Revenge of Main Street Antiques: Malsman Lake, #3

By Adam J Mangum

They've saved the world twice, but can they save themselves?

 

Sammie and Rahul are best friends and sixth graders at Malsman Lake Elementary school in a small town in Minnesota. Over the past few months, they've saved the world twice: once from an eggplant-shaped alien who wanted to conquer their dimension, and another time from a crazed dream lady who wanted to twist reality into a world of dreams. They didn't realize that would make them enemies. And now some mysterious creature made of junk wants to humiliate them and then kill them. For the town's two heros, Malsman Lake has never been weirder or more dangerous.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adam J Mangum
• Release date: Aug 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781945359255

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

All day, Sammie Stadler thought she was being watched.

The first time was when she’d been raking some leaves in her backyard. She thought she’d seen a squirrel or something in the shadow of some trees, but when she had turned to look, there was nothing there.

When she left her house and got on her bike, she thought she felt someone watching her from the shadow of the garage. But, once again, when she turned to look, there was nothing there.

Now it had happened again. She walked with her best friend Rahul Patil down Main Street in their hometown of Malsman Lake, Minnesota. Between the alley of two buildings, she thought, again, that she’d seen something there, but when she turned her head, there was nothing.

Sammie wondered if she was becoming paranoid. A few months ago, an eggplant-looking alien had invaded Malsman Lake through her little brother’s closet. Then a crazy lady more than one hundred years old had tried transforming reality into a world of dreams. She and Rahul had defeated both of these interdimensional villains.

Was she just looking for a new threat? It had barely been a month since they’d fought the Dream Queen; they didn’t need another villain—not yet.

What are we going to eat first? Rahul asked.

What? Sammie said, breaking from looking at another shadowed part of Main Street.

Earth to Sammie! Rahul stopped, staring at her. What are we going to eat at the Harvest Festival?

Sammie looked down Main Street. The transformation had begun. The start of the Malsman Lake Harvest Festival was only two weeks away. Orange and brown banners with the yellow words HARVEST FERTIVAL were being fastened to light polls and stoplights. Stores, shops, banks and offices worked to outdo each other with decorations showing colorful signs of fall: yellow corn cobs, farm equipment and farm animals.

Besides Christmas, the Harvest Festival was Sammie’s favorite time of year. There were rides, awesome food, animals, contests and shopping. It was like everything everyone loved about fall blended together into one awesome week.

The Harvest Festival was, perhaps, the most normal thing that happened in Malsman Lake. Even so, it had plenty of weird, because Malsman Lake always had some bizarre.

Three years before, Henry Olsen had been showing a calf, and the animal had disappeared and reappeared several times throughout the competition. He had been rewarded extra points for an extraordinary showing and had won the competition. The year before that, at the baking competition, Missy Sjostrom’s popular pumpkin spice pie had made anyone who ate it sing in amazing opera voices. The judges had announced her gold medal in amazing harmony.

But for the most part, the Harvest Festival was the most normal thing that happened in Malsman Lake.

There’s more than food at the festival, Rahul, Sammie corrected, but her heart wasn’t really into correcting him; he was just too excited about the food, and it made her stomach rumble.

Fall had come to southern Minnesota, and they both wore jackets against the crisp, cool air. Dark clouds promising freezing rain hung overhead, but so far, they had held off in drenching them.

Sammie turned her head at some sudden motion, looking toward the alley between two downtown buildings. But there was nothing there.

Am I going crazy? Sammie thought to herself. But something is watching me, I know it.

Dad wants to take me to Minneapolis to hang out with some ‘boys’, Rahul said, all the excitement drained from his voice.

Maybe it will be fun, Sammie offered.

He blew out a puff of air. I doubt it. My dad has this best friend who has two boys my age. It’s always so boring.

Don’t they like baseball? Sammie encouraged.

He puffed again. They like sports some. But they are obsessed with LEGOs. Like, their entire house is filled with LEGOs. I mean, LEGOs are fine, but there is more to life than little plastic bricks.

Rahul stopped, looking up at the antiques store. Sammie stopped beside him. The gold-painted sign above the storefront read: MAIN STREET ANTIQUES. The window had another name written in golden letters: NORWEGIAN ANTIQUES.

She should just pick a name, Rahul suggested, speaking about Carol Olsen, the woman who ran the store.

The sign is historic, Sammie said, pointing to the big one above the building. I don’t think she can change it.

Sammie’s eyes moved toward a big concrete planter next to the door of the shop where she thought she saw something move again. But when her eyes landed on the faint shadow cast by the planter, there was nothing there.

She shook her head and looked at Rahul. Why are we stopping here?

My dad’s birthday is next week, he replied. He likes old stuff.

Sammie laughed. You think your dad wants something from Norwegian Antiques?

