Part Forty-Three
“Okay, it’s down,” Rhonda said, turning from Newsie’s Powerbook to discover the golden-felted reporter was suddenly glossy black all over. She blinked, and realized he was wearing his raven costume from the Halloween party. “What the hey are you doing?”
He glanced at her before tugging the beaked mask over his face. “They know what I look like, Rhonda; I’m in that video report.”
“What makes you think they won’t see right through that stupid costume?”
“Help me tape up the seams,” he urged her, holding out a roll of black gaffing tape he’d taken from Gina’s toolbox. He adjusted his glasses over the beak. “Hurry! Do I – do I look monstery enough?”
“You look froggin’ ridiculous!”
“It’ll have to do,” he muttered, and before Rhonda was done with the tape, he strained to pick up the toaster-sized-but-far-heavier signal finder. “How does this work?”
She showed him, nimble paws flicking on the controls and manually tuning it until they heard the soundtrack for the “I Love Gruesy” show still playing on MMN. Rhonda yelped, clapping her paws over her ears. Newsie ran to the bathroom and brought back the glass jar of cotton balls from the counter, desperately prying the moaning rat’s fingers from her ears to stuff the cotton in instead. “Are you okay?” he asked; Rhonda turned wide, frightened eyes to him, but then nodded.
“Guess I haven’t had enough of those anti-monsterphobia things yet,” she whispered, still shivering. Newsie hefted the signal-finder box again, heading for the door.
“Come on! Grab the gear!” He ran into the hallway, stopped at the elevator, and only then realized no one was behind him. Hastening back to the open apartment door, he found the rat glaring at him, surrounded by bulging knapsacks. “Rhonda, come on! That creep’s got my Gina!”
“And I weigh less than any of these danged bags, you idiot!” Rhonda snapped. She waved a flashlight. “Here! This is what I can carry!”
“Oh,” Newsie muttered, then took one of the knapsacks with a coil of nylon rope tied to the back, and shrugged awkwardly into the straps. “Oof...okay...come on!”
“You gotta plan, or are we just running headlong into disaster?” the rat asked as they waited impatiently in the descending elevator.
“We save Gina,” Newsie growled.
“That’s it? That’s your big plan?” She shook her head. “Newsie, we don’t even have any weapons! How’re we gonna get past an army of drooling, nasty monsters?”
“Er...there is sort of a weapon...”
“Yeah? I’m all ears! Flamethrower? Grenade launcher? Bunny cannon?”
“Uhm...a mousetrap.”
“What was that you just mumbled? I couldn’t hear it over the sound of you turning red!” She scowled at him. “A what trap? Are you out of your froggin’ mind?!”
“Look, it’s an old one – Gina had it from before – from before she met you, okay?” Embarrassed, he wouldn’t meet her glare. “You never know. Maybe we can use it as a distraction somehow.”
“How? By entertaining the creeps with me flopping around in it?”
“I don’t think that kind of humor is appropriate right now!” Newsie snapped.
“If ever there was a time for gallows humor, it’s now, when I am about to be eaten alive by frog only knows what kind of hideous giant bug-thing this time!” she shouted back. Catching her breath, she saw the Muppet smack his fist against the wall of the elevator, and relented. “Newsie...I’m sorry...this is just...this is just way more than I bargained for tonight, okay? And I’m...I’m scared as heck, and you know we might all die trying this kind of stunt,” she said softly, gulping back her fear.
Newsie struggled to say anything for a moment. The chime dinged, the door opened on the building’s ground floor, and before he stepped out, Newsie took a deep breath and with great effort lifted the signal-finder. “I know,” he muttered. “But I have to find her, Rhonda. I have to.”
Rhonda sighed, and gently patted his feathered arm. “Yeah, Goldie...we do.”
Together, they walked outside into the freezing street, the cold lights casting weird shadows over the unfamiliar shapes under the eaves of every building, where the rain hadn’t reached the piles of snow. Newsie strained, grunting, and after a few steps, Rhonda wriggled underneath the electronic box and helped carry it as best she could.
