The Only Ones (16 page)

“Is that him?” Martin asked, pointing up the hill to
Nigel’s house. On the snow-crusted lawn was a shadowy mass that could only be Kid Godzilla.

Darla hustled closer to get a better look. “What the heck’s he doing up there? He wasn’t supposed to move! He knew when the movie ended!”

Martin dropped the marble into the interior pocket of his jacket and followed her along the waffle tracks of Kid Godzilla. As they were nearing Nigel’s yard, the door to the house opened, and Felix stepped outside carrying a lantern. He set it down and yelled something back toward the door.

From a distance, the only words Martin could make out were “Never again!”

Felix spun around and marched toward Kid Godzilla. His lantern lit the entrance to the house, and Martin expected to see Nigel step outside or at least close the door. Instead, a small serpentine head inched into the light.

Darla spotted it first. “Felix!” she yelled. “Run!”

Looking back over his shoulder, Felix saw what she saw. Nigel’s Komodo dragon, squat and long but fierce and fast, bolted at him. It was unlikely that Felix could make it to the door and open it before the lizard had his leg in its jaws, and Felix seemed to sense this. He made a beeline for the front of the truck, latched a hand on the toothy front grill, and hoisted himself onto the hood.

Undeterred, the dragon reared back on its hind legs and flopped its body against the grill. Felix moved fast, wiggling like a seal up the windshield until he was on the roof.

Martin started forward to help him, but Darla grabbed his shoulder. “Poison saliva. Razor teeth. That thing will kill you.”

The dragon wasn’t quite long enough to make it onto the
hood, but it also wasn’t about to give up. Back on all fours, it scampered to the driver’s side of the truck, where it latched its front claws onto the door handle.

Felix looked down from above. He was at a safe distance for now, but to get inside, he would need to think fast. He reached into his headband, grabbed a handful of his firefly lightbulbs, and threw them into the dragon’s face. The little pops of light and glass put it onto its back. As the lizard struggled to regain its footing, Felix wielded a tiny screwdriver and frantically pecked the driver’s-side window until the glass cracked. Then he hammered it with his fist until it shattered.

“Oh, come on, Fee,” Darla cried. “I’m gonna need that window this winter!”

The dragon was back in action just as Felix was pulling himself through the broken window into the front cab of the truck. It leapt, jaws snapping, barely missing Felix’s calves.

As he got behind the wheel and started the engine, Felix screamed out, “Reverse?”

“First there’s a lever—”

Fire belched forth from the nostrils on Kid Godzilla’s hood. It licked the wooden posts at the entryway to the house and set them ablaze. The dragon waddled backward, clearly taken by surprise.

“No, the other—”

The wheels began to spin in place, spitting snow into the air. Then the truck itself began to spin, doing tight doughnuts. The flames were still pouring from the front, birthing rings of light and melting the snow.

It was hard to say exactly what Felix was doing. Because all of a sudden, the truck stopped its spin and lurched forward. As the hood dipped, the flames blasted the dragon full
force. It shrieked in pain. Then, as if shot from a cannon, the truck flew backward over the snow.

It struck the giant ice cream cone, which toppled over and opened up. Into the snow, it coughed out its contents—a bounty of dead rabbits and raccoons, ears of corn and bags of sugar, even strange little offerings like glass statues and teddy bears.

The truck plowed through it all as it cut a swerving backward path. When it reached the hill, it skipped down, like a bird landing on water, hit a telephone pole, spun, rolled onto its roof, and slid across the snowy street. The spinning wheels filled the night air with a tinny whine.

Charred and hacking, the dragon walked a few paces and then collapsed. The fire had quickly moved from the front entrance and was now tearing into Nigel’s house. Howls and hisses dove from the windows. But Martin and Darla were much more concerned with Felix. They sprinted to the crash site.

Felix crawled through the shattered window. Blood found a path in the part of his hair and was soaked up by his headband. He plunged his face into the snow. When his face emerged, it possessed a look of cautious relief, but as he climbed to his feet, the relief shifted to dread.

