The Other Normals (29 page)

“Jesus.”

“Not gonna help you now.” Ryu takes Tiny’s knife and throws it at me, but he doesn’t throw it like a dart the way the Silver Eel did. He tosses it professionally, in a tight spin, and it makes a few complete circles before burying itself in my shoulder.

“Aaaaagh!”

I stagger back. I look at the knife sticking out of me. It looks wrong—not just painful,
logically incorrect
. Hot blood spreads into my shirt. It burns more than it hurts.

I pull the knife out.
Now
it hurts. I double over, holding the blade. “You made one … mistake … ,” I say. “Now I’ve got a knife.”

“So do I.” Ryu picks up the one that Sam knocked out of his hand.

“Stop!”

Anna runs out in front of the dining hall. She has her knitting needles in one hand and her mittens in the other. She really must love those mittens.

“Ryu! Perry! What are you doing? You have
knives
? This is
camp
!”

“Quiet, woman, this doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m getting the counselors. I’m calling the
cops
!”

“With what phone?”

Anna holds her hands up like a crossing guard, mittens facing Ryu, needles facing me. “Put the knives
down
.”

“You really should go,” Sam says from the side, holding his head. “You don’t want to get hurt.”

“You’re sweet,” Anna says, “but I’m sure these two will—”

“Duck!”

Ryu throws his knife at me.

Anna crouches to avoid it. The knife spins; I watch, detached. It’s coming right at my face. Sam picked this knife up from Dale’s cabin; prior to that it belonged to some camper who had it confiscated. Prior to that it was purchased at a hobby or hunting shop; prior to that it was shipped from the manufacturer; prior to that it was made, probably in China. Now, after everything it’s been through, after everything
I’ve
been through, it’s going to end my life. I have a perfect view as it pirouettes toward my head—it looks one-dimensional, a point in space. I shut my eyes—

“Yoink!”

Mortin Enaw stands in front of me, knife wrapped in the
tip of his tail. Wearing sweatpants.

“You broke my lighter
and
you didn’t leave me any clothes?” He grins, and then Ada Ember steps forward, wearing corduroys and a T-shirt that I passed over in the Lost and Found.

The White Lotus Crew is thus forced to reevaluate its idea of reality.

“WHAT THE—” TINY SAYS. HE’S STILL ON the ground, but suddenly he isn’t so hurt.

“Who are—” the Silver Eel starts. He abandons his knife search and looks left and right as if ninjas are about to attack him.

“Get them!” Ryu yells. His henchmen stay put.

“Excuse me,” Ada says, grabbing the knitting needles out of Anna’s hand. Anna stays crouched on the ground, shielding her eyes as if from an explosion, saying, “This isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real.” Ada bounds away from her, tackles Ryu, and jabs the needles into his neck. He screams—

“No!” I yell. “Don’t kill him!”

And then I see that she didn’t stab his neck; she stabbed the ground
next to
his neck, the metal spikes so close they pinch his skin. The needles stick up like bolts in Frankenstein’s monster. Ada pins Ryu’s arms and puts her knee on his chest.

“Good to see you again, Ryu.”

“Who are you, you crazy bitch? How does he have a tail—”

“Shut up!” Sam says. “Don’t let him move!” He kicks Ryu in the side. “That’s for breaking my glasses!” He pushes his
glasses up his nose; one of the lenses is spiderwebbed. “And
that’s
for messing with my friend!” He turns. “Hello. You must be Ada Ember. And you’re Mortin Enaw. I’m Sam Josephs.”

“You
told
people about us?” Mortin shakes his head. “Never mind.” He rips the pocket out of his sweatpants and presses it against my shoulder wound. “We got big problems.”

“You’re right you got big problems!” Ryu shouts. “You’re all—
mmm!
”

Ada covers his mouth. “Anna, do you mind passing me those mittens you’ve been working on?”

Anna peeks through her hands. “Who are you?”

“Just hand them over, dear.”