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Gina awoke with a vicious headache and elbows which felt burned and raw. She groaned, and something moved in front of her. With blurry vision but responsive reflexes, she swung a fist, and it connected with something yielding that went oof! Struggling to sit up and clear her eyes, she saw retreating movement, and then a low, chilling clank came from a few feet away. She blinked rapidly and finally discerned the hard dirt floor, the cold concrete slab she slumped upon, and when she raised her pounding head, saw iron bars...and two bizarre creatures peering in at her from the other side.
One of these, a reptilian thing with floppy ears and a canine snout, hissed softly, “You were not ssssuposssed to harm her, you imbesssilesss!”
“Er,” grunted an unraveling thing farther back from the door to the cell.
“Uh,” said a wolfish thing with blue fur crouching beside it.
“Well, quite the little spitfire, hmmm?” cackled the second thing standing right in front of the bars; he looked vaguely humanoid, but with a very long, tall head and goofy Prince Charles-sized ears. He crossed his lab-coat-clad arms and smiled broadly. “Well, not to worry, not to worry, I’ll patch her up nicely for you, Lester!”
“Eustace,” the dog-faced thing snarled.
“Whatever,” the tall-headed Muppet said airily. “Hello, honey! How’re you feeling?”
Gina put a hand to her forehead. “What the h---...where am I?” The fact of iron bars finally clicked, and she glared at them. “Open this door right now and let me out of here, you creeps!”
“Hm, no, no, I don’t think that would be wise,” the white-coated Muppet mused. “It took three monsters just to subdue you! No, sweetie, until my assistant gets here with the sedative, I think I’ll just stand right here, thanks!” He turned to the smaller monsters, who seemed reluctant to speak. “So, what an exciting story! The wild redhair captured on safari in the deepest heart of the dark city! How did you finally manage to take her down?”
“Oh,” the wolfish thing said, perking his ears. “Well, first she kicked Andy into the dumpster –“
“Ungh,” the goblin agreed, holding a hand to his stomach. Tattered strips of newspaper and sticky garbage covered him head to toe; slowly he began unpeeling them. He didn’t want to look like a complete fool in front of the boss, and who knew but that the underlord might want to commend them personally for this strike-team triumph!
“It was a monstrous fight,” growled a piranha-jawed thing, raising his long muzzle; the entire creature seemed to stand only a few inches above the floor on stumpy legs with long claws. “For a while, it seemed as though our valiant team would be outfought, despite our surprise attack and our formidable strength, but then –“
“Then she slipped in the slush and banged her head on the dumpster,” the wolf-thing chimed in. Everyone turned to stare at him. Seeing the alligator-piranha thing glaring at him, the wolfish thing amended quickly, “Uh...I mean...and then Captain Slurg performed his Koozebanian jujitsu and knocked her out!”
Eustace hissed. “Incompetentsss!... Be that assss it may, at leassst sshe is now in our grasssp. His inutterable sssliminessss is pleasssed.”
“Let me out this instant, or a sore stomach will be the least of your pain,” Gina snapped, struggling to stand. She lurched toward the bars, and all of the creatures fell back a few steps warily. “What do you freaks think you’re doing?” She peered around; strange glowing worms crawled along the cave-like ceiling, and to her left and right she could see more cells as rough and dirty as this one. “Oh, god...I’m underground...” The severe chill of the place penetrated her dazed senses, and she shuddered, clinging tight to the bars. “You’re the monsters! The ones under the city my Newsie is trying to stop!”
The creatures looked at one another, and began snickering. Eustace grinned. “Oh, exssssellent. Sssshe knowsss why ssshe isss here! Lisssten, you weird red-furred skin-thing, you will do assss you are told if you ever wisssh to sssee your pressshious reporter again!”
“What have you done to him?” Gina asked, tugging hard at the cell door, ignoring the splitting pain in her skull. A little dust shifted down from the ceiling, and Eustace glanced up worriedly a moment, but she couldn’t budge the iron bars, rusty though they appeared. “If you so much as look at him --!”
