Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
Chapter Ten
The next thing Toby knew, he was gasping for air and reflexively trying not to breathe in water.
"There there, you unlucky duck," a voice said as it held him down.
Far in the distance, Toby could hear a rhythmic boom of thunder.
Toby's brain was scrambled from pain and shock. His heartbeat was like a firm fist knocking on a door. The pain itself was mostly gone, but it left behind an echo that kept him near-paralyzed. He tried to move and instantly regretted it. He squeaked pitifully. His skin felt like it had been stripped off and replaced with chili peppers. The heavy rainfall surrounding him dulled the pain, but not entirely.
"Calm down. You're fine."
Toby opened his eyes to a horrorshow of flesh and metal.
"YAAAAAAHH!!!"
"Cut the dramatics," Zinc said, squeezing the mouse's muzzle shut. "I went through the same thing and you don't see me makin' like a baby, do you?" Beyond the canine's voice was that same loud, dull pounding. THOOM... THOOM... THOOM...
Toby forced his mind to settle down. He was looking at two eyeballs on sticks and a pair of stitched-on ears, but he reminded himself of whom they belonged to. The canine seemed relatively unharmed, which was strange. Toby had seen him burned alive just moments ago. Yet now, even his clothes were unblackened.
Zinc reached gently underneath the soaked and charbroiled rodent to help him sit up. "That a boy. Must've been quite a shock."
Toby's vision swirled a bit before he could focus. And then what he saw simply could not be true. He'd expected to see himself looking like a Cajun-style pork roast. Instead, there was his normal sky-blue pajamas and normal white fur. "How...? How am I still alive?"
Zinc seemed startled by that question. His head cocked to the side. "You seriously don't know?"
Toby brushed the water and hair out of his eyes, then shook his head.
Zinc grinned strangely. "Well then. Let's just say Junella's pretty fast on her feet. Same as me, she chucked you in the water before you got too crispy."
"Okay, okay... It all happened so-" He couldn't take the pounding anymore. "What Is That Sound!?"
"Oh, you'll like it. " Zinc jumped to his feet and easily pulled Toby to a standing position with his wrenches. He patted the mouse on the back. Gently this time. He'd seen more than enough proof that their new client was an A-1 creampuff.
Zinc led Toby out of the rain and pointed to a spot a few streets away. The thumping noise rose in volume.
What Toby saw first was Junella jumping up and down, cheering wordlessly. Then he noticed George was methodically leaping into the air and coming back down onto something with the full force of his front hooves. He'd been at it so long he'd created a crater at least four feet deep.
Zinc's grin was enormous. "Boy, it's sure a good thing nightmares can't die, huh? Of course, ol' Tinder's probably regretting that right about now."
Toby 'eep'ed as he realized what was at the center of the crater. While Toby was uncomfortable to see anyone get pummeled so mercilessly, he could fully understand how the horse was feeling. He had a hunch George was probably the very incarnation of 'fiercely loyal'.
The throbbing ache in Toby's skin was starting to subside. He was still drenched, but decided to stay that way a while, unlike when he'd left the showers yesterday. The shivery cool was soothing. "Remind me to thank Junella for putting me out."
"I'll thank her for both of us," Zinc pledged.
Toby watched George drill Tinder Fingers ever deeper into the concrete. "Is he really gonna survive that?" he asked.
"Sure, sure. You said yourself that your horsie friend got burned alive and buried. Nightmares ain't alive, ergo, they can't die. But he's gonna have one hell of a headache tonight. Probly leave us alone for a good while afterwards if he's got any sense."
"Why do you live here then, if he's always after you?" Toby asked, guessing correctly that this feud had been going on for a very long time.
"Our boat ended up here. We liked the place, we decided to stay. This pissed him off. But he can't get rid of us and we can't get rid of him, so it's a stalemate. Plus, he's like a filter. Anyone who can't get past him to get to us is not someone we want as a client. You're lucky as hell you came in with protection."
"I guess that makes sense," Toby replied.
