Chapter 4
The Battle for Halloween
Driving back to the suburbs was no easy task. It was not the country roads that were
inundated with the professor’s minions, but many residential streets were now
impassable. Jack-o'-lanterns, turkeys,
Christmas trees, rodents, large spiders, insects, and a variety of other
critters were more prevalent than the people who fled from them. Birds of all feathers littered the sky and
searched the ground below. One
bittersweet fact was that the undead were so busy pursuing others, they tended
to ignore POW; the few that were drawn to it found themselves victims of
Pumpkin’s sword, which struck here and there with greater speed and force than
before. To Jonathan’s surprise, the
squash’s anger seemed more focused and controlled rather than explosive and
unruly. He wondered if his orange ally
was already coming to terms with the realization that the old author would
never send him home.
“I just want to let you know that I don’t
agree with Cornelius,” said Pumpkin at length.
“That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
Jonathan’s lower lip curled into a
pout. “I know, buddy. I overhead what he said to you.”
“No, Jonathan, I don’t agree with what
Cornelius said about you.” The squash turned to him, ignoring the dozens
of yellow jackets that splattered against his window. “He said you were never special, and that was
wrong. I don’t want you thinking that
about yourself. I know I haven’t always
been kind to you, and there were quite a few times when I questioned your
intelligence and sexuality, and when I doubted your leadership....”
“Please tell me this is going somewhere
positive,” Jonathan said dryly.
“But not once did I think to myself,
‘Jonathan is just like every other average Joe out there,’” the squash
continued. “Because you’re not. You’re very special, and I think it makes
perfect sense that you’re the one who has to save the world. Who says that the mighty and the powerful,
the strong and capable, have to be the heroes? Why can’t it be the small-town
citizen who saves the day? The one who enjoys the simple things such as
holidays, candy, and the color pink?”
The boy laughed. “Don’t forget one very majestic unicorn
(bless her heart). Thank you,
Pumpkin. That means a lot coming from
you, and I’ll never forget it. Unless I
get dementia.” He winced when he saw three jack-o'-lanterns tackle a man to the
ground. Fortunately, the man’s pet
Labrador jumped into the fray and knocked the squashes here and there like
ragdolls. “It’s getting really bad out
there. And I’m sure it’s even worse on
my street, since Apo will be on the lookout for us. We need some sort of game plan.”
“A game plan to get into your house?”
“No.
Well, yes, but that’s just the half of it.” He pursed his lips. “What if I write Apo and his potions out of
existence, but our friends stay paralyzed forever?”
Pumpkin tapped the pommel of his sheathed
sword. “Can’t you just write them out of
their paralysis?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know what works and what doesn’t.”
“Understood.” The squash was silent for
several seconds. “What if we split up?”
“You want to split up?” His
incredulousness was obvious. “When does
that ever work?”
“Sometimes it works.”
“Name one movie or show in which that
worked.”
“Jonathan, I don’t watch TV!” Pumpkin
threw his arms in the air. “I’m just
going with my guts. Trust me on this
one.”
“Fine,” answered the boy, “but let the
record show that I think we’re stronger together than apart. We’ll do things your way. So what’re you thinking?”
Pumpkin attempted to draw out the plan
with his green, stemmy hands. “I sneak
into Apo’s house and find a way to free our friends. You go home and get your notebook. Once you’re in your room, listen closely to
what’s going on next door. If you don’t
hear anything after fifteen minutes, it means Apo has captured me, and you should
try to start writing something that will save our friends. But if you hear Awana bark seven times before
the fifteen minutes is up, it means everyone is free, and you can write Apo out
of existence.”
“Awana’s going to bark? Why?”
He could have sworn that the squash
managed to give him a blank stare. “It
just—seems fitting. Jonathan, the girl
looks like a cocker-spaniel!”
“Since when?”
“Oh, come on. This can’t be news to you!”
“I’m afraid I don’t pay much attention to
current events.”
The squash grunted. “Clearly.”
“Fine,” said the boy, “when Awana has
barked seven times, I’ll start writing.
If she doesn’t bark, I’ll see if I can write our friends out of their
paralysis. That sounds good to me.”
“Then we’re on the same page.” Pumpkin
gazed out his window and gave a start.
“Oh, we’re almost there already!
OK, let’s review: I’ll sneak into Apo’s house, and you’ll sneak into
your own house. I guess the only part
that’s missing is some sort of distraction that actually allows us to
sneak past Apo and his fiends. I’m at a
loss, there.”
A lightbulb switched on in Jonathan’s
head, and he smiled deviously. “Leave
that part to me.”
The car turned down the street in full view
of at least a hundred roaming monsters.
Even in the dull lighting, its orange paint scintillated with a
brilliance that would have made Ms. Unicorn neigh with approval. It moved at Jonathan’s preferred speed: a
crawl, no more than five measly miles per hour.
The windows were down, the trunk was up, and Michael Jackson’s
“Thriller” was blasting at maximum volume.
Moaning, squawking, and buzzing, the hordes moved in on POW with
ambitions of tearing apart its two companions.
They proceeded to bang and pound on the doors and tires; the car jolted
in response, but refused to slow down.
Soon every creature on the street was drawn to the spectacle, and only
then was it evident that the car was bereft of all passengers. Jonathan had placed a very heavy box of
ponies against the gas pedal, forcing POW through the neighborhood at a steady
speed.
He leapt from the fence and rolled into
his back yard, undetected and feeling somewhat like a secret agent. His parents were playing hopscotch with
invisible lines that they had drawn on the concrete with their minds,
apparently oblivious to the chaos that had exploded across the town. If they were surprised in the least by the
sudden appearance of their son, they did a superb job of hiding it.
“Johnny boy!” exclaimed Shameka, bouncing
up and down on one foot. “Are you guys
all done with the party? How’s Ghost feeling?”
“He’s seen better days,” said the
boy. “And no, the party isn’t over; it’s
just getting started.”
“Johnny, why don’t you take some of my
muffins over there?” asked his dad. “I
accidentally dectupled my recipe, and now we have trays of muffins all over the
floor. It’s the best kind of disaster.”
“Apo--I mean Watson already has enough
treats for us over there, believe me. I
just need to run inside and get something really fast. I’ll be back in a second!”
“The front door also works,” Shameka
reminded him. “But you would know that
if you had taken your pill this morning, wouldn’t you?”
