The Mirror

Chapter Fourteen (Fall, 2000)

(7k words, 30-40 min read)

Archibald Langley heard scratching outside the door and heavy sniffing. Langley jumped up, hoodie swinging around him, and sprinted from the garage into his house. He wanted to call Pretty, wanted to tell him the Dark Night was here, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be sure that the beasts were there because once he told Pretty, that would mean a lot of irreversible stuff would happen. Marshall would get the guns, Pretty would call all the Astronomers and bring them to Bushkill Avenue, and it was all such a dangerous call. So Langley ran to the kitchen and huddled to the floor. He peered out the window, not wanting the novis to sense him. He heard a crash in the garage, but he saw a novis, its mighty feet stepping around the yard after the first novis. 

They were in his house. The novis were here. The Dark Night was now.

“Archie, what was that? Was that you in the garage?” Mrs. Langley asked. She had just rose from doing a 1,000-piece Ravensburger jigsaw puzzle to see why one of her many troublesome sons just barged so barbarically into the house.

Langley’s rapid, strong pulse surged his adrenaline and he shook to his feet. He ran to the phone and pressed for Pretty’s number. He and Myles memorized it for the Emergency, but he also had it on speed dial.

Pretty picked up on the second ring. “Langley?”

“They’re here, Pretty. They’re fucking here, I saw them, one chased me, one almost got me, they’re here, fuck, man, they’re here.”

“Archibald! Don’t use language like that! And what is going on in the garage? What was that noise? Did you break something?” She walked to the garage.

Pretty was calm. “Myles told me. I’m assembling them now. Find somewhere safe, get the machete, call Myles. Did you see both?”

“Shit, I think so. They’re in my garage SHIT.” Another loud crash as Langley’s mother opened the garage door and saw two massive animals rummaging around the oily garage. “Mom, no!”

The novis sensed the movement and growled. Justice Rose Langley, mother of three, holding one two-year degree in Ceramics and high marks on the ACT and SAT before her college days, didn’t have any last words. She was too surprised, too amazed at what she saw, as the razor-like claws shredded her jaw off and then another weighty hand slammed her head against the doorframe. Her head blasted open like someone stomped on a pomegranate and sprayed all across the kitchen. The novis made their entrance, cramming themselves into the kitchen as the standing corpse of Mrs. Langley was released and folded onto the floor.

Langley gripped the portable phone and vomited. He couldn’t find time to scream or react, but his mind registered the horror of the scene first. The gore, the red that splattered the kitchen.

He ran upstairs before the novis could catch him, still holding the phone. His hurried footsteps were padded by the carpeted stairs. And the phone rang in his hand. He trembled and let his thumb hit the green Call button. He spit more puke out of his mouth right onto his room’s carpet and remembered drinking vodka with the Astronomers.

“Langley, run!”

It was Myles.

“Got that part!” Langley spat again. He thought he may have to clean his spit up later. Then he thought why do I care?

Langley thought about who else was home. His dad. That was it. And he didn’t know if he was in danger as long as his dad stayed out of the way. His dad was in the office downstairs and was going to get up and see what was going on with all the noise.

“Langley, Pretty and the rest of the Astronomers are coming. Try to trick them and get away to my house,” Myles said. Langley thought the Sage might be crying or close to it.

“They aren’t gonna get here in time! We’re gonna get killed! Wait… Myles be quiet…” Langley was listening to the sound of his house. Two sets of heavy, four-legged animals were stomping around downstairs. Sniffing, inspecting. Tense. They were expert hunters, looking for and listening to where their prey might be. The smell of blood was prominent, marring Langley’s own scent.

“I’m coming, Langley,” Myles said and hung up.

“Archie, what the hell was that?” Langley’s dad, Mr. Langley was yelling through the house. He hadn’t left the office.

Langley pulled some rationality back to his mind. He needed to get his backpack. And the walkie. He didn’t have the walkie in the backpack. It was on the floor, but he knew where. His forehead was sweaty and as he stood, a drop fell off of it. He walked slowly toward the walkie and picked it up. He clipped it to his pants and then walked slowly to his closet.

There was a sound like thum and then little clicky sounds. That must have been the footstep and the claws on the wooden staircase that led upstairs. Langley looked at his bedroom door that he left cracked open. He didn’t want to risk the sound of it clicking shut.

His breathing happened as it pleased: in heaving breaths. He sucked air into his lungs, his whole body being crippled and shaken with fear. Big Bad Langley, the strongest and boldest member of the Astronomy Club, absolutely fucking terrified.

He picked up his backpack without a sound and slid one arm into one of the straps. Maybe the next arm would make too much noise if he tried to put it on.

