Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
Chapter Fifty-Eight
For the next half hour, going was slow but uneventful. This was a more dense section of forest. So while the skate blades came in handy as makeshift machetes, George rather wished the nailplow hadn't been destroyed in the fall from the bridge. It was a bumpy ride for his passengers as he carefully eased them over rocks and fallen logs. He considered brush-clearing via flamethrower, but couldn't be certain that he wouldn't ignite the whole forest.
About the only trouble they had from other constructs was when George accidentally roadkilled a terrorbunny. A whole herd of them popped instantly out of the woodwork. They puffed up, yelled a lot, and followed along nipping tenaciously at his wheels. He became very irritated and even swore a few times.
Zinc climbed up onto the roof to spend some quality time with the gatling gun, but there turned out to be no need for her firepower. The few constructs that charged out of the woods all dispatched themselves on the skate blades or were trampled by George. The bulk of their numbers seemed to have vanished. Toby had to wonder if they'd all been burned up back at Gilla's place.
The mouse leaned against the windowpane, staring out and seeing nothing. He thought about what he'd done last night. His insides constricted with conflict. The rush of power versus not wanting to be the kind of person who got off on the rush of power. And despite knowing that things inside him were changing, a part of him still wanted nothing more than for his story to end at Anasarca and for life to go back to simplicity.
He looked down at his hands. They still had a jitter.
'You're already not the same mouse you were when you arrived here.'
It was sort of spooky to come face to face with that. Had he replaced an earlier version of himself? And where had that previous-Toby gone to?
While Toby spaced out and brooded, George felt quite contented. He'd finally squashed the last of the bunnies and was free to enjoy the sensation of being half-vehicle again. He honestly couldn't tell now if he preferred his body being metal or bone. Both had their positives. He even liked Marasmus' endless ash. He tried to catch flakes on his tongue and enjoyed the taste when he did. Sort of peppery.
Piffle had been fidgeting for the past fifteen minutes. Crossing her legs, looking out the window, smoothing her dress. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and poked the back of Junella's seat. "Can we stop for a moment? I gotta go powder my nose."
The skunk looked at her like she was insane. "You gotta whizz? Seriously? Can't you just convince it away?"
"Whaddaya think I've been trying to do the last fifteen minutes?" she whimpered, squeezing her thighs together. "I think it's 'cause that was real milk we had at breakfast, not just imaginite."
Beside her, Toby arched an eyebrow. He'd drank some too. Now he wondered what it had come from. He tried to picture Gilla-Gilla milking a convorine.
Junella rolled her eyes and snarled. "We're finally on our way again and you wanna stop... Fine!" She tapped the brakes and George complied.
Piffle opened her door and hopped down. "Back in a jiff!"
Zinc spotted her from the roof. "Stay away from vending machines!" he teased.
"I will!" she promised, and ducked behind a bush.
Toby heard Junella mumbling about delays.
Zinc noticed an eraserhead getting a little too close to the car. He decided to test his precision. He lined up his shot, spun up the barrel, and BRT! One single bullet. It knocked the little vermin ass-over-teakettle. "Look ma! Hole in one!"
Suddenly there was a scream even louder than the shrieker beacon.
Zinc whirled the gun around to where the noise had come from. Dread filled his veins. It was Piffle's voice. He'd only taken his eyes off her for a second. She was only a few feet away! He scanned the whole area. Where was she!?
Then there was a roar like a train whistle, and a blood-red goatmonster came crashing out of the trees towards the car.
***
Zinc was stunned for only a heartbeat. The thing was over six feet tall, covered in shaggy, filthy red fur. The build of a gorilla but the head of a goat, complete with sideways pupils and curving horns. The most freakish part was the arms. Hideously huge. The hands alone were so enormous that each finger was an entire goat's leg, hoof and all.
The roaring red monster leapt to the side just as Zinc clamped down on the gun grips and annihilated the bushes behind it.
It rolled as it fell. Its movements were clumsy, disoriented. Zinc swung the barrel around for another shot. The beast held up its hands. "WAIT!!!"
Enraged, Zinc screamed at it, "Whadja do with my girl, ya freak!?"
Its body was demonic, but its expression was confused and terrified. "IT'S ME!!" it pleaded. Its voice was pure masculinity, deep and smoky like an iron forge. "I'M PIFFLE!!"
"Horseshit!!" Zinc shouted back. "Prove-"
"SHIMMER-THISTLE WHISPER-KIMMY VIVILANDRIA LAVENDER DORABELLE LORIBELLE TRIXI FIZZY PIFFLE MC PERRICONE!!!" the goatmonster rattled off.
That gave Zinc pause. He took his wrenches off the gun grips. "Even I can't remember all that."
