Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
62
Toby opened his eyes and saw a dead man's face staring back at him.
"Eek!"
He tilted his gaze around and realized he was lying with his head in the lap of a smiling, ruby-eyed furball. "Okay, that's a nicer view."
Piffle giggled. "I should certainly hope so!"
Toby blinked a hell of a lot. He was horizontal in the backseat of the Fearsleigher, but he didn't remember how he'd ended up there. Apparently he'd dozed off and Piffle had opted to volunteer as a bed.
Doll was seated on the floor. She'd been experimenting, and had discovered that her new gloves counted as cover just as well as her bag. She'd torn one hand-hole in the burlap and was working on the second. This would mean no more trying to write with her pad hidden. She hoped her handwriting would improve.
The zombie was still leering, mashing its face flat, fogging the glass with acrid breath. It was lumpy all over, looking like someone had diced it with a chainsaw only to drunkenly slap it back together again with duct tape. Hunks of fur stuck out from the silver bandages. The thing moaned in hunger, and Toby had a feeling it would not take what it wanted with any of the consideration L'roon had showed.
'Speaking of that...' He patted his face. Yep. Patch still there, eyeball still gone. Although his lack of depth perception should have clued him into that already. He was a bit surprised it hadn't regrown in his sleep.
The zombie continued to moan and mess up the window until a large set of wrench jaws entered from stage right and clamped onto its head. A moment later the rotting thing became airborne. It landed with a clattering splash in the festering swamp.
Zinc shook bits of face off his wrenchjaws before pulling his arm back in and re-rolling the window. He swiveled his seat. "Say hey! Looks like someone finally decided to sail back from dreamland!"
Toby blushed and sat up. "Hey."
Zinc gave him a mock-threatening squint. "You been makin' eyes at my girl back there?"
Toby smirked, then pointed at his patch. "Can't. 'Eye', singular."
Zinc guffawed. Piffle too.
Junella was concentrating on driving, but looked back long enough to give Toby a nod.
"I don't even remember falling asleep. How long was I out?"
"A while," Junella said. "We figured we'd let you rest after so much soap and soul searching."
"L'roon left an hour ago," Zinc added.
That sparked a memory. "L'roon!" Toby squawked. "I forgot to tell him where I got my hammer!!"
Zinc held up his wrenches. "Chill pill! I told him for you. When we reached the edge of the desert, we got out and him 'n George were still talkin' that crazy moon man language of theirs, giggling like kids. We practically had to pry 'em apart with a crowbar. L'roon didn't forget about Bonky though, so I gave him the score."
"Please stop calling my hammer that."
Zinc continued without batting an eye. "I told him all about Dorster 'n Alfonzo. He was intrigued. Said he might swing by Coryza one of these days. Said he usually keeps to the sticks since city folk are harder to bamboozle."
"And I told him all about my fork!" Piffle said proudly. "Couldn't show it off though. You were already using me for a pillow by then, so I might've poked right through you!"
"Thank you for not shish-kebabing my head," Toby told her.
"You're welcome. And I hope I was comfy."
A confirming nod.
"By the way, we got a new name to add to our map," Zinc told the mouse. "Toby, you're the first one of us to ever set paw in Dysania."
"I wouldn't have minded skipping that honor," he said dryly.
"Juney 'n I never knew it existed. 'Pparently it's one of those places you can shoot right by on the outside, but once you're in, it's a hell of a lot bigger. L'roon said it's about the only spot around here you can take a long walk and not worry about gettin' mugged."
A memory flashed in Toby's mind, of asking Piffle whether there was anyplace safe in Phobiopolis. 'Turns out there is, just not for your nose.' "Okay. So where are we now?" He sniffed, hoping they were far away from soap. They were, but, "What stinks so bad?"
"Heh." Zinc turned back around to make sure he'd rolled the window up completely. "That would be the vomit swamp. Runs all around Rhinolith like a moat. Chock fulla zombies, like rat turds in your morning oatmeal. They ain't been too much trouble yet, but sometimes they climb up on the skate blades where George can't aim the gatling at 'em." He clinked his wrench-jaws together. "Then we gotta get manual. Junella even shot a few. You must'a been really sleepy."
Toby blinked in bewilderment. "I don't remember any of it. I didn't even dream. I guess that desert took a lot more out of me than I realized." Something else occurred. "Although I also didn't get much sleep last night. Monster-killing practice is hardly relaxing." Something else occurred. "...Where did my makeshift noseplugs go?"
Piffle 'eep'ed. Her face turned into a perfect portrait of shame. In solemn tones she said, "Toby, I hope very much you can forgive me, but I ate the gummi worms."
He blinked a lot. "Of all the oddball things I've seen you do, Piffle, that might be the oddest."
She hid her face behind her paws. "I hadn't had any in ages! They looked delicious!"
A loud shout came from the front of the Fearsleigher. "Is Sire Toby awake!?"
"Yes he is, George," Junella replied.
The noble construct had to raise his voice above the violent sloshing of his tires through the odious swamp, but was glad to do so. "Let him know that I owe him a thousand thanks for introducing me to Sir L'roon! We had a marvelous talk together! Absolutely marvelous! And also, tell him to be grateful that he's not up here with me at the moment!"
Toby cringed at the thought of what George was driving them through. The sour odor of spoiled milk and parmesan cheese had wafted in despite the windows being shut tight. He poked his head between the front seats to be more audible. "You're welcome, George! And I'm sorry you're in a vomit swamp!"
The stallion laughed in a 'C'est la vie' kind of way. "I have been through worse! Though I think I'd greatly enjoy being sandblasted top to bottom after we exit." He paused to flamethrower another duct tape zombie. "...I think I'd also enjoy if these damnable undead were extinct!"
Junella patted the dash. "Not much farther if I remember right. Twenty minutes, tops."
George snorted acknowledgment.
Toby admired his steadfastness. "I hope you and L'roon learned a lot from each other. And I hope you feel less alone now. I've got more stuff to tell you too. Personal stuff. Or did you already get filled in?"
"I was given a summary of events. But as to personal matters, Madam Brox thought it best for you to inform me directly."
"I will soon, I promise." Toby nodded thanks to the skunk. "I appreciate that."
