Matt Archer: Monster Hunter (Matt Archer #1) (3 page)

“Let me get this straight. We have magic knives and
monsters, and I’ve been chosen by your knife.” But to do what, exactly? A
little worm of fear twisted in my gut, and I put my head down on my arms,
trying to understand what I’d gotten myself into.

“
Your
knife. Not mine, not anymore.” Mike’s voice held a weird trace of awe. “The
blade left me, Matt. I don’t understand how it happened, but you’re its
wielder.”

Mike’s reaction bothered me…was he saying I would be stuck
with the knife? For how long? The worm of fear grew into a salamander, chasing
its tail around my insides. The reverence in Mike’s tone disturbed me, too,
like I’d done something spectacular rather than accidental. None of it made
sense.

“I don’t get it,” I said into my arms, refusing to face him.
“Why would it pick me? I’m only fourteen!”

“I don’t know, but it did, and there’s no turning back.
Unless the knife passes to someone else, it’s your burden,” he said. “Matt,
you’re a monster-hunter now.”

A monster-hunter? Was he serious? My head popped up from the
table.

“What’s Mom gonna say?” I asked. “We’re talking about a
woman who carries a full-sized first aid kit in her purse. I doubt she’ll allow
me to become some knife-wielding vigilante.”

Mike jumped up and paced around the tiny kitchen. “We can’t
tell your mom. Dani would never let you hunt if she found out. The dangers are
too great. She’d have a hard time understanding we have no choice in the
matter, and she wouldn’t let you risk yourself.”

“So I have to kill monsters, and I can’t tell Mom about it.
Could this get any more complicated?”

Why did the stupid knife pick me? I was a totally average
ninth grader—I didn’t want be a hunter, fighting monsters on my own. All I
wanted was to learn about Gettysburg and hope that Ella smiled at me once in a
while.

“It’ll be okay, Matt,” Mike said. “We’ll just have to figure
out what to do. I only have six weeks to get you trained up and running before
I deploy.”

“No, you can’t leave. You have to stay and help me with the
knife.” I glared at him. To heck with Uncle Sam.
My
uncle was staying put.

“Sorry, man, that’s not possible,” he said. “I thought of
something that might help you, though.”

“It better be good.”

“You have fall break in a week, right?” Mike asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll take you to Fort Carson. We’re going to put you
through basic.”

“Wait,” I said, “isn’t that the part where you have to get
up at five every morning to run ten miles then do a hundred pushups?”

“Two hundred. Before breakfast.” His mouth curved up on one
side. “Matt, you’re in the Army now.”

* * *

I woke up Saturday morning with a nasty taste in my
mouth—hot chocolate and puke. I rolled over, sliding and squeaking on Mike’s
black leather couch, and had to peel my left arm away from the cushions. The
grain of the leather was imprinted on my skin. On top of that, Mike only had
two extra blankets, one of them looking like it’d never been used, and since
we’d deserted our sleeping bags at the camp grounds, I’d ended up freezing my
butt off most of the night. These are the dangers of sleeping over at a bachelor’s
house.

“He needs a girlfriend,” I grumbled.

Mike responded by snoring like a T-Rex upstairs. It was only
nine and we’d talked until four. Old guys needed more sleep, so I let him be,
heading off to brush my fuzzy teeth. That was a grosser process than normal, so
I threw my toothbrush away afterward, hoping it wouldn’t crawl out of the
trashcan on its own.

Puke-fest overnight or not, it was breakfast time, and my
stomach growled right on cue. I went to the kitchen, searched every cabinet and
only came up with a bottle opener, two cans of chili, and cocktail onions.

“You need a girlfriend, Mike,” I said, a little louder this
time.

He came down the stairs, the wooden steps creaking under his
weight, still wearing flannel pj bottoms and an old t-shirt with some cartoon
called
Ren and Stimpy
on it.

“I’ll keep that in mind. What’cha looking for?”

“Cereal or something else normal for breakfast,” I said.

Mike dug the skim milk out of the fridge and sniffed it. He
didn’t make a face, so it must’ve still been good. After pouring two glasses of
milk, he dumped in some grey powder and stirred it up.

“Bottoms up,” he said, thrusting the glass at me.