Thum clickety. Went the footsteps again. Thumclickety. Thumclick. Thumclick thumclikthumclik. The steps of a huge, hungry dog. Irrational, unreasonable, acting out of instinct. Growing faster with each step.

Langley peed himself. He couldn’t stand the pressure. He’d begun to sweat. They would be perfectly able to boot his door open, catch him and bite him to shreds. Take that little organ in his body. He’d probably be alive to see it too.

“Archie.” His dad’s voice was closer now and frantic, but then he said no more.

His dad had seen what had made the mess.

His wife’s blood was rolling slowly out of her flattened head and over the kitchen floor. He didn’t look at the novis who were preoccupied with the fraise that they smelled. The older man didn’t have any fraise now. No imagination. Which was why he likely didn’t acknowledge the huge monsters climbing the staircase in his house.

‘Pretty’ Beau Lewis was throwing darts at his magnetic dartboard. He was not good at throwing darts, but he had just been fighting with his younger sisters because they were being loud. And whenever he fought with them, he felt bad. But he didn’t have the… (Courage? Strength? Ability? Humility?) to apologize. So he just stewed in his room throwing darts.

While he threw darts and one bounced to the floor, his walkie crackled on. He’d left it on channel six so everyone could reach him and he left it switched on. He’d replaced the batteries when Marshall had gifted them to the Astronomy Club.

“Pretty! Over!” Myles was speaking. All of the Club could probably hear him. Marshall wasn’t kidding when he said their range was impressive. Then again, the town of Winton was pretty small. Marshall had also taught them official walkie-talkie etiquette, saying ‘over’ when you were done speaking and letting go of the ‘talk’ button and ‘over and out’ when you were done with the call. And even some of the numbered meanings that cops use. Apparently the numbers and their meanings change depending on where you were, but that didn’t matter because Pretty had forgotten all of the numbers anyway.

“Pretty! Over!” Myles said again.

Pretty pulled his walkie out of his backpack. His bag was ready to go. When Myles had called first, Pretty knew the Dark Night was now. And it seemed impossible. Like it wasn’t really happening. It now seemed like it wasn’t real, like it never could really happen.

He picked up his walkie. “Leader speaking, over.”

“Pretty, the novis are here. They’re breaking into Langley’s house, now get the rest of the Astronomers together and get to Bushkill Avenue now. We have to move now. They only need to get us and that’s it. Now let’s go. Over and out.”

“Copy. Over and out.” Pretty said.

Myles switched off his Kenwood and placed it into his backpack. He looked out his bedroom window into the darkness down Bushkill Avenue. Probably the last time he’d see it from this window. He realized that it was okay. He knew they were all going to be safe, but he needed to act. Actually… he knew he’d be safe. He didn’t know if his friends were going to be okay and began to worry as strongly as possible.

Myles wasn’t scared for himself anymore. He was scared for his friends. What if they got killed and he lived? “No.” That wasn’t going to happen and he was going to ensure it. He was going to do something about it.

The novis had just crashed into Langley’s garage. Myles heard it from his room and looked out the window.

The Sage ran to his backpack and shouldered it. All that was precious to him that he wanted to take was there. He touched the nylon tag with the balloon on it. He needed to help his fellow Astronomer down the street. So he ran and grabbed the wireless phone and scrolled through the list of recent calls to Langley’s number.

It only rang once before it was answered. Myles knew Langley needed to move because he was in danger. He just knew. “Langley, run!” He screamed.

“Got that part!” The Bug screamed back and after a pause, seemed to realize: “They killed my mom! They fucking killed my mom and they’re in my house!”

Myles’s shoulder shook as he comprehended the thought of losing Langley. What if the novis had got him? “Langley, Pretty and the rest of the Astronomers are coming. Try to trick the novis and get away to my house.” But as he said it, Myles knew it was unlikely that would happen. But he’d prepared for that as he ran to his garage and unzipped a duffel bag.

The Sage could hear the Bug’s breathing. “They aren’t gonna get here in time! We’re gonna get killed one by one! Wait… Myles be quiet…”

Myles was looking through the duffel bag where he’d prepped the only weapons he knew of. Just in case. Maybe they’d help somehow. And now they seemed like exactly what he needed. “Langley, I’m coming,” he said before hanging up.

There were two small PVC pipes that the Astronomers used in their bottle-rocket wars. It was the best game to play around the Fourth of July when the Black Cat explosives were on sale and Myles’ dad would buy almost a thousand bottle-rockets. Then you’d take ‘em home and tuck the rocket and fuse on the lip of the PVC and light em. Then you could actually aim the rockets, but you had to watch out for sparks. You always wore clothes you didn’t mind being burned up. Myles had burned his Coca-cola shirt and after that he only wore collared shirts that he didn’t like when he battled with bottle-rockets.