"Thought you would. Can you imagine half the stuff you said comin' outta my mouth?" She chuckled.
He did too and sat back down.
George firesnorted another zombie. "Begone foul nuisance!"
"Toby..." Piffle spoke softly.
He looked over. "Yes?"
"I was thinkin'. About the amulet you had. About your wishes." She spoke her words carefully, like arranging blocks in a row. "You could have asked for anything. Anything. All the imaginite in the world. Being rich as Rockefeller, or strong as Hercules." She leaned closer. "Instead, you wished for us."
He blinked. "I hadn't really thought about it."
"I think it says something important about you that you did."
He hadn't considered it that way. "Thank you for saying so. It wasn't even a choice really. It was automatic."
Piffle nodded as if that didn't surprise her. "You might have been able to wish yourself home right then and there. But being with us meant more to you."
Toby went silent. It was a bit stunning to realize that possibility had been on the table, yet he hadn't even thought to reach for it.
"I woulda done the same," Zinc said. "Given the choice myself, I woulda wished for Juney in a heartbeat." He grinned. "Then probably a few new cars."
Toby chuckled, smiling at the friendly mutt. "Hey, Piffle, if you had two wishes, and one of them was to be back with friends- and they didn't explode the first time- what would you use the other one on?"
She put a finger to her lips. "Jeepers, that's a toughie. Maybe a big candy palace for all my friends to live in?"
"But what would you do about ants?" Zinc kidded.
Junella piped up from the front seat, "If I had a wish, I'd wanna be eight hundred feet tall. I could go anydamnwhere I wanted, and if any nightmares got in my way I could flatten 'em to gunk under my boots!"
George boomed a laugh. "I fully understand the desire!"
Piffle reached down to pat Doll's head. "I think we can all guess what you'd wish for."
She looked up at Piffle and nodded. Then she showed off her hands. She was able to wiggle her green-gloved fingers with everyone looking right at her.
Piffle applauded. "Congratulations! Even if Aldridge doesn't have a sure-fire fix, we'll beat that nasty curse piece by piece anyhow!"
Doll gave that a thumbs-up.
"What about you, Toby? What if you'd had an extra wish?" Piffle asked.
The mouse went blank for a moment. "I dunno. I've already made mine, and I don't regret them. So I'm out of ideas." He sat back up and kneaded his hands together. "Though, I'll admit, I am starting to feel a flutter in my stomach when I think about what I'm gonna be sending us into. Could, maybe, one of you give me a pep talk? Like, reinforce that I'm not just insane?"
Zinc sniggered, "Oh, you are. We all are. But maybe Aldridge'll make it worth it."
"Yes, tell me about him! What are all these legends I keep hearing about?" Toby asked.
The canine crossed his wrenches behind his head and got comfortable. "Awright. But keep in mind, all the stuff I'm gonna tell you happened centuries ago, at a time when people were more worried about keeping themselves ungobbled than keeping accurate records, dig?" He considered how to begin. "Essentially... Aldridge was a builder. A lot of people helped turn this craphole afterlife into something halfway livable. He did a lot more than most. Coryza's walls? He helped with those. The market town? He helped gather all the scattered cats in the badlands so they could keep each other goin'. He invented a bunch of stuff too. Though lots more's attributed to him just 'cause he's Aldridge and no one really knows for sure. 'Eh, probably him'. But he did come up with the eye-cages some towns use to look out for nightmares. And he started the vermillion."
"Right, the mouse mail." Toby remembered Junella picking up letters at the Tatterdemalion. "How do they know where to take everything?"
Zinc smiled a 'let me demonstrate' smile. He leaned down to Doll and asked to borrow her notepad. It was a challenge to scribble on the tiny paper in an enclosed space like this, but Zinc was skillful in manipulating his wrenches. "Simple, really. I know who I'm writing to, right? So then the paper knows who it's supposed to go to. All I gotta do is say, 'I have some mail I'd like to send!' And..." The nearest hole was his own mouth, and a little white mouse leapt out of it to perch expectantly on his knee. Zinc folded the note and placed it between the tiny paws. The mouse turned, leapt, and vanished into the cornucopia. "Simple, huh?" He gave Doll back her writing supplies.
A second later, Piffle felt something wriggling in her jacket pocket. The mouse popped out, presented her with Zinc's note, and ran for Toby.
Toby had a brief alarming mental image and covered up his crotch and backside. The nonev dove into his ear nonetheless and he squirmed all over. "That felt weird!!"
Piffle unfolded the note, blushed crimson, and quickly stuffed it out of sight.
Zinc shot a wink at her.
She pretended to be scandalized, but couldn't hold back a grin.
"Anyway, you don't get famous just for doin' good deeds. Not unless there's lots of good fights and explosions goin' on," Zinc continued. "What Aldridge is most known for, is the war."
"I'd heard people mention it," Toby recalled.
"It ended up kinda like a bracket challenge," Zinc described. Then, realizing the term might not be in Toby's wheelhouse, cocked his head at him. "Know what that is?"
"I was never much into sports, but you watch enough TV, you pick things up by osmosis."
The canine nodded. "Right. So, back in them granddaddy days, most people were just wandering around trying not to go insane or die too much. But some of 'em started figuring out the rules of this place. How to bend them. They were wizards and sorceresses back then, even though lots of their tricks are standard practice now." He clicked his wrenchtips and produced an ace of spades. "You think mindfuckin' just comes naturally?"
Toby was a bit flabbergasted. He'd taken the idea for granted, but it made perfect sense that there must have been a time before Phobiopolans discovered it. It'd seem like random chance at first. Once a few people could master it intentionally, they probably would look like wizards.
"The war was like..." Zinc hunched over and gestured like he was moving armies around an invisible map. "Sometimes the wizards battled one-on-one, sometimes they hypnotized other people to do it. But like I said about the brackets, what eventually started happening was that the powerful people got SO powerful, there was nothin' left to do but start bumpin' each other off." He mimed a shady character's paranoia."'Maybe he's planning to X me out, so I'd better X him first', y'know? Some got vanished for good. Some got depowered. Or mindwiped. Others got smart and hid till it blew over, pretending to be average joes. Only a few big names are still remembered. Aldridge, obviously. Scaphis Tarrare, Porterhouse Antonio, Ike Fanshaw, Janie Jing... Luxy, obviously, though he was more like an anti-wizard. The others'd use tricks, Luxy stuck to good ol' fashioned knives. There was even this guy called Burl Blacker who, no one remembers exactly what he did, but his name gets tossed around like he's the monster under everyone's bed."
