Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror (20 page)

“Gus?” said Max.

“Gus Horkheimer. Hi, Gus!”

Everyone said, “Hi Gus!”

“Let me see. Oh, look, here's the former Merideath Venacava. Look! Good news! Now she's Pinky Quacken-bush! Hi, Pinky!”

“Pinky?” said Merideath.

“And Timothy Sparkbolt, you're going to be called Alfalfa.”

“Alfalfa?” said Sparkbolt. “Alfalfa bad!”

“No, no, Alfalfa good. Your name is Alfalfa Schmucker! Hi, Alfalfa!”

“Alfalfa?” grumbled Sparkbolt, taking his folder from Mr. Hake.

“Who's next?” said Mr. Hake. “Ah, Miss Ankh-hoptet! We're going to call you Madison Hallowell. Hello, Madison!”

“Ssss,” said Ankh-hoptet.

“Falcon Quinn,” said Mr. Hake. “Oh, you'll like this. Tony Cucarillo.”

“Tony?” said Falcon.

“Tony Cucarillo. Hi, Tony!”

“Hi, Tony,” said everyone in the room. There was a low-level roar building in the room now, as the names and file folders were handed out and the students examined their new identities.

“It says I like exercise,” said Max, or Gus Horkheimer, as he was known now. “Dude!”

“Alfalfa,” said Sparkbolt. “Alfalfa BAD.”

“All right, then,” said Mrs. Redflint. “I know you're all going to have a lot of fun in the next couple of days trying on your new identities. We're going to make the next two days a grace period—so any little slip-ups will be forgiven.
But starting on the third morning, if you use the wrong name, or refuse to answer to your new name, you'll get an unhappiness star. The day after, two unhappiness stars. And so on. It's a real incentive! So let's all get with the program, and begin work on our new, shiny, good selves.”

“Dude,” whispered Max to Weems. “Whad'ya get?”

“Chad,” said Weems, stunned. “I'm Chad.”

“Also tonight,” said Mrs. Redflint, “we're handing out your beanies. Each one imprinted with your new name! Violet?”

Mortia didn't look at her at first. Then Mrs. Redflint said it more forcefully. “Violet Humperdink?”

“What?” said Mortia, or Violet, as Mrs. Redflint came over to her, reached into a large satchel, and put a beanie on her head. The beanie was sewn together with alternating pink and orange triangles. At the top of the beanie was a propeller, its paddles swinging around freely. The name
VIOLET
was stitched onto the beanie with sequins.

“Wow,” said Mortia, or Violet. “It's, uh—
awesome
!”

Next Mrs. Redflint put a beanie on Merideath. “Ah, Miss Venacava. Your new name is Pinky! Isn't it wonderful? Pinky!”

“I'm not wearing this,” growled Merideath. “I'm not!”

“But of course you are!”

“My
father
never wore any beanie,” said Merideath. “My father would have chosen the
dungeon
over this!”

Max leaned toward Falcon. “Who's her father?” he said. Falcon shrugged.

“But the count
loved
his beanie,” said Mrs. Redflint. “He adored it!”

Merideath grumbled, then took off her beanie with one hand and looked at it with resentment. With one finger she spun the propeller around and around disconsolately.

“Ah, here's yours, Gus,” said Mrs. Redflint, putting a beanie on Max's head.

“Gus?” said Max.

“Yes, Gus. And—Beyoncé,” she continued, putting a beanie on Pearl's head. “And Madison.” She crowned Ankh-hoptet. “And Tony Cucarillo.” She beanied Falcon. Round and round she went, slapping the pink and orange beanies with the propellers onto the heads of the students.

“And Alfalfa,” said Mrs. Redflint, putting a beanie on top of Sparkbolt's head. “Look at you,” she said. “So distinguished!”