“Hey,” Darla said as she and Martin stopped a few yards away. “You’re okay, right?”

He didn’t respond. He just ran away from them. Darla and Martin would have run too had they seen what Felix now saw.

Nigel’s tiger had escaped from the burning house and was galloping after Felix.

The tiger might have been small, but it was unquestionably dedicated. The tip of its tail was on fire and resembled
a torn orange flag, flapping violently in the wind. It didn’t slow the tiger down at all, and had the situation not been so dire, it might have been beautiful. The beast. The flaming tail. The Christmas lights. The starry sky. The dunelike drifts of snow.

But beauty was the last thing on Felix’s mind as he struggled to make it back to his house. Every few yards, his foot would sink in the snow and he would fall forward onto his chest. The tiger continued to gain ground. When Felix finally made it to his front door, he bulldozed inside, but the tiger was too quick and too close. It followed him through before Felix had a chance to slam the door.

A few seconds later, the sound of gunshots pierced the heart of the night.

I
n the largest room of Felix’s house, Martin and Darla were confronted with the following scene:

Fire, slowly eating up the thousands of Internet strings as if they were dynamite wicks.

Henry, hanging upside down in a snare, a handful of paper in one fist, his rifle in the other.

Felix, back pressed to the wall, legs spread, standing on two blocks of wood mounted about six feet above the floor.

And the tiger, roaring and jumping and snapping at Felix’s feet.

“Shoot again! Shoot again!” Felix screamed.

Henry lifted the rifle with one arm, but being upside down and rocking back and forth made it impossible for him to aim. “I can’t risk it. I might hit ya!” Henry responded.

“Drop the papers, you moron!” Felix pleaded. “This is serious business!”

The fire on the tiger’s tail had gone out, but the flames were quickly moving through the room, traveling from the strings to the blocks. Henry tossed the papers to the side and got two hands on the rifle. Now Martin could see exactly what Henry had been holding.

It was his book. And it was on fire.

Bam!

The rifle went off and the tiger withdrew. Plaster exploded and left a hole in the wall between Felix’s legs.

“Jiminy Christmas!” Felix howled.

“I told you!” Henry screamed back.

At that moment, Martin didn’t care about Felix or Henry or anything other than the book. As he raced over to grab it, he heard Darla yelp, “Gimme it,” but he paid her no mind. It was as if the chaos around him had melted away.

Pages from the book burned quickly, one after another taking to the air like black and red butterflies. Martin lifted his foot to kick the fire out and end the destruction. Before he could stomp, something walloped his shoe.

Bam! Bam!

Searing pain coursed through Martin’s foot as he fell to the ground. Had he been shot? He lifted his leg to see. His shoe had been torn open and blood was bubbling up through the holes. Only they didn’t look like bullet holes. They were long and thin, like claw marks.

Hot stale breath caressed his nose. Turning over, Martin was now face to face with the tiger. Its tongue was leaking from its mouth, but the beast was lying on its side, and nothing else in its body was moving, not even its eyes.

Bam! Bam!

Darla emptied the rifle into the tiger’s head as she straddled
it. Blood splattered upon her blue tights and into Martin’s face.

“You got it!” Felix screamed gleefully.

Darla set the rifle down and paced over to Henry. “What are you doing here?”

“Just get me down!” Henry pleaded. “This place is burnin’ like crazy.”

It was true. The fire was spreading. Nearly every block in the house was now burning and the walls were starting to catch.

Felix jumped from his perch and offered Martin a hand. There was no hope left for the book. It was fully consumed. So he accepted Felix’s help. Hobbling his way onto one foot, Martin wiped the tiger blood from his face.

Darla untied the snare, and Henry crashed onto his back. It should have knocked the wind out of him, but adrenaline was more powerful. He was on his feet immediately, snatching the rifle and heading for the exit.