Toby was enthralled. There was so much more to Phobiopolis he'd never even glimpsed. "Are there books about this anywhere? Museums?"
"Some. Problem is, a lot of 'em were made after the fact. So the information contained's about as reliable as fairy tales."
Toby nodded. Chunks of any place's history seemed to be like that.
Zinc used his wrenches to indicate large camps slowly dwindling down to two remaining contenders. "It all came down to Aldy and Scaphis. She's the one who used to call EC home before Luxy gave her the boot. By all accounts, she was the real deal tell-your-kids-stories-about-her-to-make-'em-behave kinda thing. She and Aldridge were in an arms race to have more power than anyone else. They were getting so they could mindfuck whole buildings into existence. Will people to do anything. Wave wands and change the weather. Some people say their fighting created Dysphoria, others claim it was always there. No way to be sure."
Toby was on the edge of his seat, imagining epic battles of cosmic proportions. The stuff of myth, or religions. "I guess I don't have to ask who won."
"You don't see Scaphis doin' shows no more, if that's what you mean. No one knows how or exactly when, but one day it was all over. Aldridge came out on top, and then he left."
"Left?"
The Fearsleigher stopped abruptly.
"ZINC!" came from the driver's seat.
"Hold that thought," he said to Toby. Junella did not sound pleased. The mutt swiveled his seat around, about to ask what was up, and had that question answered immediately.
From Toby's angle, the mouse couldn't see anything but sky. "Do I even wanna know?"
Piffle peeked out the side. "Looks like eighty kazillion zombie coppers."
A convention of them. About a hundred yards dead ahead there stood an uncountable number of zombies, all posed like motionless mannequins in the hip-deep vomit of the swamp. They made no ripples in the yellowish "water" surrounding them. The swamp's only vegetation was the thick clusters of grey dead trees. The zombies were just as still.
They showed no indication of having sensed the Fearsleigher. That was good news, as every last one of them was dressed in tattered black uniforms with white crash helmets. Some had golden badges dangling from their jackets, or their flesh. Almost all of them were wearing the wide, mirrored sunglasses of a highway patrol officer (which should have been impossible considering how few of them still had noses or ears). Most of them looked like the bugs had picked them pretty clean. Skeletal arms or faces. Jaws hanging down like door knockers.
Toby was standing up now, looking past the front seats. "Why are they all here?"
Junella shrugged. "Maybe we've got a broken taillight." She asked Zinc, "Looks like, what, a few hundred?"
He shook his head. "Too many trees in the way. Can't really tell. But probly."
"I could try to go around them," George suggested.
"Yes, George. Definitely. And quietly." Zombies did not normally worry Junella Brox, especially ones so moth-eaten. But the problem with zombies was always their numbers. A half-dozen were no problem. The few they'd encountered so far were spaced enough apart that picking them off was leisurely entertainment. But a swarm of them was no longer fun. And she was not keen on finding out what so many pigsticks could do to the car.
George looked left and right as far as his piercing eyes could see. Not far, admittedly. The dead trees were thick as bramble bushes out here. He did not like this smelly place and was not happy about having to prolong his time here tiptoeing. He was very tempted to simply light himself on fire and go charging straight through. But he had passengers to consider. He did not want the necrotic officers busting out his windows and climbing in to eat the occupants. There was no dry land in sight, and no path looked better than any other. He chose left randomly and began cautiously circling around the gathering of upright corpses.
Either he was not stealthy enough, or it was simple bad luck, but he hadn't gotten fifteen feet before they noticed him.
Try to imagine the sound of two hundred heads all swiveling sharply on dry necks. Like all the gears of the world's largest paper clock.
In a unity that synchronized swimmers would have killed for, the zombie cops all raised their truncheons. A few that still had lips blew whistles, and then the whole black and white mass of them came surging through the swamp towards the Fearsleigher, screaming as loud as they could.
"OH FOR FUCKING OUT LOUD!!" Junella hollered in exasperation.
George didn't even wait for her command. He fled as fast as the vomit around his ankles would let him.
These were not like the duct-taped variety they'd already met. The cop zombies were as fast as the living. And while a man on foot cannot hope to beat a horsedrawn carriage in a race, a stampede of several hundred were a different story. The undead army sloshed relentlessly through the thick bile around them, swinging their sticks and groaning out a rasping, slurred chant of, "Pull ov-er! Pull ov-er!" The smoggy sunlight glinted off their sunglasses.
Zinc clanked his wrenches against the sides of his head. "Ya know, just a second ago I was thinking, 'Maybe they're not even zombies. Maybe they're just, like, scarecrows. Yeah. Wouldn't that be lucky?' But noooo! Couldn't be that damn simple!"
Junella kept her eyes glued to the side mirror. She watched the horde of undead pigs churning the puke to froth as they scrambled after the car. At least some of them were stumbling in the deep sludge and getting trampled by the others. But of course, just like the Hell's Bozo's, they wouldn't stay down forever. She caressed George's door panel in appreciation. He was doing a damn good job of keeping a steady pace through the thick muck. "Folks, we might outrun them or we might not. There's a hell of a lot, and this is not the best terrain for speed. I say we expect the worst and start getting ready now."
Zinc nodded. "I'm with you. Got any ideas?"
She fixed him a withering look. "Ideas? Gee, I don't know. Maybe the great big 'fuck you' gatling gun we've got on our roof? Plus a hybrid nightmare vehicle who knows how to use it?"
George perked up. "That is a wonderful suggestion, Madam Brox! I shall implement it with extreme pleasure!" He couldn't see behind him, but that didn't matter. He simply swung the barrel around to the back and let it rip.
BBBRRRRRRRRTTTT!!!
The zombies' front lines turned into an explosion of black and red confetti. Helmets went flying like graduation caps. Piffle shouted encouragement. "Way to go!"
Junella swiveled around. "Did we get them all!?" she dared to hope.
"No, but George took out a whole bunch! And-" Her tone flattened. "Oh dear. They're splitting up."