Anna complies. Ada ties the mittens around Ryu’s mouth. “Perfect.”

“Mmm! Mmm guh kuh uhh, Puhh!”

I don’t say anything. I figure I’ll let him have the last word.

“Are you … monsters?” Anna asks. “How do you know my name?”

“You need to go back around the lake and stay there, okay?” Mortin says. “Don’t tell anyone what happened here.”

“Are you demons?”

“We’re other normals. And we’re just as scared as you.”

“Of what?”

“Yeah, Mortin, of what?” I tap my shoulder. The lining of the pocket makes a decent bandage. Everything seems over to me. Blood adheres to my skin. I make a fist; that’s the first thing I test. I can do it. I’ll be okay.

“Things took a turn for the worse back home,” Mortin explains.

A groaning crack comes from the woods behind us. Then a crash.

“Mortin, what is that?”

“An old friend, a new enemy, and someone I didn’t think would fit through a thakerak.”

A tree trunk moans as it falls and splinters fifty feet away. Whatever it is, it’s coming closer. I hear a sharp, evil
hsssssssss
that ends with a rapid
clickclickclick
, like a combination snake-cockroach. Then the smell hits me. I’ve never smelled rotting flesh, but I know in my gut that this is what it smells like: huge, dead,
slick
, wafting out of the trees in a sweet wave.

“
Ophisa?
” I ask. “You brought Ophisa to my
summer camp
?”

“Not just him. How’s your shoulder feel? You have a full range of motion?”

“Mortin!
What did you do?
”

Tiny slowly raises his arm and points, mumbling incoherent interrogatives. Ryu stops yelling into his mittens, goes quiet, and stares. The Silver Eel streaks away toward the road.

“I’m sorry,” Mortin says.

From out of the woods, a gigantic praying mantis claw jabs into the earth. It rears up—it has a barbed tip, like a scorpion tail—and plunges down again as a second claw steps forward. It takes me a moment to realize that these are
legs
, and they’re connected to a huge, segmented
body
, armored like a bug’s or rhinoceros’s, and the body is connected to a slender reptilian
neck
, with scales that shine in the moonlight, and on top of the neck, as tall as the trees, is a nest of fangs and eyes that form a nightmare
face.

That’s not all. Two creatures sit on Ophisa like they’re riding a dinosaur. The first I’m not surprised to see: Officer Tendrile. His tentacles wrap around the monster’s reptile neck. Behind him, though, is someone unexpected.

I recognize her immediately. Ada’s silver figure was a perfect likeness. She has long straight hair and shining eyes and bounteous beautiful breasts. The princess. She looks royal and regal, right down to her waist—but then it all goes wrong. Where the figure ended in jagged metal, she has tentacles just like Officer Tendrile’s, wound around Ophisa.

“OH, THIS IS VERY BAD,” I MUMBLE. OPHISA steps forward. Ooze drips from his eyes onto his fangs. His sixth leg cantilevers into the parking lot as a small tree crashes in front of Tiny. Tiny hustles away faster than I thought he could move. Ophisa stares at me and hisses, “
Mini Pecker!
”

“H-how do you—?”

His eyes twitch. Inside each is a bulbous black pupil.
“I know all your sssecrets, boymeat.”

“That’s right!” Officer Tendrile says. “There’s your boymeat, for the taking! The one who caused all this trouble.”

“Princess!” I call. “Why are you doing this?”

She stares straight ahead like she doesn’t hear. Ophisa scans Mortin and Ada.
“You who helped will die ssslow … inssside me.”

Anna bolts. Ophisa swings his tail at her, crowned with bony spikes. He’s about to decapitate her, but the princess orders, “
No!
” and he stops. Anna reaches the road and flees to safety.

“Good boy. We don’t hurt her,” the princess says, patting his neck. Ophisa purrs, a horrible leaking sound.

Ada pulls the knitting needles away from Ryu, who wastes no time running under the dining hall. Ophisa pulls back the
flaps of his facial muscles and spits at me. I dive out of the way. The spittle hits the ground, bringing up foul-smelling steam.

