The Night Children Read online

  “Stop that! I’m sick of you!” At a wave of his hand, helmeted guards remove the last of them.

  “Now,” Amos says in a voice big enough to fill the Great Room. “On to the next thing.”

  On the cold onyx floor under a cold stone bench, Jule and Tick shiver, waiting. The rejected prisoners cower, waiting. Zozzco officials and Security anxiously await orders.

  The atmosphere in the Dark Hall is thick with despair.

  Just when they are all about to die of waiting, Amos says so loud that even the senior vice presidents tremble, “The surprise!”

  Jule thinks the floor is shaking, but she’s shivering too hard to be sure.

  “Out with the old,” Amos Zozz begins.

  Jule grabs Tick’s wrist. They exchange looks. What are we going to do? Two kids, in the presence of all this power.

  On the platform, Amos finishes, “In with the new!”

  His Zozzpeople cheer.

  Tick says through his teeth, “Try to save them, I suppose.”

  And for the first time ever, Jule Devereaux has to admit, “We can’t do it alone.”

  Sadly, Tick mouths the word: No.

  “Now!!!” The next thing Amos says stops their hearts. “You may not know it, but there are wild children in the MegaMall, running like rats in a maze.”

  “Oooooh,” the Zozzpeople moan obediently. “Nooooo.”

  Amos goes on in a dry, hard voice. “Last week they were foolish enough to show themselves.”

  “Oooooh, nooooo!”

  “And Security let them get away! Don’t worry,” the old man says scornfully. “You’ll pay.”

  Jule has her ear to the floor, listening. She pokes Tick: Do you hear it too?

  The Zozzco lament turns into a long groan. “Ooooooh, noooooo!”

  Tick nods. Something big is rolling in from a long way off. But with his ear to the floor now, he remembers that the Great Room sits over a grotto where his Crazies and the Dingos float, waiting. They can hear this too.

  “Filthy children.” Amos shakes with disgust. “Running wild!” Then an ugly laugh rattles the platinum mask. “Well, we have them where we want them now.”

  Tick mutters, “Not all of them.” The night children can’t fight the Zozzpeople here and now, he sees. They’re too young and there are too few, but. But! Bobbing in the grotto, the children in Tick’s little flotilla are hearing this as clearly as he and Jule do. Every word that Amos says. Everything! Thinking fast, he texts a note to his main men:

  RIDE RVR 2 CASTRTWN. BRING HELP.

  The kids waiting in the underground river may not be their last hope, exactly, but it’s close.

  “Wild children.” The old man’s masked head rattles with a sinister laugh. “Rampaging and getting in the way. Hating us the way you did . . .”

  Tick looks at Jule. What is this?

  “Teasing us,” Amos says wildly. “When all we wanted was to be friends! Locking us up in their dollhouse and leaving us to the mercy of a pack of . . .”

  Jule looks at Tick. Has he gone crazy? Tick shrugs.

  Up on the dais, the old man coughs up grief like a hairball. “Monsters, and they thought they were in control . . .” Moving past the bad, indelible memory that threw his voice out of control for a minute there, he draws himself up as if it never happened. In the mask, he looks eight feet tall. Now Amos goes on in a voice as hard and cold as the platinum mask that covers his entire head. “Well, not any more.”

  Long pause.

  He says in a hard, cold voice, “I am in control of the children now.” He finishes with an awful laugh. “And I have plans for them.”

  Tick flinches. Did Willie get his message? Did James? He grits his teeth, trying to beam thoughts to his friends: Get help.

  Jule nudges him, hissing, “Got to warn them.”

  Amos says, “And now, the grand surprise. Designers, roll out the prototype!”

  Tick mutters through his teeth, “Yes!” Are his main men floating downstream now, he wonders. As told? He tries to move them through sheer force of will. Go, guys. Go!

  Behind them, great doors open. Something tremendous is being rolled in.

  Together, Jule and Tick inch forward on their elbows. It’s hard to see much without showing themselves, but there’s something oddly familiar about the monumental object pulled up next to the old man’s platform.

  It’s . . .

