Fear the Barfitron (13 page)

“And you?” he asked.

“Definitely,” said Shane.

“You believe in the supernatural, where others do not. It is that belief, that lebensplasm, that keeps my residents…well,
alive,
for lack of a better word. So you see, I haven’t stolen your lebensplasm and hidden it somewhere—it’s always flowing out of you and all around you.”

“So, they’re just feeding off of positive brain waves,” said Shane. “Theta brain waves most likely—what the
ancient Asian warriors call
zanshin
.”

“What?” I asked, totally confused.

“Exactly!” said the Director.

“But why do you need lebensplasm?” asked Shane. “Y’all are old monsters. What’s happening here? The old vampire’s dentures fall out. The zombies are falling apart. The werewolves are losing their fur…”

“‘We all’ are not old monsters. The residents are monsters. I am not a monster, nor are my Nurses, otherwise we’d be just as weak as our residents. My residents are under attack. The Nurses and I are doing the best we can to defend them.”

“You’re under attack from the cockroach thingies?” Shane asked.

“Yes. Those ‘thingies’ that just attacked us are called sussuroblats, and they’ve been draining my residents’ energies. All of the residents here are vampires, witches, mummies, the living dead, and the undead, yes, but unfortunately, they are all dying. Their monster powers are being drained at an alarming rate by these horrific sussuroblats.”

“So…these sussuroblats are draining all the
monster juice
,” Shane said. “And you’re trying to keep them from the supply.”

“Precisely,” said the Director. “We’ve put up a charm around the house and the grounds, but it’s been working less and less as their monster powers diminish.”

“That’s the green glow I keep seeing!” I said.

“Indeed,” continued the Director. “We have other defenses. The ravens can pick off a random sussuroblat here and there, but when an army, like the one you just saw, attacks us, we’re helpless. We’re trying to figure out a way to defend ourselves, but until then, we need a constant supply of lebensplasm to keep the residents from slipping away completely.”

“That’s why you were looking for volunteers from Rio Vista Middle School?” I asked.

“That was one of the reasons, yes. There are many types of lebensplasm, and the positive, belief-filled brain waves children put out is a strong variety. There are other things—food, rituals, gathering energy from sussuroblats that the ravens kill—which help to supply lebensplasm. Aside from the lebensplasm, however, we really do need a good bit of help around here. My Nurses are wonderful for defense, and for controlling out-of-control monsters. They’re not so good, however, at giving my residents the ‘tender loving care’ that they also need.”

I could see that the Director was truly concerned for his residents. He looked up the stairway. The Nurses had cleared all the monsters (and monster body parts) out and were starting the process of cleaning. One Nurse wept as he mopped the bloody hardwood floor.

“Bwaaarrrrggghh!” Gordon cried out from his chair.
He sounded like he was drowning in his own spit. Shane, the Director, and I ran over to Ben, who was doing what he could to help. Gordon was drooling and shivering. Snot was pouring down his nose. He was turning green/brown.

“I don’t think he’s doing very well, guys,” Ben said with a look of horror.

“You don’t look well, either,” said the Director to Ben. “Did you get bit?”

“Nope, this is just how I normally look when participating in a sussuroblat battle,” Ben said.

“Ben is always sick,” Shane explained.

“I see,” said the Director.

“What about Gordon?” I asked. “What’s happening to him?”

The Director grabbed Gordon’s face and looked him in the eyes. Gordon shook and shivered. The Director didn’t seem to mind. He held Gordon’s face as green goop poured out of Gordon’s nostrils.

“This is the first time I’ve seen a sussuroblat bite a human, so I’m not sure how long it will take,” the Director finally said.

“How long what will take?!” Shane, Ben, and I said together.

“As with vampire bites and werewolf bites, a sussuroblat bite can change a human into a sussuroblat.”

“What?!” Ben said.

Shane and I looked stunned. Apparently Gordon heard the director, because he stopped shaking for a moment to start moaning and crying.