“Rrrrrr,” said Sparkbolt, and suddenly he stood up and roared. “Beanie BAD! ALFALFA BAD! SCHOOL BELONG DEAD! DEAD! MUST—
DESTROY
!
DESTROY!
”

And with this, Sparkbolt ripped off his beanie and lunged for Mrs. Redflint. As he grabbed her by the neck and shook her, Mr. Hake transformed once more into the Terrible Kraken, and his horrible tentacles wrapped around
Sparkbolt's body. As Sparkbolt was drawn once again into the yawning maw of the Kraken's hideous mouth, Sparkbolt grabbed two plates of lima-bean mush and, in a single swinging movement, jammed these into Mr. Hake's gigantic, squidlike eyes. The Kraken was blinded for a moment, just long enough for Sparkbolt to escape from its tentacles. Mrs. Redflint, meanwhile, blew a blast of red fire toward him, and Sparkbolt screamed as he began to burn. But even as the boy's head burst into flame, he ran toward Mrs. Redflint and threw her forcefully into the air, so that she sailed over everyone's heads and landed, unexpectedly, in one of the basketball hoops on the wall.

Sparkbolt, his head still burning, ran toward the kitchen, grabbed a huge container of chocolate milk, and poured it over his head, extinguishing the blaze Mrs. Redflint had set. “Fire BAD!” Sparkbolt shouted. “FIRE BAD!”

Mr. Hake, still in the form of the Terrible Kraken, wriggled toward Sparkbolt, but even as he approached, Sparkbolt was grabbing students' dinner trays and throwing plates of succotash and lima-bean pizza and lima-bean tacos at him. The plates smashed against the Kraken's writhing body, leaving impact craters of green spatter. Then Mr. Hake reached forward with his tentacles, once more got his sucker disks on the boy, and pulled him toward his disgusting mouth. Max picked up his tray and
threw it at Mr. Hake. A second later Pearl did the same thing, and so did Ankh-hoptet and Weems and Destynee and Falcon. Now all the students were joining in. Mrs. Redflint, upside down in a basketball hoop overhead, breathed several bursts of fire, but she couldn't get herself loose. It was a complete melee. Falcon had been in food fights before, but he'd never seen anything like this. It was
total food revolution
, in a cafeteria chockablock with mutants.

Suddenly the door to the cafeteria swung open and Reverend Thorax, the giant praying mantis, wriggled into the room. The flying lima beans meant nothing to him as he skittered over to where Sparkbolt and Mr. Hake were struggling. Reverend Thorax picked up the Frankenstein with his pale green claws, then hauled Sparkbolt out of the room. The door swung closed, and they vanished.

At this moment Mrs. Redflint got herself loose from the basketball hoop, and she fell onto the floor with a loud
plop
. Mr. Hake's tentacles withdrew into his body, and then he was standing there once more in human form, not a hair out of place.

“You ungrateful things,” screeched Mrs. Redflint. “All this work! Giving you nice new names, and beanies too! Decorated in the school colors, and adorned with a festive, nonfunctional propeller to add style to your appearances! And how do you react? By throwing food on the floor, by
attacking each other, by
encouraging
the revolt of Alfalfa Schmucker against his protectors and benefactors! Never, never in my career have I witnessed such an outrage!”

“All students are advanced to nineteen unhappiness stars!” said Mr. Hake. “All students! One star away from the dungeon! Do you know what happens in the dungeon? You hang upside down, all day long! Yes, that's what you do!”

He smiled. “Use of new names and identities will begin immediately. Beanies will be worn! Oh yes, beanies will be worn.” He sighed. “Now, then. Who wants cake?”

It was clear enough: no one wanted cake. But as the plates appeared before them, one by one the defeated monsters began to dig into the pieces of cake with their forks. As the sad, thwarted young monsters ate their cake, the propellers on their beanies began to rotate, slowly at first, then with more speed.

Later, as they all filed out of the cafeteria, Falcon saw that there was something sitting on the table where Sparkbolt had been eating. Drawing closer, he saw that it was a composition binder, and on its front, its owner had written, “Poetry Book of Rhyming Poems. By Timothy Sparkbolt.”

As he passed the table, Falcon reached out and put the binder under one arm. When and if Sparkbolt got out of the dungeon, he might have all kinds of poems in him,
still waiting to be written. Falcon thought he would want the book.

“Mr. Quinn,” said a voice, and Falcon turned to see the dragon lady standing next to Mr. Hake, Dr. Medulla, Algol, and the moth man. “If you'll come with us, please.”

“I can't go with you right now, actually,” said Falcon. “I have to—”

Mr. Hake transformed into the Terrible Kraken and wrapped a tentacle around Falcon's arms, pinning them to his body.