  Brilliantly colored plastic tubes and ladders and Plexi chutes and slides and transparent tunnels and shiny chrome gerbil wheels sit inside an oversized display case on wheels. The beautifully designed creation of plastic and Plexiglas is a familiar object, but with a difference. The difference here is in the scale.

  The big plastic-and-metal structure before them is grotesque. Its yards and yards of winding tubes and funnels are sealed inside a glass enclosure bigger than any public aquarium where whales and dolphins swim. The top of the monstrous plastic habitat reaches almost to the smoked glass dome. The thing is big enough to hold everybody in the Great Room of the Dark Hall. In spite of the scale the oversized object is disturbingly familiar.

  Tick and Jule and Amos Zozz, who ordered this thing made, and all the Zozzco vice presidents and Security guards and their captives are . . .

  They are . . . they are . . .

  They are looking at a gigantic Habitrail.

  Now the Zozzpeople join the prisoners and Security in muttering and fretting. Is it for the prisoners? For them? Confusion bubbles. Nobody knows.

  Amos says in a voice strong enough to split stone, “Behold the MegaTrail!”

  The courtyard buzzes as all present gasp and mumble.

  “Be warned. This is only the prototype.” His big voice gets even bigger. “And this is only the beginning. One day there will be a MegaTrail in every MegaMall in civilization as we know it, and there will be many. And then . . .”

  There is a rush of air as everybody gasps. It is followed by complete silence. Everybody in the Dark Hall has stopped breathing.

  Then Amos laughs.

  The sound is terrible.

  He shrieks, “There will be no more children anywhere. No children to ruin our lives. They’ll all be safe in my MegaTrails, and . . .” The laughter goes up and up, out of control. Finally the rest comes out in an uncontrollable scream of pain. “Whenever I feel like it, I’ll put in the hornets’ nests!”

  Out of the silence that follows comes the most terrible thing of all as Amos shouts:

  “AND THEN THEY’LL KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE TRAPPED AND CRYING AND BEGGING TO GET OUT, AND NOBODY LISTENS AND NOBODY COMES . . . ”

  Even Isabella is stunned.

  “Evil little monsters, all of you.” There is another of those awful hairball moments. As though Amos has just coughed up another gob of pain. “But now . . .”

  Catching his breath, the old man gasps, “Welcome to Phase Two.” Then he goes on in a perfectly reasonable tone. “In Phase Two, there will be a MegaMall in every part of the world. And in every MegaMall there will be a MegaTrail, so wherever you are hiding, you little wretches, watch out! I will catch you and I will teach you . . .”

  Jule grabs Tick’s arm.

  The old man’s voice fills the Great Room and echoes in all the galleries and corridors leading out to the far precincts of the Dark Hall. “And I won’t rest until I’ve got you all!”

  Now Amos stops unexpectedly. He raises a huge hand. Pointing to the corralled prisoners, he orders, “Take them away!”

  Relieved, all of Zozzco Security rushes to obey. Prisoners fall into line obediently because wherever they are going is better than here. Anything is better than falling into the hands of vengeful, vicious Amos Zozz.

  As they exit, the old man’s voice fills the courtyard. “Wait!”

  Security, prisoners, Zozzpeople and the two hiding on the onyx floor stop cold.

  “First of all, thanks to the people who designed this, the first instrument in Phase Two. The talented . . .” A wet cough shakes Amos.
His words blur.

  To Tick they sound like . . . “Stileses.”

  Jule thinks she hears, “Devereaux family.”

  “Congratulations,” Amos says in a voice that could split granite. “You folks made the cut. On to the staging platform, you will be airlifted shortly. Welcome to Phase Two.”

  Riveted, both the boy and the girl forget themselves. They scramble out from under the bench and lurch to their feet. They jump, trying to see over the heads of the crowd. Who does Amos have up there, waiting behind the velvet ropes, lined up to enter the next phase? They don’t know. They have to see!

  Jule murmurs, “Mom?”

  The prisoners stand with their backs to the room and their hands tied behind them; there’s no telling who they are.

  Tick whispers, “Dad?”

  “Now,” Amos thunders, “take them away!”