“Oh, I certainly hope we’ll see him soon,” the tall-headed scientist person chirped brightly. “I’m hoping the dark odiferousness will let me play with him before tomorrow night! I’ve simply always wanted to put some feathers on the beaky ones...”
Gina shook the bars again, but then a wave of sick dizziness washed through her, and she sagged. “You touch him, and I’ll stuff your head up lizard-guy’s –“
“That could be intriguing,” the white-coated scientist mused. “Oh, but here’s my good-for-nothing lackey! Honestly, Thatch, does it really take that long to microwave the sandwich and grab a sedative from the cabinet?”
“Urrrr...” The three-eyed, purple-furred monster grimaced uncertainly, then cautiously handed over a stale loaf of French bread and a sagging plastic syringe.
The scientist threw his hands up. “Ack! Thatch! No, you were supposed to put the sandwich in the nuker, and – what the hey kind of sandwich is this?”
“Beeza sammage,” Thatch shrugged.
The tall Muppet stared at the unopened can of beans between the two crumbling bread pieces. With a snort he tossed it all over his shoulder, and shoved Thatch at the bars, floppy syringe still in hand. “Well, then you can administer the sedative so we can get her ready for her big TV debut later! Go on!”
The monster’s third eye blinked; the other two looked at the strike team monsters. All of them glanced at one another, and as one with the scientist, took a firm step backwards, leaving Thatch alone at the bars. “Uhhh...gizza seggadizza?” he offered, holding the syringe out to the doggish lizard.
Eustace shook his head, grinning. “You volunteered, fool! Remember, Van Neuter, our mosst ssscurrilousss underlord wissshesss her intact until we have her Muppet partner in chainsss! Try to contain yourssself!” With a hiss, the monster swung on his clawed rear foot and stalked away.
“Don’t I always?” Van Neuter sniffed. He gave Thatch another push. “Go on! Here...get right up close and just jab that in anywhere...come on, we don’t have all night!”
The purple-furred monster looked slowly up at Gina. Her eyes narrowed, she took a deep breath, and tensed in readiness. If they’re using me as bait, then Newsie’s still out there, she realized, relieved. Sweetie, be careful, and don’t rush down here! I’ll get out fine on my own. She glared at the monster, all three of his eyes now focused on hers; she saw his topfeathers shaking.
“For crying out loud, you lazy coward, get over there!” Van Neuter yelled, shoving his hapless assistant.
Gina grinned.
The yells echoed through all of the prison underlevel for quite some time. Two guards at the exit heard, looked at one another, and suddenly found a spot of slime on the ceiling terribly fascinating.
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“Does that look a little stronger to you?” Newsie asked, setting the signal-finder down so Rhonda could check the level gauge alongside him.
She shivered, brushing a smattering of raindrops off her bedraggled blonde hair. “It looks the same as it’s looked for the past two hours. Are you sure this is the right neighborhood? I sure as heck wouldn’t put a transmitter anywhere around here...the local five-year-olds would make off with it and stow it in their stolen cars, and spraypaint their initials on anything they couldn’t wrench loose!” She glared up at the old tenements closing in on either side of the narrow street. “I can tell no one around here can even pronounce the word ‘gentrification.’”
Frustrated, the raven-coated Newsman looked around. “It has to be here somewhere! Nofrisko is a block away, and that Con-Ed tunnel entrance is just down the street!”
“Look, logical though that sounds, Goldie, we’ve had barely a blip on this thing all night and we’ve been going in circles around the whole lower east side!” Rhonda shook her head in disgust. “My hair is ruined, this scarf will probably shrink so much my little niece could use it as a bracelet –“
“Do you think I care about your clothing?” Newsie shouted, making her cringe. “I bet this ancient thing doesn’t even work!” He kicked the signal-finder box hard. “Grrrrrah! Ow...ow...ow...”
