Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
PART 57
Toby felt like an engine that had run so long without oil that now it was nothing but a useless, fused wreck. He wondered if there was actually smoke billowing out of his joints or if that was just his imagination.
Braced against the rock, he watched the scene below. From this height, all his friends looked like action figures. He saw a little toy Junella snarl something at the big bad truck that made it cringe away from her. He saw a little toy Zinc bend over to pick up an even littler toy Doll. Then a little toy Piffle was hopping up the rocks towards him.
Soon she was a life-sized Piffle. Her safari outfit was stained red, white, and brown from blood, ash, and dirt. But her smile remained pristine. "We won, Toby! We won!" She saw his dazed expression. "...Toby? You okay?" She waved a hand in front of his eyes. "Anyone home in there?"
He turned his head slightly towards her. His voice felt like spitting out sand. "I think I'm done for today."
She nodded understandingly. "Let's get you on solid ground, maybe that'll help. Maybe the atmosphere up here's too thin," she kidded. She gave her friend a hug, wrapping her arms around tight. Soon her wings were carrying them both down the side of the hill. Toby felt like a sack of loose sticks in her arms.
She landed with a 'poof' of ash. "Can you walk, do you think?"
"Oh sure," he assured. He didn't want her to think he was completely infirm. "I'm just... done. I can't handle any more adventures today. I'd like to lie down as soon as possible."
"You've earned it!" she said sincerely. "I looked up when I heard the gunfire. That was spiffy timing!"
He was about to refuse the praise when Zinc walked over with Doll riding his shoulder. The mutt looked utterly out of breath, but pleased with how events had turned out.
He (gently) clapped the mouse on the shoulder. "Eyy, Toby! Nice work there with the gatling! You're a bonafide hero!"
Toby gave him a very queasy smile. "Please, don't. I'm not a hero. I did less than any of you. If you wanna say something nice, keep it in perspective."
The canine nodded. Meeting the mouse's eyes, he corrected, "You did more than I ever thought I'd see from you."
Toby rather liked the sound of that. His smile became genuine and grateful. "Thank you."
Doll gave Toby a double thumbs-up, then quickly grabbed back onto Zinc's doorknocker so she wouldn't fall off.
"Sorry we didn't get here fast enough to help. That was my fault," Piffle admitted, her cheeks burning. "After we got truck-flattened, Zinc bumped me off quick to get me back on my feet. But I..."
Zinc laughed. "She couldn't do it! There she is, standing over my neck with that fork of hers, I'm telling her to go ahead and 86 me, and she's all worried it'll hurt! It was freakin' adorable!"
She crossed her arms huffily. "It's one thing to poke a nightmare with it, but you're someone I care about!"
Junella ambled up then, trying to keep a triumphant posture. Everyone could see it was a front. Her grin said, 'We kicked some ass', but her eyes were silent and drained of spark. She walked past Piffle and Zinc like she didn't even see them, then grabbed Toby's hand and pressed it to her temple. "I'm kinda banged up, kid. Wanna give me some relief?"
Toby flinched at being touched. He could feel his hammer in his arm and considered the idea. It was hard to say no to Junella. But he wriggled for her to let go, and was relieved when she did. "I'm sorry. I just... No more violence today, please. Not if we can help it."
She could respect that. "Allright."
Zinc clanked his wrenches. "I’m always willing to lend a hand, partner."
Junella nodded blissfully, like he was offering to tuck her into bed.
He swung overhand and compacted her brains into mush.
Toby swiveled away from the sight, tasting bile at the back of his throat. He was not kidding about having had his fill. The throb from his ankle and cuts weren't bad enough to make him ask the others for a similar reboot. Pain-wise, it was nothing he hadn't endured before.
Moments later, a brand-new Junella was picking herself up and stretching her restored limbs. She ran her regrown hand along her tail, back where it should be. She poofed up her scarf and pointed for her troops to head towards Gilla-Gilla. "I know we're all dog tired after that shitshow, but it ain't polite to keep a pal waiting. Let's go."
Across the flattened battlefield, the rider was standing up on his ATV seat, waiting for them.
The forest was stunned silent by what had transpired. The fight had left a clearing that looked like God had reached down and scooped away everything alive. Junella led the way across scattered shrapnel, oil, blood, tree limbs, actual limbs, and ash.
Halfway there, a resonant voice came from the ground beside her. "Excuse me, Madam Brox...?"