“Chocolate milk? How old is that stuff? It looks like dust.”
Sludge floated around in my glass. “You know, Mom’ll kill you with a fork if
you poison me.”

Mike’s face got serious. “It’s a protein shake. We’ve got to
put a little muscle on you. No more cereal, Matt. You need to eat like a man.”

A cold bead of sweat ran down my back. “You meant it…last
night. I’m really going to basic, and I’m really gonna have to kill monsters.”

Mike nodded. “Drink up. Then we’ll talk about a fitness
regimen.”

“Uncle Mike, this is just stupid. Brent’s the jock,” I said.
“I can run fast; that’s about it.”

Mike put his shake down on the counter and looked me square
in the eyes. “Everything happens for a reason. The knife chose you on purpose,
which means you can do this. You have to.”

His expression was pride mixed with worry, but mostly pride.

I chugged the whole nasty shake in one go.

* * *

We pulled into my driveway just after two on Saturday, the
Jeep’s tires splashing in puddles from a sudden rainstorm. Mom had already
turned on the porch light. It glowed against the red brick walls and the oak
front door cheerfully, like my house was welcoming me. Dodging the rain drops,
I ran with my backpack over my head to the porch. The air smelled damp, like
moldy leaves. Like fall and home. After everything I’d been through, I was
happy to be here.

“You’re home early,” Mom said as I straggled through the
front door.

Thank goodness for the rain. “Yeah, it was too muddy to
hike,” I said. “I left my camping stuff at Mike’s to dry out.”

Mike followed me in. “Dani, gotta sec? I need to talk to you
about fall break.”

We trooped through the entry into the living room. Mom sank
onto the couch sitting closest to the fireplace. She patted the seat next to
her. I took a load off and she put her arm around my shoulders. She’d laid a
fire, and we listened to the logs crackle while waiting for Mike to settle down
in the matching recliner. It took him a while; he always fidgeted when he was
getting ready to roll out some lies.

Like Mike had said last night, he didn’t plan to tell Mom
about the monsters. He tried to justify that by explaining that dudes in
special forces didn’t really
lie
.
They had cover stories.

Yeah, right. Tell that to the bobbing recliner and my
twitchy uncle.

Finally Uncle Mike got comfortable enough to speak. “I was
thinking I could take Matt to Colorado for a big hike. He’s old enough for some
serious rappelling and I’d love it.”

My older brother appeared at the door to the kitchen,
holding a peanut butter sandwich in each hand. Brent’s shoulders nearly filled
the doorway. I stared thoughtfully at the hulk, getting an idea…Mike said to
eat like a man. Okay, Whatever Brent ate, I would, too.

Brent glared at us. “Hey, what about me? I like to rappel.”

My understanding was that seventeen-year-olds aren’t
supposed to whine. Brent did it anyway. He cocked his perfectly square head to
one side—an amazing feat since he had almost no neck after all his weight
training—and squinted suspiciously at us, like we were dissing him on purpose.
Uncle Mike shot me a glance, and I saw him tense a little. We hadn’t counted on
Football Hero being in the way.

“I already took you out for your birthday,” Mike said. “To
that concert in Helena, remember? This is an early birthday gift for Matt.”

Brent put his sandwiches on the coffee table without a
napkin under them, ignoring Mom’s glare, and flopped on the couch hard enough
that I caught air on the wave. “I get an overnighter, and he gets a week? Nice
favoritism, Unc.” Giving Mike a seriously dirty look, he said, “Why can’t I go
with you guys?”

So Mike let the shoe drop. Just not about the monsters.

“I’m shipping out in December. Fort Carson first, then on to
Afghanistan in January. I seem to remember taking you on a big hike when you
were fifteen. Just in case I take a bullet or get stuck over there for two
years, I thought it’d be nice to make sure Matt got his turn.”

Mom’s gasp drowned out Brent’s stuttered apology and my
sister flew around the corner from the entryway. Mamie’s face was pale; she’d
caught the news, too. Mike had done a good job diverting Brent’s attention…and
everyone else’s.

Mom raked her hands across her head, spiking up her short,
brown hair into a porcupine-like mess. “Upstairs, everyone. Now.”

Whenever Mom’s voice sounded like that, we moved, and today
was no exception. The three of us climbed the stairs as fast as we could. Brent
slammed his bedroom door before we could say a thing, so Mamie followed me into
my room.

