The Flock of Fury Page 2

  “Not to be rude, but who exactly do you want us to hate so much?” she asked, still floating above the prison floor.

  The Monarch remained silent, but Mukus could see the telltale tightening of his master’s fists.

  “The hero of Monstros City—Owlboy,” the Monarch proclaimed, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You will help me destroy him.”

  The criminals slowly nodded in agreement.

  “Owlboy, eh?” Sireena said with a laugh as she was lowered to the ground with the others.

  All the villains were smiling now.

  “Hating him as much as you do is gonna be easy,” she said, rubbing her clawed hands together.

  CHAPTER 2

  Billy still hadn’t decided what to do for his science fair project.

  As he made his way into Mr. Harpin’s class, his brain was on fire with all the possibilities.

  Back home in his workshop, he had a corner set aside for just such projects. The homemade laser gun was cool, as was a project on the solar system and the one about turning potatoes into batteries, but he thought the volcano was probably the best of the bunch.

  Billy smiled as he took his seat. He would build a working miniature of Mount Vesuvius, which erupted on August 24 in A.D. 79, burying the city of Pompeii and everybody who lived there beneath ash and lava.

  Wicked cool!

  He glanced around the room, watching as his pals took their seats. He wondered what their projects would be.

  Danny Ashwell was the champ of science fairs, always managing to come up with stuff both disgusting and fascinating. Billy remembered his friend’s groundbreaking presentation last year, “Fun with Fungus.” It was awesome. Fungi were Danny’s forte, and they all bowed before his mastery.

  Billy could hear Dwight boasting about his project from the back of the class, and he chuckled to himself. He figured Dwight would probably do that whole fossil thing again. Dwight had gone out west one summer and brought back supposedly genuine fossilized dinosaur bones.

  Billy always thought that they looked like dirty chicken bones, but he didn’t have the heart to shatter poor Dwight’s dreams.

  Reggie was sitting quietly at his desk, going through books one after another. He was scrambling to find something fast and easy. Billy made a mental note to help his buddy out with one of his own projects if Reggie needed it.

  Kathy B waved to catch Billy’s eye, and he waved back. He wondered what the drama queen was going to do. As far as he knew, Shakespeare hadn’t been much of a scientist, but then again, Billy didn’t really know all that much about the guy. For all he knew, Shakespeare could have invented a way to generate power using boring plays.

  The classroom sounded like feeding time at the monkey house until Mr. Harpin came in. The science teacher, an older man who wore his pants a little too high, put his plastic briefcase on the desk and motioned for the class to settle down.

  He snapped open the case, removed his attendance sheet and shuffled through his notes. Then he removed a pair of thick, horn-rimmed glasses from his shirt pocket, put them on and cleared his throat.

  “Today you were to surprise me with the wondrous and exciting topics you have chosen for your science fair projects,” Mr. Harpin said, his voice, as usual, void of any emotion. If it was one day revealed that his science teacher was in fact a killer robot from the future, Billy would have very little problem believing it.

  “And I was going to surprise you by announcing that all of my classes have been registered to participate in the Science Is Awesome statewide competition that I believed would take place four months from now.”

  Mr. Harpin paused, looking around the room with his flat, mechanical gaze.

  “My belief, however, was incorrect,” he continued. “The date of the competition was changed, and unfortunately, I did not receive the updated information until this morning. The competition is now only two weeks away.”

  Billy felt a pang of disappointment. It would have been totally cool to bring his Vesuvius model to the Science Is Awesome event, but they’d never be able to participate now if it was only two weeks away.

  “So, in order for this to work, I have devised a way in which we should still be able to participate. The science projects will be different this year.”

  Billy’s ears immediately perked up. Different? How different? I don’t like different. Different is too . . . different! his brain chattered.

  “This year, your science projects will be done in teams,” Mr. Harpin said. Billy felt the floor beneath his feet begin to crumble.

  That certainly is different.