The goatmonster started listing things off on its hoofed fingers. "WE ATE SCORPION TAIL LAST NIGHT! YOU LOVE BLOODBACON! YOU 'N JUNEY HAVE A SHIP CALLED THE JENNIE-MAE. THE FIRST TIME WE MET I OFFERED TO BE YOUR CAMPFIRE DINNER. AND YOU GOT A TIN MAN'S HEART!"
Well that did it. The other stuff, someone could have found that out through spying with a telescope and tape recorder. But few people knew about his inner mechanism, and no one else knew what he privately called it. "...Piffle? For real?"
"YES!" She got up and dusted off her fanny. That's when she noticed that this new form was extraordinarily male. And unclothed. She bent over quick and was glad her hands were wide.
Zinc couldn't stop gawping. "Jeezum crow! What happened to you!?"
"I'M AS BAFFLED AS YOU!" she said with a shrug. "ONE MOMENT I'M TINKLING, THEN SOMETHIN' STICKY HITS ME AND I'M GETTING PULLED INSIDE OUT!"
George had been hearing this conversation going on, but from his position on the hood couldn't quite see what Madam McPerricone had gotten herself into. Finally he scooted around sideways to peek. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed.
Toby hadn't been paying attention to the voices. He was lost in his own thoughts. But hearing George yelp like that snapped him out of it. He slid across the backseat and, when he saw the bulging red horror standing there, his reaction was a lot like George's.
Junella was merely leaning with her elbow on the open window, watching all this happen in the side view mirror. Not surprised in the least. She let the confusion continue for a little while longer, then reached over to the glove compartment for something she was glad she'd bought in advance.
Zinc dropped down from the gatling gun. He walked cautiously closer, still not believing his eyes. Piffle was nearly twice his height now! He'd kinda liked it before when she was jumbo-sized, but that was different. She still looked like herself then. This red abomination was positively hideous. He couldn't keep the wince off his muzzle.
Piffle didn't notice it. She was too busy turning this way and that, looking at her new self all over. This was certainly an irritation, but she couldn't deny it felt fascinating.
Zinc bit his lip. He reached out to give her a comforting hug, but then couldn't go through with it. That greasy fur looked like a dirty red mop. And it stunk. Getting too close made his nostrils protest. Instead, he reached a wrench out to hold her hand.
She took it with a smile, looking down at her new slab-like arm. "GOSH, LOOKIT HOW SMALL YOU ARE NOW! OH, BUT DON'T WORRY, ZINC, I'LL BE FINE. I'VE BEEN THROUGH WORSE. SOME HOODLUM MUST'VE LEFT A TRANSFORMATION TRAP LYING AROUND AS A PRANK. AND NOW, HERE I AM LIKE THIS!" She shrugged.
"Catch."
A blue glass bottle flew towards them. Piffle fumbled it with her unfamiliar fingers, but Zinc nabbed it before it hit the ground.
Junella was standing a few feet away, looking smug. "Anti-transformation potion. Knew you'd need it 'ventually, Pinky."
By this time Toby had gotten out too. With Doll in the crook of his arm, he went over to hug Piffle. Her new shape was gut-clenchingly ugly, but he tried to focus on the spark of her personality buried under that coarse, growling voice.
She softly cupped her hand around him. "THANKS, TOBY."
He nodded to her, trying to look sympathetic. But holy hell, those hooved fingers made his skin crawl!
Zinc popped the stopper on the potion bottle. He held it out to her a little too urgently. "Drink up, chicky. Should be back to normal in a flash. Let's hope."
Piffle took the tiny bottle with great care. Of all the things she'd been turned into, she didn't think she'd ever had to deal with hooves before. "I DUNNO... I MEAN, I AIN'T HURTIN' ANY. MAYBE I COULD JUST, MAYBE, STAY LIKE THIS A WHILE 'N GIVE IT A SPIN."
Junella forced herself to say nothing, though her mouth puckered into a tense little line.
Zinc smirked weakly. "I'd really rather if you didn't, babe." He chewed his lip. "I mean, um... What if there's not enough room in the backseat for you?"
"THAT'S A GOOD POINT," she conceded. She tipped the bottle back and chugged the whole thing.
Junella ran forward. "Stop!! It only takes a few sips!"
Piffle belched. The force of it rustled Toby's hair. "OOPS! WELP, IT REALLY OUGHTTA WORK THEN!"
"Or it might turn you into something even uglier!" the skunk rumbled, exasperated.
She bit her lip. "I'M SORRY! I'VE JUST NEVER USED A CHANGE-ME-BACK POTION BEFORE. USUALLY WHEN SOMETHING TURNS ME TOPSY-TURVY, I JUST WAIT IT OUT!" She shifted nervously from foot to foot, waiting for the potion to start working. Her tummy rumbled a bit.