“There is very little research on the subject, because the chance a sussuroblat will bite a human is very low,” the Director continued. “But, from what I know, most likely Gordon will soon have a cockroach mouth, and will have an uncontrollable urge to eat garbage.”

“What can we do to stop it?” I asked.

“There is no chance for recovery,” the Director said. “There is nothing that can be done. The only thing that will reverse the effects of the bite is if every last sussuroblat is destroyed, and that is not going to happen anytime soon. I will keep him here at Raven Hill. You’ll have to think of some story to tell his parents. I’ve decided to let you all go—we would have not survived that attack without you—but I must keep Gordon here.”

Before we could argue, a Nurse came storming down the hall and into the lobby.

“More!” he said, breathless. “Soon!”

The Director ran over to the Nurse for more information.

“How many?” asked the Director.

“All of them,” gasped the Nurse, still out of breath.

In the leather chair, Gordon let out another moan. But this time his mouth was closed. It looked like his lips were sealing up!

“When?” asked the Director.

“Not sure,” the Nurse said. “Hour? Two?”

“Let’s get everyone up into the attic,” said the Director.

The Nurse just stood there.

“Quickly!” the Director yelled.

The Nurse gave a small salute and rushed out of the lobby. The Director turned back to us.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but it will soon be very dangerous for you to be here. I must insist you leave at once. Gordon is in good hands.”

“NO,” I said. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Gordon behind like this.

“What did you say?” asked the Director

“NO,” said Shane.

“NO,” said Ben. Although, he was so sick, it came out “Nuh.”

“We have no time for argument, gentlemen,” said the Director, clearly upset. “I need to get the entire retirement home up to the attic and secured, possibly in just one hour.”

“We’re not leaving Gordon,” I said. “Plus, we might be able to help you like we did before.”

The Director stared at me, trying to figure out whether to let us stay or kick us out.

Shane spoke up before the Director could give an answer. “You’re gonna have to drag us out of here if you want us gone. You got time for that?”

The Director was angry, but he knew he had no choice. “FINE,” he said, so loudly that the windows shook. “Go downstairs to the crypt to fetch the vampires. Grigore is scared of you now that he lost his dentures in front of you, so I’m hoping he’ll trust you enough to lead the other two up without the Nurses’ assistance. We’ve got too much to deal with on the ground floor and the second floor.”

“Thanks, Mr. Director,” croaked Ben.

“You may not be thanking me later, when you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into,” said the Director.

The Director walked over to where Gordon was drooling, snatched him up, and threw him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. He was really strong for such a scrawny, pale dude. Gordon groaned, and sniffed wads of brown/green snot onto the Director’s finely pressed suit. The Director saw us staring at him in disgust as slimy snot just rolled down his back.

“Believe me,” he said as he turned around. “I’ve seen much worse. Gordon will be safe upstairs with the rest of us. GO GET THE VAMPIRES.”

And then the Director ran up the stairs, leaving a trail of Gordon’s snot behind him.

“All right,” I said to the other two. “Let’s do this!”

We headed behind the stairs and toward the door to the crypt.

I swung the door open, and we stood there for a moment. Shane and Ben stood to my right, waiting. In front of me were dozens of steps spiraling down into darkness. A funky cool basementy smell blew up the stairs. It was that regular mold smell you get with basements, but mixed with something else. It was the kind of smell I had only smelled at the zoo.

Upstairs, the old monsters howled as the Nurses tried to force them all up to the attic. In the panic,
furniture was being destroyed, glass was breaking, and the Nurses were suffering bite wounds. There was chaos above us, and who knew what down below.

I turned to Shane and Ben. Shane gave a nod toward the stairs—he was ready to go. Ben looked scared about the whole situation and stared off into space. Despite the fact that I was scared, too, Gordon was in trouble and we had to move fast. I needed all the help I could get!

“Hey! Ben!” I screamed over the noise. “Ben!”

