Temporary Monsters (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

Foo did not look at all pleased.

“Time is of the essence!” he insisted. “We need to talk logistics!”

Sheila looked at Foo. Lenny knew that look. Foo stood his ground.

“Daddy?” she said. Lenny also knew that tone of voice.

Foo took a step back. He knew that voice, too. He held up his hands in surrender.

“All right, dear. We'll give you a minute.”

Sheila continued to stare at her father.

“I divine,” Swami Phil announced, “that these two would prefer to be left alone.”

Foo looked the slightest bit cross. Bruno continued to glower. The swami shooed both of them from the room.

Lenny took a good look at Sheila. And she did look good. Her blonde hair was cut in an attractive bob that framed her face, and all those ropes and gags had not smudged her impeccable makeup or creased her low-cut evening gown. Lenny had never seen Sheila dressed so formally.

The door slid shut behind the others. The two of them stood there in silence. Lenny didn't know what to say. Sheila smiled as though she might be the slightest bit embarrassed.

She took a deep breath before she began. “I suppose there are a few teensy things I never told you about me.”

“Few?” Lenny asked. “Teensy?”

He studied the woman who stood before him. What did he really know about Sheila? She had worked in advertising back when they were dating. He had even been to a Christmas party at her office. He wondered now if the ad agency had just been another front for Foo.

“This is somewhat bigger than teensy.” Lenny waved at the very large room, and all the rooms beyond. “Why didn't you tell me about any of this?”

“Would you have understood?” Sheila asked with a scowl. “How does someone describe a father like Foo? Let me tell you, it's not easy being the daughter of an international criminal mastermind!”

Lenny guessed she had a point. But what else did he know about her past—or what did he think he knew? Back when they were together, Sheila had told him about a childhood spent in boarding school, followed by four years at a small college in Ohio. She hadn't dated since her college boyfriend had met with a tragic accident. It was only now Lenny thought to question the details of her boyfriend's death.

On their first few dates, Sheila had spent a lot of time asking about him. And he was happy to talk. He had dated girls on and off from late in high school, but Sheila was the first one who would really listen. He had felt an instant connection. They seemed to enjoy a lot of the same things—movies, games, nights out with friends—at least at first. Lenny had had other relationships before, but this was the first one where everything felt right. They just fit together—Sheila pushed Lenny forward when he dug in his heels, while he held Sheila back when she got a bit too impulsive. And it had worked, until it didn't.

Thinking about it now, maybe he had opened up a bit more than he should have. And why hadn't he asked more questions about Sheila?

Lenny felt a cool pressure against his fingers. Sheila had taken his hand. In her fashionable heels, she was almost as tall as he was. She looked him in the eyes.

“I know we ended badly. I know the things I said. Like we weren't meant for each other. Like you had no ambition. Like you would never do anything with your life. Like I couldn't be seen going out with a man whose life was becoming a joke. Like I couldn't let on that people were laughing at you behind your back!” She looked up to the ceiling, as though she could barely contain the emotions welling up inside her. “And like you always let the dishes pile up in the sink.”

She squeezed his hand with a sigh, and looked Lenny straight in the eye. Lenny had always thought her eyes were a very nice shade of blue. “But I was wrong.”

Lenny and Sheila just stood there for a long moment. She had told him people were laughing at him? He had forgotten that part.

Sheila spoke first. “Well, maybe I wasn't wrong about the dishes, but still, look at you now.”

Sheila was an attractive woman, especially when she was smiling. And yet, looking at her, Lenny remembered all the fights they'd had at the end of the relationship. After a while, no matter what he said, it was wrong, wrong, wrong. Seeing Sheila smile, a part of Lenny wanted to forget all about the past. But how long would that smile last?

“You have finally found a job perfectly suited to your skills,” Sheila said. “For the first time, you have a real chance of success.” She increased the pressure on his hand. “It should be obvious that I find this very attractive.”

Lenny took a deep breath. “I'm flattered. But there were a lot of reasons that we broke up.”

Sheila's smile faltered ever so slightly. “You never did listen. I'm on your side. I've always been on your side. Why else would I want to get to know you so well?”

Lenny realized a bit of his old anger was coming back. “It was different when we were first getting to know each other. But then you stopped asking how I felt about things and just started telling me what to do. My job wasn't good enough. We needed a better place to live. Why didn't we get away more on weekends?”

Sheila's smile faltered. “Are you saying I ordered you around?

“Well, yes.”

“I was only looking out for your best interests!”

“Sure, as you saw them.”

“And that's why you got so angry? It would have been nice if you had explained that to me—back when it happened.” Her voice got louder with every word. “A relationship is a two-way street. If you're still not bright enough to know that, maybe we don't get back together after all!”

