The Haunting of Heck House (14 page)

“And the paranormal energy that was released from the doorknob rebuilt the house in the image of its former
self!” Feedback exclaimed, following the logic of Tweed's theory.

“And provided an environment in which to contain its former occupants …” Tweed nodded and glanced around the room, half-expecting to see the three Hecklestone kids listening in on the conversation. But if they were, she couldn't tell. “If the emanations were strong enough, they might very well have altered the surrounding plot of land. And more! Do
you
ever remember an Eerie Lane in Wiggins before now, Feedback?”

“Nope. I even tried to dial it up on my phone's GPS, but all I got was random pixels.” He snorted in derision. “I had to look at an old-fashioned paper map to get here—and it was so faded I almost missed finding this place. Now I wish I had.”

“Gah!” Cheryl shuddered, thinking about the weird and wacky assortment of objects that she and her cousin were unintentionally responsible for scattering around the town. “Those carnival Duds shot all over Wiggins,” she said. “Do you mean to tell me that every single piece of dusty junk in that tent is now gonna come to life and mess with the town? We're gonna have to clear our schedule!”

Tweed frowned. “You could be right, partner. Hopefully it's not as bad as all that,” she said. “I mean, as much of a scammer as Dudley was, most of that stuff was probably nothing more than dime-store trash. He probably just got lucky with a few authentic curiosities,
and I don't think he realized that some of the exhibits in his collection
really were
the real thing. Not beyond the mummy princess, anyway. As it is, I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that Bob Ruth's softball isn't going to conjure up an army of ghostly baseball players or anything …”

“I hope not!” Artie said. “I took that thing home— it's sitting on my nightstand—and I'd have a real tough time explaining
that
to my mom …”

“Hey,” Tweed said with a grin, “at least your tail and scales disappeared.”

“Please.” Artie ran a hand through his slicked-back hair and adjusted his glasses. “I
rocked
that croc.”

Feedback had been silent for a few moments, just staring back and forth between the girls. Now he backed off a step, shaking his head. “Whoa,” he said. “I'd heard you guys had radically unconventional sitter techniques. Now I'm just thinking you're radically unconventional about
everything
. Also? Kinda freaking me out.”

“Don't worry about it.” Cheryl flipped her pigtails back. “We train for situations like this.”

“Train how?”

“Well …” Tweed attempted to frame an explanation in a way that Feedback would understand. “You're always playing those zombie-smasher games, right?”

“Right,” Feedback said warily.

“Well, if a real zombie apocalypse happened, you'd most likely have an advantage over regular, non-gamey people, right?”

“I guess …”

“Well, it's kind of like that with us. We know monsters because we watch monster movies.”

“They're like training videos with popcorn!” Cheryl grinned.

“Oh, man … I could
totally
go for popcorn right now!” Feedback lamented.

Wordlessly, Tweed fished a chocolate-chip granola bar out of her knapsack and handed it over to Feedback, who seemed to have come to the Hecklestone Great Sitter Challenge expecting to raid the fridge in epic sitter style.

“Thanks!” he said, and unwrapped the bar, devouring it in only a few bites. “You know, it might sound kinda selfish, but I'm glad you guys are all trapped in here, too. I mean, I'd hate to be in here all by myself.”

“I wonder if Cindy and Hazel are saying that very same thing right now,” Tweed mused, wondering that the rival duo had yet to really put in an appearance.

Cheryl slapped the index card against her palm, lost in thought. “So …” she said. “Ectoplasm, huh?”

“Yessiree,” Simon said.

“Which is …
what
again, exactly?” Pilot asked.

“Hard to describe,” Simon said. “It's sort of a weird sticky residue they used to find at seances or in haunted houses. Evidence of the spirit realm left behind from close encounters with the astral plane.”

“You know,” Cheryl said, “ghost goop.”

“Spectral slime,” Tweed elaborated.

Artie grimaced. “Yuck.”

“Like … uh …
that
stuff?” Feedback pointed to the corner of the room, where a creeping grey film of gelatinous goop was starting to drip menacingly from the ceiling.

 

10
THE
LEAGUE
OF
AWESOME

‘‘P
lease tell me this is just one of the sitter challenges,” Feedback said, backing away, wide-eyed, from the creeping ooze. “This place really isn't haunted. And that's not ecto-goop. It's just … Jell-O, right? Harmless, right?”