  Before Jule and Tick can identify the designers of the MegaTrail, before they can even see who they look like, Security turns them and marches them toward the exit.

  “Oh, please,” Jule murmurs, pushing through the crowd.

  Tick’s voice rattles urgently. “We have to hurry.” He tries to shoulder his way through the crowd but everybody is too distracted to hear. “I need you to move.”

  “Please.” It’s like pushing against a living wall. Jule is begging now, but it’s too late. Before Jule and Tick can part the crowd—before they can take two steps toward the corridor where the captive designers are shuffling toward an unknown fate—the prisoners and their guards are gone.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  IT’S DARK IN HERE where they put him, and Doakie is soooo scared! Mommy says that when you say you’re soooo something, you’re supposed to say that something else. He is sooooo scared that . . . He can’t think of the that.

  First they got him in the cart and the cart went on down the tunnel and down the tunnel, he thought they were never going to stop. Once he saw Lance out the back but after that he didn’t see Lance, he couldn’t see anything except the awful people in the cart. He went in the tunnel because Puppy wasn’t anywhere. Then they caught him and put him in the cart. At least Puppy got away, he thinks. He looked back when the cart drove off but he didn’t see Puppy running and he didn’t see him back there all mooshed on the tracks but it was dark, and you never know.

  After they got him in the cart they rode and rode and rode.

  The grownups talked and talked. One time Burt Arno got his mouth thing off and started yelling, so they wound tape around his whole head and that shut him up.

  Finally the cart stopped at a place and everybody except Doakie piled out, he couldn’t because they had him tied up to the back rail. Up front Burt was fighting but they bopped him and put a bag over his head, then two big guys in black uniforms and big black bug helmets came and marched him away. First Doakie was scared they would take him too, and then for a long time it got so quiet in the tunnel that Doakie got scared that they wouldn’t take him at all. Water dripped off the tunnel ceiling and some of it dripped on his head. All he could hear was this plop plop plop.

  Then for a long time he didn’t hear anything at all.

  Then finally he heard people, two big guys and a really big lady, she was yelling at them to hurry, it was important. So something is very, very important, but Doakie doesn’t know what. She said hurry or else and the guys were all weird and jerky getting on the cart, like they were only doing it because they were scared of the or else. Then she yelled while they undid the ropes and took Doakie off the cart. They wouldn’t let him rub his wrists and they hurt so much!

  He tried to ask who were they, but they didn’t listen. He tried to ask was he going to jail, OK he’s so hungry that he was thinking, at least they would feed me in jail.

  Instead the big lady popped him into a great big box. Then they picked up the box and dumped it here.

  Wherever here is.

  It’s dark in the box and Doakie doesn’t know where he is. No Mom, it’s so dark in the box that I don’t know where I am. There. There’s the that. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know where he is but that isn’t the worst part, and he doesn’t know what happened to Puppy but that isn’t the worst part either.

  The worst part is, he doesn’t know what they’re going to do to him.

  Then all of a sudden the top pops off the box and a bunch of light comes in all at once, scaring Doakie, curled up here in the dark.

  “It’s time,” somebody says. “Take him in.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  “NOW THAT YOU’VE SEEN my mighty rat trap,” Amos says in a voice that overflows the room, “Bring in the rats!”

  The crowd’s budda-budda-budda turns into an ugly growl. “Rats.”

  Rats! Jule’s heart crashes. The robed billionaire isn’t just talking about Burt Arno. Who else has he caught?

  Tick is craning to see. How many?

  “Rats,” Amos says triumphantly. “Rats to run in my mighty MegaTrail.”

  Who, they wonder. Who?

  Now the crowd parts like the Red Sea and another squad in black uniforms with shiny black faceplates that make them look like bugs crashes through, leading a sullen little parade of kids that Jule and Tick know all too well.

  The Crazies, every one of them.

  The very people they were counting on to escape and bring help are now prisoners.

  First Willie and James come in, handcuffed and silenced by duct tape. It’s clear from the cuts and bruises on their faces that the boys fought hard before they were captured. Tick’s two main men glower, but there’s nothing they can do or say to change what’s happened to them.