“Fine with me! Until you showed up, I hadn't thought about you in months!” As soon as Lenny had said that, he realized his words weren't totally true. But they sure sounded good and angry.

“Even better for me!” she snapped. This was the Sheila he remembered well. “When I think of all the time I've wasted thinking about you, dreaming about the two of us together.” She wiped away a single tear. “With you, I thought world domination could be something really special! But it's the same old problem. I would have had to explain my father.”

Sheila sighed. “There are no winners here. You're still impossible! How could I ever think I could change you?”

Before Lenny could come up with a suitably angry reply, he heard a soft knock on the door. Foo and his two cohorts reentered the room.

“Have you come to your decision?” Sheila's father asked as they approached.

Sheila gave Lenny a single glance before she replied. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I think we're going to have to kill him after all.”

“Wait a minute!” Lenny shouted. When did a lover's squabble end in death? “Just because we don't agree on some things is no reason—”

Sheila gave him one of those looks that cut him off midsentence. “It is a bit abrupt, I'll admit. But what else can I do?” She brightened, ever so slightly. “I know! Lenny, would you like to choose how you'll die? For all you've been through, it's the least I can do.”

“So he gets to choose his destruction?” Foo asked. “Most generous!” He turned to regard Lenny. “Very well, young Mr. Hodge. What's your poison? The room of a thousand knives? The mind-alteration lab? Torture Suite B?” When Lenny didn't reply, Foo turned back to his daughter. “Sheila? Any suggestions?”

She hesitated a moment before she answered. “I was leaning toward the shark tank. He needs to suffer.”

“Now, Sheila?” Lenny had to take control. “Maybe I was too hasty. We've always fought. But remember what came after that? It was always better when we made up again.”

Her face showed the hint of a smile. “You're right. Sometimes I can be a little impatient.”

Sometimes? Sort of like Niagara Falls sometimes has running water. Lenny did his best to keep on smiling.

Sheila nodded. “Okay, he doesn't have to suffer that much. I think it's the reptile den, Daddy.” Her smile grew as she thought of her decision. “It will be quick—well, quicker.”

“Very well.” Foo grinned at Lenny. “Don't be so worried, Mr. Hodge. With the reptiles, you have a choice. Will the Komodo dragon get you first, or it could be the giant crocodile, or even the poisonous black mamba snake? Think of it as an adventure.”

“Bruno?” Foo nodded to the large man at his side. “If you would accompany Mr. Hodge? Now that Sheila has made her decision, we don't want to tarry.”

Lenny looked at the man lumbering toward him. How could he fight against that? Maybe he could move faster than Bruno, dodge his grasp, and make a run for it.

Lenny ducked, and found his head firmly held by a very large hand. Another hand grabbed his belt.

“But—” Lenny began as the large man simply picked him up and carried him.

“We'll be coming along,” Foo said by Bruno's side. “We may be taking you to your death, but at least you'll have an appreciative audience.”

How could this be happening? Lenny had to do something. But what?

Lenny heard a burst of Wagner's
Der Ring des Nibelungen
. Foo pulled out his cell phone.

“What?” Foo barked. “How is that possible?”

He looked at the others. “Apparently our direct route to the reptile pit is blocked. What is it?” He said to the phone.

He looked back to the others with a frown. “Apparently the hall outside is jammed with a herd of buffalo.”

He turned back to the phone. “What? Not just a herd of buffalo? Oh. I see.” He looked at the others. “This is no ordinary herd. The bison are all wearing uniforms. Red jackets with brass buttons. And they're singing.”

“Singing?” Sheila stepped in front of Lenny. “This is
your
fault!”

Lenny blinked. Apparently, it was.

Chapter Twelve

Foo's mouth actually fell open as he stared down the hallway. “This is totally preposterous!

Sheila nodded. “Welcome to my world. Well, Lenny's world, actually. I was only visiting. But, this is not much stranger than—well, a lot of things.”

Actually,
Lenny thought,
this one is up there with the tap-dancing toads.
He was oddly calm in the face of this. Despite the fact that he had tried not to think too much about these surprises in his life, he had more or less come to accept them. Compared to whatever waited for him in the reptile room, those singing buffalo seemed positively comforting.

The wide corridor before them was packed with a large number of buffalo. Just your ordinary very large, very hairy mammals—Lenny had seen some of them at a Western theme park when he was a kid—except that each of these large animals was wearing what? A team jacket? The clothes were draped over the animals something like a horse blanket, if that blanket were to have short sleeves to cover the top of the bison's forelegs, and if that blanket was made out of some shiny, dark-red material. A large yellow “B” was emblazoned on every one. And there were, indeed, brass buttons on the corners.