The skunk checked her mirrors. The zombies were parting like the red sea, tromping off to the right and left, trying to box in the Fearsleigher. This would not be like the Bozo battle where the road kept their enemies in a straight line behind them. "Fucksicles!" Junella punched her thigh. "I can't stand smart zombies!!"
"I shall try again!" George called out.
BRRRT! BRRRRTT! BBRRRRTT! He spun the gun around like a ballerina, alternating short bursts of fire on the right and left. He could see a little through his side mirrors, but most of the zombies were in his blind spot.
Piffle had her face shoved against the back window. "You got some, George! But they're still a-comin'!"
Toby was right behind Junella's seat. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
She considered, but came up dry. "For now just siddown till I can think up something. Thanks for askin' though."
He saluted, sat, and kept alert to instructions.
Junella looked past the passenger window and could see there was a whole new batch of fuzz up ahead, eager to join the swarm. "Just peaches and cream all over... Zinc! You think those shoulder-blenders you got would help?"
"Sure, but I can only protect one side of us. There ain't a good angle to get both knockers in action without crushing the car between 'em."
The skunk thought a bit. She licked her lips. "Hand one over."
His eyebrows shot up. "Juney!! That's gonna hurt like the devil's prick in yer eye!"
She didn't flinch. "They oughtta work just as well with my blood as yours, right? This way we'll cover both our flanks." She smirked. "And 'sides, I've been a little jealous of 'em this whole time."
He whistled, like 'you don't know what you're getting into.' But he knew his partner's stubborn will. So he popped his left doorknocker out and extracted its long, sharp needle from his shoulder.
Junella's eyes got a little bigger. She hadn't known exactly how those things stayed on until now. She gulped, but wasn't about to show fear. She took the surprisingly-heavy lump of metal into her hands while Zinc extracted the chain and ball from his backflesh. She was beginning to regret asking for this. She belatedly remembered that Zinc had an almost-supernatural pain threshold, whereas she usually preferred pain-avoidance by killing whatever was about to inflict it.
In between gatling blasts, Junella shouted to the backseat. "Piffle! Reach around the seat and hold this in place for me! And Toby, check the ceiling hatch. We oughtta have some fresh-baked caltrops by now."
"Aye-aye!" both said in harmony.
When Toby opened the hatch, a bulging basket came down, nearly spilling all over the carpet. If they'd waited any longer to jettison them, the overflow might have jammed the mechanism. Toby rolled down the car window and immediately cringed as a faceful of vomit-stink hit him. "Gack!!" He tossed handfuls of caltrops at the zombies till the basket was empty, then sealed the window back up as quickly as he could. The smell of this place was unspeakable. Almost as maddening as Dysania.
Piffle had her shoulder to the front seat, keeping the doorknocker steady for Junella. The skunk eyed the six-inch syringe extending from its center. She knew her blood had to get inside it somehow, but still...
"You don't have to," Zinc said with concern.
She smiled like she was trying to convince mostly herself. "Anticipation's always worse, right?" She sucked in a deep breath, lined up her shoulder, then threw herself onto the doorknocker with all her strength.
One of the benefits of speaking via record grooves is that, so long as you keep your hands occupied, your shrieks of excruciating pain come out perfectly silent. Junella had tears in her eyes. The pain was considerably worse than her anticipation of it. She'd managed to bend the steering wheel into a slight oval.
Zinc cringed with his whole body. "Stings, don't it?"
She was cross-eyed in agony. Her head slowly rotated towards him and her tooth-grinding grin was horrifying. She merely nodded at his understatement.
"Think it'll work though?"
She would have to find out very soon, because just then they heard the first WHOK! of a billy club smacking their right skate.
George twitched sideways and the skate-blade split the zombie nicely in half. But more would come soon. The officers had spread out in their pursuit. No more clumping together where he could gun down a dozen at a time. They were darting behind trees, making use of the environment. He had to give them some degree of respect for that. His opponents were at least marginally unstupid.
Toby had an idea. Maybe they could spin the skate blades around and dice the cops like a buzzsaw. 'Though, wait...' As badass as that sounded, he remembered what had happened when they'd done that to slow their fall in Lumbago. He shook his head. Not worth it.
Junella turned back around to unroll her window. "You ready, Zinc?"
"Born ready," he rogered. He reached out his window as well, bracing his wrench against the side door. "They're easy to use. Will-powered. Just get the engine up to speed, hold on tight, then engage the chain when the pigs close in."
She nodded to him, then drew in a deep breath. Inside she was terrified she'd screw this up and tear the car to shreds, but she didn't let it show. "George, hold up a bit. Let some of 'em catch up."
"I hope that is wise," he said warily, but obeyed.
Junella tried to feel the doorknocker as part of her own body. She jumped at the suddenness of the motor coming to life.
The zombies seemed to rally at the sight of their prey slowing. They waved their truncheons even harder, their gurgling voices rising.
In just a few seconds, Piffle, Doll and Toby were all flinching at the impacts of dozens of batons bashing the Fearsleigher's back and sides. WHOK! WHOK! WHOK! They could feel the car rock back and forth as the undead began to climb on.
The cops clustered around, climbing over one another, shearing some of their own kind into pieces against the sharpened skate blades. The Fearsleigher's windows grew dark. The zombies were like a living carpet of dead flesh.
Sweat ran down Zinc's neck. "Now, Junebug!?"
Junella saw a fleshless face float towards the window. A ragged hand raised its weapon. Teeth fell out of its jawbone as the zombie officer gasped, "Yuh arr un-dar arrr-rest!"
"Like hell I am," she said, and engaged the flails.
Except they didn't.
The doorknocker puked out a sticky gurgle of her vinyl blood and did nothing but click.
Junella's eyes shrunk to pinpricks.
Three things happened in quick sequence.
1: The zombie trooper lunged at Junella.
2: Zinc yanked her out of its way.
3: Toby leapt forward on sheer instinct and his hammer cleaved the cop's face in twain.
Panic and rage made a tornado inside Junella's mind. She landed in a heap between the front seats. "Why didn't it work!?" she gouged out.
"Hell if I know!!" Zinc wailed. "Your blood's too thick maybe?"