“I guess our trap worked,” Martin, coughing, said to Felix as they limped after Henry.

Darla joined them, propping Martin up on the other side. “What was that pile of paper you were so busy with?” she asked.

“Something important to me” was all Martin said.

She turned to Felix. “And what in the half-baked heck was going on at Nigel’s?”

“He’s a fraud, okay?” Felix said defensively. “Magic? No way, Jose. He’s a con man. Where do you think he gets his information? Spies. Which might explain that burglar we caught. And you know what Nigel was doing tonight? He was out there drawing pictures of the machine. Why would
he do that? I was sitting in Kid Godzilla, minding my own business, and I saw him through the window. So I followed him back to his house and I told him I was on to him. And I’m gonna tell him again!”

It appeared as though he might have a chance to tell him again. Because when they stepped outside, there was Nigel, standing only a few feet in front of them. Henry was whimpering and fumbling through the snow, trying to escape into town. Nigel had commandeered his rifle.

“Get away, the whole place is about to go up,” Darla warned, raising a hand and waving Nigel back.

Nigel’s clothes were covered in black ash, and his eyes were ponds of swirling red. He clenched his lips, as if he were holding back a torrent of angry words. A tear slipped over his left cheekbone. He raised the rifle.

“That’s no way for them to die,” Nigel said.

“Nigel,” Felix replied, the iris of his lazy eye retreating to the edge. “Calm down.”

“This was our world.” Nigel’s voice was both steely and sad. “And the only reason you’re still here is because we let you be here.”

He steadied the rifle.

He clenched his teeth.

Then Nigel shot Felix in the head.

Felix’s body crumpled, taking Martin and Darla down with it. And Nigel didn’t say a word. He simply turned around and walked back toward his house.

Shock left Martin frozen, until the sharp smell of smoke and burning animal flesh brought him to. Darla was sitting in the snow, Felix’s body resting in her lap. There was a hole in his forehead. It was small, dark, and perfectly round.

“He shot him,” Darla said, looking over at Martin in disbelief. “Just like that.”

By now, Nigel had reached the edge of his lawn. His house was completely engulfed. Flames screamed from the windows and ripped away at the slates. Black smoke hovered over it all as the animals inside continued their horrible racket. A few had escaped to the lawn. A goat, two cats, a massive snake.

Nigel climbed the hill and stopped when he reached the goat. He placed a hand on its back, and the animal’s legs shuddered. Nigel petted it and ducked over to whisper something into its ear. The goat unleashed a terrifying bleat and fell forward onto its chest. It rolled over and stopped moving.

Throwing the rifle strap over his shoulder, Nigel was possessed by a sudden jolt of energy. He burst into a run, headed straight to the front door of the house, ducked his head down, and disappeared through a wall of fire.

PART III

“Xibalba welcomes you.”

“Thank you. That’s mighty swell.”

“Mighty swell?”

“I say kooky things sometimes.”

“Well, I guess it’s understandable. Hard not to be ‘kooky’ these days, what with all we’ve gone through. You must be hungry. Hey, Chet! Why don’t you fetch our new pal an apple or something? And, Tiberia. Maybe some ointment for that cut on his leg?”

“Thank you, Calvin.”

“It’s Kelvin, actually. Common mistake. And we’ve already established that you’re Felix. So why don’t you tell us how you got here, Felix?”

“Balloons.”

“Like a hot-air balloon? Gotta be a first.”

“No. Regular birthday balloons. I had a sack of them. And I found a helium tank thingy. I’d fill up a balloon and let it fly. Then I’d follow it. Once I lost it, I’d fill up another and off it’d go and off I’d go.”

“An odd way to travel.”

“I don’t think so. People like balloons. I thought maybe someone would spot one and we’d meet up and have a chat. Ended up here instead.”

“Still have that helium tank?”

“Sure do.”

“Does it make your voice all squeaky and hilarious?”

“I suppose.”

“So you’ve made yourself useful already. We’re gonna have some fun here, Felix.”