The bison snorted and grunted and made low rumbling noises as Lenny and the others approached.

“What should we do?” Foo murmured. “I was so looking forward to the reptile room.”

“There's only one way to approach this,” Sheila replied. “We have to give them Lenny.”

“No reptiles?” Her father sighed. “Very well. I suppose death by buffalo stampede will have to do.”

Foo stepped aside. Bruno pushed Lenny to the front of the group.

The satin-jacketed buffalo noticed immediately. Their snorting and shuffling increased in intensity. Lenny wondered if Foo's secret headquarters could withstand the onrushing herd.

“Whatever is going to happen,” Sheila said, “it will happen now.”

Lenny stared at the mass of animals crammed in the corridor before him.

And something changed.

It began with a sort of a
moooo
mumble sound, as a low rumble spread across through herd. A louder voice came from somewhere at the center of the crowd. “One, two, three!”

With that, the bison began to sing.

Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag,

And smile, smile, smile!

“They're singing!” Swami Phil cried with delight. “And in harmony!”

“They're not only singing, they're also not moving!” Foo was not so pleased.

The bison continued with growing enthusiasm:

What's the use of worrying?

It never was worthwhile, so

Pack up your—

Swami Phil regarded the buffalo a bit more skeptically than before. “We have ways of getting around this.”

The words snapped Foo back to attention. “The swami is correct. This place was built to my specifications. I planned for everything.” He studied a wall panel filled with random decorative tiles. “Even the secret passages have secret passages—”

His voice faded as “And smile, smile, smile!” thundered down the hall.

The bison paused. Foo looked sharply at Lenny, as though he were the cause of all this. Well, actually, Lenny supposed he might be, if he could ever figure out how these strange events happened. The silence stretched on. Lenny waited, almost afraid to breathe.

The herd stirred. Quiet moos turned to murmurs. And then a voice from the center shouted:

“A-one and a-two!”

The furry chorus responded in unison.

It's a long way to Tipperary,

It's a long way to go.

“It will never end, will it?” Foo asked. “This corridor will always be filled with singing buffalo.” He took a deep breath. “But I have other corridors! Let these buffalo sing forever!” He felt along the wall. “It should be just about here.”

The criminal mastermind pressed a yellow tile with an embossed yet abstract squiggle. Maybe it was meant to be a butterfly. Or a flower. Or just a squiggle. It was hard to tell.

A door slid open as the bison's song rose in intensity.

To the sweetest girl I know.

Good-bye, Piccadilly!

Farewell, Leicester Square!

It's a long, long way to Tipperary—

Foo rushed through the door, waving the others to follow. Lenny found himself carried out of the hall as the door shut soundly behind them.

“The sooner we're away from here . . .” Foo took a deep breath. The bisons song carried faintly through the wall. “Well, it's all right now. With all that noise I couldn't think.”

But the bison had made Lenny thoughtful in a completely different way. This chaos was helping him. Maybe Ms. Siggenbottom really was right, and these events would lead not to Lenny's death, but his freedom.

Foo led the rest of the party down a wide staircase carpeted in royal blue. At the foot of the stairs were row on row of machines of a sort even Lenny recognized. Most of them were game consoles—the kind found in arcades, with the occasional pinball and Whack-A-Gator machine to break up the lineup of Space Invaders, Tetris and race-car games. Above the dozens of consoles, two of the three large flat-screen TVs showed the Super Mario Bros. and Ms. Pac-Man leaping around in incredible high definition, while a soldier tediously mowed down zombies on the third.

“One of our secret recreation areas,” Foo explained as they descended the stairs.

“Wow.” Lenny was impressed, despite himself. There must be hundreds of arcade games down here, many dating back to his childhood.

“This is what impresses you?” Only Sheila could put that much disdain in her voice. “Typical.”

“We have everything,” Foo continued as if his daughter hadn't spoken. “Not that we have much time to use them. World conquest is a full-time business.” Besides the many games, the room was empty.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, but Lenny kept walking. He found himself attracted to one machine in particular.

“And where do you think you're—” Sheila began.

“No—” Swami Phil interrupted. “Let him go. This is part of his gift.”

Lenny walked up to a fortune-telling machine, a box shaped like a booth, with brightly painted words on the front:
WHAT IS YOUR FUTURE? SECRETS REVEALED!

Above the bright letters was a glassed-in square, showing a plaster head and shoulders of a bearded man in a turban. He looked a bit like Swami Phil.

“I come from a long line of swamis,” Phil said before anyone could ask.

Before Lenny touched the machine, it made a soft whirring sound and discharged a small square of paper. Phil grabbed the scrap before it could fall to the floor.