Another cop started pulling its faceless comrade out of the side window so it could have a try. Several more were reaching in for Zinc.
For a moment the canine felt helpless confusion. He saw the windows growing dark as cops surrounded them. Saw Piffle and Toby looking horrified. Saw his partner enraged and in pain. Then a spark lit off inside him. His heart growled like an engine. He reached over to yank his doorknocker out of Junella and shove it into his own meat.
"I'll be right back," he said in a low grunt, and stepped out of the car.
Toby shouted. "ZINC!!"
Hands swarmed him. Rotting fingers tried fruitlessly to snap handcuffs on his wrenches. Zinc bared his teeth in a feral growl as he raised his arms and bowled a dozen of them off of him. They went flailing into the swamp, sending others tumbling down like dominoes. Thinking nothing but rage and seeing nothing but red, Zinc turned and hoisted himself up onto the roof. His hackles were raised, fur bristling. Foam flecked at the corners of his mouth.
Inside the car, Piffle yelped and jumped back as a baton came smashing through the window. Then she scowled and tried to be as brave as Zinc. She reached out and snapped the cop's arm clean off. It wriggled on the floor and Doll stomped it as hard as she could. Junella was on her feet and dumbfounding revolvers despite the painstorm in her shoulder. She shoved two of them into Toby's hands, kept two for herself, and started shooting. Toby stared at the shiny silver for a moment. He'd never fired a handgun before. Now was as good a time as any to start. And the zombies were crawling right through the open window so it wasn't hard to aim. BLAM! "Oww!" The recoil nearly took his hand off.
Zombies swarmed around the car like a plague of wasps. Truncheons rained down blows. The Fearsleigher shook back and forth from all the boots climbing up onto its skate blades. Dry, dead throats groaned warnings for the suspects to stop resisting.
Zinc was on the roof. He planted his feet in an A-stance. Saliva glinting on his fangs, panting in anticipation, he reached up, ripped the doorknockers from his shoulders, and clamped down hard on the mounts.
These were zombies. Meat piñatas. He did not need the same horsepower as he did for knocking down a mall.
Just steady rotation.
Zinc's jaw fell open and an unholy thunder came forth from his lungs. As the zombies climbed the car towards him, tearing at his legs, he tensed his shoulder muscles and began windmilling his arms as hard as he could.
Toby's jaw dropped as he watched zombies go flying through the air like a squadron of Supermen. The doorknockers' flails weren't density-shifted, but they still had spikes for hooking onto flesh. And when they did, the zombies became Zinc's wrecking balls. He swung them into their fellows, churning through them like a lawnmower, sweeping dozens aside with each swing.
George began pushing forward again. He could barely get any speed due to the crowd pounding his hood, and for fear of destabilizing Sir Zinc, but crawling ahead was better than staying put. The stallioncar spun the gatling gun back up and let the zombies in the back sample her bullets. It was debatable whether it or Zinc roared louder.
For the next three and a half minutes, the Fearsleigher was a rolling zombie slaughterhouse. The officers still rushing towards the vehicle bellowed in outrage and waved their billy clubs so violently that a few ended up decapitated by friendly fire. They shoved their way up onto the skate blades, trying to overwhelm the occupants' attack by sheer force. But no amount of flesh and bone was going to stop Zinc's steel. His wrenches spun like berserk ferris wheels, creating a double fireworks display of flying limbs and heads.
Junella allowed herself only a brief flash of humiliation over her failed plan, then her mind was focused solely on carnage. Her revolvers sang their percussive song. Heads exploded into clouds of red butterflies. She cackled noiselessly. Zinc may have been tackling the lion's share, but there were plenty left for her to play with.
Toby's wrists throbbed, but he was starting to get into the swing of blowing cops' brains out. When the chambers clicked empty, he threw the guns at a zombie's face and popped out his hammer. Unfortunately, Zinc's spinning circles of death were keeping the horde well away from bonking range. Toby noticed the glove compartment. He opened it and found five little eggs.
Junella felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked around to see Toby holding up an egg-bomb, asking with his expression if he should use it. She hesitated. If biteranodons were beneath them, zombies were doubly so. But... this was what they were made for. She patted Toby's shoulder, then pointed out the front window, mouthing, 'Clear a path for George!!'
Piffle was in the back holding two machine guns in either hand, firing blindly out both side windows simultaneously. Doll was in the storage space, finding ammo clips. Both gals were getting slathered head to toe in zombie guts. Piffle hollered over the chaos, "It'd be real nice if the doors had some kinda keyhole to stick a gun through!!!"
Junella perked up. Her hands were too full to speak, but she nodded approvingly at Piffle's suggestion. Something to write down for later.
Toby knew his throw had to be perfect. Right in the midst of the zombie clog, but not so close George would get caught in the lightning too. Toby eyeballed it, then realized he could not hope to do this without depth perception. There was no quicker way to get his other eye back, so he tossed the egg back in the glovebox, put his palm to his temple, POW, and he was back in action. He leaned out the side of the car, heart thudding as Zinc's flails came within inches of his ears.
Zinc was a gore-soaked powerhouse, fueled by screams. His wrenches circled tirelessly. His chest muscles strained against his shirt. The zombies kept coming. He kept knocking them out of the park. His face was tensed in a snarl of infinite I-have-had-enough-of-this-shit.
George was braying in bloodlust as well. Any officers that managed to get around the front of the Fearsleigher were baked alive by his fire, chewed to bits by his teeth, or shish-kebabed on the bayonets.
Then, a tiny motion coming from the passenger side caught his eye.
A moment later the zombies ahead exploded in a blitzkrieg of lightning. George's eyes filled with joy and terror, because he knew the blue arcs of searing electricity targeted nightmare flesh. But Sire Toby's aim had been true, and George felt nothing worse than pops of static. George was pleasantly relieved. Then outright overjoyed, once the sizzling stopped, to barge right through the charred corpses and trample them to sludge.
"Yes!!" Toby shouted.
"PIG ROAST!!!" Zinc bellowed.
Rhinolith was not far now. The few residents lucky enough to have their telescopes pointed swampward that afternoon got a heck of a lightshow.