"I see you, baby," she replied, as she drew a new revolver and aimed it right between his eyes.
***
Gilla-Gilla was posed like a statue atop his custom vehicle, eyes and muzzle still hidden. His posture radiated an aura of alertness. His only movement was the twitch of his ears. Falling ash collected on his quills and shoulders. His hands were empty, but open. Ready to make a grab for any of the melee or projectile weapons hanging from the twin racks at the back of his ATV.
His outfit balanced protection with mobility. Cargo shorts. A bulletproof vest over a goalie's compression shirt. Shoulder, knee, and elbow pads. No shoes. Almost everything he wore was moss green or bark brown. Even his fur was streaked with smears of camouflage paint. He looked like a paintballer gone postal.
The band of six approached him. His gaze seemed somewhere beyond them. But with those blacked-out goggles it was impossible to tell.
Junella was in the lead, followed by Zinc, Doll, Piffle and Toby. George slinked along at the rear, trying to hide himself. He did not need a second lesson that this furson was not fond of him.
Zinc waved. "Gilla-Gilla! It's us! Thanks for dropping in on the fun!"
The porcupine was stone until they crossed some imaginary line. Then he sprang into motion like a snare trap. His arm reached behind him and whipped out a bulky gun with an attachment on the front like a kitchen whisk. His other hand darted to the trigger and the gun hummed to life. Red light crawled along the tip like neon worms.
Toby did not want to know or find out what that thing did. He put his hands up.
"Hey, hey, hey!! Cool your jets, man!" Zinc barked, offended.
Gilla-Gilla took his finger off the trigger long enough to hook his mask down. "Who these tossers?" he demanded. His London accent was thick as treacle.
Junella was not surprised by this. 'Jumpy' was a word without enough syllables to adequately describe Gilla-Gilla. "I'll make introductions if you put down the painlauncher. Are we both okay with that?"
He licked his teeth in consideration. Then the gun dipped, but the red glow remained.
"That's our client, Toby deLeon," Junella began. "He hired us to take him up the mountain."
Gilla's eyebrow raised at this. Nothing else moved.
"Piffle tagged along with him and now she's funding the expedition, as well as making Zinc twitterpated."
Piffle illustrated by leaning on the canine's arm and beaming.
"Doll is..." Junella faltered a bit, regarding the burlap lump on Zinc's other arm. "I guess at this point she's yet another client. A non-paying one," she groused.
Gilla-Gilla made a gesture with the gun for Doll's bag to come off so he could see beneath it. Junella walked over and did so. The porcupine grimaced at the sight of the pudgy plastic baby with the gaping square void for a face.
"That brings us to George." Junella made a point of walking right up to the blackened bonecuddy to pat his flank, keeping her gaze locked with Gilla's. Without hesitation she turned her back to the nightmare stallion. "He's Toby's payment, as well as our chauffeur, bodyguard, and friend."
George bashfully raised his head to the porcupine. "Your reaction a moment ago was understandable. You are forgiven. And I assure you, I intend no harm."
Gilla was silent, but they all saw his mouth perfectly form the words, 'What the fuck?'
"He's an ascended construct," Toby piped up.
The porcupine did not look convinced. Yet.
"We, ah..." Zinc started, putting on his best snake charmer's smile, "we were hoping to crash at your pad for the night, seeing as our machine's a bit sideways at the moment. I know it ain't good manners for company to invite themselves, but who the hell else is out here for us to ask, right? Right?"
Gilla sneered.
"Aw, c'mon! Doncha get lonely out here without me?" Zinc teased, batting his eyelashes.
Gilla was immobile a few moments more, then barked a single syllable laugh. "HA! You silver-tongued wanka! Fine. One night. And I'll tow your car. Nice one it is, bruv."
"Thanks. Homemade."
Gilla looked across the group, gesturing with the glowing gun. "You lot follow behind. I'll park." He didn't wait for questions or discussion, just dropped down into the ATV seat, gunned the motor, and blew past them towards the Fearsleigher. Everyone swatted away the clouds of ash he'd kicked up.
"He's talkative today," Zinc remarked to Junella.
"Probably in a good mood. I dunno what convorine meat and metal sells for in the market, but he's got a motherlode of it now."
"Oh, hey, yeah! Hadn't even thought of that. At least he gets something back for doin' us a sleepover. I feel less like a mooch now."