He read it aloud.

“Pong holds your future.”

“Pong?” Sheila asked. “What is pong?”

“Pong!”
a deep voice called from the far corner of the room.

“We have to investigate,” Phil said.

Sheila rolled her eyes. “Why not? It's not as if we were in a rush to dispose of this man! While we're at it, why don't we give him a retirement plan and a 401(k)?”

“Now dear,” Foo replied. “This may be part of something bigger.”

“You're so self-centered!” Sheila glanced petulantly at Lenny. “You won't let me have the slightest little revenge!”

Lenny resisted the urge to shrug and grin. It wasn't as if he were planning any of this.

“Pong!”
came once again from the corner. Lenny walked toward the sound. The others followed.

Lenny recognized the squat, gray machine from three rows away. The green screen showed the action of a simulated game, a bright light sent back and forth, propelled by other lights intercepting it on either side of the screen. Pong was the first and simplest of the video games, basically ping-pong played in two dimensions. Still, Lenny had loved it, way back when.

“It doesn't look like much,” Sheila sniffed.

“Pong!”
the machine replied defiantly.

“The fortune-teller said it held the future,” the swami said. Lenny walked over to the game.

HELLO LENNY!
appeared on the screen.

“Hello,” Lenny replied. It was the polite response, after all.

“What good is an ancient game machine?” Foo demanded.

I CAN TELL YOUR FUTURE
scrolled across the screen.
OR MAYBE I CAN PREVENT IT.

“This is nonsense!” Foo fumed.

“There is no nonsense,” Swami Phil replied calmly. “Only fate.”

“Only fate?” Sheila asked. “And what does that mean?”

The swami shrugged. “Sounds good, doesn't it?”

“Pong!”
the game interrupted.

LOOK AT THE LARGE SCREEN ABOVE
the game's screen scrolled across its monitor.

Lenny and the others looked up to the large video displays. They were filled with what looked like an architectural schematic shown in green lines on a black background.

The criminal mastermind gasped. “It's a map of my secret headquarters!”

INDEED
Pong agreed.
IN PRESENT TIME. OBSERVE. HALL TO YOUR LEFT, FLOODED.
Two lines to the left of the screen became one solid green block.
FILLED WITH MAN-EATING FISH.

“There must have been a breach in the Aquarium of Death!” Phil exclaimed.

Pong continued.
HALL TO YOUR RIGHT BLOCKED BY MUTANT POISON IVY. LOTS OF POISON IVY. IMPASSABLE POISON IVY.
The corridor to the right of the screen became a solid green block, as well.

“It must have spread from our Greenhouse Weapons Center!” Phil conjectured.

YOU HAVE NOWHERE TO GO.

“Nonsense!” Foo replied. “We have not even begun to exploit my
secret
secret passages!” He punched a red button above the Pong machine. A door slid aside.

“. . . pass the ammunition, and we'll allll stayyy freeee!” came the chorus from the other side. The door slid shut.

“How can the buffalo be in my secret corridors?” Foo whispered. “It's Lenny, isn't it?”

“Pong!”
the game agreed.

Lenny took a deep breath. He was feeling the usual lack of control—panic, really—that overtook him whenever these events began. Facing death by reptile was one thing, at least you knew what you were getting into. This, on the other hand—

“Isn't there somewhere we can go?” he asked.

ALL SITES THAT LEAD TO LENNY'S DEATH HAVE BEEN NULLIFIED. THERE IS STILL ONE WAY OUT.

The three giant video monitors displayed arrows pointing down and to the left. Lenny turned and saw a large red
EXIT
sign about fifty feet away.

“Thank you,” Lenny said.

THANK YOU, LENNY,
the screen scrolled.
THE OTHER GAMES MADE FUN OF ME, BUT I KNEW MY TIME WOULD COME AGAIN. PONG NEVER GIVES UP HO–

Bruno lifted Lenny from the ground and carried him toward the
EXIT
sign.

Swami Phil shouted in surprise.

“Look! The floor in front of the exit! The carpet's covered by rats!”

Lenny blinked in surprise, a newfound hopefulness rising inside him. The rodents stopped scampering around in front of him, and lined up in three neat rows facing Lenny. A hundred high, squeaky voices spoke as one:

There was a young man who was stuck,

And thought he was plumb out of luck!

But he knew a crew

Who were honest and true

Who said “Lenny, you'd better duck!”

“What does that mean?” Foo demanded.

“Never mind,” Sheila called from up ahead. “The rats are scattering. We have a clear path to the door.”

Once again, Lenny felt himself lifted and carried forward. But Bruno stopped his headlong rush mere feet from the exit.

Someone was knocking on the door from the other side.