***
Eventually the zombies just plain gave up. They seemed to share a collective mind, coordinating like a flock of birds. One moment dozens of officers were charging forward as viciously as ever, then suddenly they all just... stopped. Maybe they realized that 'full steam ahead' wasn't getting them anywhere. Or maybe the Fearsleigher had crossed some kind of borderline, like a sonic dog fence. Either way, something happened to make the pursuers stop dead in their tracks and stand still with blank expressions on their rotting faces. The ones surrounding the car went limp as ragdolls and slid burbling into the puke.
Everyone was glad to finally roll the windows up.
Zinc came lurching into the car a moment later, a panting wreck. He nearly flattened Toby when he fell in through the side door, but the mouse managed to hold him up.
Toby winced: his friend's wrenches were hot as stove burners. And for a moment he thought Zinc was having death throes. Then he realized it was actually giggling. "You allright?"
A hoarse, rattling laugh wheezed out of his overworked lungs. "That... was... fun..."
Piffle squeezed past to squeeze her beau. "Oh Zinc! You were magnificent! How did you do it!? You said you couldn't handle both sides of the car at once!"
"He took off his doorknockers and swung them," Toby explained. "Cutting their damage but doubling their reach. Brilliant strategy," he congratulated Zinc.
"Wasn't no thinking involved," Zinc gurgled, coughing up a blood clot. "I was just... sick of assholes gettin' in our way."
Toby let Piffle take over propping Zinc up. He fished out the re-flattened cornucopia and got some water to cool down their conquering hero. When he poured it on, it turned to steam. "Ahhhhhhh..." the canine sighed happily.
Everyone was covered in blood and gunpowder, and the whole car stank of barf. Junella rustled around the glove compartment. Soon the interior was swarming with golden ladybugs, all of them happily cleaning up offensive organic matter. Toby still had powder burns on his hands afterward, but that was a far, far preferable smell.
Minutes later, with a long groan of relief, George crawled out of the swamp onto dry land. Everyone was jostled about as he shook the mess from his wheels.
This was Rhinolith proper.
Toby suspected that, like Coryza, it was the name of the region as well as the city on the hill. Also like Coryza, it was circular. It looked like an immense stubby tooth growing out of the ground.
Under a sky like boiling egg yolk, the surrounding land was green. Not a healthy, natural green, but a color that brought to mind toxicity and rot. Every surface was strangled with creeping fingers of plantlife. And like a rug woven of worms, it never stopped moving. Toby was reminded of the veinlike vines in Quinsy, or Lady Xenoiko's wood paneling. He mused that the vomit swamp was a result of people staring at the landscape for too long.
Toby began to hear the city as George drove them closer to it. Above the constant crunch of wheels on plants, there was a solid wall of music. Drums and brass. And a roar of united voices. Laughing, bellowing, cheering.
Zinc rotated his seat, going back to his tour guide voice. "It's a party all the time in there. They have to. This far in the badlands? You kiddin'? You've gotta keep your spirits up or you'll crack. With the long nights and the ugly-ass critters skulkin' around, they sing and dance and drink full-time, so the isolation don't drive 'em bonkers."
Remembering the quote from someplace, Junella sang, "'They revel to beat back the darkness'."
"Sounds like fun!" Piffle said, eager to join in.
"Ehhh," Zinc grimaced. "If you're tough enough, maybe. These folks is on edge. They call themselves the Bargeld. Always got their ears pricked for a fight. Adrenaline insteadda blood. I'd tread cautiously, all of us."
Toby shrank back a bit. He looked out the window again and could now see the city's outer wall in better detail. His jaw dropped. "Are those all skulls!?"
Zinc's tail wagged. "Bingo! Y'see, the city's built like a castle. Big high wall to keep out unwanted visitors. But their first wall wasn't quite big enough, so they built a second one around it. They say this second wall is made outta all the bones of all the citizens what died puttin' up the previous wall. Supposedly."
Toby's imagination could not handle it. Skulls of man and animal, piled up to the heavens. Nearly thirty feet of ivory and eye sockets. And while he could already tell Rhinolith's diameter wasn't as wide as Coryza's, it still beggared belief that this much death could exist.
Toby also didn't see any entrance. "Where do we get in?"
"I have already spotted a door and am heading towards it, Sire Toby," George spoke up.
"Good ol' George!" Piffle said.
The stallion swished his head back and forth bashfully.
Zinc patted the ceiling. "Um, I'm not sure they'll react kindly to a pet nightmare. Most likely they'll try to kill you. A lot. I don't think a transformation potion will make any difference this time."
He 'hrmm'ed in annoyance. "I then predict I will have to spend the night shrunken in Madam McPerricone's gullet?"
"We'll work something out," Zinc assured.
Piffle asked a bit more about the city as they continued to approach. George could feel himself being watched from the windows in the wall. He parked a safe distance away, hoping the people inside would see only a custom vehicle with a fanciful hood ornament.
Junella got out first, hopping down to the carpet of tendrils and stretching her shoulder.
Toby looked out. "Is that stuff safe to walk on?"
"Oh sure," Zinc said blithely. "Just keep moving or you'll end up cocooned and juiced."
The idea seemed to intrigue Piffle.
Toby looked down warily.
"...Now, what you really gotta watch out for are those living Halloween masks," Zinc went on with ghoulish glee. He indicated the toothful creatures hopping around in the grass downhill. "Those things'll jump on your face and start chewing. Next thing you know, they're a permanent addition. Takes an acid bath to get 'em off."
Toby reflexively covered his mouth. "Let's get inside quickly."
When everyone was out, George could not resist cleansing himself more thoroughly of the encrusted puke and zombie giblets that lingered on him after the swamp. If the Bargeld took this as a sign of aggression, then oh well. He was damned if he did, disgusted if he didn't. George sucked in a deep, deep breath, then blew a hurricane-sneeze of fire all over his undercarriage. The offending matter was charred to dust in seconds. He whickered in relief. The Bargeld made no counter-moves, though George thought for sure he saw some rifle barrels peeking out over the ramparts.
The others started trudging up the hill. The tendrils under their feet writhed and made for slippery going. The door was an eight-by-eight slab of metal with decorative sculpted skulls and a sliding panel at eye-height.
A few feet from it, Zinc glanced back, grimacing. "No guarantee they'll let us in," he admitted.