Zinc scratched his chin. "It should've done something by now."
Junella went from annoyed to concerned. "Yes, it should."
"MAYBE I'M TOO NERVOUS?" Piffle guessed. She looked down at herself. Way down. Her head was much higher off the ground than normal. Her new muscles felt amazingly strong, but she became aware of just how much her ratty, matted fur needed grooming. Her tummy rumbled again.
She hiccuped.
Then her entire form shifted for a second, like an image on an old VHS tape.
...And nothing. Same six-and-a-half foot tall gorillagoat.
"WHY DIDN'T IT WORK!?" she bellowed, then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. Her larynx was a hell of a lot more powerful now!
Junella's snark was erased. She looked genuinely perplexed. "I have no idea..." She took the bottle from Piffle "Lemme make sure this stuff's not cough syrup." It smelled normal. Even tasted normal when she flicked her tongue over the neck.
Piffle was upset, but not actually worried. If she was stuck like this for a while, she knew he could handle it. She'd been everything under the sun by now. Each time, she'd either willed herself back or simply kept whatever she liked. She was certain this experience would be no different.
A tiny plastic finger was drawing on her arm. She looked down to Doll, who spelled out just one word.
E-M-P-A-T-H-Y
Piffle reached over and, gently as she could with her gangly new fingers, patted Doll on the head. "THAT MEANS A LOT."
George coughed politely. "Madam McPerricone, let me be the first to say that whoever is responsible for this insult to your lovely figure, I shall take great joy in tracking them down and trampling them flat as a necktie."
She giggled. "'PRECIATE THAT, GEORGIE. BUT THAT'S ONLY IF I DON'T TRAMPLE 'EM FIRST!" She punched her palm. It sounded like a shotgun blast.
"So what's the plan?" Toby asked everyone. "Accidental transformations usually mean a hospital trip, right? I'm guessing there aren't any around here."
Zinc looked back towards the crime scene. His revulsion was now channeling itself into anger. "First things first, I'll sniff around for clues. If this was a prank, I'll bet the snake who pulled it was hiding around to watch it go off. So they can't be far. I'll cut down the whole fuckin' forest till we spot 'em."
"Or, we could go about our day as normal," Junella interjected.
Everyone turned to look at her, their faces saying 'huh?'
They could tell from the tension in her posture that she was irritated to hell and back by this disruption in their schedule, but she was bearing it quietly. Her tone remained smooth as she explained, "Where are we headed right now? The market town. And why? Because there's a tub station, goes straight to it. So what's the likelihood that it's exactly where our jackass came from, and probly just ran back to?"
Piffle's eyebrows went up. "GOOD THINKIN'."
"Plus, the market's like the yard sale version of EC. If we can't buy it there, it doesn't exist. Even if we don't find our guy, odds are we'll find something that can reverse whatever whammy he put on you."
Zinc nodded. Lalochezia even had a few homebrewed things that Ectopians wouldn't have dirtied their fingers with.
Toby had noticed by now that while the skunk was singing calmly, she would not look directly at Piffle.
"Or," Junella continued, "what if she wasn't transformed at all? That'd explain why the potion didn't work. And what is it that changes a furson's appearance and ain't a transformation?"
Piffle got it a second before Zinc did. "A BODY SWAP!"
"A body swap," Junella nodded.
Piffle explained to Toby, "YOU CAN PROBLY GUESS BY THE NAME, BUT THAT'S WHEN SOMEONE YANKS OUT YOUR 'YOU' AND CRAMS THEIRS IN INSTEAD." She turned to Junella, confused. "I THOUGHT IT TOOK A BIG MACHINE THOUGH! AND IT COULD ONLY HAPPEN IF BOTH SIDES OKAYED IT!"
Zinc had realized much quicker that his partner was no longer on speaking terms with Piffle, so he answered for her. "Not always. Juney and I've seen uglier places and people than you. On the black market, you can buy a gadget that'll do it from a distance. On anyone." Piffle grimaced at knowing such a cruel machine existed. "In any decent city they're illegal, but we're out in the boonies, so anything goes."
She 'hmmm'ed at that. "WOULD KILLING ME BACK TO NORMAL WORK?"
Junella answered, drawing her sword. "We can goddamn well find out."
Piffle brushed it off as teasing, but when she saw the look in Junella's eyes, wasn't so sure.
Toby had a thought then. He stepped between the skunk and hamsterfly, trying to defuse the tension he could feel emerging. "'Freeze Yourself New'! That brochure. There's spa places that'll change how you look. So if nothing else, we could take her there and have them re-sculpt the old Piffle. That'd work, right?"