And when Pretty lit part of the woods on fire, Mr. Willis made the rule that you could only battle if it rained the day before. Didn’t matter if it rained or not where he was going. He ran inside and on his way to the front door, he yanked open the cabinet above the stove and pulled out the brulee torch. This baby could light the bottle-rockets faster than any other lighter.

Then he sprinted out his door toward the Langleys’ house.

The Bug was standing in his room somehow finding the mental capacity to regret not packing a bag, his home phone in his hand. The novis’s steps had stopped since they’d reached the bottom of the staircase and now Langley stood shuddering at the slightly opened door.

“Fuck.” Langley started crying. It was the first time he’d cried since he’d met Myles and Pretty in the clearing behind his house. Those two punks had been there in his moment of colossal loneliness and then they’d started the Astronomy Club.

He heard the doorbell ring, but wasn’t collected enough to realize that it could save him. The novis were interested. They stopped and looked back down the stairs to where the bell had come from. Then three thumpthumpthump’s on the door. The novis growled, confused and annoyed at the new development.

“Sup, fuckers!” Myles banged the front door open and held out a rod of sparking fuses.

The novis smelled the fraise was strong in this boy.

The sparking fuses were coming to an end and fewwwfewfewfewfew they went off. And bottle rockets darted around the room. The novis ignored the fews and roared, jumping at Myles when the 

BANGBABABABABANG.

BANG.

The novis were blind. Their ears rang, impossible to see with sound, and the small staircase and foyer between Myles and the novis was smoked enough to blind their noses.

But they could guess where Myles was. The Sage anticipated this and let the door slam shut. The two giant beasts lunged into the door, splitting it in two, the hinges and frame coming free under the weight of them. They rolled noisily and one fall over the other, out the door, and clear off the porch. Myles had huddled to the side, knowing he had only a little time to get himself and Langley out of the house. He pattered up the carpeted steps and ran to Langley’s room. He heard Mr. Langley crying downstairs.

“Langley, let’s go!” Myles found the Bug at the door, startled and relieved and curious about the banging noises from the foyer. He knew they were bottle-rockets and when he saw Myles, he knew he was going to be okay.

They both ran down the stairs, Mr. Langley had quieted and was now probably in shock on the ground.

“We gotta get o-o-outside and back to my house.” Myles’s voice shook and his hands were trembling. The zippers rattled softly on the Sage’s backpack.

Beep, booboop. Brrrrrr. “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“My mom just got killed! And there’s blood everywhere and FUCK PLEASE COME QUICK THERE’S THIS THING. I’M ON BUSHKILL AVENUE PLEASE HELP US.” Langley hung up and dropped the phone like it burned him.

He was still crying as he said, “They killed my mom.” Myles and Langley looked out the door and there were the novis, pottering around, shaking their heads like bulls. The ringing hadn’t stopped.

“Myles…” Langley said. “We need to hide.”

Myles looked back at the novis who seemed to be regaining their sense. “We need to hide.” He agreed.

“The basement?” Langley suggested.

Myles considered it. They needed to wait for the rest of the Astronomers and if they were traveling by bike, they’d need as much time as possible. And Langley’s basement was famous for being packed with clutter, boxes, decorations, and a PVC puppet theater Mr. Langley had taken from a theater. There were many places to hide down there, and lots of things that could mask their smell. “The basement.” He agreed.

They turned away from the door and opened Langley’s basement door and ran down the unlit staircase. They switched on the light and stomped toward the unfinished concrete floor.

Officer Baker had a strange case of déjà vu when he heard the call on the police scanner. The déjà vu stemmed from him being the one showing the ropes to a new recruit. Nowadays, on the first few night patrols, he’d go over different aspects of the job with the trainee. And tonight they were instructed to go to Bushkill Avenue to check out an apparent homicide.

Baker drove. Every time he heard Bushkill Avenue (which was infrequent) he remembered that event, dulled but present. The Bushkill Massacre. Why did everyone call it that? Why did the Winton Daily need to headline with that? It was too morbid too soon.

He drove with the new officer, Officer Hank Struthers, who’d trained in New York, but was commissioned to Pennsylvania and chose Winton because of its quiet nature. Struthers was twenty-six with a degree in criminal justice and a minor in forensics. He was greater on paper than in the field; He’d never seen a dead body, but that was about to change.