"What?" Toby and Piffle yelped.
He shrugged. "Ain't like they're contractually obligated, now is they? Plus it's tournament season. They might be booked up."
"Lemme try to sweet-talk the doorman," Piffle offered. "Maybe I can put my powers of cuteness to use." Set in the metal was a sliding panel. Piffle knocked three times with her dainty fist.
It opened with a startling sssshhhHHUNK.
Everyone jumped back a little.
A pointy, fanged face leaned out, topped by a porcelain helmet with eyeholes drilled in the rim.
Piffle curtseyed. "'Scuse me, sir, but we're weary travelers coming from-"
The guard cut her off. "Feck off, we're full."
sssshhhHHUNK.
Everyone stared for a moment.
Toby gawked longer than the others. "He really did have a toilet on his head!"
Piffle stamped her foot. "And he was awfully rude!"
Junella was steaming. She whipped out her sword and started banging on the door with the hilt. "You no-good, inhospitable, dumpsterfuckin', monkey-eatin' shitfaces!!!"
The panel remained closed.
The skunk turned around and clenched her teeth. "FFFFFFFFFFUCK!!!"
Zinc sighed and started rubbing her shoulders. "I told you! The city's like a concert hall. You can't always expect to get tickets at the door."
She fumed a bit and stomped the tendrils under her feet. "Yeah, yeah. I was looking forward to getting' some drink in me and stretchin' out in a nice bed though."
He shrugged. "Ehhh. Shit happens."
As they turned back towards the car, Toby's eyes got wide. "Actually... I think I'm the reason we didn't get in."
Junella turned to him, trying to look reassuring. "Hey, no. They're just a-holes. Don't go assuming you're a jinx or something."
"No, I mean literally! Remember when I got the idea for Red to be a taxi for the vending machine people? Where do you think he brought them to?"
The skunk's eyes also got wide. She resisted a sudden urge to strangle him for depriving her of a drunk night's sleep.
Zinc started laughing at the irony. "No good deed goes unpunished, huh?" He clapped Toby on the back. "Fuggit, it was the right thing to do anyway."
Toby smiled lop-sidedly.
A cheek-smooch snuck up on him from Piffle. "You helped a lot of people, and if that means sleepin' in the car tonight, I don't mind."
He gave her paw a squeeze for being a cheerer-upper. Then asked Zinc, "How much farther do we have, actually?"
"Not much. It's a hop, skip, and a jump to the wall."
"Could we camp out there?" Toby asked.
Junella butted in immediately: "No."
He was a little started. "I'm guessing from an answer like that, there's a damn good reason?"
A nod, and an expression hinting he wouldn't have to ask it once they got there.
Toby considered other options for the night's lodgings. Then realized it hadn't been that many hours since they'd gotten up at Gilla's. It just felt like more. Why quit with so much of the day left? He 'hmm'ed. "Maybe we don't have to find a place to rest at all. I think I'm allright to keep going."
"Are you sure?" Junella asked.
He wasn't, but it seemed like the best idea. "I guess so."
She arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "Oh really? On through the maze and the rats' nest?"
He hesitated a moment, but managed a shaky nod. "I'm feeling pretty rested after my car nap. And if these places are gonna be terrible, why prolong the wait? There were plenty of times with my pills that I'd just gulp 'em all to get it over with."
She took a moment to marvel at the fact that this was Toby making this decision, of all people. Then she smiled approvingly. "Ballsy way of thinking about it. I guess I can skip a beer and a bed."
Toby asked quickly, "We do have to go through, right? There's absolutely no way we could possibly go around? Or over?" He'd inferred as much, from multiple sources, but it couldn't hurt to be absolutely, explicitly certain.
She reached the car and hopped up towards the driver's side. Hanging off, she looked back at him. "Sorry, mouse. I wish. If there was a way, that'd already be the plan. I may be the pettiest grudgeholder in the afterlife, but I'm no glutton for punishment." She disappeared into the driver's seat.
Toby nodded, sighing. It was easy to make brave pronouncements in the moment. Much harder to keep yourself steadily on the path towards them. He heaved himself onto the skate blade. 'We'll do this the same way we've done everything else so far. Full on ahead.'
George was a little puzzled at seeing his passengers returning. "I assume we will not be enjoying their hospitality?"
"They didn't have any," Piffle huffed.
He nodded. "Removing ourselves suits me fine. As while the plantlife here is not actively trying to consume me, they are exploring in some verrRRYYYEEEHEEHHEE ticklish places!!"
Piffle noticed he had vines all up and down his tires. She patted a bayonet. "Don't worry, we'll be outta here soon."
"In fact, lemme help you out with that," Zinc said to George. He gave Piffle a nuzzle and a 'hop on in' swat, then went to work ripping away huge wrenchfuls of tendrils.
"Oh yes!" he moaned. "Thank you extensively, Sir Zinc!!"
***
There was not much to say about Phlegmasia.
Zinc explained on the way that it was only dangerous if you didn't follow the rules. But the maze did not forgive mistakes. As Junella had described before, this place had writing on the walls. To read a single word was to become ensnared. Never able to look away. For the rest of eternity (or until you were rescued) you would scan the walls, pulling yourself deeper and deeper into the maze, lost eternally in fascination.
Toby had a thought. He remembered the candy bars in Sanders' shop. His Phobiopolis-induced dyslexia. If that happened to every newcomer, then how could a reading-trap work?
Junella asked if he'd ever had a dream where he thought up a really clever joke that, on waking, was really just nonsense. Toby nodded. Phlegmasia's writing was the same principle, she said. The maze infected its prey with the artificial feeling of reading something so good you couldn't stop. Photos had been taken of the maze's walls and looked at under laboratory conditions miles away. It was all nothing but gibberish.
George did not have far to drive. Only a handful of miles. The farther they drove from Rhinolith, the more the green tendrils turned to brown. Drying and dying. Soon there was nothing but parched, baked soil.
And the wall.
It was a soiled, dusty white. Absolutely featureless, not even lines of mortar. It stretched across the desert as far as the eye could see. As if a giant eraser had swiped the landscape and removed a perfect line.