"IT SHOULD!" Piffle said. She patted him on the head for good thinking, careful not to squash him.
Junella put away her sword before she did something Zinc wouldn't forgive her for. She tapped on her teeth as she thought. "Not a bad idea, Toby. But none of 'ems close by. Might be a cut-rate one at the market, but I wouldn't trust them to wash my scarf, let alone rearrange my bod."
Piffle shrugged. "I MIGHT TAKE THAT CHANCE. ROLL THE DICE. HECK, I MIGHT EVEN LIKE WHATEVER THEY COME UP WITH!"
Zinc shook his head. "Not likely, trust me. I know you like experimentin' with yer looks and all, but... How do I put this... Y'ever seen an infected tattoo?"
She stuck her newly-forked tongue out at that.
EEEEEE
Everyone jumped.
Junella had already turned back towards the car and had the shrieker remote in her hand. "We can decide on the way. Daylight's wastin'." She shoved herself inside, slammed the door behind her, and glared pure fire through the windshield.
Piffle cringed at the slam. She knew Junella was seriously upset now, and she hoped the skunk wouldn't stay mad at her for long. It was just an accident after all. "BEFORE WE GO, COULD I, UM, FRESHEN UP? THIS NEW FUR'S A BIT PEE-YEW."
Toby was glad she'd acknowledged it first, because he didn't want to be the first one to say that she reminded his nose of a summertime dumpster.
Zinc looked towards the vinyl elbow resting on the driver's side door. He sighed pensively, torn between understanding Junella's frustration and wanting to be there for Piffle. "Yeah, um, there's somethin' we bought earlier for just such an occasion. Lemme hunt around for it."
He headed towards the front of the car and Piffle gave him a literal hand up. Her massive hooved fingers scooped underneath him and held him level with the hood.
It gave him the creeps. "Thanks, toots," he said through gritted teeth. He rooted around a bit, then tossed a flat plastic package over to her.
"'MINI-SHOWER'," she read. The illustration showed a small personal raincloud pouring flower-scented water on a happy housewife. "GOLLY, THANKS! THIS IS PERFECT!"
"Glad to be of service!" he replied. 'And I'll be even gladder when you set me down!' he thought. Thankfully she did, and ran off towards the back of the car.
"I WON'T BE A MINUTE! NO PEEKING!"
Junella muttered to herself, "I swear, if you go and get yourself turned into something worse..."
There was nothing else to do but wait in the car until Piffle finished. Everyone else piled back in. Junella's mood brought the temperature down to freezing. Zinc fidgeted in the passenger seat and hung his head. Doll and Toby sat in the back, not saying anything. From behind them came a tiny thunderclap and the sound of pouring rain. Then the sound of a hellish, deep-throated voice warbling out 'LA-DEE-DAH's and 'TUM-TE-TUM's.
After a few minutes, Piffle called out, "ALL DONE!" The Fearsleigher groaned and leaned considerably as she hoisted herself up onto the skate blade and squashed her way through the passenger door.
Toby put Doll on his lap and skootched over as far as he could. A wall of wet hair pressed into him. Politeness kept him from complaining.
Zinc turned in his seat and gave a sniff. Piffle was now as clean and inoffensive-smelling as she was likely to get. "Not bad. Just need a bow in your hair and you'll be ready for the Easter parade."
Piffle snickered at the joke but no one else did.
Zinc turned back around and put his head in his wrenches. He hoped like heck they'd find a fix at the market. "You wanna put the pedal to the medal?" he asked Junella.
Her foot mashed it to the floor without a word.
They jerked forward. Zinc noticed that not only was Junella refusing to look at Piffle, she was refusing to look at him too. He muttered under his breath, "Drive fast, George, and let's get this the fuck over with..."
In the back, Piffle nervously hummed to herself. With her new voice, it sounded like a handsaw cutting wood.
***
EEEEE
The woods were so thick that George was barely able to keep them at a crawling pace. The skate blades helped to cut through the grasping, bloodthirsty trees, but they also tended to snag on them as well. George felt like he was trying to drive through tar. He ground his teeth and forced more power into his wheels. They tore at the rocky ground, ripping up bushes and tree roots. He'd made sure to tell Junella to keep making the shrieker call out. It gave him motivation. With every yelp of the device, he knew he was that much closer.
EEEEE
Meanwhile, Toby had drifted back into innerspace again. He couldn't do anything about the friction Piffle's transformation had caused, but at least he could get lost in his thoughts enough to distract from the feeling of being seated next to a wet haystack.
He thought about sense memory. Specifically, the sense of touch. Before all this, his fingers recalled the texture of bedsheets, his vinyl books, his pillow, his toys, his pajamas. Now there were new memories. The way the grip of his hammer eased around his fingers. The jolt up his arm as it connected with bone. The temperature of fresh blood splattering his face.