Zinc looked fondly for a while longer upon Tinder Fingers getting his ass demolished, then turned towards the boat. "Come back inside, champ. Let's get you dried off. Want some breakfast?"
Toby's mind went blank except for that last wonderful word. "Absolutely!"
***
Toby's pajamas were dry again (and surprisingly clean) by the time Zinc led him to the kitchen nook of their houseboat. It was a small low-ceilinged wooden room with a table, a few chairs, a sink full of grody dishes and a very sticky floor. Open and unorganized boxes with their contents spilling out filled several shelves. Toby saw everything from cereal to spaghetti to dog kibble. Everywhere he stepped, something crunched under his feet.
Zinc nudged open the refrigerator with his elbow and peered inside.
Toby looked at the canine's immense metal arms and felt pity. How much of a hassle would everyday living be with those things getting in the way all the time? "There must be a lot of things you can't do with those," he said sympathetically.
Zinc smirked. He reached deep in the fridge, pulled out a hard boiled egg, peeled it, and deposited the shell on the counter. "Oh, sure," he said as he stuffed it in his muzzle.
The mouse's eyebrows went up. "Wow!!" He was so stunned by the display of dexterity, he fumbled the orange Zinc then tossed at him. It bounced off his tummy and went rolling under the table.
Zinc barked a laugh watching the mouse chase after it. "Sorry, pal! Gotta keep your wits aboutcha."
The orange was covered in fur and grime by the time Toby fished it out. In any other circumstance, the mere sight would have sent his germophobe alarm to Code Red. But when one has not eaten anything but a few berries in over a week... 'I'm not gonna eat the peel anyway,' Toby thought to himself as he walked over to wash it thoroughly in the sink.
Zinc finished off his egg and went back for seconds. He watched his new client frantically scrub the orange, then tear off a chunk of peel and sink his teeth into the juicy flesh. From the look on his face, he might've just attained enlightenment. "Good?"
"Mmmmmmfrrrrhhhhrr!" Toby agreed enthusiastically. He did not mind Zinc's chuckles as he ravaged the little round citrus miracle. Never had anything tasted so good! The sticky sweet juice ran down his chinfur. Toby devoured the whole thing in less than a minute, seeds included.
Afterwards, he let out a deep sigh of contentment and sagged against the kitchen counter.
"Want anything else?" Zinc offered.
Toby was about to shout agreement, but then reconsidered. "Maybe not. I've got, um, kind of a delicate stomach."
Zinc made a 'Really?' expression.
"Uh-huh. A normal meal for me is broth and crackers. I'd better just wait and see if I can hold this down."
"Awright. You can see I'm not much for cleaning. That goes double for cleanin' up puke."
Toby nodded. Then his curiosity and Zinc's friendliness pushed him to ask a question he might not have otherwise had the boldness to ask. "Um... Is it okay if I ask how you got your, um, prosthetics?"
Zinc clanked them together heartily. "No need for shyness! I got these bad puppies a bunch of years ago from a mad scientist friend of mine. I don't remember exactly how I ended up in Phobiopolis, but I do know I used to be hot shit back on Earth. Then I wind up here and I'm suddenly getting my pants beat off on a regular timetable. So I was on the lookout for some defensive capabilities, dig?
"Anyways, I run into this crazy old weasel with a Frankenstein lab and everything. He says he's been researching Phobiopolis for years and he's got this idea about how things are always changing around whenever we're not looking. You've noticed that, right?"
Toby nodded.
"The solution he comes up with, is to always be looking. So he asks me if I wanna volunteer for a procedure. He says he'll make it worth my while. And I'm thinking, 'Might as well. Strap me in, Doc!' He pumps me full of some of the sweetest anesthetic I've ever had the pleasure of making acquaintance with, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up from the worst buzzcut imaginable."
"Where'd he put your brain?" Toby asked.
"Threw it out," Zinc said with a shrug. "I didn't need it, any more than you need to breathe."