Rhonda glared at him as he hopped on the unhurt foot, about to snap back some tart comment, but then the box beeped. Both of them turned to stare at it. It beeped loudly, and the needle on the gauge was flicking strongly into the higher ranges, indicating the MMN signal output was very close. Rhonda quickly turned down the volume. “Nice work, Goldie,” she murmured, removing the cotton from her ears.
Newsie looked at the signal strength, then stood on tiptoe, vainly peering up at the surrounding buildings. “It has to be one of these!” Eagerly he lifted the box again, limping slowly closer to a storefront, checking the gauge. Rhonda fell in step with him, her eyes darting from the dark, silent buildings to the box and back.
“Go that way,” she directed, pointing where the street took a sharp curve toward the east as they moved southward. Newsie did so, and the needle swung toward the higher range. Excited, they paced along the edge of the broken sidewalk, determining which side of the street seemed to be stronger, heading into the curve. Just past the turn, the needle spiked into the red. Newsie stared up at an imposing edifice, the façade encrusted with crumbling plasterwork; he could tell the decorations evenly spaced above the second-floor ledge were supposed to be some sort of flower, and a vaguely pagoda-style roof, though missing many tiles, added to the Oriental flair the once-grand structure still possessed. Rhonda squinted, and read aloud the letters painted next to Chinese characters across the curved front door: “Happy Bogus...no, wait...Happy Lotus. Happy Lotus Hotel.” She blinked, surprised. “Holy spookfest, Goldie! This place is on just about every ghost-hunting list there is!”
Newsie gave her a puzzled look. “You keep track of stuff like that?”
She shrugged. “My niece has a crush on that cute plumber-turned-parapsychologist guy on TV. I watch it with her sometimes.” She shook her head. “Okay...four...five stories with the attic. Must be a small tower, I can’t even see it from here.”
“Then their studio must be under the hotel,” Newsie guessed. “Wait a minute! Aren’t we on Doyers?”
Rhonda pulled out her cell phone to check a satellite map, but quickly frowned. “Dang, no bars. Their stupid transmitter must be interfering. Yeah, I think so, why?”
Newsie felt like slapping himself. “Doyers Street! The hotel! Rhonda, this is where that charity walk is taking place in –“ He looked at his watch, which showed the date as now Sunday the thirtieth. “About thirty-six hours! We can’t let that happen!”
“Let’s kill their fear signal,” Rhonda suggested. “Then we can call the guys and warn ‘em.”
Newsie saw the rightness of that, but frowned. “I...I have to find Gina! Frog knows what they’re doing to her even as we speak! She’s been missing for hours already!”
Rhonda looked up at the decrepit roof, swallowing hard. “Okay...all right...what if I go up, and you go down? We’ll meet back up in the lobby, soon as I disable the transmitter and you find your girl?”
Newsie paused, then nodded. He put both hands on the rat’s slender shoulders. “You be careful.”
She nodded back, less than thrilled. “You too, sunshine. Be as monstery as you can, okay?”
“I will,” he promised. He dragged the signal-finder to the side of the entry stairs, shutting it off and pulling a snow-covered abandoned magazine from the sidewalk over the instrument to hide it from any casual observers. “Okay,” he breathed, checking to make sure he looked nothing like his usual golden self. “Let’s roll.”
Rhonda gave him a curious look as they bounded up the steps together. “What?” he muttered, worrying that perhaps some of his felt was showing.
“Nothing,” the rat replied. At the threshold, she added, “Courage looks good on you.”
He blushed, glad she couldn’t see it under the costume. “Thanks,” he said gruffly, and pushed the front door open slowly. It creaked, and dust filtered down inside. A few paper banners and streamers swayed in the cold air they brought in with them, but otherwise, nothing seemed to be moving. One of the larger signs caught his eye. “MADL...sponsored by Nofrisko!”
“Yeah, that can’t be good,” Rhonda agreed. She peered up into the darkness above the grand landing of the wide staircase. “Well...here goes nothing.”
“Stay out of sight!” Newsie hissed after her.