Despite being glad that he was steadily getting better at defending himself, part of him rebelled at having these new memories exist alongside the old. It felt wrong, like something intrusive. Once upon a time his memories were innocent. Now there were these nasty, bloody things trying to share space on the same shelf.
Toby frowned. Hadn't he been feeling proud about this just a little while ago? Had that been just the lingering mania of battle? Or was the sour mood among his friends bringing him down and letting his doubts back in?
He searched his feelings and got no easy answers. Either voice inside him might be deluded, and both were making persuasive arguments against the other.
'Well of course you want to rationalize the fact that you've been having fun knocking the stuffing out of nightmares. Normal people don't do that. You're trying to make yourself feel okay with relishing something reprehensible.'
'Or maybe all I was doing was self-defense. Maybe I was learning how to take care of myself in a bad situation, and not rely so much on other people to save me.'
He found himself remembering his internal war over Rither in this very backseat. His own romanticized, storyfied ideas of good and bad. Junella's acceptance of messy reality. Was this the same kind of thing?
Maybe. And what conclusions had he drawn then? That neither he or the skunk were wholly wrong or right. Both viewpoints had validity. So maybe that was the reason his thoughts were giving him such a headache now: his insistence that only one side of the issue was his true feelings and the other was some self-destructive phantom. Maybe both were equally real.
But it didn't feel that simple. That felt like a cop out. Hadn't he felt it, back in Gilla-Gilla's yard with the cactusyote at his feet? Like something inside was deliberately holding him back from accepting the changes he'd gone through?
Was it just his conscience scolding him for engaging in violence? For coming so close to enjoying it?
Or, deeper below, was there the horror of having to be completely responsible for himself?
That thought stung. But he didn't shy away from it. It was true in the sense that, so long as he was a weak little coward with no idea how to fight, he could expect others to fight for him.
His cheeks burned. He didn't think he was quite that selfish. He was aware of the childish desire within himself to return to his old life of unending sameness and zero responsibility. But that was it; he was aware of that desire. And in control of it. He knew it was childish and wasn't about to cater to it anymore. No, something deeper was at the heart of this. Something he hadn't yet faced. Some unseen passenger that had been riding his shoulders this whole time, trying to drag him back the further forward he moved.
Because, dammit, his conscience was being a jerk about this. He knew he wasn't just making excuses to engage in violence for the fun of it. Phobiopolis had been throwing monsters at him right and left since he got here and it wasn't fair of him to keep on expecting someone else to shoo them away. Yes, he had hired Junella and Zinc as bodyguards. No, there was nothing actually stopping him from cowering in the backseat and letting them do all the work. Nothing except his principles. It wouldn't just be cowardly, it would be lazy. And they weren't just hired help anymore. They were friends.
'I'm doing this for them as well as me.'
He liked how that conclusion felt, but it still didn't untie his guts. All his soul searching had made him tense and a little carsick. He looked down at his hand and saw the faint glow coming from the slit in his palm. A wild urge struck him to roll down the window, shoot his hammer out into the wilderness, and forget he'd ever had it.
Of course, he resisted. His hand remained on his lap. 'Nice try,' he thought towards whatever part of him had sent that whim.
He thought, in a way, his hammer was a metaphor for himself. It was sheathed inside his arm, hidden. Just like his apparent talent for smacking down nightmares. And when it came right down to it, his hammer was an inanimate object. A tool. It swung only at what he chose to swing it at. Same as his ability to fight. It was simply a part of himself, neither evil or innocent.
That word brought another thought swimming into his mind. A while ago he'd thought of his old life's memories as being innocent.
'Where in the heck did I get that idea?'
EEEEE
Toby winced. That stupid high-pitched beacon! It was really getting on his nerves.
A hand touched his shoulder. He turned around to see a slit-eyed crimson demon looking at him. "Aaigh!!"
"LEAPIN' LIZARDS! SORRY, TOBY!" Piffle said, drawing back from him as much as the cramped car allowed.
The mouse took a deep breath. "Piffle! Jeeze... No, I'm sorry. I forgot you'd... changed."
She chuckled gently. "WOWIE, YOU MUST'VE REALLY BEEN DEEP IN THOUGHT TO FORGET A THING LIKE THAT!"
"Actually, yeah..."
"BETCHA ALSO DIDN'T NOTICE THE CAR STOPPED MOVING, HUH?"
He looked outside. "I had not," he admitted.
Piffle popped her door and started wriggling through. "GEORGE SAID HE SAW THE TUB! SHAKE A LEG!"