Toby became keenly aware of the air in his lungs.
"This place exists on dream-logic. You're alive so long as you can think. Nothing else necessary. Anyway, the Doc figured that having my eyes propped open all the time would prevent anything from changing while I blinked. And it does work. Makes it hard to sleep tho'. So I fashioned myself some pretty little tin eyelids, then added eyebrows from some roadkill I found. Looks nicer that way. To compensate me for the permanent loss of my hairdo, he gave me these wicked mamas." He held up his wrenches and swiveled the jaws up and down with a whirr. "I didn't spend long experimentin' with 'em for me to realize they needed some elbows. Other than that, they're the ginchiest. I haven't found anything yet that I can't crush if I apply enough pressure. Junella uses me to bust down doors and put the hurt on people who get in our way. Plus, when someone runs away on us, I'm quite skilled at the art of restraint," he bragged, making a clank for emphasis.
"Is Junella... like she is... because of the same doctor?"
Zinc laughed. "Nah! I'll let her tell that one. As for me, I stayed with the Doc for a while and helped out with some experiments. Eventually he just got tired of me and his mind wandered off to other things he wanted to try. One day I realized he'd basically forgotten me and I left."
"Sorry to hear that."
Zinc waved the concern away. "I've had worse split-ups. Juney and I met in Coryza a few years ago. She was there looking for bodyguard work, I was winning meals arm-wrestling. There's no dramatic story to it. We just saw each other, thought we looked interesting, started talking, and bingo. Partnership. We fit together smooth as silk. We hardly ever fight, and if we do, eh, we both know we're living under the same roof with one of the few fursons capable of pulverizin' the other. Encourages civility, y'know?"
Toby smiled. Behind the obvious boast about their toughness, he could hear a warmth in Zinc's tone. He and Junella genuinely cared for one another. "I'm glad that you two are such good friends. I... had a friend, a little while ago."
From the mouse's solemn tone, Zinc did not have to ask how that had ended. "Is this a situation Juney and I could be of service with?" he asked quietly.
"No. Well... Indirectly, yes."
Zinc raised an eyebrow at that. He was about to inquire further, when the sound of a collapsing shelf made his teeth grit.
"Oh, I am SO sorry, Madam!!" George called out from the front of the boat.
Zinc was already headed for the door. "We'd better stop Junella from killing him."
Toby followed. "I thought you said nightmares couldn't be killed?"
"Just not permanently!"
***
Thankfully, George had only knocked over one shelf full of Zinc and Junella's belongings. The skunk was ankle-deep in doodads, silently checking for breakages. Her expression indicated she wished she had her hands free to swear. George was like a shamed puppy with his tail between his legs, apologizing over and over. And while Junella was less furious than Zinc had expected to find her, she did say that maybe they ought to continue things outside.
After she'd said this, Toby was surprised to see her take hold of George's collarbone and lead him further into the Jenny-Mae instead of back towards the door. To the left of the throne were stairs that led up to, presumably, bedrooms. There was also an enormous ornamental rug hanging on the far wall depicting the rise and fall of some primitive civilization. Junella tugged on the bottom and it rolled up like a window shade. Toby blinked as artificial light poured in.
It was a doorway outside, but not to the outside that had been outside a moment ago. There was no rain, or Tinder Fingers, or Phlogiston. It was even the wrong time of day! Toby found himself in a large, sandy junkyard. Beyond the pockmarked aluminum fence he could see cacti, mountains and endless telephone poles. It was nighttime here. Five or so moons hung in the sky and the yard was further lit by several looming street lamps.
Zinc could see the 'Where ARE we!?' written on the mouse's face, and answered before he was asked. He explained that some parts of Phobiopolis were less stable than others. They blended into one another the way one part of a dream will become something else. This secret backyard was located in a barren little town called Scrofula. It was a good place to store some of their larger treasures, as the soulsucking serpent-ghosts that prowled the main avenues never bothered with inanimate objects.