“Into the dining hall!” Mortin yells. Ophisa whips his head around and stomps forward as Mortin, Ada, Sam, and I run under the banner—
WELCOME TO CAMP WASHISKA LAKE!

“SAM, DID YOU PICK THE LOCK?”

“It didn’t work!” He smashes the door with a rock. Ada turns around and throws one of the knitting needles at Ophisa’s face. It lands in the dark flesh around his fangs—and then the eyeballs above it secrete a mucus that drips down and sizzles the needle out of existence.

“You can’t stop us!” Officer Tendrile yells. “If you give up now, I’ll kill you myself, and quickly!”

“Screw you!” I call back. We hop gingerly through the shattered glass. Seeing the damage makes me think of practicalities: at some point
counselors
are going to appear, and they’re going to want to know what the hell is going on.

Inside, the dining hall is put away for the night. The chairs are stacked and the floor is squeaky clean. We dash under a table, all talking at once.

“What is that thing—”

“The princess is a
celate
?”

“Do we have any weapons—”

“The knives are outside—”

“Shut up!” Mortin says. “Maybe we’re safe here. I don’t think he can get in.”

“No, but I can.”

Officer Tendrile walks through the broken door. Behind him, Ophisa’s shadow lies over the porch and parking lot. He must be twenty feet tall with his neck stretched up. I don’t see the princess; maybe she’s enjoying the show.

“You have caused me entirely too much trouble, Mr. Eckert.” Tendrile approaches calmly. “If the rest of you would like to leave the boy to me, you’ll find I reward you quite handsomely.”

“You talk a big game for a guy with no sword,” I say.

“I don’t need a sword to kill a little boy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Little boys I can kill with my tentacles. Care to try?” He wiggles them playfully.

I rush him from under the table.

“PERRY, NO!”

But I’m already doing it, and for the full effect I’m yelling,
“Dieeeeee!”
I am going to tackle Officer Tendrile like a football player and beat him with my fists; that’s as foresighted as my plan gets. I can’t help it. After everything I’ve done—everything I’ve done to
him—
he doesn’t have the decency to refer to me as a
guy
, or a
man
, or an
adversary
, instead of a
boy
? All the same emotions that made me take down my pants in front of Anna stream through me, but now they are a guided missile of violence and hate, and besides, I can’t stand his stupid mustache—

He whips a tentacle at me. It wraps around my head and slips into my mouth. I
mmmmph
against it as it slides past my tongue like the worst kiss in the world. It presses into my throat. My neck puffs up. The tongue enters my esophagus. Oh
no.
More tentacles surround me, grabbing my arms and legs. What was I thinking? I look up. Officer Tendrile is much taller than me, and he’s smiling, satisfied. I feel his suckers bite into my gullet, cutting me from the inside out—and the
taste
, the taste is—

You know what, the taste isn’t that bad.

I chomp down as hard as I can. His tentacle is already halfway down my throat, so the part my teeth bite into is meaty and resistant and coiled, but once I break his slimy flesh and dig in, it tears into strings under my incisors. He screams and his other tentacles twitch, allowing me to pull my hands free so I can hold the one in my mouth and
really
give it a good bite, feeling my teeth hit my teeth, and then I pull the wriggling thing out of my throat and slap him with it. It’s a foot long and alive and moving and covered with my blood and his blood, and I whip him in his stupid face with it.

“Leave me
alone
!”

His severed tentacle bleeds dark red on the dining-hall floor. His other tentacles seethe against one another like they’re getting mixed signals from his brain. I realize I’ve never seen him
hurt
before. He stares at his new stump in disbelief, and I get it: he’s a coward. He did what he did with swords and guns because he could never fight with his bare hands, or his tentacles, and he got his position of power because he needed it, because he was useless otherwise. I see all this as he turns and runs out of the dining hall, stumbling on seven legs.

“Welcome to Camp Washiska Lake, motherfucker!”