Rahul shrugged. I mean, probably not, but I have no idea what to get him. I mean, he buys whatever he wants; Mama always complains that he leaves nothing for gifts.

Sammie smiled thinking of her dad. He was easy to shop for: just get him a tool or something for his workshop.

I need to get home, Rahul said, kicking a small pebble away and into the street. Ma let me come meet you without finishing my chores, but I still have a bunch to do if she’s going to let me watch the Twins tonight. I can’t believe they’re in the playoffs!

Sammie smiled at her friend’s excitement. Despite being born and raised in Minnesota, she didn’t really care about the Twins or baseball, but Rahul’s enthusiasm infected her pretty easily.

Race you to the end of the street, she said, tapping him on the shoulder and sprinting toward Luther Street.

Sammie dodged around a shopper and an old man, and made it easily to the street corner. Rahul arrived two seconds later, huffing.

That was totally unfair, he said. You got a head start.

Sammie laughed. Truth was, it had been unfair. Just last year, she’d been able to bike and run a lot faster than Rahul. But in the last few months, he’d grown to be as tall as her and he’d gotten a ton faster. Sammie hated losing, so she had used surprise to give herself a little head start.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move, but when she turned her head, again, nothing was there. She stepped over closer to the building’s shadow, but there was nothing but the concrete of the sidewalk and the brick of the old building.

What is it? Rahul asked, crouching down to have a look at nothing.

I swear I keep seeing something, she said. It’s been happening all day. It’s like something is watching me from the shadows, but when I look, it’s gone.

Rahul nodded. Probably the best thing about Rahul was that he never doubted her. Even when it seemed unbelievable, he always stood by her side.

I didn’t see anything. He peered closely at the corner where the concrete sidewalk met the red brick building. Is it always in a shadow?

Yes, she replied. It’s always in shadow. I saw something this morning in the trees, then by my garage, and now a couple times in the shadows here on Main Street. It’s creeping me out a little bit.

Rahul stood and looked back across the street. Well, it could be an interdimensional anomaly or nothing at all.

She laughed. Interdimensional anomaly?

He shrugged with a wide smile. It’s something Maria said once.

Maria was a secret agent, a Dimensionera, who had also been pretending to be their teacher, Ms. Dillwater. She’d been transferred by her secret agent group after the Dream Queen almost escaped and turned their world into a dream dimension.

Well, anomaly or my imagination, Sammie said, I can’t help but think I’m being followed.

Drol already did not like this dimension. Of course, he’d heard of Dimension 1—everyone had heard of Dimension 1, also known as Earth. But Drol’s journeys had never taken him here. The place was crawling with Dimensionera, and Drol was smart enough to try and avoid them.

But Drol’s new master had insisted he come to Dimension 1 for this new mission, and Drol did as his master asked. The body he’d created was sloppy, and he needed to find some better materials. But the wheels for legs had been convenient, and he’d been small enough to avoid detection. But if he was going to do what his master had asked him to do, then he wouldn’t be able to keep inhabiting a small-wheeled toy.

Drol entered his new lair, prepared to report back to his master. He reached for and pulled in some energy from between the dimensions, filling him with the power her needed to connect with his master.

I don’t like being disturbed. His master’s voice was terrible, like claws on rock. This better be good, Drol’Zul Zainjon.

Drol wanted to smile, but his current body had no mouth, so the lights on the little toy vehicle flashed instead. You will be pleased, My Master. Step one of my mission is complete.

This soon? The master’s voice rang with surprise. I did not expect this.

That was his master’s problem: he didn’t understand how good Drol was at his job, that Drol had been trained by the greatest whom ever lived.

Yes, Master. I found the girl. She was just as you described her. Humans are disgusting creatures. The wispy hair alone is enough to make an Alkunian want to puke his--

Stay focused, Drol, his master interrupted. What did you find out?

She wears no armor, Drol continued, trying not to get frustrated at his master’s constant interruptions. She carries no weapon, but she does carry a Dimensionera communicator, so she must have some connection to those villains.

His master swore in a language Drol thought might be from Dimension 10. The Dimensionera could make this difficult.

It will not be a problem, Master, Drol assured him. She is a child. I cannot believe this youth has proven so difficult.

Do not underestimate her, his master replied. In short order, she’s taken down two of the most powerful creatures in all the dimensions.

Do I have your blessing to proceed with step two of my mission? Drol was eager to begin his true work—not just spying, but his true calling.

Yes. His master’s voice sounded nearly as excited as Drol felt. You have my blessing and command to kill the human girl, Samantha Stadler.

The lights on the small toy vehicle flashed again in a bright smile. It was time to create a new, more dangerous body and get to work.

