16. Eenimeeni Miney Mo
He was all alone in the inky gloom of the South Basement where the only lighting was the odd weak emergency light on the walls set at random along a corridor that stretched for an unseen distance. He had shadows for company and his eyes strained to make out shapes that were there one moment, then gone the next.
Ahead, hidden in the dark was the unused generator – where Morris was to meet the Evil Gaston Dreebil, the man who held his two friends prisoner.
Was that a sharp intake of breath? Something brushed by his ear, touched his knee. He dare not breathe, all of his senses were warning him – there was danger here! But ahead, not far now, just past the last of the lights in the mouth of the pitch black darkness was the meeting place.
He let the tunnel of shadows swallow him and it was only by touch that he knew he was there. His fingers ran along the damp wall then touched the cold mass of iron cogs and levers that was the generator, forgotten, wrapped in a shroud of thick cobwebs.
There was no going back now.
He waited.
‘Hmmm, Hollett,’ the voice cut the silence like a knife and a chill ran through his body, rooting him to the spot.
Dreebil was behind him and he turned to see the tall thin man silhouetted against the dim light.
‘Where are my friends?’ said Morris.
‘In good time, in good time,’ hissed the man through a sly smile. He looked at Morris with eyes filled with desire. ‘The spell…the Yiddle’s spell.’ Morris could feel the desperation in Dreebil’s voice.
‘First,’ Morris held up his hand, ‘my friends. I want to see them safe.’
‘I don’t remember a deal Hollett,’ growled Dreebil.
‘The spell for my friends, that’s a deal Dreebil. And you’d better be quick, the spell is nearly finished.’
Morris sensed the man tense – he knew that Dreebil wanted the spell more than anything and that he wasn’t going to pass up this chance when he was so close.
‘OK,’ said Dreebil, ‘walk ahead.’
Morris did. The dark so deep and thick he felt like he was blindfolded. He stuttered and staggered ahead slowly.
‘Keep moving Hollett,’ Dreebil kept urging him on. ‘Not far now.’
‘It’d better not be, I don’t know how much spell is left,’ said Morris bravely.
‘Oh don’t worry about that Hollett,’ hissed Dreebil, ‘I only need the essence of the spell, the merest sniff, and I can capture the ingredients that will allow me to recreate it and produce a supply that will make me rich and powerful!’
‘I don’t know why you’re doing this,’ said Morris honestly.
‘You wouldn’t,’ spat Dreebil. ‘You wouldn’t be able to understand the years of frustration of not being able to perform magic of this power, yet I have served this hospital and helped the …Wizzers…just as much as anyone. I DESERVE this Hollett!’
‘Stop!’ He said suddenly.
A click of fingers from behind prompted a light green outline of a doorway to show itself a few feet ahead.
Dreebil passed Morris and knocked with one knuckle on the unseen door.
Knock – knock, knock – knock – knock – knock.
Dreebil sneered as the door swung open and soft orange light flooded out.
‘You know Hollett, the amusing thing is that I don’t need to tell you not to try and remember this, because they’ll wipe your memory of all of this and you’ll know nothing, and they’ll never catch me either!’
He laughed again, a cackle that made him sound really quite mad.
The room was huge – a cavernous space like a factory with different sized pipes running overhead in all directions.
In front of them were two large work surfaces filled with bottles of all shapes and sizes containing brightly coloured liquids. Some were fizzing, others were letting off steam, others bubbling and making glooping noises. Various rubber and glass pipes connected many of them together and interwove between each other as if delicately knitted.
The smell of noxious gases and steams mixed to create a sharp smell that caught the back of Morris’ throat.
Beyond the tables was a chair, much like a dentist’s, over which hung a huge sink plunger type thing which led to a large pipe that was connected at various intervals to pipes that came from the knot of tubes that ran from the coloured bottles.
To try and trace one pipe from a bottle to the overhead tube would take hours and Morris had to admit that the whole set up was rather impressive.
‘Where are they?’ asked Morris.
Dreebil had busied himself with his bottles and potions and pointed over his shoulder to a door. The man smiled slyly as Morris walked over and turned the handle.
On the other side of the door was a short passage and he could see a room with a sofa where Eye-eye was sitting holding a small jar. Morris ran but as he did the passage seemed to lengthen and as he tried to run faster, so the room continued to remain out of his reach.
He tried, again and again, but the room remained the same distance from him. He saw Eye-eye stand up and shrug as if there was nothing he could do.
Panting and sweating, and with his legs feeling like rubber, he stopped and bent over to catch his breath.
Behind him he heard that laugh again.
‘Did you honestly think that I’d let you near them Hollett? And give you the opportunity to try and do something stupid…like escape!’ said Dreebil.
‘Oh no,’ he continued, ‘only when I am sure that the Yiddle’s spell is captured will I let your friends go.’
‘But I can’t see Peter. How do I know he’s ok?’ cried Morris.
‘Well you’d have to get very close to see him know,’ mused Dreebil. ‘He must be no more than a millimetre tall. Let’s just hope that that oaf friend of his is careful with him!’ Let’s get on with it!’ he spat, baring his teeth like an animal.