Rhonda paused once in her scramble up the stairs. “Oh, I’ll be back. And you will be buying me a new coat! Spiderweb gunk is not chic!” In seconds she was out of sight.
Newsie looked around, and cautiously began exploring. When he entered the dining room, he thought he heard a skittering noise overhead; a nervous look up revealed nothing. Ghost list, huh? No...I’m sure it’s just spiders...seems to be an awful lot of webs here... Then again, he thought of the giant centipede somewhere below, and shuddered. Bugs are just as bad as ghosts! He hoped any he encountered could be bluffed...
Walking slowly back through the lobby, he noticed a tattered web swaying in an air current...but it didn’t seem to be anywhere close enough to the closed front door to catch a stray breeze through the cracks. Approaching it, he suddenly realized that the shadow under the grand staircase which he’d taken for just a shadow actually concealed another stairway, this one going down, and made of blocks of granite. He turned on his mini flashlight, shining it down only a few seconds, and saw the polished steps quickly gave way to more rough-hewn blocks. Taking a deep breath, doing his best to quell his anxiety and think only of Gina, his Gina, in danger somewhere down there, Newsie shut off his light – monsters didn’t need lights – and slowly began the descent, one gloved hand trailing along a wall for whatever security he could receive. Gina, I’m coming! I’ll find you...I love you!
He wished Rhonda luck, silently, and strained his eyes, peering ahead and down...and down...and down, into the blackness filled with whispery scuttlings and the scratchings of things like dry leaves on a windowpane at night.
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The upper hallways of the hotel looked to Rhonda like something out of a videogame. Probably the kind with zombies. She tiptoed fast from doorway to doorway, pausing at each one to glance inside before she passed it. Don’t wanna know what those noises are...don’t wanna know, so don’t show me... Breathing hard but as quietly as she could, she scrambled for the next staircase heading up. The second and third floors had been warrens of dark corridors punctuated by rotting doors or open doorways where the doors had fallen...or been torn...off their hinges. She didn’t want to know what was in the rooms; skitterings and whisperings and, once, the sound of faint, low laughter frightened her. Don’t wanna know...just get me to the roof!
The fourth floor seemed divided in half, with no continuing staircase in sight. Off to the right, enormous arched doorways opened into a vast, dark space; scant light from the street filtered in through half-rotted curtains draped from ceiling to floor over broad dusty windows. Rhonda peeked inside cautiously; movement in a far corner made her freeze and crouch low. Across the wide room, a huge orange-furred spider was busily fussing with some thread... Webbing, she realized, watching a moment, curiosity getting the better of her. It’s using web silk to...to... She frowned in disbelief. A giant spider crocheting?
The monstrous arachnid hummed as it worked, its front two legs wielding silver crochet needles, rapidly making what looked like a giant hammock anchored between two tall decorative pillars. What the heck is a giant spider doing crocheting a hammock in a ballroom? Deciding that, again, she probably didn’t want to know, she scanned the room for other exits. There was an open shaft for a dumbwaiter in one wall, but the doorways all seemed to lead back to the fourth-floor landing. Moving silently, Rhonda picked her way through the thick dust coating the floor, her nose wrinkling in disgust; she never, ever went barefoot like this, especially not in frog knows what decomposed debris, but her shoes might have made too much noise. Not to mention, feet are easier to clean than Jimmy Choos.