Toby came closer to them with a questioning look. "Um... I couldn't help but notice those dark glasses he had. Is he... blind?"
Zinc laughed. "Not hardly!"
"Gilla sees everything," Junella added, her tone making it clear this was no exaggeration.
***
The porcupine retrieved the Fearsleigher in less time than Toby would have thought possible. The still-moaning silver convorine's bulk blocked the view, but from across the clearing he heard the stubborn squeal of a winch motor, then the clangrumble of the Fearsleigher tipping back onto its blades.
Junella and Zinc took a moment to fill the others in on Gilla-Gilla etiquette.
"It's debatable whether he's anyone's 'friend'," Junella began. "He's always alert for an ambush and never trusts anyone completely. But we're colleagues in the same business. We've worked well together. He's a survivalist at heart. No one in Phobiopolis is better at staying alive. So long as you accept that his number one priority's always gonna be number one, you can get along with him."
"He ain't all armor with nothing inside though," Zinc defended. "He can be surprisingly generous. Once you get past a certain point, that is. Where that line is? Nobody knows. So don't even try to get past it. Whatever his crazy rules are, just follow 'em and don't argue. It's all a test at first."
Piffle looked like she wasn't exactly happy about that, but nodded anyway.
Toby was so wrung-out that following directions unthinkingly sounded just fine to him.
Soon enough the buzzsaw-shaped ATV was growling its way back towards them, dragging the Fearsleigher with ease. Gilla had his mask back up but yelled through it, "Keep up!" He blew right past, laughing that singular 'ha' again.
Toby blinked. "Is he stealing our car?"
Zinc was already jogging after it. "Naw, he's just fuckin' around! And also showing the way to his shack. C'mon!" He waved a wrench for the others to follow. "Hold tight, Doll!" Her little hands gripped his collar.
"Maybe I should take her," Piffle came puffing over. Doll hopped down into the hamsterfly's arms and was held snug.
"Dammit, I'm already tired! I was hoping we could ride there!" Junella complained as she trotted along.
"Same here," Toby said. His muscles grumbled in exasperation as he forced them to run after the Fearsleigher. At least Gilla-Gilla wasn't going top speed, and at least the skate blades left an easy trail to follow.
From behind he heard hoofbeats. "Did someone call for a ride?" George asked brightly.
"Yes, please!" the mouse shouted back.
George laughed merrily as he grasped Toby's collar in his teeth and tossed his master onto his back.
Toby only yelped a little at the surprise flight. "Thanks, George," he wheezed.
"Got room for another?" Junella called out.
"Certainly," George replied. "Although, may I recommend taking the back seat, so as not to impale Sire Toby upon your tail?"
"That'd be sensible, yeah." She surprised George by ducking behind him, then grabbing his hips and vaulting up and over. Toby made a good landing pillow.
"Oof!"
She smiled an apology and settled in.
Up ahead, Zinc and Piffle were walking side by side. They balanced their pace to keep track of the ATV while not exhausting themselves. Piffle cradled Doll under one arm and held Zinc's hand with the other. They didn't say anything. Didn't need to. After a workout like that, it was nice to just drift quietly beside one another.
Toby watched them with a sleepy, wistful smile. He felt good again about not standing in their way. He also felt good about seeing Doll, thinking back to how he'd kept her away from the convorine. He winced though, remembering that he'd done it via punting. 'I'll apologize for that when I get a moment,' he vowed.
From behind, he felt a chin slip in to rest against his shoulder. At first he thought Junella had fallen asleep against his back, but then she spoke. So softly he had to lean closer to hear her. "Can I say something? I'd rather not be overheard."
"Sure," he whispered back.
She hesitated for a moment. There was weariness in her voice, but also a gentle, firm sincerity. "Thank you, Toby."
"You're welcome. But I don't think you've gotta hide saying that. We all-"
"No, I mean..." She shut her eyes tight. "I messed up. Bad. I got myself backed into a corner. Literally. And you got me out. While I dearly appreciate that, Toby, I do not like to put anyone in that position. I'm supposed to be self-sufficient."
He recognized the sour taste of loathing in her words. "It was an accident," he said comfortingly.
She flinched. "It was lack of planning," she insisted. "Don't sugarcoat it. But you... You drew its attention away. Even got yourself cut up a bit doin' it." A grooved finger gently traced along his cheek. "You look like a teacher with a red pen tried to correct you."