  They are followed by the Crazies from the first wave of rafts to reach the underground dock.

  Tick groans. My people.

  Next comes Mag Sullivan, grimly clutching Puppy in her arms. Then Jiggy and Nance come in, followed by the smaller Crazies, knotted together by a long rope. Burt Arno’s lieutenants Tidgewell, Bruno and Kirk come in, along with the battered remnants of the Dingo tribe, all tattered and grimy and struggling to free their hands.

  Some of the night children are wet and limping after the battle in the grotto at the head of the Hidden River. It happened fast. Tick’s forces fought hard against Amos’s guards, but they were outnumbered. Now they are here.

  Security has rounded up every single member of every crew in the little flotilla Tick Stiles brought to conquer the powers in the Dark Hall. As he and Jule watch, Security marches down the central aisle, herding all the boys and girls that Tick thought were safe on the fast-moving underground river, riding the rushing current out of the mall.

  His last hope. Not a one escaped to carry the news to Castertown. Everyone he cares about is trapped.

  The only friend Tick has left in the MegaMall is Lance, and he has no idea what’s become of Lance. Then he thinks, What can one big guy do against all this? What can any of us do?

  Give up, he supposes, but he won’t.

  This is the most important thing about Tick Stiles. He doesn’t think about it, it’s just part of who he is. This is what keeps him going. It’s kept him going for years.

  He never gives up.

  As it turns out, neither does Jule. Her mind is whirring, whirring, looking for a plan. The rest comes so fast that neither could tell you which spoke first or who said what.

  “It’s up to us.”

  “We have to get out and get help.”

  They lock eyes. It is a little pledge. They need to escape, but this is not the time.

  The sad parade is ending.

  A bamboo cage rolls in, barely containing the gagged and furious Burt Arno. Like a caged gorilla, he keeps throwing himself against the bars. Fuming, Burt saws the ropes that bind his hands back and forth on one of the bars, trying to free himself.

  A Zozzco vice president marks the tail of the procession. She is huge in a black uniform laden with gold stripes. She has a struggling child by the wrist. Holding him at arm’s length so he can’t kick her,
she drags him along.

  “Doakie!”

  “That’s everybody.” Sadly, Tick shakes his head.

  A drumroll sounds. Trumpet fanfare rings throughout the Great Room. In the stir that follows as the crowd closes behind the dismal parade, Jule and Tick struggle closer to the front of the mob. The Zozzpeople are far too upset and distracted to notice two interlopers.

  The night children are beyond fear.

  “At last.” Amos Zozz pats his chest and laughs. His cackle is amplified in the Great Room. Every word resounds in all the galleries and corridors of the Dark Hall.

  “My rats,” he spits. “Children. Disgusting. Just like the idiot shoppers who made me rich.”

  Although Amos does not know it, his dry, harsh, angry voice doesn’t stop here in the Great Room, and in spite of the seals and locks he put in place to keep goings-on in the Dark Hall secret, it doesn’t stop at the forbidding doors to the Dark Hall, either. Every poisonous word of his rant is crackling in every part of the gigantic honeycomb that is the MegaMall.

  “Children, running in my MegaTrail like rats, just like the shoppers that run in my MegaMall. Rodents, all of you,” Amos bellows. “Do you know what you are? You’re nothing but brainless, repulsive rats!”

  Amos doesn’t know it, but every word he says is being heard out there, in all the galleries and corridors, in every courtyard, food court and storefront in the Castertown MegaMall. His shocking words shake the entire mall.

  Lance the Loner has done his job.

  “Blind, greedy rats,” Amos rants, “dancing to my tune! You shoppers come because your rat children beg you to come, and you shop. Buy, get, take, borrow so you can come back to buy some more, you are nothing more than mindless buying machines, and do you want to know why you spend yourself out of house and home?”

  At a wave of his hand, the music starts. The tune is so familiar and so hateful that Tick bites his thumb.

  “Because I want you to!

  Spring and summer. Tick and Jule know the words.

  “I feed on your greed!”

  Winter, fall. They know them too well.