The two men were on 34th Street at the moment, which was fortunate; Bushkill was close. As they drove

Myles and Langley hid in the light. They’d wrapped themselves in these old venezuelan woven mats to cover their scent. Mr. Langley traveled often for his first job across the border and occasionally brought home several things for his wife. These doormats were previously used more before they were worn down and stained by a bottle of wine. They were one of those items that was expensive enough to keep but too ruined and old to be practical. These two scratchy, stiff venezuelan doormats were what the boys had around their bodies, hoping they’d be invisible as far as smell went.

“We just gotta stay quiet. We just” Myles swallowed and realized he was hyperventilating again. His breathing was uncontrolled, but it really didn’t matter to him. He was terrified and so was Langley.

“I’m bloody terrified,” The Sage admitted quietly.

“Archie!” Mr. Langley’s hysterical voice was muffled from upstairs.

“I am too.” Langley said. He didn’t dare say anything louder than that. “I-”

Mr. Langley screamed. And Myles saw him. He actually watched, though he wasn’t in the same room, and he saw Mr. Langley attacked by the novis. It was the fraise at work again, allowing Myles a glimpse onto things that were around him but not in front of him. The fraise revealed what was happening upstairs. The Sage gave a little shriek and slapped a hand to his mouth.

Mr. Langley was mauled, the novis screamed their scream like a high-pitched bellow, like the T-rex from Jurassic Park, just like the one on the poster in Archibald Langley’s room. One huge clawed hand grabbed his head and ripped it off of his shoulders, pulling the spine out after it. Then the novis crushed his head like a tomato, the pieces of the skull cracking like an egg as shards of bone stuck through the skin.

The rest of Mr. Langley’s body was lifted off of his feet before his head detached and the second novis grabbed it in its teeth and bit into the ribcage with its oversized black teeth.

Myles fell over in the basement, shocked at what he was able to see. Langley didn’t know what was happening, didn’t realize Myles could see things that weren’t in his current vision. His frasie was working a little better now that the novis were closer. That weird energy somehow made things clear to him. The novis didn’t find any fraise inside Mr. Langley and tossed his body aside. It spapped heavily against a wall and spattered to the floor with a pla-pss. Hours later, blood would have soaked through the hardwood and dripped into the basement, right where Myles and Langley were standing at that moment.

The novis started smelling. The smoke hadn’t cleared entirely, but it was gone enough for the novis to know that Myles and Langley went downstairs.

Then Myles and Langley, still wrapped in the venezuelan doormats, trying their hardest to smell more like the surroundings, heard the novis’ footsteps. BoomclackboomclicketyboomClaclickety. BoomClacklickety, went the huge clawed hands above them. All the way to the basement door, sniffing and affirming the fraisers were down there.

The basement door opened to a wooden staircase that led to the middle of the basement. You could approach or leave the staircase from left or right once you were downstairs. It was impossible to walk down the stairs without making a horrendous racket.

Myles and Langley had already made the racket and now were just standing in the light. They had to trust that the novis couldn’t see and relied on sound and smell.

Boom. The door to the basement flew from its hinges in a small puff of sawdust and drywall as it crashed down the wooden stairs. Then came the first footstep on the staircase. The novis were taking their time; They still didn’t appreciate the bright light for some reason. Weren’t they blind? So there Langley and Myles stood, smelling like old dust. They pulled their coverings up over their noses.

The novis then crashed down the stairs much like the door and started sniffing about. They could probably sense the fraise. Myles thought about this. He started walking, breathing like a steam engine and gulping like a frog. Langley followed. Their footsteps didn’t make a sound over the rough, loud steps and novis’ breathing. The two Astronomers were trapped, the novis sniffing around the floor, following the boys’ footsteps.

Then one faced (looked?) right at Myles.

Myles and Langley, who hadn’t taken their eyes off the novis aside from to see where they were going, stopped and had to let their eyes fill with terror. The novis started shuffling through the boxes around them and shoving things aside, bushwhacking the cardboard boxes.

The Astronomers moved away and around the staircase that emptied into the middle of the basement. If the novis would leave one side of the staircase open, the Astronomers could take that opportunity to leave.

The creatures looked away and both started grazing around the basement again with loud shuffling and rummaging of boxes. They moved away from the staircase.

Myles and Langley moved toward the stairs as the novis’ dense bodies crushed anything in their path. They filled the basement seeming much bigger indoors.

Myles picked up a glass bottle that was inside a box. This was an original Coca-Cola bottle, worth about two-hundred dollars, from the third factory to ever make Coca-Cola. But Myles threw it at a far wall anyway and it shattered with a

POPINGtingitngitngngngngi. The glass sprinkled daintily and quickly to the floor.

That was when the novis pounced in that direction away from the boys and Myles and Langley threw their strange blankets off to sprint loudly up the stairs.