CHAPTER 2

Music class was one of Sammie’s favorite parts of the day. Mrs. Falk had been the music teacher at Malsman Lake Elementary School for a long time — long enough that she’d started when Sammie’s mom was in school.

Mrs. Falk taught them all sorts of cool things. They’d played drums and recorders, they learned to sing harmonies, and she’d even taught them to dance a little. The boys, including Rahul, had not been too excited about learning a few dance moves for last year’s holiday concert, but she’d seen him flashing those same moves on occasion when he thought no one was looking.

Whatever Mrs. Falk taught them, she was always super excited about it. Today was no different. As she stood to start her lesson, she wore a Christmas-level excited face.

This is going to be a super awesome class, children, she said, nearly walking on her tiptoes. She wore her grey and silver hair in lose curls. As always, she wore a sweater, this time a green and blue knit with golden buttons in the front. We’re going to listen to records.

Mrs. Falk rolled a big wooden box into the middle of the circle of sixth graders. It was made of dark brown wood and was a little taller than Eva Hickman, the shortest of the sixth graders.

Records? John Crocker had been in Sammie’s class her entire life and rarely spoke. But when he did get engaged, it was usually with music.

Yes, John, records. Mrs. Falk folded her hands in front of her, beaming next to the wooden box.

Aren’t those like really old CDs? Logan Thornton asked. Logan was a tall, athletic boy who lived on a small horse ranch on the edge of town.

Mrs. Falk cackled. If Sammie hadn’t known better, the music teacher’s laugh would have been perfect for a super villain. Kind of. Records were before digital music, before CDs, tapes or eight tracks.

Eight what? Hunter Pilman snickered. Hunter was a bully and pretty much constantly annoying. His best friend was Gavin Hunter, and the two obnoxious boys formed what Sammie and Rahul called the Hunters.

Eight tracks. The Hunters flustered some teachers, but not Mrs. Falk. She’d been teaching a long time, and she managed even the Hunters without a problem. "It was a popular way of playing music in the 1970s. One hundred years ago, you had to go to a music hall and hear live music. That changed over time, and records were part of the reason for that. After records, there were eight tracks, cassette tapes, CDs, and then digital music players.

Let me show you all how a record player works.

She opened the top of the box, revealing a green disc and a strange little metal arm that looked almost like the tuba Mrs. Falk had attached to the wall. The kids gathered around, all trying to get a good view of the opened box. Mrs. Falk let go of the hood, and it stayed open on its own.

My grandmother had one of these, very similar to this one, in her house in Jackson. Mrs. Falk smiled fondly, a gesture Sammie had seen on her own mother’s face when she talked about her grandmother.

Then this must be really old, Madison Martin said in almost a whisper, blushing as soon as she said it.

Mrs. Falk turned to the red-headed girl and offered her a big smile. Yes, Madison, this is very old. I just bought it from Main Street Antiques yesterday. It was an amazing find. She touched the wood, running her hand lovingly across the top of the record player. Like most of the older people in town, she called the store Main Street Antiques, not the newer name, Norwegian Antiques.

All the kids gathered in closer and Mrs. Falk opened a panel on the front revealing a series of mostly empty shelves. She took out a large envelope with a picture of a man smiling on the cover. He had big, dark hair. Mrs. Falk pulled out a big black disk and set it on the green felt disk of the same size inside the open top of the box. She moved over to the side of the big box and turned a handle over and over again. The disk on top started turning as well.

What are you doing? Chloe Weathers asked.

This is a crank, Mrs. Falk explained. This machine doesn’t work on electricity, but on the power I provide it through this motion.

Electricity seems easier, added Emily Swanson, Chloe’s best friend.

Mrs. Falk smiled again, her crooked teeth giving the gesture a playful and friendly feel. Yes, probably, but one hundred years ago, there wasn’t electricity everywhere like there is now. She moved back toward the front of the big box and picked up the arm near the record. Listen to this.

Mrs. Falk placed the arm delicately on the disk, and a scratchy sound came from the box. It sounded like a car driving with its windows down along the freeway, hitting the occasional bump.

Music started, an organ, some horns and some drums, light and clear despite the scratchy background noise.

A man’s voice sang out, WHERE IT BEGAN. I CAN’T BEGIN TO NOTICE…

Is this music one hundred years old? asked Veronica Flores.

Mrs. Falk laughed as the man’s voice hit the chorus on the song, singing with a fuller sound behind him, SWEET CAROLINE!

No, their music teach explained. This is an artist named Neil Diamond. He’s a favorite of mine. I had this very record when I was younger.

The song was interrupted as the arm veered off the record with a loud screech that made several kids reach up and cover their ears.

What happened there, Mrs. Falk mumbled and looked at the record player.

Another sound came from the box, more like shifting gears or an elevator moving. A red light came from the creases