Falcon was just about to call out to his friends for help when Mr. Hake wrapped a tentacle around his mouth. Falcon yelled, but his voice was wholly absorbed by the muffling tentacles of the Terrible Kraken.

“It comes,” said the moth man.

“S
eñorita Destynee,” cried Pearl. “You must reconsider!”

“It's Kennedy,” said Destynee. “And I'm not going. Period.”

“Weems is gonna be
ticked
,” said Jonny, throwing his guitar and his comics into a duffel bag. “You know that, right?”

“I know it,” said Destynee.

“Señorita Destynee,” said Pearl. “You gave your word. Your sacred honor!”

“I gave my word to save Falcon,” said Destynee. “That's why I said it. But I don't want to go,” said Destynee. “Okay? I don't want to go!”

“But
señorita
,” said Pearl, “this is our only hope of remaining the things we are!”

“It's Kennedy,” she said. “And staying here, and learning how to be human?
That's
my only hope.”

“Pearl,” said Megan, stuffing the last of her clothes in her backpack and tossing it onto the parlor sofa. “Let it go. It's her choice.”

“But why would this one choose to—”

“Because,”
said Megan, wavering slightly, “she doesn't like the thing she's turning into.”

“You wouldn't either,” said Destynee tearfully, “if the thing you were turning into was a giant slug.”

Pearl looked pained. “There is beauty in all things,” she said, “even in the slug of the earth.” She paused, as if to consider her own words. “But it is for each of us to choose her fate. You have chosen yours. I shall carry your memory in my heart at all times.”

“Your heart,” said Destynee in a dreamy voice; then she looked around the room. “Where is Falcon, anyway?”

Jonny slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and put his mirror shades on. “He was right behind me,” he said. “He's coming.”

They went to the tower door and looked down the stairs.

Megan began to flicker in and out. “Falcon?” she called out in a voice that rumbled like a distant storm. “Falcon?”

 

Falcon, tied to a chair in the Wellness Center, tried to yell, but his voice could not carry very far through the heavy, muffling gag that Algol had tied around his mouth. As Falcon struggled, the hunchback attended to a large table full of potions and scientific equipment. In the center of the floor was a large circular structure that resembled an
inflatable kiddie pool. A bright, silvery liquid shimmered in its depths.

Algol picked up a potion. “I should 'av suggested we shrink you with me shrinkin' potion,” he said. “But per'aps the gargoylization is best. You're makin' a contribution to science in any case! That's the way I'd think about it, all philosophical-like.”

“Mr. Algol,” said Dr. Medulla, coming into the room. “That will be enough.”

“If you say it's enough, it'll 'av to be enough, won't it. Mr. Algol isn't the one 'oo decides, no, not 'im. 'E's all warped and twisty.”

“Is the calcifier working?” Dr. Medulla looked at the pool of silvery liquid.

“Like a charm.”

“Very well, then,” said Dr. Medulla.

“No small thing, gettin' it out of storage, and all restored to proper workin' order in a twinklin', is it? It's a bit of a scientific miracle, you might say. I'm sure all the 'igh and mighty are all very grateful to Mr. Algol for all 'e's done!”

“Mr. Algol,” said Dr. Medulla. “Are you disgruntled in some way with your situation?”

“Me?” said Algol, twitching and scampering. “Oh no, I'm as gruntled as a fella might 'av any cause to be. Workin' for ones so superior to 'imself!”

Dr. Medulla looked at Algol for a long moment. Then he cleared his throat. “Well, let's get going, then.”

“Aye, we'll start things right up,” said Algol. “We'll start things right
now
!”

Algol turned upon Dr. Medulla suddenly and grabbed him by the throat.

Then he shoved the doctor backward with tremendous force, and the man staggered and wheeled and tipped over, stumbling over the lip of the calcifier on the floor and landing, a moment later, in its depths. There was a sound like
aahh—woosh
, and then Dr. Medulla turned gray and was frozen in place like a statue, his arms still reaching out toward Algol.

“Aha!” Algol cried, and turned to Falcon with a grin. “'E's not so 'igh and mighty anymore, is 'e? Course we'll 'av to tell 'em all it was you, Falcon Quinn, 'oo pushed 'im in. And they'll believe me, too, when I tell 'em. They're always so quick to believe, the 'igh and mighty. So quick they are, right up to the moment when I does away wif—every las' one of 'em!”

