Monster’s Call

By Hannah Muldery

I jolted awake, throwing the sheets off me as a familiar prickle crept across the back of my neck. Not again.

My bedside clock glowed.

2:00 AM.

I sucked in a shaky breath and let it out, then tapped the homing button strapped to my wrist. Hopefully, the Control Team would find me before I found the monster. But in our sprawling suburbs, that wasn’t likely.

The prickling grew, slithering down my body in faint pulses. I shivered. Why did I have to be gifted, and why was my ability so creepy? I’d have traded it in for a weather-sensing gift any day. But at least it paid the bills.

Sliding out of bed, I pulled on jeans and a hoodie, zipped up my favorite combat boots, checked the charge on my Z-740 blaster, and slipped it into my hoodie pocket. Next month, after my fifteenth birthday, Control had better provide a blaster that does more than immobilize.

The half moon shone bright, but I gripped my flashlight anyway and set out down the street, its glowing circle bobbing with each step. Prickles pulsed through me, stronger with each minute that passed. I wasn’t sure what was worse—the awful wait until I found the monster, or the moment I actually found it.

If only I could run back home, jump into bed, and ignore reality for just a few hours.

But it would find me. The monsters always did, rampaging through the neighborhood in their search.

My heart pounded and shoulders tensed. The pulsing picked up speed, nudging me down the street and around the flightcar charging station. Memories of previous monsters flashed up. The oozing, oily blob breaking into the school. The massive centipede chasing me through the Control checkpoint. Each pulse pounded more images into my head until I staggered to a halt. I took several deep breaths, wasting precious time calming myself down.

Stupid monsters. Transporting into our world on a whim, wreaking destruction and death if I didn’t find them in time. I hoped that the scientists could discover a pattern from my tracking work.

The sensation grew, matching my racing heartbeat. I stopped in the middle of the road between streetlights, near a trash can-filled alley. The electric prickles jolted through me as I turned toward the alley.

“You can do this, Tessa,” I whispered. One of the cans rattled. Blaster in one hand and flashlight in the other, I stood my ground.

Where was the Control Team? I glanced down. My wristband blinked red.

It should be green.

I gulped. Why wasn’t it green? I slapped the button, but nothing changed. Perhaps the reception was poor. I backed away. I needed a safe distance to call this in from before the monster arrived.

The trash cans clattered. Too late. My blaster hand shook. My heart pounded. The lid on a trash can crashed to the ground.

And a calico cat hopped out.

I sighed, lowering my weapon. I still had time. But another electric pulse coursed through me, urging me to turn around.

I whirled, catching sight of a giant lizard face before its massive clawed limb caught me and tossed me to the side. I crashed into the cement, pain shooting through my shoulder, the blaster spinning away. I scrambled to my knees, but claws smashed me flat onto the cement, forcing the air out of my lungs. Gasping, I groped for the blaster.

And froze. A low, nasty growl shook the ground.

But it wasn’t coming from the lizard.

I twisted my head to the side. A giant, calico cat-beast stood in the alley, facing us. The monsters could transform now? I tried to breathe but the claws twisted, pain rippling across my torso as it ground me into the cement. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision.

I stretched out, inching my fingers closer to my weapon. The cat-beast growled again and the lizard released me. I wriggled forward and swiped up the blaster, rolling toward my opponents.

The creatures circled each other, shimmering scales and raised fur glowing in the moonlight. The cat-beast swung, paws batting the lizard’s head. The lizard ducked and swiped, grazing the beast’s chest. Both stepped back, muscles bulging in preparation for another attack.

I took aim and fired. The glowing blue blast clocked the lizard in the head. It swayed, then collapsed on the cement. I allowed myself a deep breath before focusing on the cat-beast.

It just stood there, tail flicking, marbled fur raised along its back, blood dripping from its chest.

The pulsing returned, but weaker than before. I aimed the blaster between the beast’s eyes. “Neat trick, but you’ve gotta go, Kitty.”

“Mrow?” The beast cocked its head to the side.

And shrank until it was back to cat size.

My blaster, still pointed towards the tiny feline, wavered.

I’d seen hundreds of monsters and dispatched them all. In my years of experience, I’d never met a friendly monster. Why would this creature be different?

The cat sauntered up, sniffed my blaster, and rubbed its chin against the tip. Its soft purr perfectly synched with the pulse in my body.

The pulse changed, the electric prickle I knew so well waning. Cool waves replaced it and flowed through my body, softening until I could hardly feel them. But the cat continued to purr.

This was a first.

I scratched her head. “Um… thanks for saving me.”

The red light on my call button flashed. I clicked it, and it turned green.

Finally.

I held it down. “Reporting a monster at my location.”

“Acknowledged and marked, Tessa. Will you be needing backup, cleanup…”

I glanced at the blood across the cat’s chest. “Cleanup only. One downed monster.” I released the button and stood up.

The cat rubbed up against my legs.

Slipping the blaster into my pocket, I scooped the calico up. “It’s been a rough night, hasn’t it? Let’s go home.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Muldery has always loved escaping into stories. Her favorite book is a toss up between Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island or Kidnapped. She spends her time as a freelance artist painting geeky artwork and working on an adventure novel who’s main character struggles with anxiety. When not creating, Hannah can be found watching Star Wars with her hubby and two cats.

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