‘Won’t,’ said Morris, crossing his arms and looking at the floor.
‘WHAT?’ screamed Dreebil.
‘I’m not doing anything until I’ve seen that Peter is ok,’ and he looked at Dreebil with a scowl.
‘Oh come with me, if it’s the last thing I do, I will get the Yiddle’s spell!’ Dreebil grabbed Morris roughly by the shoulders and started to drag him toward the chair in the laboratory.
Now, Morris was shaken about a bit, but it was exactly what he and the Wizzers had planned only minutes before he’d made his way to the basement.
Morris kicked and struggled but Dreebil was strong and in a short space of time he found himself laying on the dentist’s chair, strapped in and looking into the huge plunger above.
Morris watched Dreebil, who had started to play with a small control panel next to the chair. After a few moments he noticed that Dreebil’s movements, which had been quick and silky smooth, were now becoming untidy, and a bit erratic.
His face became contorted and he shook his head.
He had also started to rub his temples and was cursing to himself.
‘I WANT TO SEE MY FRIENDS!’ shouted Morris.
‘You can’t!’ screamed Dreebil.
But Morris continued to shout and bellow until;
‘OK, OK, IN A MOMENT, JUST STOP SHOUTING!’ shouted Dreebil holding his head. He was close to tears Morris could see and although he was desperate to siphon the spell, he simply couldn’t concentrate with a headache, and in particular not the type of headache that he was suffering from now…and this was, as Morris knew, the monster of all headaches.
‘Right, right, nearly there,’ Dreebil said to himself as he looked over the bottles and tubes and surveyed the control panel. His bald head was red and sweating and his tufts of white hair weren’t puffed anymore but stuck to the side of his face.
‘Aaaargh!’ he screamed, massaging his temples and pacing the area desperately.
‘MY FRIENDS!’ shouted Morris.
‘OK, OK, please stop shouting!’ Dreebil’s eyes were watery and he held his hand
s up, pleading. He rushed out of Morris’ view.
Morris in the meantime was smiling to himself, nearly laughing in fact.
Moments later he saw Eye-eye being led hurriedly by Dreebil over to him. Eye-eye was holding his hand out flat and as he reached the side of the chair, which had now been reclined like a bed, he could see a small speck with tiny arms waving at him.
‘You can’t hear him now,’ said Eye-eye, ‘but he’s ok, just tiny.’
‘You’ve seen them now,’ said Dreebil quickly. ‘Now you sit over there,’ he directed Eye-eye to a chair then shut his eyes in pain, shook his head and turned to his equipment.
‘HAS HE BEEN TREATING YOU WELL?’ shouted Morris, across to Eye-eye.
Eye-eye, surprised, shouted back, ‘NOT BAD, BUT THE FOOD COULD HAVE BEEN BETTER.’
This stopped Dreebil in his tracks and he almost fell to the floor in agony – the combined effects of his headache, the shouting, the stress of the task he was so desperate to perform, and the acoustics of the room were giving him a bit of a nightmare.
‘NO SHOUTING!’ screamed Dreebil, who then reeled in further agony from his own voice.
‘DON’T SHOUT, HE’S GOT A HEADACHE!’ shouted Morris across to Eye-eye.
‘OK, I WON’T – I HATE HEADACHES TOO!’ shouted Eye-eye, who could see what was happening.
‘NOOOOOOOO!’ Dreebil’s eyes were wide with torment, all of his composure was lost and he started punching the buttons on the control panel.
‘You will NOT ruin this!’ muttered Dreebil to himself.
He pushed a button and Morris saw the plunger start to lower toward him.
‘Yes, yes, there’s still enough spell left,’ whispered Dreebil weakly to himself, but to him the noise of the machinery lowering the plunger was like having an army hammering the inside of his head with sledgehammers, while shouting through megaphones at the same time.
He dropped to the floor on his knees and shut his eyes trying to blank out the pain and the noise.
Then the noise stopped.
‘Good, good,’ his voice could barely be heard.
Dreebil stood up slowly then, his head still thumping like the engine of a cruise liner, he opened his eyes and saw Morris standing in front of him, who had clearly pressed a button to stop the plunger. He looked to the chair, but Morris was there as well, the plunger hanging above.
‘Hello!’ said the Morris standing in front of him.
‘But –,’ Dreebil looked from one Morris to the other, then back again in disbelief. ‘No, this can’t be happening!’
‘Oh but it is!’ said the Morris in the chair, smiling.
‘But –,’ screamed Dreebil, ‘the spell! I won’t let you stop me!’
‘It’s the Eenimeeni spell, only one of us has the Yiddle’s,’ smiled the Morris in the chair.
‘Which one would you go for?’ asked the standing Morris.
Dreebil went to push the big red button on the control panel, then looked at the standing Morris.
He stopped, trying to make his mind up.
‘But if you’re the decoy,’ he said to Morris in the chair, ‘I’d have to swap you, with you,’ he pointed to the standing Morris. ‘Which is which?’
‘Won’t have the time, it’s almost gone,’ said Morris in the chair. ‘Eenimeeni miney mo, catch a Morris, let one go…’
‘But…but…but,’ Dreebil’s despair was almost cruel to watch if you didn’t know that he was evil.
