Chapter 13

chapter thirteen The mall's huge main entrance opens, and my buddies and I are among the first to exit. The sun is blindingly bright, ricocheting off yellow desert earth. We disembark down the Mallusk's huge, single gangplank. Since shopping malls don't typically have, y'know, gangplanks—this is a wide, cobbled-together thing built from splintered mall flooring, rusted metal pried off cars, and other scavenged items. Thankfully, there are railings—red ropes taken from the movie theater—and I grip them tight. When we finally step onto the hot desert ground, I'm surprised by how solid it feels. I had gotten used to the Mallusk's constant movement. I take in the scene. An interstate road, running parallel to the Mallusk, stretches both directions into the distance. Along the road are overturned cars, a few flipped RVs, and a rest stop. Ahead of us are more abandoned vehicles, some small buildings, and— "WHOA!" I exclaim. "Huge monster! Dead ahead!" "Relax," Dirk says. "Huge stucco monster."

"Another of those big giant dinosaurs," Quint says. "Like the one Alfred, Lefty, and Glurm posed in during the road trip." "I don't know who decided to scatter big fake dinosaurs all across the country," I say, relaxing. "But I like the way they think." Suddenly, two little monsters appear in the mouth of the dinosaur, waving happily. These two little monsters must have been very eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone to trade with, because they move with incredible quickness. A folding table is hurled from the dinosaur's mouth, followed by a big suitcase. Then a long rope, made from what looks like monster hair, is unfurled, and the two monsters descend.

"A pair of post-apocalyptic Rapunzels," June says. "Rad." In a flash, the table is unfolded, the suitcase is unpacked, and items are on display. "Gaze upon our wares!" one monster shouts. "All prices negotiable!" the other quickly adds. "It's a little monster yard sale," Dirk says. "Cute." We're jostled aside as dozens of monsters hurry off the gangplank, rushing toward the table. Johnny Steve is among them, using his walking sword to navigate the rocky ground. But as we get close, I realize that a monster yard sale —which sounds like the most amazing thing ever—is actually kinda dull. I take a quick peek at the objects for sale: an old microwave, some dinged-up silverware, and piles of musty old books. I'm less interested in this lousy little roadside sale— and more interested in why the Mallusk stopped. Why now? Why here? I can't imagine it stopped because it wanted to buy a busted toaster. "Let's find out what the Mallusk is up to," I say, and the four of us hike toward the front end of the great creature. Walking its length, I notice the many scars and scrapes and wounds that mark her rough skin. Far ahead, I see a wide river running perpendicular to the Mallusk's path. A bridge, dotted with abandoned

cars, crosses the river. As we near the front, the Mallusk lets out a sudden, earth-trembling WAIL! And then— SMASH! The bridge is instantly demolished as the Mallusk slams her head downward, through the bridge, plunging her face-parts into the river water below. Ice-cold water splashes us as the Mallusk pushes her head deeper into the water. Guess we know why she stopped thirst. I'm not so certain she doesn't appear to be drinking. She's just sort of soaking. Maybe she has a headache

For a split second, I think I hear the shriek of a Howler. But the sound is weak, muted—and I realize it must be something else. More traders, maybe? About to come over the rubble in the distance? I glance back at the little garage sale. The two monsters are hastily packing up. They leave quicker than they arrived—in a flash, the table is folded up, the suitcase is in hand, and they're speedily hoisting themselves back up into the mouth of the dinosaur. That can't be good, I think. What do they know that we don't? Then I hear the sound again—something like a huge creature scuttling. The noise comes from just beyond the rest stop. A fluttery feeling fills my stomach. "Guys, I think we might want to get back on board the—" BOOM! A pocket of nearby earth erupts, instantly filling the air with clouds of dirt and dust. It's so thick that, for a moment, I can't see more than a few feet in front of me. Screams erupt behind us—but I can't see that far. "That was a bomb!" June shouts, staggering back. We all huddle together, spinning, searching. "Don't see any flying monsters dropping bombs," Dirk says, looking to the sky. "So where'd it come

from?" Then I see it. A monstrosity climbing up and over the rest stop. The building cracks and sags under the monster's weight. I realize I've seen this monster before—or one like it. A cousin or something. The Shovel Scorpion: we encountered it weeks earlier, during our road trip stop at the World's Largest Collection of the World's Smallest Stuff... But this monster, here, now—this is like a leveled-up version. Like the same general species, but boss status.