Gremlins Page 9

  “So,” he said coldly, “we’ve encountered one of the eternal ones. You are that, aren’t you?”

  Gizmo did not have to respond. Stripe knew the answer even as he asked the question, and it infuriated him.

  “It’s not fair that you should be allowed such a long life and we such a short one,” Stripe hissed in Mogwai words.

  “It was an accident of Mogturmen’s creative process,” Gizmo replied softly.

  “You also have more knowledge than we,” Stripe charged. “More life and more knowledge. Why don’t you share both with us?”

  “It’s not possible.”

  “And you’re glad it’s not possible.”

  Gizmo shrugged.

  “What is the reproductive secret?” Stripe demanded. “You saw how we got here, so you must know.”

  “Why do you want to know?” Gizmo asked.

  “We want there to be more of us. If we’re doomed to short lives, at least we can spread our species, enjoy the company of our massed millions.”

  “It’s not a good idea,” Gizmo murmured.

  “We’ll find it out, sooner or later,” Stripe hissed.

  “I won’t tell you,” Gizmo said firmly.

  Stripe balled his short pointed fingers into something resembling fists. “I want to kill you,” he said coldly. “But I can’t. Something is holding me back.”

  “It’s the one responsible emotion Mogturmen was able to keep in us,” Gizmo explained. “We’re incapable of killing each other.”

  “You have other information we need,” Stripe continued. “There’s something that can kill us in large doses, cause us pain in smaller doses. What is it?”

  “You will find out soon enough.”

  “Chetz-wubba!” Stripe rasped, swearing in Mogwai. “Why must you be so secretive?”

  “It’s my only weapon.”

  “There is another thing we must find out,” Stripe persisted. “We are capable of becoming larger and more powerful. What causes that?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t?”

  “I won’t.”

  “It’s foolish of you to withhold that. Why not use it for yourself at least?”

  “Because then I would become one of the majority, with a brief and violent life.”

  “We’ll find out what it is,” Stripe promised. “It’s a simple thing. Intuitively I know that. It can elude us only so long.”

  “Perhaps much longer than you think,” Gizmo countered. “Perhaps it will elude you for your entire lifetime.”

  Stripe ground his teeth angrily. “Tell us now and we’ll go easy on your friends.”

  “No. When you change you’ll forget. I’ve seen it happen before.”

  “Very well,” Stripe muttered. “Be uncooperative if you want. But we’re going to find out what we need to know to escape these puny bodies and create more of us. And when we do—”

  Gizmo managed to face the infuriated Stripe with a determined look. “I think you’re going to spend the rest of your lives in this room under very careful supervision,” he said evenly. “My new master is a very responsible young man. He’s absorbed the Chinese man’s wisdom and I seriously doubt he’ll give you the opportunity to enjoy your wicked ways.”

  As he recited the speech, Gizmo did not truly believe his own words, but they sounded persuasive enough.

  “But there are the others,” Stripe shot back. “They will be careless, especially now that I’ve instructed my four partners to be judicious in their choice of pranks. Fortunately, your new master corrected the mess we made last night. Seeing that could have put the others on their guard, but now they will let us roam free.”

  Gizmo sighed. What Stripe said was probably true. His only hope was that time was on his side, that these new Mogwai would expire in captivity before they could do any damage.

  A few hours later a smiling Stripe trundled into Billy’s room and shook Gizmo awake.

  “Clorr is dead,” he said simply.

  “Now there are only four of you,” Gizmo replied, “Why does that seem to make you happy?”

  “It’s the manner in which he died,” Stripe said. “Ever since we arrived here, I’ve felt an instinctive fear of the occasional flashes of bright light we’ve been exposed to. This afternoon, when the lady let us explore the house, Clorr went onto the back porch and was locked out. Before he could get back in, the sunlight destroyed him. So now we know an important secret of staying alive, which explains why this room is so dark.”

  Gizmo sighed. “Yes, it’s true.”