At that moment Thinley and Alwyn glided through the door followed by Doctor Grunk.
Dreebil stepped back, a tormented man, his hands clenched in total frustration.
‘NEVER!’ he cried and the last Morris saw before he disappeared in a puff of blue smoke was Dreebil’s defiant face full of loathing.
17. The Perfect Height for Hiding
‘Phew! That was close!’ exclaimed Thinley.
‘You could say that,’ said Morris looking up into the plunger that hovered above his head.
‘Not half!’ said Morris standing next to the chair.
‘That was brilliant,’ cried Eye-eye as he ran over, carefully holding his hand out flat and shielding it with his other so that Peter wouldn’t blow away.
Alwyn giggled. ‘The plan went exactly as we’d wished for, thanks to Marvin and Morris!’
‘Oh my word!’ cried Thinley suddenly, ‘we don’t have much time, the Yiddle’s is almost gone!’
It was true; the Wizzers could only see a very pale glow around both Morris’ heads and the flame was flickering weakly.
‘Quickly Morris, you must treat your friends now!’ said Thinley, his face etched with worry.
‘Well go on then,’ said Eye-eye to the standing Morris expectantly.
‘Oh it’s not me,’ said Morris, ‘I’m the copy, that’s the one you want.’ He pointed to Morris on the chair who was being released from the straps by Doctor Grunk.
‘But –‘, said Eye-eye, confused, ‘that thing,’ he pointed to the plunger, ‘was almost on him!’
‘Yes, yes, we had to play a double bluff; Gaston had the real Morris all along. The Eenimeeni Morris wouldn’t have been able to carry the Brain Blaster spell as well, it’s just not possible for a copy to carry a spell, so it had to be the real Morris and we just had to hope that the Eenimeeni Morris would get here in enough time to confuse Dreebil,’ said Thinley quickly.
‘Fortunately Marvin was able to perform the Eenimeeni spell in time and the copy then just followed the real Morris. We’d never have found this place otherwise.
‘The Brain Blaster spell was a brilliant idea actually. It was the icing on the cake, I don’t think we’d have been successful without it,’ reflected Doctor Grunk, his hair waving impressively.
‘I told you,’ said the real Morris as he jumped off the chair, ‘I just remembered what you told me about my room and how it was protected with the same spell!’
‘And we set the spell just before he left us so that as soon as Gaston touched Morris it would transfer to him…and it really did blast his brain! He simply cannot stand headaches!’ sniggered Alwyn.
‘OK, who’s first?’ said Morris, keen to keep his promise.
‘It’d better be Peter otherwise we’ll lose him soon,’ said Eye-eye. He carefully placed his friend on the nearest table and looked closely to make sure he hadn’t been mixed up with a piece of dirt, but yes, he was still able to see his tiny arms and legs waving frantically.
‘Don’t blow too hard,’ mumbled Thinley to Morris quietly.
Morris blew lightly over his tiny friend and to his relief a spray of golden steam covered him and he immediately started to grow.
He turned quickly to Eye-eye, who smiled, ‘Thanks Morris,’ he said, as the faintest of coloured air wrapped itself around him and everyone watched as all of this extra eyes disappeared.
‘I guess we’ll have to call you by your real name now,’ smiled Morris.
Ivan blinked and looked around. ‘Wow, I’d got used to those eyes, I feel as if I’m partly blindfolded now,’ he said.
They turned their attentions to Peter who was still growing, but not as quickly as expected.
‘Hmmm,’ hummed Alwyn. ‘I think your Yiddle’s spell was a bit too weak by the time it got to our friend here, he said to Thinley.
Peter really was bigger than a pint, so ‘Pint Sized Peter’ wasn’t really a good name for him any more. However, he was only about gnome sized and it appeared that all of his growing had stopped.
‘Oh,’ said Morris. He looked at Peter who was still standing on the table, at about the same height as the lamp next to him. He was looking down at himself and Morris thought he could hear him crying.
‘Peter,’ he said. ‘I’m really sorry.’
But Peter looked up, smiling a broad smile, and laughing.
‘Morris, this is brilliant!’ he cried. ‘Who wants to be big anyway! Think of all the hiding places I can hide in now and all the places I can ge
t in for free, and how when you think you’ve been given a small piece of cake it’ll still be massive to me, thanks!’
‘Really?’ said Morris, stunned.
Something else struck Morris as a bit odd; something that hadn’t happened to Ivan or Peter but had to all of the other patients he had treated.
‘Um,’ he looked at the Wizzers. ‘How come they aren’t asleep yet?’
‘A good question,’ said Thinley. ‘The spell was probably too weak. This means that we will have to apply another spell to clear their memories of their stay.’
‘Eh?’ all three said looking at Thinley.
‘But I want to remember this!’ said Ivan.
‘I don’t want to forget my time here either!’ cried Peter.
And Morris felt that he too did not want to walk past St Vernon’s in the future not knowing of the secrets it held.
It had been a fantastic adventure after all.
‘Oh dear,’ groaned the Wizzers and Doctor Grunk together.