The novis rummaged the boxes for a few seconds, but then heard the foreign movement over their own of the boys running up the stairs.

With shrieks of rage and ravenous hunger, the novis turned toward the staircase and scrambled horribly after the Astronomers.

Officers Baker and Struthers pulled up to Bushkill Avenue and didn’t see anything strange. Then they saw the running kids in the rearview after they made it to the cul-de-sac where the Willis’ lived.

What on earth? Baker pulled the car around and drove toward the kids who were running at the cul-de-sac.

Headlights rolled into view on the far end of Bushkill Avenue. The light swerved onto the scene like a lighthouse and emphasized the action. This new development clearly showed the two boys, one with a backpack jostling with every step, wearing jackets in the summer, and then the predators’ rippling muscles as they closed in on them.

Myles and Langley’s terrified faces appeared in Baker’s own headlights. The squad car stopped and Baker stepped out. As he stood, he saw them.

The beasts from hell, silhouetted against the new car’s lights. Deadly beyond any creature outside of a cage, stronger than a troupe of gorillas, armed with teeth and claws. The novis were charging a couple of boys.

“…They’re real,” Baker whispered.

“Holy shit!” Struthers had pulled himself out of the car to look at the scene.

“HELP US!” Myles screamed. “HEEELLP!”

Officer Baker drew his gun.

The headlights that had appeared seconds before were attached to a black 1978 Mustang. This car belonged to old Oliver Mayer. But it was Oliver’s son behind the wheel; it was the Pilot of the Astronomy Club, Blink Mayer, that had turned the corner onto Bushkill Street and shot light down the street onto the boys-and-monsters scene. He floored the gas pedal and shifted expertly from second to third, fourth, then fifth gear. They were barreling at forty, forty-eight, fifty-six, sixty, sixtyeight seventytwoseventyseven

WHAM. The windshield flashed like it had trapped a bolt of lightning as it cracked down the middle.

One of the novis’ two left legs cracked as the car slammed into the monster and spun ninety degrees, lifting up on the two left wheels and the four Astronomers inside screamed.

All of the occupants were buckled and just had very sore left shoulders, or waists if they were sitting in the back. “Thirty to eighty in ten seconds is pretty good,” Blink said shakily as he unbuckled. Pretty, sitting in the passenger seat, Ruger .22 in his hand (finger off the trigger), only unbuckled. He looked over his shoulder at Mariah and Marshall, still shocked and processing what just happened.

“They’re in shock!” Blink shouted to the Leader, opening Marshall’s door. “My dad used to ride in the demolition derbys. He saw a lot of first-timers freeze-up like this and told me about them. Get Mariah out! We gotta move!”

When the car had hit the novis, the two Officers of the Law focused. They aimed their guns at the uninjured beast.

BAM.

BAMBAM. BAM. BAM.

The handguns sounded. Once the first shots were fired, the officers let the following bullets fly. But the novis didn’t seem harmed, only annoyed. And why not? Why did they think handguns could kill this thing?

Baker continued firing his standard-issue Glock 34 and yelled at Struthers: “GET THE SHOTGUN. TRUNK. PELLETS ONLY.”

Myles and Langley had ducked to the side of the road once the headlights had appeared, perhaps out of instinct. They’d always done that before when they played in the street. Langley was vaguely aware of the wet spot on his pants growing cold.

Two of the four Astronomers exited Oliver Mayer’s car.

Marshall and Pretty each had their handguns, but Pretty was the one who wasn’t in shock. The Astronomy Club’s Leader had folded his seat and was unbuckling and hustling Mariah out of the passenger door. Unfortunately, the mustang only had two doors which made the extraction far more difficult.

Pretty was careful with his gun as he moved the Clairvoyant and Marshall, the Guru, from the back. The Guru already had the Glock 45 (just a tad smaller than the 34 that his dad was currently holding) and Pretty was holding the Ruger. Didn’t matter who had what; They were guns either way, right? Mariah and Blink jumped out of the way and followed the Sage and the Bug.

Pretty and Marshall saw that the police had engaged the novis.

“Dad?” Marshall looked at the mustached man fighting the novis.

The novis snarled and leapt at Officer Baker and pinned him against the car. Broke his neck on the frame and clawed at his head. One swipe and he was decapitated.

“NOOOO!” Marshall screamed as he snapped back to reality and raised his gun. BAM BAM.

“We gotta run! Marshall, come on!”

Struthers, who had never seen anyone die, never seen a dead body before, never even attended a funeral, stood open-mouthed. There was no mental preparation for that kind of gore, but he didn’t puke, he just stood watching it happen. The novis pasted Officer Baker into the car and ripped him into bloody pieces. Other police sirens were screaming in the distance just down the hill from Bushkill.