Toby looked rather worried at the mention of soulsucking serpent-ghosts. Zinc grinned and reassured him that they only attacked what they could see, and the junkyard's fence was plenty tall.
Toby did not completely relax, but figured Zinc and Junella were good enough at keeping themselves alive that their word was trustworthy. He looked around at the duo's hoard of treasure.
They really did like souvenirs. The shelves inside were only a fraction of their toys. Out here, there were things that would make a mechanic or a historian weep. Cars of every era were stacked up like layer cakes. There was an entire hill of boat hulls. A hedge maze's worth of arcade cabinets. Washers and dryers and other assorted appliances. Totem poles. Buses. Taxidermied beasts beyond description. Statues and other examples of art and archaeology. Rusting, terrifyingly-pointy farm machinery. Even a few airplanes. Plus the skull of some kind of rat-beast that was so enormous it could have easily been converted into a bungalow.
In the center of the yard was a large, round clearing. It was clearly a workspace, as it was ringed with tool cabinets, desks, gas tanks, generators and assorted heavy equipment. Aisles spidered out in all directions, granting access to the various stockpiles of stuff.
Junella walked over to a desk that had a stack of curly-edged maps splayed out upon it. ('I guess there's no rain or wind here,' Toby thought.) She whistled for everyone to gather around. George looked over her shoulder and gave his full attention.
"There's no reason not to leave today, so let's get to it," she sang. As with all her longer speeches, she had to select small chunks of songs to stitch together sentences from. "These maps are about as accurate as you can hope for. I think Zinc will agree with my route, but I want us all thinkin' synchronized. We'll probably be traveling for about four days. Though "days" don't really mean anything; most of the places we'll pass through are perpetual night."
Toby had a worrisome thought. "Do the people who live there suffer from vitamin D deficiencies?"
Junella gave him a look, then blinked as she realized the question had never even occurred to her. She shook her head: unimportant. She rustled around in the pile of maps until she found one that showed the whole of Phobiopolis. Toby was surprised to see that either the map was a flattened-out representation, or the world itself was flat. It looked like a long, wide, board game. The forest he'd first arrived in was near one end, Anasarca the other. Toby wondered if everyone who ended up here started roughly in the same spot. He also noticed, to his discomfort, how many places on the map were blank and titled only with question marks.
Junella held down the edges with four pebbles and pointed out their location. "Right now we're here," she said in the voice of a 70s love song, her finger on Scrofula. "It makes more sense to start from home," she added as a country ballad, indicating the place where Epitaxis was crossed out and Phlogiston written in. She ran her paw along the map, showing the difference in length from each location to Anasarca so Toby and George could see the difference. From Phlogiston it was noticeably shorter, but the overall distance was still so immense it only amounted to a fraction of travel time saved.
She pointed a grooved finger at Toby. "There's two ways to go; the safe way or the fast way," she rockabilly'd.
Toby grinned bashfully. "I think, even though we've only just met, you can guess which one I'd prefer."
The skunk nodded in a, 'I figured as much, but you're the client so it was polite to offer' kind of a way. "Safety it is." She looked up towards her boat and spaced out for a moment, mentally taking inventory. "If I remember right, there's a lot of things we're runnin' low on. So our first stop's here for basic supplies." She pointed to a relatively-nearby place called Dengue.
"Good. Haven't seen Trachea in a while. Been meaning to sell him some shit," Zinc said to himself.
"Then we take the long way to Coryza," Junella went on. Toby noticed that she didn't say place names often since most of Phobiopolis' locations weren't found in any lyrics. She had to edit together vowel and consonant sounds to speak them. The path she'd indicated took them on a winding route through Thrombosis and Strangury. Toby noticed there was a far shorter path through a place called Teratoma, and deduced it must have been a particularly bad neck of the woods for Junella to skip it. The skunk circled Coryza with her finger. "If we make good time, here's where we'll be sleeping tonight. And it'll probably be the last place we'll get a good night's sleep."
Toby fidgeted a little at that. He imagined the four of them camping in some unspeakable location, all around them night-beasties barely kept at bay.