Jonathan opened the sliding glass door and
stepped into the house. He could hear
sundry Halloween-themed songs playing at Apo’s house, and “Thriller” fading as
his car made its way farther down the street.
But a few moments later it became quiet, almost eerily so. The clock, which normally ticked and tocked
rhythmically in the family room, still lay shattered on the floor. Gone were the moans and groans of the
creatures outside. Apo’s music abruptly
stopped. Jonathan wondered if Pumpkin
had already been discovered, and if the professor was, as Mr. Cornelius had warned,
preparing to turn him into a pie. He
felt and heard his heart thudding against his chest. No, just stick to the plan, he told
himself. Pumpkin is a perfectly
capable squash and doesn’t need to be rescued.
He’s going to find a way to help our friends and bring them over here,
and we’ll have a perfectly normal and safe Halloween. But even as he strove to remain
optimistic, he could sense that his thoughts were growing as dark as the clouds
outside.
Due to these clouds, the Legcheese
household was hardly more illuminated than the hilltop mansion had been. His parents had turned off all the lights in
their home, forcing him to walk across the room and dodge trays of muffins to
reach the nearest light switch. All he
could hear were the drip drip of the kitchen sink and the occasional
howl of wind that tickled the windchimes of a nearby house. When he had managed to turn on the light, he
looked around the room and was flooded with memories: his mom had been sitting
in the recliner near the TV, and his dad had walked out of the kitchen
bemoaning a misplaced apron, when he had left his room on Halloween morning one
year ago; the Halloween Friends had gathered awkwardly in this room while he
and Pumpkin had gone to his bedroom to retrieve weapons (not a euphemism); that
was where they had been standing when the resurrected turkey and Super Pumpkin
had emerged from the kitchen; there they had experienced the corrupted
Santa, there the pieces of Ms. Unicorn had fallen, and there he
and Awana had kissed for the first time.
A pang of sadness ran through his heart as he asked himself if they
would be able to add to the list of memories.
Or was their time up? Would they be experience more memorable moments,
or was this the day that they would face defeat?
Morosely, he sauntered toward his bedroom
and entered a short hallway. On the
walls there were numerous frames packed with pictures of his family on the
holidays. He chuckled to himself as he
examined pictures from his childhood, when he had wanted every holiday to be
like Halloween: on Christmas of 1997 he had dressed like a rat, tail and all
(those were the “dark years,” as he called them, when he had still been trying
to find himself); on Saint Patrick’s Day of 1998 he had dressed like a watering
can (he had been flirting with the abstract at the tender age of seven); on Independence
Day of 1999 he had dressed like a cherry bomb (and had gone around telling
every man, woman, and plant that he was “the bomb”); on New Year’s Day of 2000
he had, at Awana’s behest, worn a costume that personified the events of
Revelation 16. That last picture warmed
his heart, and not only because he had come to believe that everything in the
chapter was true. He realized that Awana
had been by his side for so long, always cheering him on, always supporting
him, and always being patient with him—even if it took him forever to grow up
and grow out of certain ways of thinking. She had loved him in all his wackiness and
uniqueness, even when everyone else had called him weird or crazy. His heart dropped when he recalled her in her
paralyzed state, trapped in a cellar, away from him. Just a little bit longer, my peach, he
said to himself. Just a bit longer,
and we’ll be together again.
He pressed open his door and found that
the room was darker and more silent than the house had been upon his entry. Not a single sparkle emanated from the
glittery walls. He went to his dresser
and remembered the time that he had rummaged through the drawers and found his
sword, a “useless relic” that he had handed over to Pumpkin without a second
thought. The squash had jumped around,
spinning and slashing as if he had been familiar with swordplay since his early
days as a seedling. He sure has put
it to good use, the boy thought fondly.
But this time, I’m here for a different weapon. He looked to the top of the dresser and
saw them once again—the black notebook and white pencil, waiting to be used for
their intended purpose. I sure hope
Mr. Cornelius is right about this.
He took them and turned back around, deciding that he would start
another video chat with Stanley to make sure that he was safe.
After booting up his computer and
initiating the call, he sat on his bed and waited for it to connect. He also listened intently to what was going
on outside, hoping that he would soon hear his girlfriend. But to his dread, it was neither her voice
nor Stanley’s that reached his ears.
“So this is where it ends,” said the
professor, standing in his doorway.
Jonathan froze and nearly snapped the
pencil in half. “Apo!”
The man took a few steps forward. He was still garbed in his lab coat and
goggles, but he now wore aquamarine gloves on his hands; they were pasted with
the residue of chemicals. “Why are you
so surprised? Really, you make me feel like the most unpredictable man in the
world. But...well, I guess it is
still a shock to you that I managed to live next-door for so long without you
knowing.” He leaned against the nearest wall and crossed his arms. “So you escaped my little dungeon and fled to
our odious creator, only to discover what I discovered many months ago: that he
is powerless to stop me. What were you
thinking, that he would end it all with a snap of his fingers or a clack of his
keyboard? I’m afraid the story won’t end that way, you pathetic, weak creature. That would be much too easy.”
Jonathan swallowed the lump in his throat. What can I do? If I call for help, he’ll kill
me without a second thought. I need to
delay him somehow. “What--what did
you do to my friends?”
The professor scoffed. “Oh, don’t worry. They’re right where you left them! But I have
to say, child, that was perfectly selfish of you to flee and leave them in such
a sorry state. If I were them, I would
seriously second-guess the depth of your love.”
Jonathan, his hands shaking, opened the
notebook and began to write.
“But what’s your little orange buddy up
to? Did he run away when he saw my beautiful children swarm over the town? Or
did he give up on the quest once he realized that our author is useless? Not
that it matters. Either way, the victory
tastes just as sweet.”
The boy continued to write. “How--how did you know I would go back home?”
“I made an educated guess,” said the
man. “I knew your trip to Cornelius
would prove fruitless, so you would go home to check on your parents. It’s what any average child would do.”
“I’m not average,” replied Jonathan, his
voice trembling. Please let this
work. “And I’m not a child.”
The professor rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t you know it’s disrespectful to
avoid eye contact while your elder is speaking to you? Back in my mother’s day,
elders were looked up to, like they were something special.”
“Your mother is gone, Apo. I kicked her off a cliff in Armenor to save
the world.”
