair, and Joe? He didn't believe it.

His dad had left to drive to the shops in the neighboring village to buy a newspaper and some sweets. He
did that every Sunday. And when he came home, he would walk in through the back door, put the paper on the table, and with a wink, he'd pass chocolate to Joe and his mum. But it didn't happen that day. The story about him swerving to avoid a dog in the road and hitting another car must have been true; he hadn't survived the collision.

Joe shook himself from the memory. He got through it then, and he'd get through this now.

Flarp and his new companion seemed to understand they were in grave danger. They bobbed in front of each other with their hanging tendrils twitching and their sticky skin rippling. Could they be communicating somehow? The other globble shot off behind them, Flarp following.

Joe didn't care what they were doing. However hard he tried, he couldn't ignore the terrible images in his mind: Danariel's fragile body twisting and turning as it fell from the night sky, her moonlight glow fading as life ebbed away. He blinked back tears and forced himself to look at the two globbles.

They had come to a halt by a set of empty enclosures, one of which had been cordoned off. The metal trims were twisted, and sharp remnants of reinforced glass poked out from the frame. Something with incredible strength had smashed the casing. Inside on the floor, some of the tiles looked much newer than the surrounding ones. Flarp hovered directly over them.

“What is it, Flarp?” Joe sniffed. “Is there something
under the floor?”

Flarp bounced off the tiles once, making a loud squelching sound.

Joe wiped his eyes, knowing there was no time to waste. He fell to his knees, blood gathering under his nails as he tried desperately to pull up the cold edges of the tiles. Eventually they came free, and under each one were sand bags: a shabby effort to fill a hole. Joe hauled one bag out, then another, his arms aching in protest. By the time he got to the third, faint footsteps beyond the vault told him security guards would be on him within a minute.

Flarp and his friend looked at Joe, then rushed to the cell containing the ugly creature that had melted earlier.

Bewilderment dampened Joe's grief when he saw inside. The creature had somehow rematerialized into the weeping, grotesque beast.

The globbles hovered in front of the card reader, and Joe realized what they wanted him to do. Dazed from wonderment and grief, he left the sandbags, went to the cell, and pressed Duggan's card against the reader to set the thing free.

The grinding of metal and stone told Joe the vault door was opening. The guards were nearly upon him.

Joe shook himself from his stupor and rushed to the damaged enclosure to continue yanking the bags out of the hole, hoping to find a way out.

The weeping creature had lumbered from its prison and sloshed against the doors, its club-like hands melting
into the lock mechanism. Its bulbous head pushed against the surface of the metal. The globbles pressed too. Faster and faster, Joe removed bag after bag, clawing through layers of dirt.

“Flarp,” yelled Joe. “I'm through. I'm through into a tunnel. Come on. Let's go!”

The two eyeballs raced back to Joe. He watched the other creature as it struggled to hold the door closed. A baton was forced between the gap, levering the door open, and Joe dived into the hole.

The darkness inside the earthy tunnel was like nothing Joe had experienced before. There was no light anywhere as he scrambled blindly forward, cutting his hands on sharp stones and scuffing his knees. Another turn and Joe felt the earth give way under his feet. He fell several feet before slamming into the earth, twisting his shoulder and cracking his head. A searing pain cut into his ribs. He couldn't breathe.

Warm slime enveloped the top of Joe's head and dragged his whole body. A scream left his lips before he realized Flarp, with his superior vision, was dragging him away from danger. The mad flight went on for five minutes with Flarp steering Joe through tunnels, twisting, turning, dipping, and climbing until finally the globble released him and flew upward.

Joe cleared the ooze from his eyes. Moonlight poured down. He clambered up and flopped, breathless, on the forest floor, thankful for the cool fresh air. All
he could hear were his own ragged breaths, pain jabbing his chest with each one. If the guards were still chasing, they wouldn't have much trouble catching him now.

Eventually Joe hauled himself up onto his elbows and looked at the hole he'd crawled out of. It was a burrow. There was no doubt now. The Beast of Upton Puddle, whatever it was, had escaped from Redwar Industries. Mrs. Merrynether wasn't deceiving him at all. The creature really hadn't come from Merrynether Mansion.

Thoughts of his time in the mansion and the hours he'd spent learning from Mrs. Merrynether came flooding back, and the full force of his failure to find her shot into his mind like a bullet. Tonight was more than just a failure. Danariel had lost her life. Joe felt numb as he stared into the dark burrow. What could he do now? Fresh tears stung his eyes, and with them, the pain in his chest and head grew worse.

On his own, Joe might have lain there for hours, but the two globbles had other ideas. Flarp hovered behind him, straining in one particular direction, apparently still desperate to keep moving. The other spun in circles, obviously overjoyed with its freedom. At least this nightmare had turned out well for someone. He thought of the strange warty creature that had helped them escape and hoped it was all right.

Flarp drifted in front of Joe, the center of his eye bulging toward him.

Joe drew a deep, shuddering breath. “All
right, Flarp. I know. Let's get back to the mansion.” He struggled upright and examined his torn clothes. Dirty blood covered his palms, and his knees stung.

Flarp rushed into the forest, followed closely by his companion.

Joe trudged after them, trying to keep up.

Fifteen minutes passed before Joe realized they were not heading for the mansion. Several paces later, the eyeball stopped to hover above another burrow, close to yet another felled tree. Flarp stared into the dark entrance.

“Where have you taken me?” Tired beyond words, Joe ambled to the burrow and peered inside.

At once, everything became clear. All along Flarp was desperate to get to this place, not Redwar Industries. That had been Joe's idea. Not even Heinrich had realized why the globble was continually banging against the wall. He could see something nobody else could, but nobody took any notice.

Deep in the burrow, Joe could see a vague human shape curled up, motionless. His heart sank. Were they too late? Six days was a long time to be trapped. A human couldn't survive without water for more than three days. Was Mrs. Merrynether—?

“Joseph?” a hoarse voice whispered from the burrow.

Tears welled in his eyes. “Mrs. Merrynether? Is that you?”

“Yes, Joseph, it's me. I knew you'd come. I knew it.”

“It really
is
you. Don't worry. We'll get you out of there.”

But Joe looked around, not knowing how he would do that. “Flarp, go and get . . . get Heinrich. Understand? Go and get Heinrich.”

The globble did something like a nod and then took off with his companion toward the mansion.

Joe edged into the hole and jumped down, ignoring the jarring pain in his chest.

Another form shuffled in the darkness as he landed, startling Joe and causing him to scuffle backward. Whatever it was, it made no advances. As Joe's eyes adjusted to the gloom, he also saw someone else lying next to Mrs. Merrynether. At first glance it looked like a very round human child, but as it raised its face toward Joe, it seemed more like a potato with a bulbous nose, cauliflower ears, and black beads for eyes. It wore ripped sackcloth that revealed a lumpy body. Four straight gashes stretched from its left shoulder to its chest, and Joe guessed it had been attacked by the Beast of Upton Puddle.

“Don't be alarmed by Thumbler. He's only a baby troll. Won't attack you,” said Mrs. Merrynether, her eyelids half closed.

“He's hurt,” said Joe.

“We both are.” She nodded toward her right leg, and Joe balked. Blood had soaked through her long skirt. All he could see of the wound was an ugly gash starting at the lower part of her calf muscle.