The other novis was groaning on the ground, dazed with two broken legs.

When Struthers heard one of the kids who had come from the car scream “Noooo!”, he remembered he was here to protect these kids. He didn’t know why they were out at this time of night, but it was up to him to keep the public safe. And even if he didn’t do his job, he had a feeling he was going to die anyway.

He had the shotgun (the standard Remington 870, though in training in New York, Struthers was fastest at loading the Weatherbys) loaded with the slugs, but Baker called them ‘pellets’, and cocked it once.

Aimed.

BOOM.

The blast hit the novis in the shoulder. It screeched, but Struthers’s ears were ringing too loudly from the shotgun’s report. He looked at the kids who had frozen to watch. 

“Get the FUCK OUT OF HERE,” he shouted (or thought he shouted; he couldn’t hear a damn thing) as he reloaded and

Aimed.

BOOM. Went the gun again, this time, he saw some blood spurt from the novis’ skin when he hit it in the shoulder. Wounded. Then the novis mauled Hank Struthers. Sprang and bit his face off which showed a clean slice of head, brains all the way to the soft limbic system.

The six Astronomers rounded Myles’ house, the exact route they’d taken after the initiation. The forest was chirping at this time of summer and the air was even more humid in the woods. The entire worth of the woods was thick and filled with struggle; the darkness was where an entire different world lay. The darkness between the trees. The brush, ferns, saplings, and grass, shifted with the breeze as the kids hustled into the unknown. It was frightening and unfamiliar at first. There was the Observatory on their right. They scurried past it, eyes wide, blood surging, panic all-encompassing. The Observatory, standing faithfully and bravely out in the clearing. And now it was behind them.

“Guh,” Langley said as he gasped for air. “What just happened?” Langley was running in front, with Marshall who was still holding a gun, finger off of the trigger.

“Mariah; she called me and Blink,” Marshall yelled. “Blink stole his dad’s car and drove to Mariah’s house and then picked me up and then we picked up Pretty right after you called. She had a bad feeling and we trusted her. I don’t know what you want to call it, but then we headed straight to Bushkill!” The Guru had kept the explanation short. He didn’t want to waste breath and he was having trouble thinking about more of the details since he was fleeing for his life. His backpack was growing heavier with every stomp on the uneven and dark forest floor.

Dead leaves chattered underfoot like tissue paper.

“Oh, fuuuuuckkkk me. Fuck, fuck…. Fuck,” Blink was saying in his panic right behind them with a duffel-bag jouncing in one arm. Mariah and Pretty brought up the rear, backpacks jumping up and down with each step. Myles knew Pretty wasn’t with her because he liked her, he was with her because he was a good Leader and ensured nobody fell behind.

Myles looked at Blink. “You stole your dad’s car?” He found himself shouting against the wind, the movement, the cicadas, and the leaves’ crunch.

Blink straightened his glasses with his free hand. “What’d you think I was driving?”

Myles looked forward again, huffing breaths of air, terrified for his life once again, knowing the novis was chasing them. “Fucking awesome.” Huff went his breath. “You just rammed a novis.”

The watery, purpled nighttime around them was interrupted by a different set of footfalls and a muttery breath. The one novis with its legs intact desperately hungry, but it was wounded by the Winton Police Force’s slugs.

All of the Astronomers heard it and Langley and Marshall started running even faster.

“RUN,” Pretty said with an eclectic tone of fear, begging, and hopelessness.

Blink and Myles quickened their dead sprint for survival; Myles could feel his back burning up from the friction of the backpack rubbing against him like sandpaper. They had their lives to lose, but the novis was only about to lose a meal.

There was another shriek. The second novis hadn’t given up and was dragging itself along somewhere far off.

The Leader dared to look behind him and only saw one hobbling, desperate shadow darker than the forest, giving chase. Huff. “I don’t know where that other one is, but they’re both after us now!” Huff. “Langley! Take Blink’s bag so he can run faster!”

“FUCK!” Langley shouted, and partially stopped. He grabbed Blink’s duffel bag as the distance between them closed. “FUCKIN’ RUN, MAN. GO, GO, GO!” The Bug slapped the surprised Pilot’s back. Big Bag Langley didn’t have his backpack and could keep up with extra weight.

Thumpathumpthumpthumpthumthumpthumthump

The dense creatures were gaining on them through the woods.

“We can make it!” Pretty screamed. And as he said that, Langley and Blink, who were several dozen yards ahead of them, saw the House; out of time, and hellishly out-of-place. Used to travel and transport the novis. And in this vacant shell of a mansion was the Astronomy Club’s only escape.