Toby couldn't help a small chortle at that. "I'll bet. I just hope that bush wasn't poisonous."
She shook her head. "Nah. Nothin' worse'n papercuts. But still..." She sighed and patted his cheek again. "...you got these because of me. You drew its attention away. A goddam convorine. That took guts, Toby. I don't think it's enough to just say I underestimated you."
Toby reached back to pat her paw. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She squoze his hand too.
Then a wry little smile returned. "Just don't be too surprised if I revert to my usual salty self once we're back in earshot. And don't spread this around either! It'd be bad for business if word got out that I ever needed a client to scoop my sorry ass outta trouble."
Toby hid a snort behind his paw.
George's sharp spectral ears had heard every bit of this, but as a loyal friend, he would of course keep it under lock and key.
***
Blessedly, Gilla-Gilla's shack was only a mile down the road. George grew a flesh saddle for his passengers, and Toby could tell he'd been practicing to make it more comfortable. After a while, he also noticed Junella was getting heavier on his back. From her breathing, he realized she really had fallen asleep. 'Can't blame her.'
Toby remembered what Zinc had said about this region. That it was crawling with constructs, all of them nasty. He did not like being out in the open like this, even if it was on top of George. Yet nothing was attacking. No beasties leapt out to chew them. Toby had a strong sense that it was due to Gilla-Gilla being near.
Soon enough they spotted the edge of the porcupine's territory. It was not marked with signs or paint, but was regardless impossible to miss. A perfect circle was carved out of the forest. Three hundred feet in diameter. Every single tree, bush and blade of grass had been exterminated. Only ash touched the ground.
In the exact center was a falling-down cabin that looked like the setting for a thousand teenage horror flicks. Low, caving roof. Wide porch with warped timbers. Mangy paint. Lots of windows, all shuttered. Supply crates and storage lockers were lined up near the back.
It did not look the slightest bit secure. As if a strong kick might put a hole right through the wall. But Toby had a feeling there was more here than met the eye. Gilla's over-preparedness had already been impressed upon him. He felt sure the derelict shack would turn out to be a hollow front with an underground fortress below it.
Gilla blazed across the line between the forest and his property. The instant he did, the clearing lit up with a multitude of green fireflies. Sensors, from hundreds of hidden traps the porcupine had set, all registering their master's presence.
Zinc knew from experience that setting one toe in that clearing without Gilla by your side was even stupider than suicide. He skidded to a stop and held his wrenches out to warn the others.
Piffle tried to put on her brakes in time, but the tip of one antennae passed over the line. There was a flash and a zap. "Yikes!" She ducked down to cradle her burnt appendage. It felt like she'd touched it to a candle flame.
Zinc put his arms around her. "Aw shit, kitten, I'm sorry! I shoulda warned you sooner!"
"I'm allright," she insisted. "It scared me more than anything! He really means business, doesn't he?"
"Bank on it."
Gilla-Gilla parked both vehicles at the far side of the house, then came briskly trotting back to where the others stood. "Jolly bit a' exa'cise?" he asked.
"Loads of fun. Ha ha," Zinc replied.
Gilla's grin was feral. He liked living alone but also enjoyed having people around to tease. He turned backwards to Zinc, then stood stiffly at the edge of the clearing like a tin soldier.
"Yeah yeah, I remember the conga line routine," Zinc said. He called back to the others, "Hands on shoulders, everybody! We gotta make an unbroken chain when we pass through, or else the traps'll make us crispy critters!" He clamped his wrench on the back of Gilla's vest, then felt a vinyl paw on his jacket.
They all linked up. Piffle reached on tippy-toes to put Doll on George's back. Then she held hands with Junella and Toby, and Toby held George's ribcage.
Just then, the stallion's head popped up. "I believe I hear something behind me. Approaching fast, and presumably with malicious intent."
"Quick," Gilla-Gilla said simply. He took off towards his house, tugging everyone behind him like a kite string. There occurred much bumping into one another.
Toby flinched as he set foot on the blackened soil, but nothing happened apart from the green sensors following his every movement. Behind them he could hear a stampeding sound rising in volume. For a heartbeat he thought the convorines were back. But these were smaller steps from fewer feet. That was a relief.
Though when the source of the noise came into view around the bend, relief evaporated.