Zinc on the other hand was grinning like an asshole. "Oh please, please, Juney! Say we're going to EC after that!" he squealed like an eager little boy.
Junella rolled her eyes. "Of course we are, dummy. Sander's not gonna have anywhere near all the gear we need."
Zinc made a little jump for joy. "Hot dog!!"
By way of explaining, Junella directed Toby's gaze to the spot on the map whose name had the largest font: ECTOPIA CORDIS. "The big city," she sang. "Our only big city. You can see it's a little bit out of our way, but worth it. We can find a place to crash there too, but don't expect a good rest if you get carsick," she warned cryptically. From Ectopia Cordis she drew a curving line through Hypovolemia, Lumbago, Fistula, Marasmus, Drapetomania and Borborygmus. "Luckily, this is all relatively undangerous territory. 'Relatively' being massively important to that sentence. But 'safe' goes out the window completely when we hit here." She stabbed at Phlegmasia. "This is where things start to go bad. This is the part where, if you can't handle it, you had damn well better tell me to turn around and go home." Her record-label eyes drilled into Toby, letting him know she was dead serious.
"What's so bad about it?" he meekly inquired, not really wanting to know.
Zinc answered for her. "There are places in this world," he said, "where you can get lost. I mean real gone, Daddy-o. Permanent-like. There are places that do bad things to your head. This is where it starts happening. Lotsa people end up staying forever in Phlegmasia, just reading the walls and ceiling till they turn into dust. But beyond that... Holy hell, does it get bad."
Junella's finger circled the largest area of the map. There were no landmarks, only a name: DYSPHORIA.
"Here is where the nightmares really start acting like nightmares," she croaked. "Places blend into other places. Things ain't solid anymore. You can get lost just by blinking. You go in here without a lot of planning first, you get forgotten. Or you lose your mind. Literally."
She reached across the map to give Zinc's shoulder a comradely squeeze. Her expression to Toby was as sincerely gentle as he'd seen it before. "We've been there. We went in, for certain items, and came back out. We've never been all the way through to the other side, but I think we can make it. Right now, this is your chance to decide whether you really want to go home that badly. Because you will be putting more trust in us than you can possibly realize."
The little albino took a deep breath. "I appreciate you being straight with me," he said. He took a moment to converse with himself, but he already knew the answer. For one, he did trust this pair. Their souvenirs alone proved how long they'd lived in this world. And parts of their maps looked handwritten. Plus, with George along he'd be doubly defended. He was unthinkably lucky to be in such good company.
He'd realized by now that his heart preferred the sickbed he knew to the overwhelming uncertainty of this place. Yet his own goal of getting home had become a secondary priority. More importantly, he had to tell Aldridge about Piffle. Even if he was stuck here forever, at least he could do one good thing with his life and help his friend.
Toby had been staring down at the sand and his toes for a few moments. He gathered every last scrap of bravery he possessed, raised his head to Junella, and said, "I want to go."
Zinc nodded in approval. He could tell it had taken a lot of nerve for the little runt to say that.
Junella merely went back to her businesslike demeanor. "Good. So if we do get through, all that's left is to get up the mountain. From everything I've heard, and it's not extensive, there won't be too much weirdness waiting for us. Just the ascent. Anasarca's stable; hence why the wizard set up shop there."
Toby nodded. "And when we get th-"
"If, not when," Junella hissed, wanting to emphasize that this was no sure thing.
The mouse gulped. "If. Okay. If we get there, then I'll ask Aldridge about going home, plus this other little thing, and-"
She cut him off again, this time reaching across the map to pinch his pajama collar between her fingers. "Other thing!?"
Toby squeaked. "It's nothing that'd put you in any danger, I promise! It's not even about you guys! It's just... It's kind of embarrassing," he whispered, hoping she wouldn't press further.
She did. "No secrets," she ground out in a heavy metal growl.