“Eeww …” Cheryl shuddered as a thick glop of ectoplasm hit the black-and-white carpet with a noise like a giant slug belching. The carpet began to sizzle and tendrils of vaporous smoke began to rise like fog. The stench was overwhelming—like rotten eggs and burnt rubber. “Challenging, yes,” she said. “Harmless … I wouldn't go that far.”

“We've gotta get outta here!” Tweed exclaimed.

“Look!” Artie pointed at the bookshelves behind them, which had been empty only moments earlier, but were now filled floor to ceiling with heavy, leather-bound
books, bronze ornaments and scientific oddments. Where the little round table had been bare before except for a cloth covering it, there now sat a large, gleaming crystal ball on an elaborately decorative brass base.

“Holy moly,” Cheryl said, pointing to the glassy globe. “The old Heckster must have held a whole buncha seances in here. This room is probably crawling with spectral whammitude …”

“How are we going to get out of here?” Artie asked nervously.

“We'll have to work as a team!” Pilot said.

“I can't do that!” Feedback yelped. He'd gone very pale and was starting to shift nervously from foot to foot. “I'm a loner! I hate multi-player games!”

Cheryl and Tweed exchanged a glance with Pilot. They were going to have to figure out a way to keep Feedback from a complete meltdown.

“I got it! Grab our gear and follow my lead, guys …” Cheryl whispered. Then she turned to Feedback and said, “D'you like superheroes, Feedback?”

“Of course I do,” he said, almost climbing one of the suddenly stocked bookshelves in his anxiousness. “What self-respecting nerd doesn't like superheroes?”

“Well … Batman's kind of a loner,” Cheryl said, “and so's Superman, but they still get together with the Justice League sometimes, right?”

“I'm not a superhero.”

“Not yet.”

As the dripping ooze crept ever closer, Cheryl and Tweed explained the concept of ACTION!! to Feedback. Cheryl figured if they could take Feedback's mind off the realities of their present predicament, then maybe they could all work together to
solve
their present predicament.

“You got it?” Artie asked when the brief briefing wrapped up. He'd been a participant—willing and unwilling—in the twins' bouts of ACTION!! for years and knew the drill. So did Pilot.

“I think so …” Feedback swallowed nervously.

“All right then.” Cheryl nodded decisively. “Cameras rolling … aaaaand …”

 

“... ACTION!!”

EXT. THE ORBITING HEADQUARTERS OF THE LEAGUE OF AWESOME. Start of a classic “SUPERHERO TEAM ROLL-CALL SEQUENCE.”

MUSIC BEGINS A SLOW BUILD. CAMERA CLOSE-UP on a HAND CLENCHING A MONKEY WRENCH FADING INTO VIEW (SFX: SPARKLY ATOM-TRANSPORTER EFFECT), ONE FINGER BEARS THE LoA INSIGNIA RING. AN IMPRESSIVE VOICE-OVER (I.V.O) VOICE IS HEARD.

CLOSE-UP shot as HANDSOME YOUNG MECHANIC turns to CAMERA and offers a grin, wink and thumbs-up ...

LIGHTNING FLASHES, revealing FLYBOY! In awesome winged costume and mask, brandishing a GLOWING WRENCH.

ATOM-TRANSPORTER SPARKLE is activated again ... revealing a hand, holding a SMARTPHONE with a screen showing detailed techno-schematics, wearing the LoA insignia ring.

CLOSE-UP shot of HIP, FUNKY YOUNG DIGITAL ENTREPRENEUR, thumbs a-blur, tapping away on the screen of his device. He makes a FIST, presses his LoA RING to the screen, and GREEN ENERGY CRACKLES UP HIS ARM! ...

DIGI-ARMOUR encases his lanky frame, FLESH AND TECH BLENDING TOGETHER INTO ONE AWESOME CYBERNETIC SUPER-DUDE.

CAMERA CUTS TO CLOSE-UP of his glowy-eyed helmet, which almost seems to wink.

ATOM-TRANSPORTER SPARKLE is activated again ... revealing the girlish, freckled knuckles of a hand, clenched in a fist, wearing the LoA insignia ring.

CLOSE-UP shot of PRETTY, PERKY, FRECKLED YOUNG LASS, TEETH BARED IN A SCARY GRIMACE.

ATOM-TRANSPORTER SPARKLE is activated yet again ... revealing a pale hand with a black lacquered manicure, fingers splayed, wearing the LoA insignia ring.