It was one of those hyena-things. The ones with the muscles so obscenely developed they looked like overinflated basketballs ready to pop. The beast's veins pulsed as it charged. Twin waterfalls of foam fell from its mouth. Its eyes were yellow as egg yolks.
Zinc looked back and was glad to see the whole group was past the property line. "Might wanna tuck your tail in, George!" he warned.
Gilla-Gilla's ear twitched in the construct's direction, but he did not speed up his pace. Nothing to be concerned about.
The nightmare hyena let out a delirious cackle as it leapt through the air towards fresh meat.
It sailed past Gilla's perimeter.
A hundred green eyes turned red.
In the flash of an instant, the hypena became a pincushion. Serrated metal spears plunged into it from below, pinning it in place like a museum specimen. The construct had just enough time to whine in pained confusion before the real punishment began. Rows upon rows of flamethrower nozzles popped up from the soil like groundhogs. As one, they belched napalm at the hapless beast. Its death-cry was mercifully short, as the burning liquid cooked it to cinders in less than twenty seconds.
Then its remains drifted away. Nothing but more ash to litter the forest floor with.
George felt decidedly uncomfortable. He might have reflexively fled if not for Toby's strong grip on his ribs.
Toby had a horrific thought that maybe this was where all the forest's ash had come from. 'No... That would be impossible, right?'
Zinc couldn't help but be impressed. "Shit fire and save matches! You upgraded since last time!"
Gilla-Gilla nodded proudly. "They waz wakin' up too quick, eh? More pieces; longer naptime."
Piffle piped up, "Can we go a little faster? I think George has some bad memories about being all burnt up."
He whinnied in complete agreement.
Gilla didn't turn his head, but he did speed up his pace. Slightly.
Everyone made sure to hold whoever they were holding a little tighter as they crossed the fiery courtyard. Gilla's porch seemed miles away, but eventually they were all stepping up onto the weather-worn boards and exhaling nervously.
Closer up, the ramshackle house looked like it had been built entirely out of driftwood. The planks sagged and warped. Blobs of tar patched the gaps between them. On the porch were two splintery wicker loveseats and a row of gas cans.
Instead
of a doorknob, the front door had a round, padded divot in the
middle. Gilla-Gilla stepped up and stuck his hand in up to the elbow.
There was a click and he winced by reflex. He wiped off his arm on
his shorts as he removed it.
Given the porcupine's already-extensive precautions, Toby made a deduction. Some buildings had voiceprint locks, others had retinal scanners. This one actually required a blood test.
With a pneumatic puff, the door popped open. On its inside was three inches of tempered steel. Gilla was about to usher everyone in, then stopped and considered something.
He turned suddenly and addressed the group. "You two, I don't like." He pointed at George and Doll. "Keep it on the porch."
Toby was shocked. "What!? All night long!?"
"That's just cruel!" Piffle huffed.
Gilla tilted his head at them, expression unchanging.
Junella tried to play peacemaker. "I get the trepidation, jack, but I can vouch for them personally. We've all been on the road together for a week now. George is one hundred percent pussycat. And I may not like looking at the little one, but she's been nothing but quiet the whole trip."
Doll's body language asked if that was supposed to be a joke.
Gilla-Gilla held his hand up, palm out. "You, I trust. Thems, I don't. And it's my house, cousin." He pointed at the horse and toy. "Porch," he repeated.
Zinc took a step back towards the others. He whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Just go with it for now. He won't make you stay out here all night, I promise. It's a test."
Toby scowled but didn't say anything. He hated to admit, he could understand the precaution. If Gilla-Gilla spent all his time fighting nightmares, he might be reluctant to believe in one's better nature. The mouse patted his equine friend's rough bones. "Do you want to go along with this? I'll stick up for you if you say no."
Piffle nodded. "If he won't let you and Doll in, then we won't go in either! Will we, Toby?"
He wasn't delighted about being volunteered like that, but it would be the loyal thing to do. He nodded.
But George held his head high. "No need for that, Sire and Madam. While your steadfastness warms me, I will bear this trial of indignity with composure, as I always strive to. Madam Doll? Your feelings on the matter?"
A bit of paper fluttered at the edge of Doll's bag. Toby took it and read aloud:
'It,s OK. I'LL resT here Till he'S reADy'
"That's very mature of you," Toby commended. "...And before I forget, I'm sorry about kicking you into that ashpile earlier."