The other half of this floor seemed composed of suites of rooms; back in the hotel’s heyday, this must have been where the wealthiest guests stayed, when formal balls were actually held in the great room across the hall. Bet the schmucks on the lower floors loved hearing the fat cats partying over their heads all night. Hah...symbolic. One of these doors had to lead to the roof stairs. Rhonda hurried from one to another of the doors, trying to peer under the jambs, but the dust was so thick she wound up backing away and stifling a cough. Nuts...gonna have to start opening doors. She approached one at the end of the row, hoping it made more sense that the stairs up would be at one or another end of the building instead of the middle, and studied the glass doorknob. A gentle push on the peeling wood at her level confirmed the door was indeed shut tight. Sighing, Rhonda took off her scarf, knotted a noose in one end, and flung it high. It took her three tries to lasso the doorknob. She yanked down hard, tightening the noose, then grabbed the scarf in finely-manicured little claws and hoisted herself up, grateful she’d continued her fitness training even after that cute instructor Gene Gerbil had been fired for sleeping with the clients...her arms were strong, and she kept her balance when she climbed to the knob, braced her feet against the door, and with a ladylike grunt wrenched the doorknob to the left. The door creaked open very, very slowly. Panting, Rhonda loosened the noose and leapt to the floor with the scarf, staring worriedly inside.
At first she couldn’t make out anything, though she heard a strange sucking, slurping sound. Then two pairs of glowing eyes turned toward her, and in their faint illumination she saw the two monsters smooching. Their lips parted with a pop, and a rough-voiced growl sounded: “Seriously! Do you mind?”
“Sorry,” Rhonda squeaked, and tugged on the door-edge to swing it closed. She ran for the next door, expecting to be caught any second. This one wasn’t shut all the way; she wriggled inside, looking around quickly, to find yet another sitting-room with decrepit ottomans and wingback chairs. Something stirred in the bedchamber beyond. Rhonda rushed out, hurrying to the next door down the landing hallway.
This one, though shut, had a loose piece of wood in the jamb where termites or dry-rot had eaten away at the frame. Gritting her teeth, Rhonda pulled down the loose wood; it crumbled in her paws. “Ugh,” she muttered, then poked her head in – to come almost nose-to-nose with another rat. “Yeek!”
“Agghh!” the rat cried, then darted forward, grabbing Rhonda’s nose with a heavy paw. “Shhhhh! Don’t tell ‘em where I am!”
Rhonda fought him off. “Get off me, you moron! I’m a rat too! Ewww...your paws smell like garbage!” She spat, wishing she’d brought a breath mint along.
“Oh...uh, sorry,” the bigger rat apologized. “I was rootin’ through the dumpsters behind Long Foo’s earlier.”
She stared at him; he was as burly as Rizzo’s friend Bubba, and clad in a survivalist vest over his thick gray fur, but his eyes seemed more intelligent than most of the rats’ she’d ever met in the city. He had an odd accent, too. When he turned to check the room behind him, making sure nothing stirred, Rhonda saw his tail was long, furry, and had a puff at the tip. “You’re not from around here,” she observed.
“Naw, Sydney’s me home, love. Chaz Doonkirk, at your service.” The kangaroo rat stuck out a paw, thought better of it, wiped it on his vest and then offered again. Rhonda shook it carefully. “So. What’s a sweet little slip of a gal doin’ in a place like this?”
Rhonda shook her head. “I really, really wish I had time to explain it to you...believe me, I do,” she said, appreciatively eyeing the muscles shifting beneath that sleek fur. “But right now I really need to get onto the roof and shut down that TV transmitter! Do you know how to get up there?”
“Well sure, love, howd’ya think I came in here, through the front door like some common bloke?” Chaz grinned; a gold tooth sparkled. “Rat o’ all trades like me, I got some tricks about gettin’ into places. Especially places what the locals all claim to be haunted, y’see, ‘cause that usually just means boobytrapped or guarded by some mean sneaky cat!” He lifted his jaw proudly. “I’m an adventurer, love; I go places nobody else will, and reap the rewards for a bold heart!”
“Uh huh,” Rhonda sighed, starting to melt. She shook herself out of it impatiently. “Okay, great – can you get me onto the roof?”
He grinned again. “A request from a damsel in distress? How could I resist?” He slipped past her out the hole in the doorframe; Rhonda shivered when his fur brushed her coat. “This way,” he hissed, beckoning, and Rhonda hastened to follow. The two rodents scurried along the floor trim, pausing now and then when Chaz suddenly stopped and held up a paw like a point-man in a military detail, then gestured forward again. They reached a small door set between two of the suite doors, painted to blend in with the wall – at least, in the dim light of a gray dawn coming through the dusty window at the end of the hall, Rhonda thought it was. Hard to tell since all the paint seemed faded and peeling, but this door was skinnier and less ornate than the others. Chaz uncurled a bullwhip from his belt. “Woven cat whiskers,” he told her, with another cheeky grin.
