The Secret Trio

Chapter 12

Randy couldn't sleep that night.

His eyes blankly stared up at an empty ceiling, arms hanging loosely out straight and motionless. His palms were facing down, grasping firmly at the edges of his covers. The boy's knuckles were white, and he blinked once or twice. Finally he released his grip and color returned to the white. He sighed and moved his arms and crossed them under the covers.

He knew he should be sleeping. It was a Friday night, and no school tomorrow. The boy had the right to sleep in late and sleep peacefully. He moved over onto his side to look down off the edge of his bed, gazing at the only light in the room off of his alarm clock.

Three in the morning.

The boy sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Go to sleep," he thought to himself,"sleep is good. Everything is absolutely fine. It's all fine. Right now is time to rest. Ninjas need beauty sleep." He sighed. Randy cursed his lack of sleep. Surely Jake and Danny were sleeping like logs, no doubt their friends were, too.

What about Howard? Howard was likely fast asleep. A temptation came across him; what if he called Howard just to talk to someone? Maybe talking would lull him into enough peace to sleep. "No. I shouldn't bother him. Even though in the past he's called me at these times to talk...what if I did the same thing? No. Never mind." The freshman rolled his eyes. Howard would talk to him if he called, but he would be irritated about it, just like Randy was irritated when Howard called him in the middle of the night.

Maybe talk to his mother? Randy's mother was sleeping, but she wouldn't be mad if he woke her up. His mom was kind enough to wake up and talk with her son, but then she would ask why he was stressed. She'd find it suspicious when he would dodge the question. Waking his father up to talk would undoubtedly lead to the same series of events. That option led to a dead end.

Randy looked over the side of his mattress towards the makeshift wooden table, where his cellphone was lying. With another sigh and hopes that Howard would forgive him, he climbed down the ladder from the top of his bed to the floor. His feet met the cold wooden surface with a very low thump. He walked towards the table, pulled over a red beanbag chair, and picked up his phone all in the dark.

He dialed the number and held the phone up to his ear. It rang a few times, and then it picked up. Howard's voice came through. "What is it, Cunningham? It's three in the morning." His voice was slow and quiet; Randy could just imagine his best friend. Hair disheveled, eyes still closed, a drop of drool hanging out the side of his lips. Likely he was on the ground, haven fallen out of bed, alarmed by the ring from his phone. Randy shrugged, although Howard could not see it.

"I can't sleep. Something's not right, Howard."

"It's fine, Cunningham; you're just stressed."

"I know I'm probably just stressed. But-"

"You want to go fight this evil ghost guy now, don't you?" Howard asked. Randy paused for a moment and then replied softly.

"Yeah."

"I know this is hard for you, dude. But keeping yourself up at night about it isn't going to help. Go get yourself some water and play some Grave Puncher for awhile until you get tired. You'll sleep like a baby."

"...You're right."

"I'm always right."

"Thanks, I-"

Randy turned around to face his door when he swore he heard something. Tiny clacking, of what he didn't know. Howard noticed his friend's sudden silence. "Cunningham?" Randy did not respond. "Randy, what's going on?"

"I hear something. It's coming from under my bed."

"Are there any mice?"

"I don't think so. Hold on." Randy reached his hand out at the open air. He stretched his arm and open palm forth, until it bumped into something solid. The solid object was in midair and invisible. Randy's eyes bulged. "Holy-"

A group of five imps became visible. They were the largest ones he had ever seen, even uglier than the usual ones. They were his size and at least as muscular as Bash Johnson, skin a deep red, eyes a bright, burning amber that glowed in the dark. Some of their skin was excess and it fell loosely off the body, and their jagged yellow teeth were bared at him.

The creature he touched brushed away his hand and pounced on him. He fell to the ground, cell phone flying out of his hands. Its haunting eyes bore into his own blue ones. "Silence...spell on door. Screaming...useless." it croaked in a raspy voice. Randy tried to kick and fight back, but two of the other monsters held him firmly to the ground, rendering him unable to reach his mask.

One was tying his ankles and hands together, and the last one stood above him as he was hogtied. His phone was across the room, and the noises of the monster prevented him from hearing Howard's confused and terrified yelling. The Ninja shot open his mouth, ready to cry for help. "Howard! Go get help! You know where-" Randy's cries were silence as he was gagged. Finally the last one knelt down to him and revealed it was holding a bag of powder with a color Randy could not identify in the dark. It tossed some up the boy's nose, and he sneezed and his muscles contracted and then relaxed. His eyes fell towards the back of his head and he was out cold.

The creature stood up again and, irritated by noises coming from the phone, smashed it with a single stomp of his foot. With that, Randy was picked up, and they flew out and phased out of the room into the night.

Howard had heard the entire thing, staring wide-eyed at his phone now on a dial tone. Finally he croaked out a horrified, shuddering gasp. He dropped what he was doing, now fully awake. He fumbled for his dresser and threw on pants and a shirt within seconds. Howard pulled furniture up to the wall, climbed on top of it, and tried to squeeze himself through the upper window. While he struggled at the window, he failed to notice a blue portal opening behind him. An hour hand flipped around it, making it fade. Clockwork was left in its wake.

Clockwork looked to the boy halfway through the window and spoke. "Howard Weinerman."

Howard yelped in shock and pulled himself out from the window. He flipped around to see the Master of Time floating before him in his own bedroom. Trembling, he fell to the ground in utter disbelief, gawking at the ghost before himself. Clockwork did not smile, but he did not frown either. He changed age from an old man to a young boy idly. "Howard Weinerman," he repeated firmly, "I am Clockwork, Master of All Time. And your friends need your help. Come with me."