She made a gesture like 'Are you kidding? You saved me!'
George held up a hoof to give Madam Doll an elevator to his ribcage. He even upholstered his sternum with soft flesh. "I'm sure we will have a grand time together, enjoying one another's company," he said, aiming a helluva dirty look straight at Gilla-Gilla.
The porcupine's request had been an intentional provocation, and he was quite satisfied with the results. Instant agreement would have indicated the group was glad to be rid of the two oddballs, betraying their assurances of trustworthiness. Complete refusal would have been a sign of disrespect to his home. Their reaction was halfway between. A good sign (despite the scowls he was getting). He held the entrance open for four of the six.
Piffle's mouth was clenched in a hard line and her fists were balled up. She glared daggers at the porcupine as she passed.
He merely grinned.
Through the doorway was absolute blackness. Toby waved a last adieu to George and Doll, then stepped into shadows. He had no idea what the hell he was getting himself into.
The door creaked, rising in pitch as it shut, until the sunlight was strangled out.
Pitch dark.
No one said a word or moved a muscle.
Toby could feel drops of sweat running down his forehead. He held up a hand in front of his eyes and saw nothing. This room was not only lightless, it was sweltering. And, he felt sure, only about the size of a meat locker.
From out of the abyss came Gilla-Gilla's cheerful voice. "Nervous, lads?"
A moment later, glaring fluorescents turned the room bright yellow with a harsh electric buzz. Everyone flinched.
A moment after that, they were in a hurricane. Toby didn't care what anyone else thought of him for screaming.
Then the lights and the wind cut out abruptly and the inner door swung open.
Everyone stepped out with the wobbly gait of exiting a rollercoaster. After Toby rubbed away the ghostly blue afterimages from his eyes, he looked down and realized his clothes were clean as a whistle. "Oh! It was a blower to get rid of the ash!"
Gilla-Gilla walked past with an expression like, 'Wasn't it obvious'? He tossed off his vest and guillotine weapon onto a hook beside the airlock.
Then he stood at parade rest, watching the others blink. Waiting for their attention. He did not say 'Welcome' or 'Sorry about that'. He merely pointed at a poster beside him and said, "Observe the rules."
The poster was three feet tall with thick black letters. It read:
FOR VISITORS –> HOUSE RULES
1. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING
2. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING
3. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING
4. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING
5. DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING
This last word was so big it actually went off the edges of the poster.
Piffle rolled her eyes. "We get the message, Mr. Fussbudget."
He took two steps towards her, nearly nose-to-nose. "I jus want to make sure we will all be... safe."
His smile unnerved her. As did the way he always seemed to be looking somewhere past whoever he was speaking to. She hesitated, but then the words came out anyway. "W-what's under those goggles?"
His sharkish grin spread. So wide that she finally noticed just how sharkish it was. Aside from his two front bucks, the rest of his yellowed choppers were all filed down to triangles. And when he lifted away his eyewear, she gasped. From the inner lenses of the goggles came a radioactive pink light that hurt to be near. When Gilla-Gilla opened his eyes, she saw that the pupils were dilated so wide the irises were stretched into warped rubber bands. The surrounding whites had gone magenta with bloodshot veins.
Gilla let her get a good look. "All the better to see you wif."
Piffle kept her mouth shut and nervously tidied her dress ruffles. She wondered why anyone would do that to themselves. And then wondered if she was anyone to judge.
Those blasted-out craters looked her up and down a second more, not leering, but assessing her body language. Gauging her character. The white mouse was an open book, but this one was a little more complex than her surface.
Then Gilla sharply turned and swept his arms towards the house's interior. "We're all mates now. Have a seat. I'll get bevvies."
Toby was considerably surprised that the shack wasn't really a false front. Gilla-Gilla actually did live in it. Although the interior was considerably nicer than its exterior. The ceiling was low, the lights were dim, and the rooms were wide and open. No real walls to speak of, only support beams and a small booth in the far back that must have been a bathroom. The living room bled into the dining room and kitchen, and all of it was storage space for the uncountable cardboard boxes, ammo crates, canned goods, pallets of fresh water, and anything else the porcupine could stack to the ceiling. It reminded Toby of shows about people who anticipated the apocalypse. Preppers. Gilla-Gilla's house looked like it was stocked with enough supplies to ride out anything Phobiopolis could throw at him. And fastidiously clean. No ash anywhere.