“What?” The man’s eyebrows
furrowed. “You did what?”
“I did what I had to,” Jonathan
continued. “I’m sorry it turned out that
way, but I didn’t see any other option.”
“Are you kidding me?” Apo’s face
reddened. “You killed her?”
“I don’t like violence anymore,” answered
the boy, “but the world’s future was at stake.
I couldn’t just stand there and let her do whatever she wanted.”
“Do you know--” The man began to pace,
seething. “Do you know the brilliant
mind that you destroyed? Do you know the gravity of what you’ve done? Child, you damn well better be writing your
last words, ‘cause I’m going to show you no mercy.”
“I’m not writing my last words,” said
Jonathan. “I’m writing yours.”
Apo flung back his lab coat to reveal his
belt of potions. He seized a vial of deep
brown liquid and, with a mortifying roar, hurled it at Jonathan. The boy slammed his notebook shut and dove
behind his bed; the vial exploded against his wall, and he narrowly avoided its
contents by crawling under his mattress.
The professor breathed quickly, seeming quite ready to burst
himself. He reached down to the bed and
lifted it from the floor—frame and all—then tossed it to the side as if it was
the size of a pillow. Jonathan knelt
there, the notebook still closed in his hand, with nothing to protect him from
his enemy’s wrath. He shouted a
desperate “Please don’t!” with tears in his eyes, but it was clear that there
would be no appeasement. The time for talking
was over. Jonathan could tell that the
eyes looking down at him were intent on one thing: murder. Without another word, the professor tugged
another vial from his belt and lifted it toward the ceiling.
A muffin pegged him in the side of the
head. He grunted, staggered, and shook
away the pain of the blow. Then a second
muffin hit him in the same spot. Clearly
irritated, he swung toward the entrance to Jonathan’s room and gnashed his
teeth.
“You get him, Tom!” cried Shameka in the
background. “You show that bald nerd
who’s boss!”
Mr. Legcheese stood in the doorway with a
tray of muffins, his countenance fierce and his arm cocked and ready to unleash
another scrumptious dessert. He stared
down the man unflinchingly. “YOU DON’T
KNOW ME! I’LL STRAIGHT UP SHANK A
SCIENTIST. LEAVE MY SON ALONE AND COME
AT ME, BRO!”
“Dad!” Jonathan cried, leaping to his
feet. “Your name is Tom?”
Tom Legcheese winked at him. “Just don’t tell your mother.”
Outside there was the sound of
barking. It seemed so authentic that
Jonathan figured it was just some stray dog.
But then he remembered his talk with Pumpkin. Awana, he thought. My girl.
Pumpkin did it! We need to get back to our friends. There’s safety in numbers.
“Come on!” he yelled to his parents. “He’s too strong; he’ll kill us. We have to run! Go!”
“Johnny boy, why does this random mad
scientist look like Watson?” asked Shameka, now in a battle stance. “Is this another one of his costumes?”
“It is Watson, in his true form!
This is how he dresses every day. Now
let’s get out of here!”
Tom chucked another muffin at Apo, but the
professor dodged it with ease. The vial
he threw in return would have hit its target if Jonathan had not rammed the man
in the back on his way to the door; the potion crashed into a nearby wall,
inutile. The trio exited the room, and
as Jonathan slammed the door behind him, he heard another vial explode against
it. They jumped and twisted and spun
around the trays of muffins covering the floor, and along the way, Mr. Legcheese
openly mourned the clock that had fallen as a casualty of his secretly evil
neighbor's schemes. He declared that
there was no clock like it, that its wood had originated from the elegant oaks
of Bashan, that he truly doubted if the world would ever see its like again,
and that the memorial service would be held the next day. Then, remembering that he was fleeing, and
perhaps understanding that his life was marginally more significant than that
of an antique, he followed his other two family members out of the house.
POW had smashed softly into a fence at the
end of the street, its music now a distant and catchy hum; the creatures that
had followed it were moseying back toward the Legcheese household. Dots of rain began to spatter on hard
surfaces and dampen the ground as the clouds created a darkness nearly as deep
as night. Mailboxes were overturned, a
fire hydrant had been toppled (resulting in a geyser that gave Wyoming’s Old
Faithful a run for its money), one property was nothing but ashes, several cars
were on fire, undead crows were perching in the trees, and resurrected spiders
had draped many windows and porches with thick webs.
“Our neighbors really outdid themselves
with the decorations this year!” Tom exclaimed with a hint of pride in his
voice. He gestured toward the decayed, groaning
horde that approached. “Friends of
yours, Johnny?”
“Exact opposite, Dad!” the boy
replied. “That’s Apo who’s after us, and
he’s resurrected and corrupted a bunch of creatures! But I think I can stop
him. I just need about thirty seconds of
not being pursued.”
“Good golly, son!” said Shameka. “What should we do?”
“You should come over here and join us, my
sweets,” broke in the voice of an old hag.
Jonathan turned his attention to Apo’s
house and saw the Halloween Friends standing at the edge of the lawn. Pumpkin stood before the group, his sword at
the ready; Ghost looked livelier than ever, twirling here and there and amping
himself up to face any enemy that came his way; Frankenstein’s monster loomed
there stoically, studying the area and the situation at hand; Witch mixed
different ingredients in a jiffy, occasionally reaching down for a few blades
of grass or fur from Cat’s rear; Bat flapped his wings in place as he mugged
some of the nearby crows; Cat gave herself a bath and coughed up a furball. Awana was not among them, for she was so
overjoyed at the sight of the Legcheeses (and of one pale-skinned, beak-nosed
boy in particular) that she abandoned her group and dashed impulsively across
the lawn. Along the way she tripped on a
root that anyone with two eyes would have seen, and this propelled her into a
roll (though if we are being honest, most would have called it a fall)
that resulted in thirteen bruises and one bloody nose. Nonetheless, she shrugged it off and limped
over to the Legcheeses, nursing her now-damaged left arm and smiling as if she
had never been happier in her life.
“Awana, my chipmunk!” said Jonathan,
hurrying over and embracing her. “That
looked really painful. Do you need some
ice? Maybe a cast?”
“Wowzers, that’s the sweetest thing anyone
has ever asked me!” It appeared that she had stars in her eyes, but it was
unclear if those were a result of Jonathan’s thoughtfulness or her unfortunate
tumble. “I have a feeling we don’t have
time for any of that, though. Look!”