  “Not only do I believe that this will allow the projects to be done in time for the statewide competition, but it will also be an important exercise in promoting teamwork,” the science teacher explained.

  Billy felt himself begin to sweat, his skin tingling and itching as if ants—a colony of ants—were crawling beneath his clothes. Just the thought of others claiming the rights to his Vesuvius project was enough to get him all worked up.

  He tried to think of something good that might come from this, deciding that if he could pick his own team, maybe . . .

  “I have already assigned teams and you will find them posted on the wall outside after class,” Mr. Harpin went on, destroying just about any chance of a silver lining.

  And to make it worse, Billy then had to wait, sitting through a lecture on the incredibly short lifespan of the common fruit fly.

  Billy never would have imagined he could be jealous of a fruit fly.

  After class that day, Billy found himself holding back from the list, like a prisoner sentenced to hang making his way slowly to the gallows.

  His friends were huddled around the list with the rest of his classmates.

  Danny was the first to look away from the list, his face as white as a sheet.

  “Is it that bad?” Billy asked in a shaky whisper.

  “For me, not so much,” Danny said. “But for you . . .”

  Kathy B, Dwight and Reggie had made it to the front of the group.

  “O thou monster Ignorance,” Kathy B cried. “How deformed dost thou look!”

  Billy had no idea what Shakespeare play that line was from, or even what it really meant, but he was smart enough to know that it couldn’t be anything good. He began to push his way through the diminishing crowd, making brief eye contact with Reggie.

  “I’m sorry, Billy,” he said with a loud slurp, wiping the drool from his braces with the sleeve of his shirt.

  “Dude,” Dwight said, shaking his head behind Reggie. “I’ll tell your mother that you loved her or something.”

  Billy was confused. “I don’t get it.”

  “After you see your team you will,” Dwight said, moving away.

  Joshua Stepenmyer and Stephanie Demascus stepped back, allowing Billy to scoot in and finally read the list.

  How bad could it be?

  His eyes traveled down the list. He found his name and the others that would make up his team.

  Billy started to scream, not sure he would ever be able to stop.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Hooten?” an authoritative voice asked.

  “Why?” Billy shrieked, turning to face Mr. Harpin while pointing a trembling finger back toward the list.

  “Why what, Mr. Hooten?”

  “Why . . . them?” he managed to spit out.

  Mr. Harpin put on his glasses and started to read.

  “Oh yes, your team,” he said.

  The science teacher removed the glasses and slipped them back into his shirt pocket. “I see this as a perfect opportunity for you to practice your leadership skills.”

  “Leadership skills?” Billy screamed. “Who said anything about me wanting to be a leader? I’d have better luck leading a pack of wild monkeys.”

  A sudden hush came over the hallway and Billy realized that everyone was staring at something down the hall.

  He just about threw up his pounding heart when he s
aw Randy Kulkowski, Mitchell Spivey, Darious “insane in the membrane” Fontague and Penny “one brow” Feryurthotuss, all standing there.

  His team.

  Waiting for him.

  “Hey, Hooten,” Randy called out as he strolled down the hall, the others following closely, looking amused. “Are you as excited as we are to all be on the same team?”

  “I’m totally thrilled,” Billy said, his voice lacking all emotion.

  Mr. Harpin patted Billy on the back. “Attaboy,” the old science teacher said. “That’s exactly the kind of team spirit I’m looking for.”

  Randy’s smile grew wide, revealing yellow teeth flecked with pieces of meals past. “With you on our team we’re probably gonna have the best project in the whole state!”

  “Yeah, best in the whole state,” Mitchell repeated, and started to laugh.

  Darious stepped forward to look at Billy with crazy eyes. “I remember you.” He pointed at Billy’s chest. “You took my Jell-O in first grade.”

  Billy shook his head. “I didn’t even know you in first grade. It must’ve been somebody else.”

  “Maybe,” Darious said, stroking his chin. “I still miss that Jell-O.”