A growl of frustration was heard only a few yards behind them. Pretty didn’t stop as his nerve broke and he twisted around. 

He grabbed the gun with both hands. “MotherFUCKERS,” The Leader addressed them.

BAM BAM. Mariah screamed at the sudden sound.

After the shots, a muffled howl from the novis, more from surprise. The woods quieted after the shots as the ringing in their ears drowned out other noise.

All six Astronomers legs, shocked with adrenaline, flew them straight up the dead, creaking wooden porch steps. They barged into the darkness and collectively heaved breaths of amazement at how far they’d come.

Pretty and Marshall, holding guns, looked out the door back into the woods. The last novis slowly emerged at the edge of the clearing, stomping angrily toward them still, its partner somewhere still in the woods.

The Astronomers started collectively screaming at the Leader, “HOLY FUCK,” “OH, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT,” “KILL IT! KILL IT!” as the novis crawled toward them.

Pretty and Marshall raised their guns and fired again. Marshall’s bullet hit the bony head. The novis slowed partly and started circling the House. The other monster must have been far behind.

Pretty slammed the front door closed and the old smell covered them. It also smelled like the Bronx Zoo, probably because of the animals living here.

“Find the mirror! Marshall and I’ll slow them down!” Pretty spoke to Myles.

Myles and Langley scrambled to the hall. “The mirror’s in the basement! Find the basement!”

Marshall and Pretty, holding their guns, started watching the windows, trying to find where the novis would attack. Mariah was the least scared of them all, but still quite shaken. She’d seen these things before. Now she was helping look for the basement as well.

It was hard to see. The moonlight was absent. Langley pulled a flashlight from the side pocket of his backpack and aimed it down a hall.

There was a body, old and soggy. The ribs were what gave it away because there was no head. Dead for a sickening amount of years, the corpse of Quinton Pallel lay in the hall, decapitated in ‘78 during the Bushkill Massacre by the same novis prowling the House at that moment. His back was torn open where the novis had ripped out his own fraise.

“Oh, fuck.” Langley aimed the flashlight away. “Jeez. Fucking…”

Now everyone was quiet. Listening to the house. To the woods. To see where the noise would happen next. To hear what would happen next. Pretty and Marshall looked over to where Langley’s flashlight was shining.

Blink took the duffel bag from Langley’s white-knuckled grasp.

The Leader and the Guru, both holding guns, looked out the window again. “Where’d the fucker go?”

Langley and Mariah were standing together now. She put an arm around his waist, terrified. She didn’t care if it was some move that said something, she wasn’t trying to say anything, she was in shock. And Myles, from the fraise, knew it too. He put a comforting arm around her waist and protected her. Langley put his arm around her shoulders. She was surrounded and protected by her friends.

Over the ringing in everyone’s ears and the tense moment, it was Blink who heard the whispers.

“Guys!” He whispered to them. “Listen.”

They all tried listening. Maybe it was because Blink knew how to listen to the silence. All of those hours of fishing maybe?

“Talking.” The Pilot, ‘Blink’ Mayer, pointed to a door in the hallway with his free left hand.

It was a door closer to Myles. He could reach it from here. He opened it. And it was a closet. He looked around. Nothing but a fallen toy soldier on its side and a rock, as red as rust, about the size of his head.

“No, I think it’s one more down,” Blink said as he put the duffel’s strap on his shoulder.

Myles released Mariah and opened the door.

And there was the darkness. The deep, thick darkness unlike the woods or the House. This was like molasses.

Myles sucked in a breath. “The Mirror’s down there.”

“Pretty!”

CRASH. SHRIIIIIIEEEEEEK.

“Pretty, MARSHALL, WE FOUND THE BASEMENT!” Langley screamed and let go of Mariah. He grabbed her shoulders and hurried her to the entrance. He placed the flashlight in her hands. “Go down!”

She was the second one down, right after Myles, who stomped down and didn’t expect the last step. He almost fell to his knees, but caught himself. Blink and Langley followed.

They heard the heavy footsteps, like an aggressive car was walking around upstairs.

The sixth Astronomer, Pretty, was the last into the doorway and closed the door behind them. He stepped quickly and carefully down the steps. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

Langley’s flashlight darted around. “Uh,” The Pilot said. 

“Where the fuck is it?” Myles was frenzied. He didn’t see the mirror and the novis was making too much noise to hear the whispers anymore. There were just old furnishings down here, strange chairs and tables all covered in sheets.

Mariah pointed. “There!”

There was a reflection that batted the light from the flashlight back into their faces like a miniature Sun. “Quick, get the sheet off!” The six Astronomers rushed forward and took the sheet off of the Mirror. A rush of whispers launched back at them.