Watching him expertly sling it up and catch the doorknob, Rhonda asked, “So, if ya don’t mind me asking, what’s an Aussie rat doing in New York – especially at this junkheap?”
“Got bored hunting crocs,” Chaz muttered, tugging on the whip to secure it. “Thought I’d come here and try to get into some trouble. Worked for that crazy zookeeper, why not me? Might get me own show. Chaz Doonkirk, wild urban explorer!” He gestured, picturing his name on a title screen. “Right then. Up ya go, love.”
Rhonda could feel his eyes on her, and felt warm for the first time since setting foot in the rickety hotel. She climbed quickly up the whip, seeing an enlarged keyhole just under the door. Her coat wasn’t going to fit. She paused, stuck in a dilemma, then thought of the monsters below holding Gina and Newsie’s cousin...and the horrible fear she’d experienced from hearing that screeching signal through MMN. With a breath to steel herself for the ridicule, she shrugged out of her coat one arm at a time and dropped it so she could shimmy through the hole. When Chaz dropped down on the other side of the door a moment later, she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“Goodness,” the Aussie murmured. “Love, ‘scuse my asking, but would you happen to be one a’ those naked mole rats?”
“No, I’m not,” Rhonda snapped. “I was almost eaten by an acid-spitting slug and thank you so much for bringing it up. Does this go to the roof?” She glared up a set of plain wooden stairs.
“Uh, yeah... An acid-spitting slug? Crikey, that sounds exciting...where on earth was this?”
Rhonda didn’t look back, climbing the stairs toward a sliver of light at the top. “Near here, underground. You want adventure, hotshot, down there’s where it’s at!” She heard a commotion in the hallway they’d just left, and moved faster. “Oh crap – they saw us!”
“Who, those big hairy blokes?” Chaz laughed. “No worries, love! They’re too fat to get through the hole, and the lock’s rusted!” But even he jumped when heavy pounding rattled the door. “Um. Up ya go. Quickly now.”
They scrambled to the stuck-partly-open door leading to the roof; Rhonda shivered uncontrollably. The night air had stayed barely above freezing, and the dawn slowly creeping up beyond the cloudy sky didn’t help dissipate the extreme chill. She jumped when a strong arm went around her shoulders. “Goodness, you poor girl! Now, where’s this thingamajig you need to shut down?”
Rhonda decided not to comment on his sudden closeness; at least he was warm. She cast an anxious gaze around, at last spotting the small metal structure in the center of the roof, partly hidden by a water tower for the building. “There!” Together they raced for it. The sounds of howling, snarling, and something large and gruff yelling for a battering ram came from the stairwell. “Oh frog, oh frog...” She tried not to think about how the heck she was going to get back down, much less how Newsie might be faring somewhere below. Reaching the transmitter, she studied it quickly from a couple of angles, locating the power cables and the main line of the antenna. “Okay...looks pretty old-school, shouldn’t be too hard to disable. All we gotta do is disconnect the power, and they lose the signal.”
Chaz glanced up at the transmitter, then back at the roof entry; loud, steady banging sounded from just below. “I didn’t even notice that thing before. Why is there some kind of signal thingy atop this old wreck?”
“Because there are monsters trying to take over the city who run a TV network underground,” Rhonda explained hurriedly, tugging at the base of the power conduit, unable to budge it. “Ungh...and...and they’re broadcasting a signal which terrifies anyone who watches their station...and they’ve kidnapped my friend’s girlfriend...and they eat rats!” She gave him an exasperated glare. “Wouldya help me already?”