The Legcheese family did not need to
follow her instruction. They hastened
away from the doorway a second before Apo erupted from it; the man was red with
fury, appearing more brutish than ever.
He stomped toward his fleeing neighbors, but after observing that his
captives—who now loitered liberally on his property—had been freed, he turned
away without explanation and went to the center of the street. Meanwhile, Jonathan’s group merged with the
Halloween Friends on the professor’s lawn.
Shameka immediately tended to Ghost, asking him various questions to
assess the seriousness of his hip injury.
Tom gushed over Cat and offered her a muffin, but the feline promptly
refused. Jonathan took Awana’s hand and
felt a strong sense of relief to have her beside him once again.
The professor faced the group, put his
fingers in his mouth, and whistled loudly enough that any fiend within earshot
turned its attention to him. They headed
toward the street without hesitation.
Between yards, over fences and cars, up from sewers, through the skies,
and down from trees they came, ready to do their master’s bidding. Any gaps that could have been potential
escape routes for Jonathan and his friends were closed in an instant. They were trapped, and the only solace was
that the monsters seemed more intent on rallying to their creator than harming
his enemies.
“I’m sorry I was rude to you earlier,
Witch,” said Pumpkin. “One of your
potions ended up being useful, after all.”
“Eh, it’s more than fine, dearie,” the hag
replied. “I’m just glad there don’t seem
to be any uncanny side effects. That’s
the first time I’ve seen the muscle-loosening tonic in action. Who knew it could cure paralysis?”
Pumpkin then turned to his ethereal
companion, who had been trying (unsuccessfully) to convince Shameka that he
miraculously felt no pain. “Ghost,” said
the squash, “I’ve been very impatient with you, and I haven’t been kind. You’re my best friend. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re my best friend, too,” returned
Ghost, “and there’s nothing to forgive.
I struggle with determining what’s real and what’s not. Just the other day, I poured myself a nice
cup of iced tea and sat down to drink it.
You’ll never believe what happened next!”
“There was no iced tea,” guessed Pumpkin,
“and you were sitting in the middle of the air?”
“That was a really good guess,”
Ghost declared, rubbing his transparent chin.
“Like, really good.”
“Where’s all this coming from, Pumpkin?”
asked Jonathan.
Pumpkin patted his sheathed sword. “Just look around. I believe in you, Jonathan, but we might not
get out of this alive.”
“What kind of talk is that?” asked Awana
indignantly. “We are getting out
of this alive, or my name isn’t Suzanne Somers.”
Jonathan gritted his teeth. “Awana, we need to have a talk about these
similes of ours.” He opened his notebook again and put his pencil to
paper. “Almost there....”
“What are you writing, Johnny boyfriend? A
new limerick?”
“When have I ever written a limerick? Do
you know anyone who writes limericks nowadays?” He shook his head, embarrassed
by her ignorance of literary genres.
“No, my delightful otter. Mr.
Cornelius told me I need to write Apo out of existence. All I have to do is finish this sentence,
and—”
At that very moment, one of Apo’s
undead crows swooped down and closed its talons around the edges of the
notebook. The bird tugged the book from
his hands and winged away from him, getting lost for a moment in the dark
sky. He cried out, and Bat, seeing his
distress, went after the perpetrator—only to be thwarted and pursued back to
the group by a murder of crows. Jonathan
looked at his hands, which were empty except for the white pencil. No. That couldn’t have just happened. That’s not the way this is supposed to go!
His heart sank when he saw the crow reappear from the sky and drop the notebook
into the open hands of the professor.
The Halloween Friends did not have any time to react as resurrected
pumpkins, turkeys, Christmas trees, rodents, and other creatures pressed in
upon then, forcing them into the street.
Nearer and nearer to the professor they pushed them. Lightning struck and thunder boomed, mixing
with the chorus of the fiends' moans, the cold wind, and the crackling of car
fires.
Apo turned over the notebook in his
hands and flipped to the first page. He
smirked, then laughed maniacally. “Oh,
this is too good! So that lousy writer told you it was just a matter of writing
me out of the story, is that what you’re saying? I guess he did have one last
trick up his sleeve.” The man tsked Jonathan, hardly able to contain his
amusement. “But he didn’t account for my
superior strength, speed, resources and power—did he? What a shame.”
There was a jingle on the air.
“All this fighting, all this
resisting, and for what? You were doomed before you stepped foot outside your
house. You never should have come to my
lab that day; your fate was sealed when you cast me into that cauldron. And now you’re here, surrounded, impossibly
outmatched, without anyone to save you, and ripe to receive justice for killing
my mother.”
“This lunatic really loved his mom,
didn’t he?” said Ghost.
““’tis not implausible, mine dearest
friends,” put in Frankenstein’s monster, “for the creation to bear overflowing
love for the one who bore him into this world.
In contrast, it is also plausible that the creation detest and rage
against the one who brought him forth.
Have we not witnessed both truths from our nemesis...and within our very
selves?”
Another jingle could be heard, now
closer.
Apo waved the book tauntingly in
Jonathan’s sight, then discarded it over his shoulder with a laugh. It skipped across the ground and landed among
a few leaves tinged with the colors of fall.
“The day is mine!” exclaimed the man, lifting both hands toward the
sky. “O glorious, glorious retribution
at last!
My potions done, no more to come;
The end is now in sight.
They cannot run; this time I’ve won.
We’ll celebrate tonight!
Created things will all decay
Upon my every word,
And soon will fade the holidays.
Their names shall be no more.
The dead now rule, and none can stand
Before this mighty throng.
Each one will obey my command
And make every right wrong.
My
creatures, feast! My minions, taste!
We
must avenge M.D.
Now
tear away, for none shall save
The
Friends of Halloween!
Turkeys began to peck Pumpkin,
creating dents in his slick surface.
Several dozen spiders surrounded Ghost and caused him to wail. Christmas trees pressed in on Frankenstein’s monster,
scraping him with their jagged leaves and broken ornaments. Squashes swarmed all over Witch, weighing her
down so that she was unable to fly away on her broom. Crows, blue jays, and vultures came at Bat
from every angle with their razor-sharp talons.
Mice leapt onto Cat’s back and nibbled at her. Awana and the Legcheeses reeled as various
creatures tore at their clothes and scratched their skin. Try as they might to retaliate, the
companions were overwhelmed by the sheer number of their enemies. There was nothing they could do.