“Huh!” Ben’s face snapped back to life. “Wha?”

“I really need you to help us, man!” I yelled.

Ben tried to pull himself together. “Okay. Yeah, all right, I’m ready for anything. LET’S DO THIS!!!” He didn’t look so convinced, but I didn’t have much time for any more pep talks. I had no idea how long it would be before the sussuroblat army made its way to Raven Hill, or if Gordon would be a part of it when they got here. We had to move!

We were about five steps down the stairs, and it was already as dark as midnight. We whipped out our cell phones to use them as flashlights.

Down we spiraled, for what seemed like forever. I was starting to get crazy dizzy. The farther down we went, the more it smelled like zoo. And when I say it smelled like zoo, I mean it smelled like the monkey cages hadn’t been cleaned for a week, and when they
finally decided to clean them, they used year-old hippo water. Already, I could hear Ben gagging behind us. He was starting to slow down and I feared I’d soon have a barf hat on my head.

I turned around and whispered past Shane, “Just keep moving! Put your shirt over your nose!” Shane and I did the same thing.

The air was getting smellier but cooler. The coolness almost made the stench bearable. But the staircase just wouldn’t stop. I wondered what would be worse—an eternity of spiraling down a dark staircase wondering when a sussuroblat would bite me with its drooly mouth, or death by vampire. I was starting to think death by vampire might be the better choice.

Finally, we reached the very bottom. A moist layer of dirt and funk had piled up on the floor. I’m pretty sure it was a thousand years of dust. We held up our cell phones to try to see ahead of us, but it was pitch-black. To the right, water was dripping into a puddle. To the left were a number of half broken, half opened coffins. The vampires had apparently gone through a number of beds before picking one with “the right feel.”

We all stopped, and even though these guys could barely gum us without their dentures, I was afraid to move forward.

“Grigore?” Shane called out tentatively. “Griiiiigooooore!?”

Ben, meanwhile, looked one tap away from a full-on vomitous explosion thanks to the spiraling stenchfest our bodies had just suffered.

“GRIIIIGORE?! Oh, GRIIIIIIIIGORE?” Shane’s voice didn’t echo much. The crypt must have been tiny.

“Come on, guys,” I said, snapping out of it. “Let’s go.”

So, we went. Away from the safety of the bottom of the stairs, deeper into the stank, cold, wet crypt. We held our cell phones as high as we could, and after about ten steps, we found what we were looking for.

Shane silently pointed ahead, and I squinted to see Grigore lying halfway out of his coffin. He snored loudly. I could hear snores from the other vampires deeper in the crypt. Clearly we had nothing to be afraid of. It looked like Grigore didn’t even have the time to get into his coffin before he passed out after his adventure today. His huge knobby feet stuck out of the end of the coffin, his toes taking in the cool crypt.

“Whoa. That’s disgusting!” Shane yelled into the dark. He pointed his light at Grigore’s feet.

Grigore’s toes were not only crusty with toe jam—several bats hung sleepily off of his feet. Below the bats and the toe-jammy toes was a pile of bat poop almost two feet high. I guessed this was the normal sleeping arrangement in the crypt. And, apparently, what I had taken to be moist dust before was in fact…

“GUA—GUAN—GUANO!” Ben blurted out. A small bit of drool left his lips and he gagged. The floor was covered in a millennium’s worth of bat dung.

“Oh no!” said Shane, stepping back.

At first I thought Shane was stepping away from Ben to avoid a chunky shower. But Shane was pointing under the coffin, and we saw a flash of wet, drooly mouths as soon as we pointed our cell phones down.

There were three sussuroblats crawling out from under Grigore’s bed!

Heading for the now-screaming Shane, they started to hiss and spit.

They rushed forward, but before they could attack…

BAAAAAAARRRRRRFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

Ben blurted out the vilest volley of vomit ever known to man.

He covered the sussuroblats!

Their hissing turned into sizzling…

…and they quickly disintegrated before our eyes!