  Penny snapped her gum bullwhip-loud and looked at her long, curved fingernails. They were painted a disgusting shade of baby-poop green.

  “I hate science,” she stated.

  “And that’s why it’s so freakin’ awesome that we got Hooten here to help us,” Randy said. He threw an arm around Billy’s shoulders and gave him a hug that nearly squeezed every bit of air from his lungs.

  “This is gonna be awesome.”

  Mr. Harpin cleared his throat to get everybody’s attention. “Tomorrow’s science class will meet in the auditorium. You will have an opportunity to meet with your teams, choose your topics and assign responsibilities to each team member.”

  Randy gave Billy a punch in the arm that caused his entire skeletal structure to vibrate painfully.

  “That oughta be good,” Randy said. “We’ll figure out who’s doing what.”

  Billy didn’t need the meeting in the auditorium to tell him:

  He would be doing it all.

  CHAPTER 3

  Billy spent the rest of the day in a kind of shock, seeing Randy, Mitchell and the other members of his science project team smiling at him around every corner.

  By the time the last bell of the day had rung, and he found himself outside in the cool winter air, he was a nervous wreck.

  “How y’doin’, Billy?”

  He turned to see Reggie and the gang heading toward him.

  Billy just shrugged, completely in a funk.

  “Hey, Bill, I’ve been thinking,” Dwight said. “Have you ever thought of leaving the country . . . maybe hopping a train to Russia or something?”

  Billy glared at his supposed friend.

  “How about a head injury?” Kathy B suggested. “Something that requires extensive hospitalization might do the trick.” Her eyes twinkled with the brilliance of her idea. “That way you won’t have to participate because you’ll be recuperating.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks, guys,” Billy said. “I’m gonna have to figure out how to get out of this one on my own.”

  Danny came up alongside him and threw a chubby arm around his shoulder. “I know exactly how you’re feeling, Billy.”

  “You do?”

  The boy nodded. “I’m not sure how my own genius is going to mix with the mundane intelligence of my team. Will they even understand the complexities of fungus growth? Something tells me that’s a big no.”

  “Yeah,” Billy said, removing Danny’s arm. “Your situation is just like mine.”

  He decided that he’d had enough help from his friends and gave them a halfhearted wave as he left them.

  “See ya tomorrow, Billy!” Reggie cried. “Unless you’ve gone to Russia or banged up your head!”

  Billy didn’t even bother to turn around, continuing down the street from Connery Elementary toward downtown Bradbury.

  He was feeling so low that he was desperate to feel anything other than horrible, and this being new comic book day, he could think of no better place than the Hero’s Hovel to maybe restore a little bit of sunshine to his bleak and gloomy mood.

  The bell over the store’s door rang cheerily. Billy resisted the urge to jump up, rip the bell from the doorframe and throw it across the room.

  Claudius, the store owner’s German shepherd, got up from his place on the floor near the cash register and woofed happily, then trotted over to give Billy a sniff.

  “Hey, kid,” Cole said, coming out of the back room drinking from a tall bottle of Zap cola. “What’s cookin’?”

  Billy grunted, going right to the new comic book section.

  The week’s selections were pretty awesome, but just when he would feel himself getting excited, he would remember what awaited him in school the next day. He thought he just might throw up on the new arrivals.

  “Anything catch your eye?” Cole asked, coming around the rack.

  “Nah,” Billy said crankily. “Kind of a crappy week.”

  Cole was now standing beside him. Not even the store owner’s insanely bright Hawaiian shirt was cheering him up.

  “Sounds like you might need one of these,” Cole said, handing Billy an already-opened bottle of Zap.

  Billy took the bottle with a sad thanks and drank a small sip.

  “When somebody as crazy about superheroes as you isn’t excited about the first issue of Ultimate Disaster on Multiple Worlds in Crisis, I know something must be up.”

  They sat down in the back room of the Hovel to talk. Billy ended up spilling his guts to Cole about the situation at school.