It appeared that it was all over
when, suddenly, the sound of jingling was everywhere. Then there was the shout of “Hey, Legcheese!”
and Jonathan gazed toward the sky. The
heavens were specked with hundreds of little sleighs that were guided by
reindeer. In the sleighs there were
elves, some of whom quite familiar; there was Dale, there was Phil, and there
were many others from the North Pole.
St. Nick himself descended upon the town, guided by Dasher, Dancer, Prancer,
Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder and Blitzen.
But most amazing of all was that Rudolph, his nose aglow, led the charge
at the head of Santa’s sleigh—and standing on his head, holding onto his
antlers, was Super Pumpkin.
“Gourdo!” cried Pumpkin.
“Gourdo, you’re alive!”
The caped squash waved at him.
“Yes, I am here, cousin.
Professor Apo is not the only one who gets to cheat death. It is not over yet!”
Apo turned his eyes to the sky.
“Oh, what is this now? Can’t I just savor a moment of victory? Well, no matter. These fools will fall by my hand like all the
rest.”
“Remember what Santa told us, everyone!” Rudolph announced to
his allies. “Protect Legcheese at all
costs, because he’s the only one who can save the world! Still not sure why he would even try
to do that without his faithful reindeer companion, but whatevs. I’m here now, aren’t I? And they sure look
like they’re taking a beating! There’s a cute, innocent pumpkin getting all
scratched up, and big Frankie looks like he’s struggling, and—oh gosh, what in
Dale’s tiny beard is that?! A ghost?! I told Frosty they were
real, but he said they were myths, the lying oaf.”
“Yer talkin’ too darn much, Rudolph, an’ I won’ have it,”
grumbled one of Santa’s reindeer.
“Blitzen, I’ll lace your kibbles with rat poison if you don’t
shut your maw,” Rudolph replied.
Super Pumpkin leapt down from the reindeer’s head and landed in
the midst of the Halloween Friends. He
disappeared among them for a moment, and Apo already began to laugh at what
appeared to have been a poorly judged move.
But there was an orange glow, faint at first, shining in the center of
the group. Then it brightened, and
brightened, and exploded with a crack louder than thunder. Light burst from Super Pumpkin’s hands and
sent every nearby enemy flying ten yards.
Creatures of all kinds plummeted to the earth like rain while the
professor watched helplessly, his mouth ajar.
Seconds later, elves, reindeer, and Santa alighted upon the ground in
the space that the caped squash had created.
The tables had turned.
“How in the world are you here right now?” Pumpkin asked his
cousin, turning to him. “I saw you
fall. I saw the turkeys swarm over
you. No one could have survived that.”
“A tale for another time, dear cousin,” replied the caped
squash. “This does not seem like the
ideal location for such a dialogue; we have other matters to attend to. Let us take advantage of this element of
surprise.”
“Of course, that’s the best strategy,” concurred Pumpkin. He turned back toward Apo and drew his
sword. “Listen, all! Rudolph is right:
Jonathan is the only one who can save the world. He knows what he must do—and we must guard
him with our lives.” He looked at his closest comrades. “Halloween Friends, one year ago, Cornelius
summoned us to help this young man stop an evil professor. Our mission is not complete until that
happens, once and for all. We’ve been
outmaneuvered and outsmarted today, but no longer. Now is our chance. We must fight! Not to satisfy an imperfect creator, who is just a creation himself—but to protect our most cherished friend. Let's give it everything we’ve got!”
Finally, he turned to Jonathan. “Are you
ready, my fearless leader?”
Tears sprang to Jonathan’s eyes.
“I’m ready, Pumpkin. That is—as
long as Awana is with me.”
The girl put a hand on his face and kissed him. “I told you, Johnny boyfriend. I’m always with you. I’ve been stalking you since I was in
diapers.”
He looked forward, his heart soaring as he realized that his
friends and family were willing to give their lives to protect him and the
world. The hands of his mother and
father fell on his shoulders to remind him that they were right behind
him. The Halloween Friends formed a
semicircle around him and Awana. The
Fellowship of Halloween is larger than Mr. Cornelius ever could have guessed,
thought the boy. I’m not going to let
him down. We’re going to give it
everything we’ve got!
“If I don’t kick someone with these hooves in ten seconds, I’m
going to friggin’ lose my antlers,” said Rudolph. “Enough standing around, peoples. For Halloween!”
The group burst forward with a great battle cry. Urged on by their elven drivers, the hundreds
of reindeer mowed through the undead that surrounded them. Dale the elf started a fad by lifting
presents from the back of his sleigh and pegging enemies with them one at a
time; Phil the elf followed his example.
St. Nick (with many a “Ho ho ho!”) drove his team of reindeer through
the circle of enemies, waving around his famous red sack of Christmas toys and
knocking over dozens of attackers with each swing. Rudolph broke free of the other “incompetent
dirtbags,” as he audibly called the team of reindeer that he led, and shot
through the hordes with his head down; one foe after another was catapulted
into the air, stomped, blinded by the animal’s flashing nose, or kicked into
oblivion by his powerful back legs.
Shameka busted out some dance moves that had to be seen to be believed,
all the while launching her fists and knees into any unfortunate creature that
crossed her path. Tom took his position
at the top of a nearby transformer box and proceeded to throw his muffins at every
opponent within range, occasionally heading back into the house for additional
ammo.
Pumpkin was the first of the Halloween Friends to clash with the
enemy. Out struck his sword, through the
body of one squash and across the neck of a particularly annoying turkey. He charged through the ranks without a hint
of fear, for the lust of battle was upon him again. Creatures of all kinds were sent staggering
in his wake or felled by his blade. Once
he had reached a wall of his enemies, he began to leap and spin and slash with
fervor until the wall had weakened. At
times he would join forces with his cousin, jumping off the pumpkin’s crest and
then raining down upon an enemy with his blade, or allowing Super Pumpkin to
take hold of him and fly him around with sword drawn. The original leader of the Halloween Friends
seemed unstoppable.