Toby was not looking forward to the idea of traveling by bathtub. He wasn't sure why, given all the other awful things he'd dealt with on this trip so far, but something about that idea in particular rose an unease in the bottom of his stomach.
He looked down to Doll and asked with a glance if she wanted a lift. She shook her head politely and crawled past him to unlatch the door. As he watched her drop down to the skate blade, he realized she was probably savoring every chance the bag gave her to move on her own. Still, he followed behind protectively, watching out for anything that might tangle or trip her.
Toby happened to glance up past the trees and, through the clouds, he spotted a jagged peak in the distance. Anasarca. Barely visible, but much closer now than when he'd first seen it back in the Blackdamp. Reconfirming its presence eased his mind.
They walked in a line. George was first, his keen eyes scanning the brush ahead. Junella was behind him with her sword and pistol drawn. He was sure they were right on top of the tub by now. "Madam Brox, would you be so kind as to give the shrieker another try?"
She held up her full hands.
"I got it." Zinc fiddled carefully with the dial, momentarily horrified at the thought of accidentally setting it to maximum. He pushed the button.
eeee
A weak little squeak, about five feet behind them and to the left.
"My apologies," said George bashfully.
"We're here, ain't we?" Zinc reassured.
Once the station was found, they realized why it had been so easy to miss. Gilla-Gilla said the forest had reclaimed it when he'd found it. However long ago that had been, the weeds were back already. Junella's cutlass swung back and forth to get rid of the stinging sharp leaves growing all over the porcelain. She paused once, briefly, to shoo away a cactusyote with a few bullets to the face.
Once the tub was clear, it still didn't look like something a furson would willingly step into. It was tilted on a slight diagonal. Its once-white surface was streaked with dirt, ash, and mold. An antique design; squat and fat, with a shower pipe running up and above, the head rusted to oblivion.
"I can understand why Sir Gilla-Gilla was reluctant to climb inside this grungy mess," George said.
"That reminds me," Junella sheathed her sword and mindfucked up the resizing window. "We gotta get you small again."
He nodded. "Sensible. I would never fit beneath that shower head otherwise."
"Plus, I don't want the market folk freakin' out when they get a load of you."
"Also sensible," he concurred.
Piffle watched eagerly as Junella made George and the Fearsleigher bite-size. She thought he looked adorable as a little toy car. And since the resizer had worked just fine at making her big a little while ago, "HEY, ME NEXT! JUST A SKOSH, SO I'LL FIT IN TOO!"
Junella had been nonchalant up till that point, but at the sound of Piffle's voice she turned her everything off. She regarded the gorillamonster icily. Saying absolutely nothing, she framed Piffle in the window, then shaved off a few feet.
Piffle tried to make herself even smaller. She looked down at the ground, shuffling her feet. Her body language was that of a shamed puppy. "THANK YOU, JUNELLA," she said as quietly as she was able. She walked past her to the tub and carefully stepped inside. "C'MON, DOLL."
Running on her stumpy legs, Doll joined her, vaulting up over the lip and taking the erstwhile hamsterfly's hand.
Zinc started up in his tour guide tones, "Now, with a tub station..."
Piffle actually snapped at him. "I'VE USED THESE BEFORE! I'M NOT A COMPLETE RUBE!"
"Just... tryin' to lend a hand."
Piffle immediately regretted her sharp words, and opened her mouth to apologize. But then she closed her eyes, shook her head, and concentrated on the tub instead. The quicker she got to Lalochezia the quicker she could get rid of this body that was causing so many problems. She thought as hard as she could about her destination. Then she heard a gurgle from beneath her feet. Water struggled up through the pipe to splash her all over.
Toby had been watching with concern for the group's morale, but then jumped back and turned away in utter repulsion as the liquid flowing out of the shower started melting Piffle's flesh off. He fled several feet away and threw up violently. There was no way to hold it back. The quease had hit him like a lightning bolt.
Zinc was stunned as Toby had actually shoved him out of the way when he ran past. He waited until the mouse stopped retching, then gently patted his back. "Hey, comrade, que pasa? Bit of an overreaction, doncha think?"
The mouse coughed and sputtered. "I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me!" Tears were in his eyes. His nose dripped and his mouth tasted vile. He blindly reached out his hand and dumbfounded a can of Anisocoria Rain. He popped the top and chugged it down to get the taste out of his mouth. He could not turn around to look back at the tub.
Junella looked with a mixture of concern and irritation at Toby. Her nerves were fraying thinner by the moment. First Piffle, now him too? She shared a glance with Zinc, asking if there was anything she could do to fix the mouse.
Zinc shook his head at her. "No, go on. Make sure Piff went through okay. I'll handle things here."