  “My intuition tells me there are three mysteries I must solve, and one is solved already,” Stripe gloated. “Next we must find out how we can reproduce. Third, we must learn how to become more powerful. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me everything now and save both of us a lot of trouble?”

  “I’m sure,” Gizmo replied.

  “All right,” Stripe said, his eyes narrowing. “When we find out on our own, it will make what we do even more enjoyable. And all you’ll be able to do is stand by helplessly.”

  With a sneer, he curled himself into a ball and closed his eyes. He was soon asleep, but Gizmo, his mind racked with memories and fears for the future, found no solace the rest of the afternoon.

  “Boy, you really are a jerk.” Gerald smiled as Billy set about preparing his change drawer for the day’s work.

  He didn’t bother asking what he had done to deserve the epithet since it was obvious Gerald was going to tell him. The puzzling thing to Billy was why Gerald had waited until Kate had gone on an errand to start haranguing him. Usually he enjoyed having an audience.

  “Just give me the bottom line, Ger,” he said now, noting with satisfaction that his nemesis still flinched with anger whenever he used the nickname.

  “O.K.,” Gerald laughed. “The bottom line is you really are a fool for standing up Kate.”

  “Did she tell you that?”

  “Not exactly,” Gerald said. “I was in Dorry’s last night about eleven. Kate was there so I asked her if she needed a ride home. She said no, thanks, Billy was coming by. Fortunately, I’m a very tough and persistent customer. Otherwise I’d have taken no for an answer and slunk home. But not Gerald Hopkins. I hung around . . . and she waited . . . and waited . . . And the madder she got, the sweeter I talked. Finally she let me drive her home.”

  “Boy, she must have really been stranded,” Billy retorted.

  Gerald ignored it. “Anyway,” he concluded, “now that I’ve broken the ice, anything can happen. And I aim to see that it will.”

  “Maybe when Kate comes back,” Billy said with a smile, “I’ll say that you told me it already has.”

  The retort caused a sudden rush of fear to glaze Gerald’s eyes. Then the fearful expression was superseded by one of craftiness. “No, you wouldn’t say that,” he said confidently. “That would hurt her and you’re too much of a jerk to do that.”

  “Beware of wounded animals, Ger,” Billy replied evenly.

  Kate returned soon after that, but owing to a rush of early customers there was no opportunity to talk. (Not that she seemed so inclined, staring only at the customers in a businesslike manner.) Then, in midmorning, Billy’s depressed mood was exacerbated by the appearance of Mrs. Deagle, who pushed her way to the front of the the line so she could go directly to Billy’s window. After dropping her deposit slip silently in front of him and watching him enter it, she smiled wickedly.

  “I thought you might be interested in knowing that I’ve set a little trap for your nasty dog,” she said.

  “A trap, Mrs. Deagle?”

  “Nothing as crude as a bear trap,” she said sarcastically. “They’re illegal and I respect the law, even if you and your mutt don’t. No, my trap is a lot subtler. I doubt if he’ll even know when it happens. But don’t be surprised if he starts acting kind of . . . well . . . let’s say, crazy.”

  “What have you done?” Billy demanded.

&nbs
p; “You’ll find out,” she said. “I know it’s going to work because I went to a lot of trouble. It wasn’t easy finding someone who hated dogs as much as I do. Especially someone who’s invented a perfectly wonderful way to destroy them—from the mind out.”

  “I could have you arrested,” Billy said angrily. “In fact, Mrs. Deagle—”

  She interrupted him with a gasp loud enough to draw the attention of Gerald Hopkins and Mr. Corben.

  “Oh, dear!” she added, half smiling when she noticed they were already on the way to her rescue.

  “What is it?” Gerald demanded.

  “This young man accused me of trying to cash a bad check,” Mrs. Deagle stammered, her acting very hammy but obviously believable to Gerald. “He threatened to have me arrested.”

  “Is that what you said, Peltzer?” Gerald asked coldly.