When Super Pumpkin was not fighting side-by-side with his
cousin, he was racing around and punching monsters into the atmosphere. His cape flapped in the wind as he ran and leapt
and soared through the area. He would quit
his assault only now and then to rescue an elf from being pinned down by
adversaries, or to assist one of the Halloween Friends who was finding
him-or-herself outnumbered. If he came
face-to-face with an especially large group, he would thrust forth his hands
and send out a flattening blast of light and wind. At one point, he jumped back onto Rudolph’s
head and used the height advantage to release more effective streams of magic
into the undead crowd.
Ghost
finally managed to overcome his fears of absolutely everything and
generated a dozen ethereal, caerulescent ballistae that automatically fired
bolts at enemies every few seconds. He
also summoned blue, transparent tentacles from the ground, which sought out his
opponents and constricted their bodies; those who were on his side found the
creatures’ restricted movement quite helpful.
At one point, Witch threw a sizable vial of chemicals toward an
approaching flock of birds, and Ghost used a spectral bow to shoot it
mid-flight. The glass burst and its
innards splashed the flock, causing the birds to attack each other until none
remained.
Frankenstein’s
monster stormed across the street, roaring and shaking the asphalt with every
step. He threw forth his gigantic fists
and crushed his foes into the ground like a child playing whack-a-mole. If a few creatures leapt onto him, he would
throw them off and knock down other nearby enemies with a single motion. Apo noticed the level of destruction that the
monster left in his path, so he commanded every minion on the north side of the
street to attend to him; but Frankenstein’s monster, undaunted, plucked a small
tree from someone’s front yard (for him it was small, but any average
human would have considered it a decent size) and used it to knock the incoming
fiends out of the area.
Witch
proved to be among the most lethal of the group, spurred on by the success of
her “limb-loosening” potion in reversing Apo’s stasis concoction. She went about on her broom at breakneck
speed, holding out a vial now and then and smashing it against her adversaries
at random. A vicious possum managed to
leap on to her and send her careening into some bushes; but she rose, dusted
herself off, and beat the critter in the skull with the end of her broom. There was also a moment when she encouraged
Shameka to join her temporarily in flying around the street, which the woman
accepted with utmost enthusiasm.
Jonathan’s mother, clutching the broom with her legs, flailed her arms
about wildly and felled her foes as a bowling ball might fell a cluster of
pins.
Bat
twisted, zipped, dove, and ascended, toppling any beast that got in his
way. He occasionally latched on to Cat’s
fur and lifted the feline high into the air, then released her in a strategic
location where she could do the most damage.
In a matter of minutes, he knocked over four turkeys, created a whirlwind
with his wings that ended the flight of several dozen honeybees, lifted and
dropped five rabid rats to their (second) deaths, and carved seven small
pumpkins to ribbons. At one point, a
heavy raccoon stood on its hind legs and prepared to attack Super Pumpkin from
behind, but Bat zoomed over to the creature and flapped his wings in its face
as a distraction until Frankenstein’s monster punted it into the sky.
Cat
dashed here and there, sometimes ducking behind her larger and unaware foes
when hunting a different target (usually a mouse). Then she would leap out and claw her enemy
before it could react. Seeing that she
was causing trouble, a gaggle of Christmas trees hobbled over and surrounded
her. Cat was not idle. She released a loud and haunting hiss,
which forced the trees to run for their lives—directly into a barrage of bolts
from Ghost’s ballistae. After she had
caused significant damage in the enemy’s ranks, she set her sights upon
Professor Apo and prowled toward him.
“Awana,
watch out!” cried Jonathan, sidestepping an incoming pigeon.
Awana,
who had been running by his side the entire time, dove and just barely managed
to avoid a falling Christmas tree. The
Halloween Friends and their allies had done an amazing job of clearing the way
for the couple, but every now and then a straggler got through and momentarily
hindered their procession. After
Jonathan saw that Awana had safely bypassed the Christmas tree, he turned his
attention to the notebook nestled in the bed of leaves. It was so close now. He had just to weave through this final line
of enemies, avoid detection by the professor, take up the book, and write.
Apo did
not let his improved strength, reflexes, and potions go to waste. He stepped toward every elf that drew near
and backhanded each one off his sleigh and onto the street. He tripped the reindeer, forcing them to fall
face-first to the ground. He even kicked
Rudolph so hard that the red-nosed reindeer decided to stay away from him for
the remainder of the battle. He tossed
potions in every direction, turning many of his enemies into frogs,
butterflies, baby rabbits, or other harmless animals. When Frankenstein’s monster closed in on him,
Apo emptied one potion into his eyes and caused them to burn; the poor monster
hurried into the Legcheese household, hoping to wash away the painful
sensation. When Witch came soaring
toward the professor, he dodged her, pulled her broom from out under her (she
went flying and rolled across a patch of grass as a result), and broke it in
two. Tom and Shameka closed in on the
man as they launched a volley of muffins, but he reflected the morsels back and
knocked the two unconscious. With a
single strike, he punched Pumpkin clear to the other side of the street. And just as Jonathan thought that he was
going to sneak past Apo and retrieve the notebook, the man whipped toward him
and grabbed him by the neck.
The
hand that grasped him seemed stronger than steel, able to break bones without
much effort. Never had he felt that
death was just seconds away. No,
he thought. No! I’m so close. The notebook is right there. I can do this! He tried to wiggle free,
but it was useless. He also reached for
the book (which was still several feet away), hoping that it would somehow fly
to him like a magnet to iron; but nothing happened. He was locked in a vice whose grip could only
tighten—never loosen.
The
professor turned the boy until they were eye-to-eye, then smirked. “Wow! The child got so far! It looked like
victory was so near, didn’t it? I’m afraid not.
Perhaps our dear creator will write a sequel and resurrect you to
witness the havoc that I will wreak...but in this story, you die by my hand. I suppose some things are better done the
old-fashioned way. Farewell, little
one!”
The strength
of the man’s grip increased on Jonathan’s neck —but only for a second. There was a brisk movement nearby, then the
cry of “Let go of my Johnny boy!” before Apo fell back with a squawk. Awana had charged toward the man, dropped to
the street, and kicked the professor’s legs out from under him. Jonathan, released from the hand of his
nemesis, landed on his feet and sprinted toward the book beyond. Awana leapt onto the professor. He attempted to push her away, but she
averted his blow and wrapped her legs around his. Before he knew it, he was tied up like a
pretzel, as the girl also pinned his wrists together behind his back. To make matters worse for him, Cat shot up
from a huddle of nearby enemies and alighted upon his chest. She unleashed a fury of vicious swipes upon
his face.
