The Trap Read Free Page A

needle out of his mouth and said, “Whoa.”
    â€œHuh,” Stefan remarked. He seemed disappointed.
    Jarrah, looking shell-shocked, came to them. The Lepercons were now the size of cows. Stunned bystanders stared in awe and horror. Some took pictures with their cell phones. YouTube would be getting some very odd uploads. Thumbs flew across touch screens: Twitter was getting the news out.
    Other folks stolidly wheeled their luggage past as though the problem of rapidly enlarging, leprous, cheese-stuffed monsters was just another obstacle to be overcome by the weary traveling public.
    â€œWhat did you do?” Mack asked Jarrah, panting.
    â€œIt was all I could think of. I don’t know that much Vargran,” Jarrah said. “I was trying to say ‘follow.’ I was going to lead them away.”
    â€œThey would have killed you,” Mack said.
    â€œEh,” Jarrah said. “They might have tried.”
    Mack intercepted an admiring look from Stefan. Jarrah was his kind of girl.
    â€œI think what I actually said must have been ‘grow,’ not ‘follow.’ ‘Grow monster.’”
    â€œâ€˜Grow monster’?”
    Jarrah looked sheepish. “Yeah, that could have gone badly, eh?”
    The Lepercons were still getting bigger. In fact, they were crowding the baggage area. Lepercons weren’t built to be the size of parade balloons, so they were as helpless as slugs. Big, giant slugs.
    â€œAgara!” the one-legged Lepercon slurred.
    â€œYeah? Agara you, you big fat scab!” Jarrah snapped.
    Mack spotted his bag on the carousel. He snagged it and wedged it onto the luggage cart along with Jarrah’s and Stefan’s luggage.
    Nine Iron was just coming around on the carousel, still wedged between a garment bag and a duffel.
    â€œYou wait right there!” Nine Iron raged. “I’m coming for—”
    He paused. Fumbled for his plastic mouthpiece. Breathed. Breathed.
    Breathed.
    Breathed.
    â€œâ€”you!”
    Mack was breathing as hard as Nine Iron. The fear of death was gone, but he was now surrounded by what had to be a thousand pounds of warm blue cheese or a blue cheeselike product.
    Nine Iron was struggling to get up off the carousel, but he was sitting kind of far down, with his legs over the side, so he had to use his walking stick to get himself up. Unfortunately, since Nine Iron was moving, the floor was also moving, and he couldn’t get the stick . . . Well, you get the picture.
    â€œDo you have any idea what Lepercons cost?” Nine Iron cried.
    â€œLeave me alone, you crazy old man!” Mack yelled.
    â€œI’ll follow you to—”
    He breathed. Breathed.
    And then the carousel ran Nine Iron straight into the engorging, growing, swelling, bloated butt cheek of a massive Lepercon.
    So Mack didn’t hear where exactly Nine Iron was going to follow him. He just heard a sort of angry “Mmmphh mmmph!”
    â€œLet’s get out of here,” Jarrah said. “Place smells.”
    â€œBlueturophobia,” Mack said. “It’s a fear of blue cheese.”
    â€œAre you going to have one of your crazy fits?” Stefan asked.
    â€œNot if you knock me out, throw me in a taxi, and don’t wake me up until I’m standing in a shower,” Mack said.
    Five seconds later Mack was draped over the luggage. Stefan wheeled him—blissfully unconscious—toward the exit.

Chapter Three
    N ow we’ll explain all the stuff we didn’t explain earlier. It’s called “exposition.” Toss that word into the middle of your next English class. Your teacher will be like, “Wow, someone is actually paying attention!” That will be kind of sad, really.
    David “Mack” MacAvoy was a normal-looking kid living a normal life in the almost normal city of Sedona, Arizona. He had no idea that he would be called upon to save the world from a terrible evil.
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