Gilla strolled to the kitchen, pretending like he wasn't still keeping an eye and an ear on his guests. The others wound their way around the towers of boxes towards an area with three big squishy couches, plus a radio, a mandala rug, and the body parts of several hundred nightmare constructs nailed up on the wall.
Toby quailed. It was a tidal wave of pelts, skulls, teeth, stingers, legs, eyes, claws and antlers. Each harvested item was neatly mounted on a plaque of wood with a date written underneath in black marker.
Piffle said nothing, trying to remind herself that these were constructs. Not only capable of regenerating after the trophies had been taken, but also programmed to cause maximum pain and terror in whatever living thing they came across. But then she imagined George's head up on the wall and got flustered again. She plopped down on one of the couches with a foomp and folded her paws in her lap. Toby sat next to her, seeing her tension.
Zinc was trying with all his might to smile ingratiatingly. "He's a good guy! Really! Dependable, earthbound. He just gets squirrely around new people, that's all. Things'll smooth out, you watch." He and Junella took their seats opposite the mouse and hamster.
Seeing that Piffle was biting her tongue, Toby said what was on both their minds. "He seems like a mad hermit who's probably gonna kill us and eat us."
"...And taxidermy us!" Piffle added, unable to contain herself any longer.
"No, no, really! Everything's fine!" Zinc said through clenched teeth, wringing his tail in his hands.
Junella was mildly amused by her partner's squirming.
"You gotta admit," Toby said, "this is a classic slasher movie setup. He lures us to his house and we find out too late it's all fulla secret hatches and trap doors, then he waits until dark to murder every one of us with a chainsaw."
Gilla-Gilla popped up behind the sofa. "Nah. Y' don't run a chainsaw indoors. Gas-powered. Carbon monoxide, innit?"
Toby jumped in his seat. Of course Gilla'd be listening to every word out of their mouths. But the porcupine didn't seem insulted. Hell, he looked absolutely tickled.
Gilla raised a tray. "Drinkies? Liquor? Lemonade?"
"Beer here," Zinc said immediately. Junella made an 'I'll pass' gesture. Piffle hesitated, then could not resist a lemonade. Toby opened his mouth and a yawn shoved its way out.
Gilla passed around the tray. He could switch from rude to polite so easily it was unnerving. Piffle was glad to see that the lemonade came in a can: no way to slip in a mickey. Zinc drained half his booze at a gulp, despairing of a long, tense evening where nobody trusted each other. Gilla popped the top off something that looked like liquid emerald and sat himself delicately beside Junella. With his foot, he nudged a bottled water over to Toby. "Proper knackered, that one."
Toby wasn't sure what that word meant. Possibly an insult, but not worth asking. "Thanks." He took a sip.
Any other day, the mouse might have been much more jittery in this situation. Despite what he'd said about Gilla-Gilla turning out to be a homicidal maniac, Junella and Zinc had vouched for his character, as they'd vouched for George and Doll. Toby trusted their judgment. The porcupine was still coarse and weird though. And despite a bit of crawling nervousness as being a guest in a complete enigma's house, what Toby felt more than anything else was fatigue. The physical exertion of the convorine fight, not to mention the prolonged mental stress, was pushing him to sink lower... and lower... into the couch cushions.
Zinc tried to liven the atmosphere by recounting the travelers' adventures so far. Piffle still sent silent ice beams at Gilla, but Junella jumped into the story occasionally to add important details. Gilla sat and slurped and listened.
Toby wasn't really paying attention to Zinc's story (he'd lived it, after all). And despite the fact that his drowsiness was making him more horizontal by the minute, he kept his eyes on Gilla-Gilla. Toby couldn't help but notice that the porcupine never made eye contact for more than a second. His attention was always somewhere else, head twitching to and fro like an owl's. And when the porcupine spoke, it was always as rapid as possible. Get the words out of the way so he could go back to concentrating on... what?
Normally Toby's curiosity would have made him hyper-alert. Instead, the mouse's brain was trying to shove his consciousness out of the driver's seat for a while so it could do some internal housekeeping. And the sofa cushions were sooooo soft. Like sitting on big fat marshmallows. Just falling backwards into big, plump, comfy marshmallows...
His vision blurred. The voices blurred. Everything got out of focus and soft.
-***-