Jonathan
seized the book and pressed the cold lead against the first page.
“Professor
Aponowatsomidichloron, his minions, and his potions....”
Apo
grabbed Cat and threw her against a tree, and she struggled to rise. Super Pumpkin, Ghost, and Bat shouted at the
sight and began to hurry toward the pair who wrestled on the street. The professor wrenched one of his hands free
and used it to seize Awana’s waist, pushing her against the road’s uneven,
gravelly surface.
“...vanished
from existence....”
Awana
yelled as her body was forced against the asphalt. Overwhelmed by her enemy’s strength and the
pain that emanated from her side, she lessened her grip on his arm. He immediately tore a vial from his belt; it
contained a viscous liquid as black as death.
“...neither
they nor their effects to be seen....”
Super
Pumpkin, Bat, and Cat were just a few feet away, and it seemed that Apo knew
it. He used one arm to push himself into
the air, high above the group, and he prepared to hurl the deadly poison
directly at Awana. She raised her hands
in front her face, trying to shield herself from the impact.
“...
felt, or heard from ever again.”
Jonathan
lifted his eyes, apprehensively, from the open book. There had been a small part of him that had
doubted Mr. Cornelius’s words, especially since the man had inadvertently led
him astray once before. But when he
surveyed the area, he found that the author appeared to have spoken
truthfully. The professor, who had
caused him and thousands of others such immense suffering, had disappeared
completely; the potion he had planned to use was also nowhere to be seen. The hordes that had infested the area—even
after the allies’ courageous stand—were gone.
But there were other changes, as well.
Broken fences were now repaired; toppled fire hydrants were now
replaced; flame-engulfed cars now gleamed in the dull light; displaced homes stood
once again; uprooted lawns were now restored.
Pumpkin
rose to his feet and observed that his surface was slick rather than pockmarked. Witch, not feeling the slightest ache from
her tumble, took up her mended broom. Frankenstein’s
monster exited the Legcheese home, blinking at the sudden lack of pain in his
eyes. Cat hopped around ecstatically. Mr. And Mrs. Legcheese helped each other up,
their eyebrows furrowed in total confusion.
A group of elves that had been turned into other creatures found their
bodies back to normal, and they tittered joyfully.
He's
gone….Jonathan continued to
look around, hardly able to believe what he was seeing—or rather, what he wasn’t
seeing. He’s…really gone. They’re all gone!
“Oh my
Bob!” shouted Rudolph, standing beside St. Nick. “He did it! Legcheese really did it!”
Everyone
on the street looked here and there, as if they could not believe their
eyes. But when they discovered that the
battle was over, the crowd went wild.
After several seconds they closed in around Jonathan; some clapped, some
leapt with exuberance, some hugged, some cheered, and some (OK, it was just
Ghost) cried openly with thankfulness.
Jonathan did not know how most of them had been alerted to this
near-apocalypse, and there was much that he did not understand; but what he did
understand was that they were apparently victorious, and the world was safe
from the man who had haunted him for so long.
A sense of peace coursed through his body as he observed the pure
elation that filled the street. Bat and
Cat proceeded to play pattycakes, ignoring everyone around them for about ten
minutes. Witch reached into her satchel
and started throwing all sorts of the things into the air in celebration—grass,
dirt, rice, moldy chicken, flakes of melted ice cream, Jonathan’s pet lizard
Steve, written correspondence between her and an old boyfriend, and mud dauber
larvae. Tom and Shameka retrieved POW
and pulled it up to the group, then blasted “Thriller” again on the radio. They remained there in the car, watching the
laudation of their son and the honoring of his accomplishments while feasting
on leftover muffins.
Awana
pushed up to her feet, and her eyes met with Jonathan’s. They did not have to say a word to each other,
for their stare spoke volumes. Jonathan
dashed over to her, and they engaged in one of the longest and most endearing
hugs of all time. Many hearts were
melted, but some in the crowd blanched.
“He has
sort of a birdish look to him,” commented one especially judgmental elf who inexplicably
spoke with an English accent.
“She
reminds me of a certain type of dog, the name of which presently eludes me,”
announced a second elf with burly chest hair tumbling out of his tunic.
Super
Pumpkin, Rudolph, and Santa pressed through the throng and reached the couple
just as their embrace was coming to an end.
By that time the Halloween Friends were in the center of the crowd,
being thanked, applauded, and marveled at.
Rudolph had no qualms about practically knocking over Witch on his way
to Jonathan. The hag muttered seven
curses and tagged the animal in the rear with her broom.
“You
saved the world, Legcheese!” the reindeer exclaimed, prancing and whinnying
with glee (like a horse).
“We saved
the world,” Jonathan replied, beaming.
He lifted his right hand for a high-five. “Good game, dude!”
“I
still can’t bend that way,” the reindeer told him, staring at him blankly.
“Oh,
right.” Jonathan closed the book and slipped it into his pocket. “But what the smell, Rudy? How in Dale’s tiny
beard did you know we were in trouble?”
“That
question, I am certain, is also on Pumpkin’s mind,” said Super Pumpkin,
stepping forward. “And I must say, it is
quite...providential that we arrived when we did. I feared we would be too late.”
Pumpkin
sheathed his sword and put his hands where his hips might have been. “I’ve never been happier to see anyone,
Gourdo. I really mean that. You don’t know how much I’ve grieved over
you…but I’ve had quite enough suspense for one day. You were dead; please explain what happened.”
The
caped squash moved his body in a nod.
“You have waited long enough, dear cousin. When I cast that cauldron off Melonir last
year, its contents were destroyed. As a
result, the turkeys ceased to attack me.
I do not understand how that could be, but my assumption is that the
potion had a threefold effect: to create a portal between Earth and Armenor, to
resurrect the dead (albeit focused specifically on turkeys), and to turn their
innate goodness to blight. We were
already aware that Apo had perfected the latter two potions, yes? And that he
had given the portal portion to M.D.? Perhaps she mixed all three together that
Thanksgiving day. But I digress. Once you had disappeared into the portal, I
lost consciousness. When I awoke, the
creatures were nowhere to be seen, and only Melhrir remained.
“I
recalled that M.D. had commented about the professor’s ashes, and how you
should have properly disposed of them. I
feared that this world would soon suffer, so after walking a very long way in
hopes of finding a way to Earth, I accepted the aid of a young man named
Hargolan.”