  “Hmmm, that’s bad,” Cole agreed, taking a long pull from his bottle of cola.

  “Don’t I know it,” Billy agreed.

  “Short of running off to Russia or getting some kind of debilitating head trauma that puts you in the hospital, I can’t think of any way you can avoid it.”

  Billy took a long drink from his own bottle to drown his sorrows.

  “You’re gonna hate to hear this, but I think the only thing you can do is suck it up and make the best of it.”

  “Make the best of it?” Billy asked with a scowl. “There’s no best about it. . . . These guys are animals and they’re gonna make my life a complete nightmare. I’ll be doing all the work!”

  “I know it’s tough, kid, but sometimes that’s just how it is,” Cole said.

  Billy expected at least a little bit of sympathy from Cole, but then he figured maybe Cole just didn’t remember how tough things could be when you were twelve.

  “I had the coolest science project planned,” Billy said, getting up from his seat to take the Zap bottle over to the wooden case where the empties were stored. “And now I’m going to have to share it with a buncha Neanderthals.” Cole chuckled and Billy turned to glare at him.

  “It’s not funny at all.”

  “Sorry, Bill. I know it’s not funny, and I also know exactly how you feel.”

  Billy returned to his chair, plopping down as if his depression had turned his bones to rubber.

  “How can you possibly know how I feel?”

  “It was a long time ago, when I was first starting out in the comic book biz,” the store owner began to explain. Cole had once been a comic book artist.

  “My publisher had given me an assignment drawing an issue of Cutie Pie Comics.”

  “Cutie Pie Comics?” Billy questioned, wrinkling his nose with distaste.

  “Yeah, I felt the same way,” Cole said. “I wasn’t into funny animal books, but I needed the work, so I couldn’t turn it down.”

  “What did you do?” Billy asked, curious as to where this story was going.

  “Everything but,” Cole said. “I didn’t want anything to do with Cutie Pie Comics, so I did everything I could not to work on it, but the deadline came closer and closer.”

  “Did yo
u finally end up doing it?”

  Cole nodded. “Eventually I just realized that it wasn’t going to go away, so I sucked it up and started drawing. I made it easier on myself by trying to find one thing . . . just one thing that I enjoyed about drawing Cutie Pie and his friends. See what I’m getting at?”

  Billy did see, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t find a single thing about his current situation that wasn’t absolutely horrifying.

  The Monarch stepped from behind the curtain of his secret laboratory into complete and utter chaos.

  The villains he had recently released were in the meeting room, arguing and carrying on like a bunch of six-year-old pageant contestants at the Little Miss Darling competition.

  Sigmund Sassafras was in the middle of a chest-thumping competition with Bernie Bounder, while the other four Bounder boys looked on. The Gaseous Ghost was flying around Mother Sassafras’s head while she tried to swat him from the sky for ruining her hairdo, and Sireena Sassafras was threatening Vomitor for getting some of his toxic spew on her shoe.

  The Monarch thought his head might explode from all the ruckus.

  He saw that Mukus and Klot had retreated to the far corner of the room, unable to control the gathering of villainy.

  The king of crime in Monstros loudly cleared his throat.

  The villains halted their business only momentarily, looking in his direction before continuing with their clamor.

  The Monarch began to fume.

  “Silence!” he commanded, raising one of his gloved hands above his hooded head to emphasize his authority. The villains stopped. He could tell that they were not happy about it, but at least they were quiet.

  “Do not make me regret freeing you from your cells at Beelzebub,” the Monarch warned.

  Now that there was silence in the room, his lackeys made their way toward where he stood, just in case he should need something from them. He had trained the two monsters well.

  “We all share a common hate,” he said, addressing his villainous audience.

  In the room’s center was a small round table with chairs around it, and one by one the villains took a seat.

  “I hate him,” Mother Sassafras said, pointing to the Gaseous Ghost, who did not sit in a seat but floated above it.