The Last Kids on Earth and the Cosmic Beyond. Max Brallier

      Bardle’s face freezes. ‘A human spoke that language? Are you certain?’

      I nod.

      ‘What did she say?’ Bardle asks. ‘I must know the words!’

      Quint is good with languages. He’s been taking French, Spanish, and Bulgarian since like third grade. ‘I’m not certain I can pronounce it,’ he says. ‘It was something like . . . SOO ZUT CROOLER.’

      June knows Spanish, because her parents spoke it at home. Her attempt sounds like, ‘ZOUL SUT CRULLER.’

      ‘Guys, she didn’t say cruller, I say. ‘Why would she say cruller? Crullers are delicious snake donuts and I don’t think she was talking about snake donuts.’

      June sighs. ‘Jack, crullers aren’t snake donuts. They’re just long pastries that have –’

      ‘NOPE! SNAKE DONUTS!’ I say.

      Dirk suddenly slams his fist on the table. His voice is a growl. ‘Guys, this is serious. Stop talking about snake donuts.’ He seems embarrassed to try, but then says, ‘Bardle, I heard something like – ahem – SUU ZOULT KRUELER.’

      Bardle’s eyes narrow. Whatever Dirk said – he got it right. Bardle gently massages one of his long ear hairs. ‘This means . . . IT HAS BEGUN.’

      ‘Wait – what’s begun?’ June asks.

      Suddenly a cold darkness seems to pass over the room. I shiver. The lights flicker. It’s a coincidence, I’m sure – just ice on the generator – but it’s eerie.

      Bardle shakes his head. ‘I do not know what’s begun. But for some reason, a human speaks the language of Ŗeżżőcħ. That human stole your blade. And with it, that human has begun something.

      Bardle suddenly stands . . .

chapter five

      That night, the strange human villain haunts my dreams, like the baddie in an ’80s horror movie . . .

      I wake up shivering. Partly from the cold – because yeah, IT IS FREEZING. My winter sleeping outfit is someone’s weird old Halloween CHEWBACCA COSTUME. And Quint’s makeshift heater – a bunch of PlayStations and Xboxes piled on top of one another – is not working.

      But mostly, it’s a shiver of fear.

      That was a human villain. A human villain using MY WEAPON as part of a bad-dude plan. We need to find that human and retrieve my Louisville Slicer. And soon! Because if this monster-riding human decides to attack, I’m afraid we’re unprepared . . .

      See, our monster town is now a ghost town. The monsters are huddled up inside stores and shops inside Wakefield Town Square, too terrified of the snow to come out.

      This must be fixed.

      I brew some hot chocolate, and the smell soon has my buddies waking. ‘Guys,’ I say. ‘This villain lady knows stuff about Ŗeżżőcħ. So, if a fight goes down – and fights DO KIND OF ALWAYS GO DOWN AROUND HERE – then we need our monster buddies ready to rumble alongside us. And they are not ready to rumble.’

      Moments later, we’re outside having a –

       LIGHT-HEARTED, JUST-HORSING-AROUND, BUDDY SNOWBALL BATTLE!

      ‘Isn’t winter the best?!’ I shout as I hurl a snowball.

      ‘Such a delight!’ June says.

      Monsters start watching. Some are huddled up in blankets, peering through frosty windows. I think I even see one watching through a mailbox slot. I grin.

      ‘Guys, play up the fun!’ I whisper. ‘Everyone loves a good friendly snowball fight!’

      That’s when Quint appears on the deck of the tree house with an armful of snowball artillery. Our old-fashioned snowball battle turns awesomely post-apocalyptic and gadgetfied.

      Dirk wields our old Tennis Blaster 2000 – which is now the Mobile Snow Sphere Slinger – and things intense . . .

      We’re all giggling and laughing and freezing.

      And it’s working. A monster comes shambling out and joins the fun!

      Unfortunately, that monster is Biggun. He scoops up a Biggun-sized snowball and –

       FROSTY BIGGUN BLAST!

      And that’s the end of that. The Biggun Blast freezes us to the core. We spend the rest of the day in the tree house, huddled up near the video game systems, trying to get warm.

      And the monsters are now extra freaked out. They’ve become afraid of snow in both flake form and ball form.

      When we’ve finally finished thawing out, Dirk makes a suggestion: ice fishing.

      ‘Fish for ice?’ I ask. ‘Why would we fish for ice? Ice is everywhere! The whole world is basically a Super Mario snow level.’

      ‘No, dork,’ Dirk says. ‘You fish for fish through a hole in the ice. It’s my favourite part about winter. C’mon. I know a spot.’

      We convince Skaelka and a few other monsters to join us. They agree – but only after I promise they’ll get to eat GIANT HUNKS OF RAW FISH.

      We’re walking along a wooded trail, freezing our butts off, when I hear movement in the trees.

      ‘Whoa, look!’ Junes says. ‘Two little critters just went tumbling past!’

      Skaelka halts. A strange snarl sound escapes her nostrils and her hands tighten around her axe. She suddenly means business.

      ‘What’s the alone one?’ June asks.

      ‘One not in the community,’ Skaelka says. ‘One that does not matter.’

      And the way Skaelka says it – it’s clear the conversation is over. Skaelka is no big fan of the alone one.

      At the lake, I learn something that’s a bummer: ice fishing is the most boring thing on earth. You drill a hole in the ice and you just sit there! That’s literally it! THE WHOLE THING! You can’t even talk because apparently that ‘scares away the fish.’

      After the fifth hour of cold nothingness, I say, ‘If monsters don’t get me first, I will die of boredom.’

      ‘Hey! No talking!’ Dirk says. ‘Listen to nature. Hear the peace and quiet and –’

       ICE TENTACLE BURST!

      So . . . fishing was a big fat icy fail. The only thing we caught was a cold. And there’s no way Quint with a runny nose is going to get any creature excited about winter.

      I’m sitting in the tree house, bemoaning all this, when Quint says, ‘SNOWMEN!’

      ‘Snow creatures!’ June declares.

      I