“You walked?”
asked Pumpkin. “When your strength
returned, why didn’t you just fly?”
“I
would have, had I been permitted,” answered his cousin. “Alas, all power had left me. Until today, that is. When I leapt off Rudolph’s head and landed
among you, I merely planned to fight by your side. I was delighted when magic sprang from my
hands once again.”
Jonathan
looked at the caped squash, then at the reindeer. “So how did you two meet?” he asked,
his voice coated with jealousy. “You
look like best pals already! How could you, Rudy?”
Rudolph
appeared very ashamed.
“Hargolan
used magic to create a portal, which sent me to Earth,” said Super
Pumpkin. “It was initially regrettable
that (quite by accident, I am sure) he sent me to your North Pole. I plummeted into some powdery snow far from
civilization and continued my quest; but to my great distress, I did not know
which direction I should take, and there was no path in sight.”
“Plus,
you’re in the North Pole, so everything is north,” Jonathan educated
him.
“I am
not sure that is accurate, my hook-nosed ally,” replied the squash. “But I wandered for many days—until I could
wander no more. I collapsed, thinking
that I had met my demise. Again.”
“Abominable’s
wife let her hubby-boo out of the cave for an extra fifteen minutes that day,” Rudolph
continued, “so he and I were playing hide-and-seek together. I was searching everywhere for that furry
champion, but being white, he’s pretty much impossible to find in the
snow. Come to think of it, I don’t know why
I agreed to play that game with him in the first place. I should have realized he had the advantage!
I’ll have to sit down and have a chat with him when I get home....
“Anyway,
while I was gallivanting about the frosty dunes, I saw this orange thing just
lying there in the ground. I thought
Donder had the runs again, but upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a
pumpkin! So I kicked it all the way to Santa’s estate, screaming my head off
for someone with hands to help me.
That’s when Dale showed up, bless his beard.”
The elf
pushed himself into view and jumped on Rudolph’s back. “We found Gourdo on the fifth of October,
twenty-six days ago. He was nearly a
block of ice at that point, so I rushed him into the workshop. Santa’s quick thinking saved him, I
think. He suggested that we give Gourdo
a nice, hot bath.”
“It
took me two weeks to recover,” said Gourdo.
“As soon as I was able to speak, I warned everyone about the impending
doom. But they did not believe me...and
I do not blame them. That is, they did
not believe me until I mentioned Jonathan Legcheese.”
“Ho ho
ho!” St. Nick exclaimed. “That was just
a few days ago. When I heard that name,
I realized that the time had come for young Jonathan to use the gift I gave
him. The only problem is that, while I
have been granted a certain degree of foreknowledge and intuition, I hadn’t the
faintest notion as to what the boy would face.
But I pieced some information together and feared that the professor who
had corrupted me would make his reappearance.
Just today, I looked into my seeing glass and found that this town was
under attack. So I mustered every male
elf and reindeer in the estate, and with Super Pumpkin we flew on over
here. I do not make a habit of leaving
the North Pole on any day other than Christmas Eve, but I thought that helping
save the world would, perhaps, begin to make reparations for the harm I caused
last year.”
“It
did, Mr. Santa, sir!” Awana told the jolly man.
“If it wasn’t for you and your people, we would have been turkey
chow. Or pumpkin chow. Or Christmas tree chow.” She rubbed her
chin. “We would have been chow.”
“I am
certainly happy you are not chow, dear Humphfree,” chortled the man. “Jonathan was the only one who could save the
world—or at least that was what I was told.
But I am also thankful for Gourdo’s perseverance. His love for you all, and especially for his
cousin, is a rare treasure in this dark world.”
“Yes,”
said Pumpkin, staring at the caped squash with the deepest admiration, “it is.”
Ghost,
who had stopped his joyful weeping and listened intently to the dialogue, let
out a loud groan. “Yes, we’re all very
thankful for the great acts of heroism today.
Blah blah blah blah. Has everyone
forgotten that today is Halloween? We’re wasting precious daylight by just
standing around here!”
“That’s
true!” Jonathan declared. He turned to
Rudolph. “Rudy, do you want to join us
for some good old Halloween festivities?”
“That
sounds like a truly miserable time,” the reindeer told him. “Legcheese, I love you more than Santa loves
sugar cookies, but this isn’t my holiday.”
“Indeed,
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer speaks truthfully,” St. Nick agreed. “Christmas is just around the corner, and we
have much to do. There are presents to
build and wrap, and Mrs. Claus is waiting.
This is the busiest, most wonderful time of the year! We must away, my
friends!”
Jonathan
petted Rudolph, and the reindeer whinnied again. The elves in their sleighs started ascending
into the sky one at a time. Santa’s was
the last in the air, and he waited for his lead reindeer before heading
home. The Fellowship of Halloween gazed
upward, their eyes reflecting the sparkling sleighs, which were bathed in the
light of the sun as it neared the western mountains.
“Rudolph,
you did me a great service by saving me from that frozen wasteland,” Super
Pumpkin told the reindeer. “I am
grateful for you, and I owe you a tremendous debt. I can only pray that I will be permitted to pay
it some day.”
Rudolph
seemed angry. “Yeah, you’re
welcome. But don’t ever call my home a
frozen wasteland again. If you do, I will
never forgive you, and I won’t even let you pay the tremendous debt you owe
me. That’ll show you.”
“And I have
to extend an even more heartfelt thanks,” said Jonathan, feeling a great sense
of fondness for his fur-laden friend, and also wanting to compete with Super
Pumpkin for the reindeer’s affections. “I
look forward to hearing the jingle of your bells in two months.”
“Really
weird thing to say, Legcheese,” Rudolph responded, “but I think I catch your
drift.” He looked at Jonathan and Awana.
“Goodbye for now, dude and dudette! You’re both the coolest people I
know, and you should be together forever.
Everyone loves a good romance story.
Not that we’re in a story.
Anyway…I guess I should get going.
I’ll catch you all on the flippity-flip!” Then he, Santa, and the other
inhabitants left as quickly as they had appeared.
Everyone
was silent for several seconds before Bat finally asked, “So what’s the plan now,
Jonathan?”
The young man smirked. “What
else? Come on, guys. Let’s go
trick-or-treating.”