He looked at Falcon with pride. “Oh, you're surprised by Mr. Algol, aren't you? Now, don't you worry, I'm no blood-swizzlin', monster-stabbin'
guardian
, not like you, Mr. Quinn. But I do believe that what's fair is fair, and that people ought to be treated equal-like. And those what do a disservice to the crippled—
the 'orribly, pitifully
deformed!
—like meself, ought to pay for their actions. Oh yes, dearly they'll pay—every last one of 'em!” He rubbed his hands together in exaltation and scampered around in front of Falcon for a few moments.

“But first, let's make ourselves another statue, yes. I think we shall. Mr. Falcon Qwinnzy today will join ol' Weezy up by the gates of the Upper School. And if any o' your frens, the guardians, come to ask what's become of our li'l fren the spy, we'll point right up to your statue and say, ‘There 'e is. We made a monument out of 'im. A monument to
filth, and deception, and slime
!'”

Algol untied Falcon from the chair and led him by a rope over to the pool. “Anythin' you'd like to say, now that you're on your way to the quarry? Any regrets?”

Falcon shouted beneath the gag, screamed with anger and rage. The boy's left eye began to burn black.

“Now, don't start up with the eye, not now. It's all too late for that. Good-bye, Falcon Quinn! Good-bye!”

“Let him go,” said a voice, and Falcon looked over to see Jonny Frankenstein standing in the doorway, “you
idiot
.”

“‘Oo's an eejit?” said Algol. “Jonny Frankenstein, the next to go, is not in any position to be calling names. It's Jonny Frankenstein 'oo's next, yes 'e is! It's Jonny Frankenstein 'oo—”

But Jonny raised his two hands, and blue bolts of
lightning burst from his palms and enveloped Algol completely. For a few seconds Jonny just stood there, his face consumed with rage, the lightning bolts twisting and flickering from him—and then, just as quickly, the lightning stopped, and Algol's eyes rolled around in his head. A moment later the hunchback fell onto the floor.

Jonny staggered against the door frame, as if the creation of this electrical storm had both angered and exhausted him. Falcon watched as the boy paused and tried to regain his composure. Jonny stood there, half collapsed against the door, until at last he took a deep breath and stood up straight.

“Come on,” said Jonny, untying Falcon's gag. “Let's get out of here.”

“What was that?” said Falcon. “You can make electricity?”

“Yeah,” said Jonny. “It's just this thing I can do.”

“You're full of surprises, Jonny,” said Falcon, as they rushed out of the Wellness Center.

“You have no idea,” said Jonny.

 

They ran across Grisleigh Quad and back into the castle, down the long staircase that led into the castle's depths. The steps down to the catacombs were lit by a series of flickering torches on the walls, and the smoke from the torches hung heavily in the air. The stairs widened as Jonny and
Falcon wound down into the pit of the earth, and soon they passed into the great open space with its many columns. They rushed into the catacombs, past the mausoleum of Zoron Grisleigh, past the tomb of the pharaoh with its onyx statuary and golden sarcophagus, past the armory with its battle gear for three-armed creatures. Soon they arrived at the large circular depression in the floor with the bubbling Fountain of Yuck in its midst and the torchlit entrance to the Tunnel of Dusk on one wall.

There, floating before the entrance to the tunnel, was a small but sturdy-looking ship with a small mast and sails made from winding-sheets. Weems was standing at the stern, attaching a board upon which he had painted the ship's name:
DESTYNEE II
.

The Sasquatches—Max, Woody, and Peeler—were sitting on the stone wall that surrounded the Fountain of Yuck. Next to them were Megan and Pearl.

“Dudes,” said Woody, as Falcon and Jonny approached. “You're here!”

Weems stepped toward them. “It is finished,” he said with pride. “With these hands—I made it! Board by board. Sail by sail!”

“He used the boards from some of those old coffins,” said Max. “Used finger bones for nails!”

“It is not a very beautiful craft,” said Weems, “but it will serve its purpose.”

“Surely this is a vessel of extraordinary beauty!” said Pearl. “Considering that it has been built from the coffins of those who are dead!”

“Very impressive, Weems,” said Falcon.

“You shouldn't all act so surprised,” said the ghoul. “As if all I am good for is the toasting of flesh!” He looked at Falcon and Jonny uncertainly. “But where—where is Destynee? As you can see, this vessel has been named in her honor!”