"Allright." Junella flashed her partner a salute and walked over to the tub. She was carrying the Fearsleigher in her other hand, and now reached up to tuck it securely into the folds of her scarf.
"I feel I should be doing something to aid Sire Toby," George said.
"You're kinda shrimpy at the moment," she ribbed gently, showing that she admired his compassion. "And don't worry. Zinc can handle most things." She checked the tub before setting foot inside. Every last drop of hamsterfly had already gone down the drain. Junella positioned herself beneath the shower head, cupped a hand protectively around George, and thought about the market town. Within seconds she felt herself loosen and change, and then was zooming through the pipes like normal.
Zinc was giving Toby a back rub. "Don't sweat it. I'm not gonna bust your balls or call you a pansy. Nothin' like that. Different fears hit some people harder'n others, I know. Phobiopolis is good at finding whatever rattles your cage."
Toby was still bent over, bracing himself with his hands on his knees. "Thank you. But it's not that, oddly enough," he said hoarsely.
Zinc raised a tin eyebrow.
"It... it reminded me of a memory, that's all."
Zinc was not comfortable playing head-shrinker, but felt obliged to ask, "Do you... wanna talk about it?"
"I can't," Toby said automatically. Then stood up and changed it to, "I'd rather not."
Zinc shrugged. "Okay, tiger. Offer'll still be open later if you change your mind." He started heading towards the tub. "Look, I'll go through, then come right back. Ten seconds, tops. You can see for yourself it ain't woundin' me any. Heck, I don't even hardly feel it most times."
Toby nodded. He took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his head. "Allright. Maybe if I'm prepared for it, it won't be such a shock."
Moving slowly for his mouse friend's sake, Zinc stepped one paw into the bathtub, then the other. "Tub stations pick up on mental vibrations. Think where you wanna go: that's where you go. When it's your turn, just tell it, 'I wanna go to the market town' or 'I wanna follow my friends'. You'll be fine." He smiled encouragingly. "Ready for that demonstration?"
Toby swallowed. His throat still burned. Just seeing Zinc standing there in that ugly thing was making his stomach roll. "I think so." He glanced around the woods. Even if Zinc was only gone for a second, that might be the perfect time for some nightmare to pounce. Toby popped his hammer out and squeezed it. All his hand-wringing from before vanished in an instant. He was totally a-OK with committing brutal violence right now if it kept teeth and claws out of his hide.
"Prepped for takeoff." Zinc looked up at the shower head. "3, 2, 1, go!"
The water came down and Zinc's features started to slide off his skull. The metal of his wrenches dribbled away like mud in the rain. His jacket ran like wet paint. His bones sagged, his muscles liquefied, his bones collapsed inward.
It only lasted three seconds. Still, that was hours in Toby's mind. The details seared his eyes like a cattle brand. He clamped a hand over his mouth to hold back any more puke, but it tried to come up anyway. Angry at his body's cowardice now, Toby willed his stomach contents to stay in their proper place. This was ridiculous. He'd watched Zinc pull his own eyeballs out several times. He'd watched all his friends die gruesome deaths, himself included. There was no reason for him to be acting like a frightened little toddler just because this bathtub thing reminded him of...
Of... Well, of that thing that had happened. By accident. Just once. That one time. And she didn't mean it, so it was an accident, so there was no reason to think about it any further. Case closed.
The shower head rattled. Then, with a gurgling goosh not unlike Toby's a moment ago, it regurgitated Zinc. Multicolored goop splattered from tiny rusted holes, building themselves back into the shape of a half-metal mutt. It was like watching a candle melt in reverse.
"Abracadabra!" he shouted when he was all back together. "See? Nothing to..." He trailed off as he noticed how unearthly pale and anxious his companion appeared. The mouse was standing there with his arms and tail wrapped around himself like a twist of barbed wire. "Toby...?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I'M FINE!!" Toby screamed. His face constricted in a ratlike snarl, spittle flying from his lips.
Zinc stumbled and nearly fell backwards out of the tub. "Holy Jesus! What was that!?"
Toby's eyes bulged. "I don't know!! I'm sorry! Look, just go back with the others. Did they get through okay?"
The mouse's posture was guarded like a fort. Zinc got the feeling that every word out of his mouth was somehow a lie. "Yeah, yeah. We wound up in the market just like we were sposta. Toby... are you sure you're allright? You don't look so good."
The mouse nibbled his fingertips. "I'm sorry," he said again, more sincerely. "But I feel like a coiled spring right now. Personal business. I'll be okay. Just go. I'll be right behind you. I promise."
Zinc noticed how hard the mouse grimaced when he said 'promise'. Like it was a way to force himself to do something he'd rather die than do. "Allright, Toby," Zinc said softly. "I'll be waiting for you. We all will." He glanced down at the drain. "Might help to not watch me go this time."