  Without giving him a chance to answer, Mrs. Deagle turned to a man behind her in the line. “Didn’t you hear him say he’d like to have me arrested?” she prompted.

  The man, a comparative newcomer to Kingston Falls, was not intimidated by her imperious attitude. “He didn’t say he’d like to,” he replied. “He said he could.”

  “That’s bad enough,” Gerald interjected.

  “What did Mrs. Deagle say?” Mr. Corben asked.

  “I don’t know,” the man replied. “Her back was toward me, so I could only hear his side of the conversation.”

  “I demand an apology,” Mrs. Deagle sputtered. “As a matter of fact, I demand that you fire this impudent loser. He’s no good to this bank, anyway.”

  Mr. Corben hesitated. His expression seemed to imply that even if Billy were not guilty of insulting the woman, this might be a good opportunity to fire him. Young Hopkins had been after him for several days, denigrating Peltzer and his work every time he had the chance.

  “She threatened to put out a bear trap for his dog,” Kate interrupted from the next window. “I heard the whole conversation.”

  “I said no such thing,” Mrs. Deagle retorted, horrified.

  “Then why did I enter the check for deposit?” Billy asked, regaining his composure. “If I thought it was a bad check, would I have done that?”

  Mr. Corben nodded slowly, looked at Mrs. Deagle. Clearly the burden of proof had switched from Billy to her.

  “I did not say I put out a bear trap,” Mrs. Deagle stammered. “It’s another kind of trap. I mean . . .”

  A long pause followed. Then Mrs. Deagle reached forward to grab her deposit slip.

  “Never mind,” she said. “If you want to have impolite, stupid people working for you, that’s your business.”

  Her nose high, she clomped out of the bank.

  “Now then . . .” Mr. Corben said, indicating that the bank’s business was to continue as usual.

  After Gerald fixed him with an angry gaze and departed, Billy glanced at Kate. His expression said, “Thank you.” Her response seemed to say, “You’re welcome, but I did it only in the interest of justice, not for you.”

  Nevertheless, at the end of the working day she did not seem particularly hostile when Billy caught up with her as she left the bank. At least she didn’t call for a cop, Billy thought.

  “I’d like to tell you what happened last night,” he said.

  “It’s not necessary,” she replied. “As several people have told me recently, I’m a little crazy about Mrs. Deagle’s ‘takeover’ plan. It’s foolish of me to think everybody’s as concerned as I am, particularly late at night when it’s nice and warm inside.”

  “But I wanted to come meet you,” he protested. “I was all ready to. And then something terrible happened.”

  Her expression changed from skeptical to concerned. “Your folks are all right, aren’t they?”

  He nodded. Beginning slowly, he said, “You’re going to think this is the dumbest excuse you’ve ever heard, but I swear every word is true.”

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  As quickly as possible, he told her about the Mogwai dilemma, from the first appearance of Gizmo to the last prank of the five new animals. She listened without a single interruption, her expression interested but noncommittal.

  “And that’s it,” he concluded. “Those Mogwai got me so screwed up I just lost track of time.”

  She smiled slowly.

  “You’re right,” she said. “That is the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

  “But it’s true! I swear it!”

  “Listen,” she said, “there’s no disgrace in falling asleep. I do it all the time, but I must admit I’m very good about keeping dates.”

  Trying desperately to think of some way of making his story more plausible, Billy heard the familiar voice that solved his problem. It was Pete. Ignoring Kate, the youngster grabbed Billy’s sleeve and said a bit breathlessly, “Come on. Mr. Hanson’s waitin’ for us. He’ll look at one of those things now.”

  “Don’t you have to be a Christmas tree?”

  “Yeah, but Dad said I can do it later.”

  “Would you like to see proof that I’m telling you the truth?” Billy asked, looking at Kate.

  She smiled. “If this were April first, I’d say no,” she said. “But all right. Let’s go.”

  They hopped in Billy’s bug, now back among the living, and were at his house five minutes later. Lynn, waiting for him at the door, greeted Billy with a sad expression rather than her usual smile. “One of them is dead,” she said.