Falcon glanced urgently at Pearl and Megan. “You didn't tell him?”

“Tell me what?” said Weems, his eyes growing wide.

“She's not coming, Weems,” said Jonny. “She wants to stay.”

“What?” said Weems. “How can this be?”

“She says she wants to become—human,” said Falcon.

“No,” said Weems. “She can't—”

“
This
is the choice she has made,” said Pearl. “And we cannot come between her and the decisions of her heart.”

“But—”

“Sorry, Weems,” said Jonny Frankenstein, clapping him on the shoulder. “Tough break.”

“You guys hungry?” said Max. “We ordered up some pizza from the pizza genie.”

“I do not wish for pizza!” shouted Weems. “I wish for nothing!” Then he stormed away from them, to stand alone by the ship in his fury and despair.

“Whoa,” said Max. “Somebody crawled out of the wrong side of the grave today.”

“Poor thing,” said Megan.

Falcon looked at Weems, standing by his ship with his back to them.

“He'll be all right,” said Max. “There's plenty of slugs in the sea.”

But Falcon still had his eyes on Weems, as the boy picked a hammer up off of the ground.

“Dude,” said Peeler.

Slowly Weems used the back of the hammer to pry the board that read
DESTYNEE II
off the stern.

 

Algol was dimly aware of something rubbery smacking against his face. The journey back to consciousness was not short, and Algol's mind reeled for a long time before his eyes opened and he realized that Mr. Hake was slapping his cheek with a tentacle.

“It wakes,” said the moth man.

“There you are,” said Mr. Hake, transforming from the Terrible Kraken back to his cardigan-wearing self. “Wakey, wakey!”

“Oh, 'ow it burns,” Algol gasped. “Me 'ol body fried like a basket o' chips!”

“Did the Quinn boy do this to you?” said Mrs. Redflint, standing next to Mr. Pupae. “Did he use the eye?”

“No, it wasn't Quinnsy; it was that nasty, nasty Jonny Frankenstein,” said Algol. “'E's got lightning! Fried me full o' 'lectricity, the 'orrible, disgustin' creature!”

“It is degrading, then,” said the moth man. “Soon it will be undone.”

“Did Jonny stone the doctor as well?” asked Mrs. Redflint, looking at the calcified form of Dr. Medulla.

“No, that was Quinnsy 'oo did that,” said Algol shiftily. “Pushed 'im right over, by surprise! I tried to 'elp the doctor—I fought Quinnsy wif me bare 'ands an' fists! I'd 'av done anything to 'elp the master! Anything!”

“Where did they go?” said Mrs. Redflint.

“'Ow would I know where they went? I was knocked out cold, dreaming of just the slightest, tiniest bit of affection! Now, without the doctor, I'm deprived of me own most decent of benefactors! Now I am bereft of all kindness and fren'ship, all alone wifout 'ope.”

“It stops talking,” said the moth man.

“Oo, naturally, Algol stops talking. Algol wouldn't be'ave in a manner contrary to the wishes of 'is superiors.”

“Let us get the hounds, then,” said Mrs. Redflint. “They will assist us in the search.” She looked thoughtfully at the others. “It's encouraging, in a way, isn't it? The spirit they show.”

“It does not know that it is taking the test,” said the moth man. “Even with this, it is taking the test that we
have laid before it.”

“Well, let us keep them in the dark,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Let them proceed, and we will see what end they reach.”

“They think they're fighting us,” said Mr. Hake. “But they don't know what they're fighting. They never do!”

The moth man twitched. “It is a dangerous test,” he said. “Made more dangerous by the instability of this Quinn. And this Jonny.” The moth man's mouth chewed the empty air for a moment. “The headmaster should be notified.” He turned to leave the room.

“Are you certain it's necessary to disturb him?” said Mrs. Redflint cautiously. “I think we've got things in hand, Mr. Pupae.”

“It wishes to
know
,” said the moth man. “It must be told.”

Mrs. Redflint looked at Mr. Hake nervously. “Very well, Mr. Pupae. In the meantime, we shall carry on. Mr. Hake and I shall summon the canines. Mr. Algol, meet us in the castle, please? Listen for the baying of the hounds.”