"Fine," Toby said with a sigh. "I... I had a friend. I left her in a... bad situation. I don't know how to rescue her and I'm too much of a wuss to succeed anyway. I thought if anyone could get her out, Aldridge could."
Junella let his collar go. She looked almost offended. "You didn't think of asking us?"
Toby was surprised she'd offer. But then again, a rescue mission was probably the sort of thing she and Zinc did all the time. Still, giving her any details meant having to retell the tale. And the shame of it hurt enough that he'd prefer not to. "I thought that having you take me to the mountain was already asking a lot," he lied.
Junella sneered. The mouse was a terrible liar, but his face told the tale well enough. Whatever had happened, he was clearly disgusted with himself for it. Junella made a mental note of this. She wasn't about to cancel the trip over it, but she resolved to not let this pipsqueak into any kind of position where he could screw them over by getting too scared and running off. Just because he'd said a moment ago he was willing to go through Dysphoria, that didn't mean shit. A furson's words and actions could be worlds apart.
Since the skunk didn't say anything in reply, Toby hoped things were okay between them. "Allright then. After I have a talk with Aldridge, then he'll send me home, and you guys can go back to yours with George. I know we agreed to it before, but I just want to be certain."
"Crystal clear," Junella agreed.
"Same here," said Zinc. "After the stomping Georgie gave Tinder, I'm more than convinced he'll be good for us."
George had been so quiet the others had almost forgotten he wasn't a statue, but just then he lightly cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Sire Zinc. I do not mean to reach beyond my station, but I would generally prefer not to be called 'Georgie'. It feels undignified."
"No offense, Sir Stallion. I'll keep that in mind," Zinc replied.
George was about to object to that nickname as well, but figured it was probably futile.
Junella swept the pebbles off the map and started rustling around underneath for some blueprints. "Since George can't fit all of us on his back, and since our last vehicle got munched-"
Zinc tugged at his shirt, heartbroken. "Our dear departed Killcanoe!"
"-we'll need something new." The skunk pointed to George. "D'you mind pulling a sled?"
He seemed rather tickled by the idea. "I never have before! It sounds like it could be potentially quite enjoyable."
"Just what I wanted to hear." To Zinc she asked, "Where did we put the skates?"
He looked flustered. "Oh hell. Somewhere with the tractors and combines? I'll find 'em. And before you bring it up; yes, you were right about keeping the big stupid things."
She smiled smugly.
"Are you guys just gonna build a vehicle right here?" Toby asked.
"Amazing powers of perception, Clyde," Zinc replied. "Or did you wanna walk?"
Toby blushed quite clearly through his white fur. "No! I mean, I'm impressed! Is there anything I can do to help?"
Junella visibly flinched. "You don't seem like the manual labor type." The mouse seemed a bit chagrined by that, so she tried to soften the blow. "Besides, you're a client. Clients get to sit out the heavy duty work." She indicated a section of metal bleachers (partly disassembled for scrap) where he could sit and watch.
"Oh," said Toby. "I don't want to feel like I'll be a burden on you," he said softly.
Junella fake-smiled. "The two types of clients we hate the most are the tourists who wanna look at everything close-up, and the superhero-types who think they can do our jobs better than we can. Believe me; if you sit in the back and don't do or say a fuckin' thing the whole time, you will get on our favorites list."
Toby nodded. He wasn't sure if she was being truthful or just trying to shoo him off, but either way he got the message. "I'll just go sit over there then. Still, if you need me for anything, you can ask."
"I'll keep that in mind," Junella said, making it sound like, 'Buzz off and let me get to work.'
And so, tail between his legs, Toby walked off towards the bleachers. The metal was chilly on his bare paws. He sat and watched as Junella began to direct Zinc and George to start work on their trip's transportation. Toby wondered if he was simply going to be an obligation during their journey. A package to be delivered, nothing more.
'Isn't that better than trying to get to the mountain yourself?' a part of him asked.
Yes, he answered. Humiliation was preferable to being alone, lost, and easily-killable.
*****