  “Not Gizmo—”

  “No. One of the new ones.”

  She led them to the back porch, where a tiny, flattened circle of fur was all that remained of the dead Mogwai. It looked like a football that had been deflated.

  “It got out on the porch and then I must have shut the door and locked it out,” Lynn explained. “It couldn’t have been there long enough to have starved to death.”

  “No,” Billy agreed. “The Chinese boy said the bright sunlight kills them.”

  “I don’t know what to do with it. What do you do with a dead Mogwai?”

  Billy shrugged. Pete, kneeling next to the tiny corpse, prodded it gently with the end of a ball-point pen. “It looks like it’s really dryin’ up fast,” he observed. “I’ll bet if you leave it here a couple days, there won’t be anything left but a little fuzz.”

  “Don’t touch it, Mom,” Billy said. “At least not till we get back from school. Mr. Hanson, my old science teacher, is gonna examine one for us. Maybe we’ll know more after that.”

  Lynn was only too happy to go along with his wishes concerning the dead Mogwai. She was less agreeable about his decision to take one out of the house. “Do you think that’s wise?” she asked. “If it got away—”

  “We won’t let it get away,” Billy assured her. “Besides, how are we gonna find out what they are if they stay cooped up all the time?”

  A minute later the four of them were in Billy’s room, looking at the four curled-up balls of fur in the corner and, about six feet away from them, the wide-awake Gizmo.

  “Here, Kate,” Billy said. “This is Gizmo. He’s the best one. Would you like to hold him?”

  “Er . . .” she said a bit hesitantly. “Sure.”

  Holding the soft creature, which almost seemed to smile at her, Kate was alternately enchanted and horrified. The animal was unlike anything she had ever seen or even read about. That, coupled with the fantastic story of how they reproduced, made her blood run a bit cold.

  “Maybe we should take Gizmo to Mr. Hanson,” Pete suggested.

  Billy shook his head.

  “But suppose the other ones are different?” Pete said, not without logic. “You haven’t seen them reproduce, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, suppose they can’t do it?”

  “Then it’s too bad,” Billy replied. “Mr. Hanson will still be able to examine the one we take him and tell us if it’s a new species or not. Later, if he needs to see the water thing, maybe we’ll have to take him Gizmo. But
he’s my favorite. I don’t want to take a chance on hurting him.”

  With that, he gently pulled one of the other Mogwai from the somnolent mass, put it into the shoe box they had decided to use, and closed the lid firmly.

  Halfway to the junior-senior high school, Billy looked at Kate, who was holding the shoe box on her lap, both hands tightly clasped over it.

  “Well,” he said. “Do you still think I was lying about last night?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “Even if the part about the water is made up, it’s still a great story,” she said.

  It had been nearly three years since Billy had walked down the main hallway of his old school. Now, deserted except for a few teachers and maintenance people, it seemed smaller than he remembered. The hallways actually looked shorter, the walls closer together. Was it possible to shrink an entire school? He smiled, realizing that the mind could perform such a trick quite easily. Peeking into classrooms that should have been familiar but were not, he experienced a feeling of loss, as if all evidence of his ever having been here had been erased. They’ve probably even sanded down the initials I carved in every homeroom desk, he thought glumly.

  They entered the science classroom, and Billy shook hands with his former teacher. A few moments later Roy Hanson looked at his watch, realized it was nearly dinnertime, and decided to answer the kids’ questions as quickly but politely as possible. Although he had agreed to examine it when Pete had asked, he had not really listened to his story, which sounded off-the-wall and disjointed. He probably had a muskrat or shrew or some other animal he’d never seen around his house and, inspired by the lecture on “new” species, had visions of discovering some missing link. Still, Pete was at least interested, and it would not do to discourage or ridicule him.

  “All right now,” Roy said. “Let’s see what we have in here.”

  As he started to open the box, Billy held up his hand.