His expression changing to one of determination, Chaz nodded. He pulled a multitool from a pocket of his vest, and set to work unscrewing the base of the conduit. “Got a wire stripper on this too, but isn’t this thing live?”
“Yes,” Rhonda panted, stepping back to let him work.
He paused to look at her seriously. “You’re willing to get electrocuted just to shut this thing down?”
She shrugged. “Not if a big strong man volunteers instead...”
He shook his head, amazed. “You’re either crazy or the bravest gal I’ve ever seen.”
“Both,” Rhonda agreed. “Can you get it open?”
“Yes,” he grunted, spinning the last screw out of place. Rhonda peeled open the thin metal of the conduit guarding the insulated wires running power to the transmitter, and took a deep breath.
“It has to be so wrecked they can’t just plug it back in,” she muttered, studying the wires, trying to decide how to do this.
“I think we have another problem,” Chaz said, and Rhonda suddenly realized he didn’t hear a banging noise anymore. She whirled. A large orange spider, two bearlike things with fat pink lips, and a squat, obese bat all glared at her as they advanced along the roof. “All right, you lot, clear off! This is an electrical company routine signal-maker inspection!” the rat yelled.
“Nice try,” Rhonda sighed when the monsters looked at one another, then continued to come for the rats, toothy grins trailing drool along the rooftop. “Oh my frog, these look almost as gross as the bugs...”
“Nice knowing you,” Chaz told her, and suddenly flicked his whip at the crawling bat. It yelped, stung.
“Get thaf rat-bish, Shteve!” the bat croaked, waving its tiny wings. The furry orange spider roared, lunging forward, the smoochy-lip monsters right behind it.
“Aaaaaggghh!” Rhonda shrieked, leaping up the transmitter.
“Come on then, you cowards!” Chaz was yelling as they overwhelmed him. “Takes four a’ you to gang up on me, does it? You wankers! You nasty, crawly, flea-ridden—“ His insult was choked off; Rhonda looked down, terrified, to see a fluffy tail-tip disappearing between the lips of one of the lumbering big-mouthed creatures with a sickening spaghetti-slurp.
“Oh frog no, no, no!” She climbed and climbed, reached the tip of the antenna, and realized she had nowhere to go. The top of the water-tower was close by, but then what? Seeing the spider climbing fast behind her, Rhonda held her breath and jumped. Her claws caught and clung to the peaked round roof of the tower. She looked back; the spider was readying a net of silk, creepy mouthparts weaving it as his pointed feet gathered it from under him. Rhonda looked around desperately. Could she make it to the edge of the roof, and climb down? The façade had appeared on the verge of total disintegration...but the alternative didn’t hold much appeal. With a squeak of effort, she launched herself from the tower, aiming for the nearest edge of rooftop, bracing her muscles for the landing. Tuck and roll and run like heck, she told herself, remembering the gymnastics she’d taken until her late teens, when she’d wanted to become a stunt rat, before that journalism class in community college had changed everything. She felt the impact on her shoulders, gasping in pain, and tried to roll with it...and found herself bound tightly in a grubby clawed fist. She screamed, thrashing, but the fat bat only chuckled.
“Outfielder for the Cavernsh High Troglodyshe, nineteen-eighty-nine,” the bat crooned at her. “Come on, shweetie. I know a monshter downshtairsh whosh gonna pay me top dollar for a tashty morshel like you!”
“Awww but Clarence,” the spider groaned, loping over, “I didn’t get ta use my net! Can I – Can I at least has your cookie?” He leaned over, eight eyes wide and drool dripping from his fangs. Rhonda looked up into that horrible face, and couldn’t breathe from the tight grip squeezing her ribs, and then the spider’s awful breath wafted into her face...she fainted.
The spider’s face drooped. “Heeeyyy...cookie stale already?”
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Sesame Street Season 55
Jim Henson Idea Man
Back to the Rock Season 2
Bear arrives on Disney+
Sam and Friends Book
Cute, cute joke.
makes another appearance! And there's Sal too!
pops up, someone say 'cookie jar'?
I love baseball.