“Afghanistan? For a year?” she whispered.

Mamie twirled one of her brown pigtails around her finger,
her classic nervous tic, and burst into tears. I hated watching Mamie cry. Even
though she wasn’t quite sixteen yet, she was the most together person in our
family and seeing her upset threw off the balance of my universe. Brent teased
her like crazy and I pulled silly pranks on her all the time, but the truth was
either of us would jump in front of a train for her. Something about being
sandwiched between two brothers ensured she’d have lifelong protection. It also
meant the shy kid in her Latin class would never, ever,
ever
ask her out.

Feeling like the older brother in this scenario—even though
I only came up to her eyebrows—I patted her on the back. “C’mon, Mamie, don’t
cry. It’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Matt. I know this is harder on you than the rest
of us. You’re Mike’s favorite, and I don’t mean that in a rude way, like Brent
does. I’m glad, actually, since Dad isn’t around.” She pulled off her glasses
to wipe her eyes, giving me what she probably thought was a brave smile. “I’m
sure it’ll be fine. We just have to keep believing that.”

A knock on the door interrupted us. Mike stuck his head in.
“Hey, Daisy May, can I talk to Matt a minute? I’m staying for dinner; we’ll
have a chance to visit more then.”

The use of her nickname made Mamie tear up again, but she
nodded and drifted off to her room. I flopped down onto my bed and played with
my pillow. Mike looked serious, but I wanted to pretend everything was normal.
Too bad we couldn’t.

“Dani said I could take you to Colorado,” he said. “We’ll
leave next Friday. It’s a ten-hour drive to Fort Carson so I’ll check you out
of school before noon. We won’t drive back until the following Sunday to get a
full week of training in.”

I’d never been to a Fort anything, and barracks were a
complete mystery. Would I be able to get network coverage there? The idea of
being without my phone or an internet connection for a week made me twitchy.
“What do I bring?”

Mike winked. “Your camo, of course.”

* * *

Mike stayed for dinner and Mom fussed over him a lot. That
didn’t stop her from nagging me about eating my asparagus, though. And she
wasn’t the only one checking out what I ate.

“Dude, your guts are gonna explode if you eat any more
meatloaf,” Brent said. “Leave some for the rest of us.”

Mamie glanced at me. “Matt, I thought you hated meatloaf.”

I shook my head, cheeks so full of the disgusting stuff I
wasn’t sure I could open my mouth without hurling. After a huge swallow and a
gagging shiver, I said, “No, I like meatloaf just fine.”

Mamie’s eyes narrowed, but Mom got to me first. “You must be
growing, sweetheart. There goes my grocery bill. Two teenage boys in the house
is going to bankrupt me.” She smiled. “I better start buying more peanut
butter.”

That was the rule. When Mom came home from work three years
ago to find that Brent had cleaned out the fridge only two days after her last
shopping trip, she’d laid down what we all called the “snack law.” If it wasn’t
mealtime, we could eat all the peanut butter sandwiches we wanted. Nothing
else, unless she said okay. Mom said it was a cost-saving measure, but I think
she was just pissed that Brent ate all the cheese along with her hidden stash
of M&Ms.

Mamie continued to watch me. She had one eyebrow raised and
that little half-smile on her face—the one that meant she was on the trail.
Despite Brent saying she lived with her nose in a book, Mamie saw and heard
everything
around
her. She was also smart enough to figure out any puzzle. I’d have to be more
careful.

After Mike left, Mom called a family conference. She settled
us down around the glass-topped coffee table in the living room like she was
conducting a client meeting.

“We need to spend the next few months showing Mike how much
we love him, okay? That means not putting demands on his time unless
he
offers,” Mom
said. “I’m also going to plan a surprise party. We’ll have it right before he
leaves for Fort Carson. And let’s think about ideas for care boxes to send him.
We can send one a month, with pictures, snacks and notes from home. If we mail
one before he leaves, he’ll get it a few days after he arrives at base.”

We nodded and Mom started handing out assignments. “I know
it’s going to be hard without him here. We’re going to have to pull together.
Brent—you’ll need to be more of a big brother and less of a liege-lord, got
it?”