"Okay." Toby kept his head down, staring at the ash around his shoes.
It didn't stop him from hearing the sounds though.
Water hitting the porcelain sides of the tub. Water gurgling down the drain. Water in a bathtub. Absolutely nothing odd or strange or painful about that. Right?
"RRRAGH!!" the scream ripped out of Toby's throat uncontrollably. He lashed out with his hammer, swinging wildly. He didn't hit anything, but if he had, he would have obliterated it.
He stopped as suddenly as he'd started. Stone still in the silent forest with his head down. He felt sweat running down his scalp.
He mentally grabbed his own shoulders, turned them towards the tub, and made himself march. 'I'm acting like a fool.' A temper-tantrum-throwing baby. This was stupid. There was no reason he shouldn't just walk right over there and get into that bathtub.
Except your skin will come off.
Toby came within a hair of smashing his own head off with his hammer.
There was the tub. He was breathing like a man being squeezed in a trash compactor as he approached it. He was inwardly screaming as he raised his leg over the edge. He felt like he was ripping himself in half, slowly. But somehow, even though he'd started out forcing himself to get in the tub, now it seemed like he couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. This thing was a vortex. A whirlpool. A black hole.
His soles echoed when they hit the bottom. He saw rust flakes trickling down from the shower pipe. He felt like someone was grinding a cheese grater across his brain.
'Stop it! Just stop it! This is completely irrational! There's no reason you should be afraid of a stupid fucking bathtub!!'
Boy, was that ever a lie.
Because this wasn't anything so melodramatic as a repressed memory. This wasn't a soap opera where the protagonist suddenly recalled their horrid past like a bolt from a blue. This memory had always been there. Lying right out in the open like a bowl of rotting fruit. It had always been there, he had just chosen never to look at it.
'Because it's not important. It was an accident. It only happened once.'
'What only happened once?' an alien voice seemed to ask.
'She... she didn't mean it,' Toby insisted. That was true. That was a lie. That was the truth. He had been in the bathtub. Just a completely ordinary bathtime. His mother was scrubbing him in the tub like always. Ever since he'd been a little boy, she'd washed him in the bathtub. With his favorite bubble bath with the bright pink bubbles he'd sculpt into a silly wig. A perfectly normal bathtime. Except, his mother had been cleaning the house rather a lot lately. This was in the days just before Daddy (was disposed of) chose to leave them. Toby was happy in the bathtub. Just playing with the bubbles and relaxing as Mommy washed him all over with the soft washcloth. Cleaning all the pus from his sores. Getting all the sticky gunk out of his fur. It felt nice. Those bedsores itched so much, and the soap made them itch worse for just a second, but then the warm water rinsed all that ache away, leaving just a throbbing warmth that felt so good. He'd often fall asleep after a bath. But today he was extra dirty, Mommy said. Mommy said she could see dirt all over his fur. Had he gone outside? Had he been playing in the mud? No, Mommy. I promise I haven't. I promise. But I think you have. I can see dirt all over you. Mommy, you're scrubbing me too hard. The soft washcloth now felt like steel wool. His sores were starting to leak. Mommy was pushing down harder, putting more force into her scrubbing. Because she could see dirt everywhere. Everywhere. Dirty, ugly boy. The mud was encrusted right into his fur and she had to get it out. The bathwater was sloshing back and forth, spilling over the sides of the tub. Mommy, stop. Toby was reaching out, trying to climb up out of the tub, but Mommy held him down. Not until you're clean, she said. And she said it so reasonably. Of course. That's what bathtime was for, right? Except why did his skin hurt so much? Why was the soap stinging? Why was the water turning pink? His sores ached. The washcloth was tearing them wider. The water wasn't just pink now, it was scarlet. Toby was frozen, whimpering like a sick dog. Mommy said nothing as she held him down and scrubbed harder and harder and harder. He couldn't see her eyes, but he knew somehow if he turned around they'd have that look in them again. That look that made him hide under his covers. The look that meant Mommy Mad Time. The water was red as wine. Toby could feel his skin coming off. Scrubbed off. Grated off. His mind clicked blank and his instincts took over. He thrashed in the tub, sending water flying everywhere. He swung and kicked. When Mommy tried to shove his head back down, he bit. It was an accident. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. And then she was hauling him up like he weighed no more than the washcloth. She sat on the toilet and spanked him, squalling and naked, her hand coming down and down again with the force of a knockout punch. Spanking him so hard the raw skin of his ass split in crimson lines.
MOMMY, STOP!
Toby's eyes opened and he was falling from a hundred feet up into an infinity of blue.
-***-