More like normal voices that were minding their own business. The Mirror was just listening in. Not loud, but audible.

“We gotta put it on the floor facing up!” Myles and Mariah said in unison again. Langley and Pretty grabbed the corners of it. “Careful!”

“No kidding, dipshit!” Pretty laughed as he tucked his firearm behind his belt.

Marshall and Blink ran to his aid while Myles took the flashlight and shone it so they could see it. He found himself laughing as well.

“Put it down right over there so we can all jump into it at the same time!” Mariah instructed.

“This is insane!” Marshall informed the room as he also put his gun behind his back and into his pants. It weighed them down significantly.

And then the novis smashed the basement door open with a final RAAOAOAOAOAOAA.

The Mirror was placed on the floor, glass side up. It was gigantic: bigger than the dance floor in Dance, Dance Revolution at Boomerang arcade.

“Grab hands!” Myles said.

The Mirror lay on the ground, one flashlight in Myles hands aimed at it. The glare was right in Marshall’s face who stood across the mirror to Myles. Langley could see Pretty and Blink in the Mirror on the far side. They looked terrified but confident. Ready. Pretty could see Langley and Mariah across from him. And though they only knew each other for a few days, she already looked like a good friend in the silvery, dirty glass. The Leader was glad he was with this group of people and nobody else.

Myles grabbed Langley’s hand who took Mariah’s who took Marshall’s. Pretty grabbed Blink’s hand who grabbed Myles’s hand and completed the circle. 

“We gotta jump into it!”

“Fuck it, right?” Blink said.

“On three! One, two, THREE,”

The Astronomers jumped as the novis battered its way downstairs as the Astronomers shattered through the Mirror and for about one second saw nothing even with their eyes wide open, but they could still feel their hands clutching each other.

Then Myles felt a pull on his shoulders and knew his backpack had caught the ledge of the Mirror before coming through. His hand slipped slightly, so he tightened his grips as he tumbled

into weightlessness. He was still gripping his friends’ hands, but now they were in a… translucent tunnel. Some kind of pathway. He could see through the walls and there were other tunnels, like a root system. The tunnel was leading or pushing them somewhere which was when he realized they were all being moved without doing anything. He could still feel his backpack on his back, but there was no weight. Time felt strange, like it was flying. Not flying by, just flying. The tunnel was covered in kaleidoscopic designs that changed as the Astronomers moved. The tunnel led them to a bigger tunnel and suddenly there were some things rushing past them and through them. The circle of Astronomers had faces like they were screaming, but there was no sound. Just panicked or amazed and shocked faces.

Myles looked at Pretty right next to him who mouthed, What. The. Fuck?

They could only watch. There were huge spheres with roots connected to them, like those anatomical eyeballs from Winton Middle. The circle leaned to one side of the giant tunnel and it led them into a smaller offshoot. Then it forked again, and again, and through the translucence there was a sphere they were approaching that was growing larger and larger… they were nearly upon it and it looked like earth without any of the color. It was a gray earth and there were dozens of strings, but on this Earth, the strings attached to it were being shuffled around instead of stuck to certain areas.

WHAM Myles felt something hit them, which he found odd because nothing had actually hit them since they crashed through the mirror, but it was jarring enough to let his hand slip from Blink’s and Langley’s. He tried screaming and it didn’t work. Something had hit them without any pain and there went that flying feeling of time; the whole pace of time changed somehow. Marshall spun into another pathway, Mariah and Langley…, Who was that? There was some guy who just appeared next to them and had grabbed Langley; it was that motherfucker from Myles’s dream in the green coat!

Pretty and Blink still held fast to each others’ hands and went through a different tube.

Myles had no hands to hold as he shot through a different tube toward the planet and out of another Mirror.

Gravity changed.

Down was sideways. It was like he was thrown onto a shelf. The direction to his right was now down. He landed on his side, ears popping.

PUFFF. He landed facefirst on some old hay. He spat it out. “Blah. Pthththtt.” He looked around and sighed. He actually dared to relax. They were safe from the novis now. “We fucking made it.” It was still nighttime. Also, it was

deathly quiet.

“Pretty? Langley? Mariah?”

He looked around. It was dark, but he could make out the rafters above him. He was in an open space with a lot of hay. He was in a barn that smelled a lot like the House he had just escaped from. This fact was purely coincidental.

“Marshall, Blink?”

He was alone. He stood up and took a deep breath, but somehow couldn’t catch his breath. He had just run a ton, but there was something about the air.

“Oh, shit.”

Somehow he was at a much higher elevation and his friends were nowhere near him. He was alone, but that tickle in his mind told him that his friends were safe.

Myles Willis started to cry.