The wall itself was not high, only six or seven feet. But there was nothing past it. Toby could feel a headache starting when he looked in that direction. The sky stopped. There was something else beyond, but it was indescribable. Or rather, his mind was not allowed to perceive it. It was a blur with teeth, viciously driving his senses away. Toby kept his head down.
Looking back at the wall, it seemed impregnably solid. Toby had no idea how they were going to get past it.
Zinc sensed the question before it was asked. "There's only ever one entrance," he said. "Just one. And it's always right in front of you. It wants you to come in."
Toby shuddered. And as the group drew nearer, there it was. A single dull eye in the infinite smooth. Staring at them. Inviting them. Dead ahead.
Of course, it was shaped exactly wide and tall enough to let the Fearsleigher pass through.
Junella glared back, not allowing it to intimidate her. "George. Pull up and let us out for a sec."
"As you wish, Madam Brox."
His wheels kicked up clouds of dust that rolled along the barren ground like tumbleweeds. There was nothing else alive out here except his passengers. He noticed how odd that was, for any region in Phobiopolis to be absolutely devoid of constructs.
When the travelers stepped out of the Fearsleigher, they heard the sounds. Murmurs on the wind. Echoes from inside the walls. The indistinct jabbering of a million people who had gone mad.
Plus it seemed impossible that so many one-sided conversations and wild laughs could carry naturally through the wall's thickness. More likely, Phlegmasia was amplifying them. Maybe as a warning. Maybe just to be cruel.
At least the ground didn't move when he jumped down onto it from the skate blade. Toby did not have to ask why Junella hadn't wanted to camp here. Nothing with ears could spent an entire night listening to this. It was already churning his guts. He wondered, if they parked here with the windows rolled tight and everyone put earplugs in, would he start hearing the voices soon enough anyway? The answer felt like yes.
Doll had her hands over her ears and was turning in circles. Toby picked her up and held her comfortingly. Soon Piffle appeared beside them and added herself to their hug.
Junella popped the hood and rummaged around. Zinc stood nearby, kicking the dirt, trying not to show his unease. Junella hopped down with an armful of headgear and asked George to disengage himself. He was a little sad to give up his wheels, but soon the sensation of stretching his legs improved his mood. Junella told everyone to gather round.
The only 100% guaranteed way to prevent getting trapped in Phlegmasia was to cut out your eyes. Though that left the problem of navigating the maze. This would be Zinc's job. Junella passed out thick blindfolds to everyone else. They had zip ties in the back: no accidental slips. Rippingbean & Woofingbutter's hadn't sold any that could fit George, so she'd bought some heavy-duty construction putty instead. With George's permission, she began to pack his sockets full.
"I'll be your eyes," Zinc reassured George. He reminded everyone of exactly why he'd been given a hollow metal head in the first place. The idea was that, if his eyes were always open, he'd be immune to places that changed their architecture when unobserved. The maze would absolutely try that. Zinc pocketed his tin lids and let his ocular orbs spin freely.
Toby asked how they were going to keep Zinc from reading the walls and getting trapped. Would they glue him to his seat? Like lashing Odysseus to the mast?
"No, but that's not a bad idea."
Junella held up what she'd bought for him: clear plastic safety goggles. When she turned the lenses around, everything through them was blurred. Zinc would have an extreme case of far-sightedness. Able to make out the place's layout and not much else. The canine was patient as his partner superglued them in place.
Soon Zinc was astride George's back. Toby's question gave them both an idea at the same time. The stallion made a saddle, as well as reins of tendon. But in addition, he grew ropy lashes of flesh around Zinc's thighs like a pair of meat manacles. Now, even if the goggles came off, or the maze tried any dirty tricks like words as big as a barn, he would be safely incapable of jumping off and reading himself into insanity.
George and Zinc were hitched up to the car and the others climbed back inside. As Toby and Piffle put on their blindfolds, Junella realized she'd completely forgotten to get one for Doll. She felt a little bad about that, now that she'd actually gotten used to the little creep. Doll solved the problem by simply turning her bag around so the eyeholes were in back. "Smart," Junella said approvingly. Doll could still see a tiny bit through the burlap fibers, so she helped Piffle and Toby with their zip-ties. Then the trio settled into the backseat and held hands.
Zinc ripped his ears off and gave them to Junella. This way she could relay him information, and he'd be spared the sounds of the babbling damned. She handed him a long, thin pole, like a car antenna.
Junella took the front passenger seat, out of deference. She cupped one of Zinc's fuzzy triangles to her mouth. "Breaker breaker 1 9. You read me, good buddy?"
Zinc could see only three things. A smear of white wall, the charcoal smudge of George's head, and the doorway that had created itself for them. "Loud and clear, tower. And while I ain't too thrilled about it, yeah, I'm ready."
"Then good luck, partner."
Zinc held tight to the thin pole. On its end, like the tip of a spear, was an uncapped Neverdry marker. He swiped it across the wall and a red line followed.
Anyone who's been in a hedge maze learns a basic strategy: keep a hand on one wall and start walking. Not the most efficient path, but a certain one.
Zinc flicked the reigns and George took them in. The entrance vanished behind them. Sunlight gone, replaced by a throbbing, artificial glow from the walls themselves.
If the sounds outside had been unsettling, inside they were torture.
Hundreds of voices echoed off the walls. Toby did not need sight to guess that there were many, many victims trapped in this place. Their voices were hoarse, crackling, dry. These were people who had not had any food or sleep in years. They exclaimed in delusional joy at whatever clever bit of prose they thought they'd just read. They asked questions to no one. They laughed. They raged. None of it was actual language. The surface of the collective murmur was a boundless, eager enthrallment. Simmering beneath was anguish. Inarticulate misery. The moans of animals in captivity that have never known the sun.
There also came the sounds of metal carving meat. The Fearsleigher's skates cut through anyone in their path. None of the victims moved to get out of the way. They couldn't. George did his best to steer around them.
Junella could hear it in his zig-zagging steps. "Don't bother," she sang solemnly. "Killing them is kindness. For every hundred or so, there'll be a few who'll have the reflexes to cover their eyes when they wake up. Of those, a handful might make it back to the entrance. This place plays fair in one regard: it leaves the door open if you can get there."
"I understand, Madam Brox."
To the chaotic moans of the maze's prisoners, and the scrape of blade on bone, was added the crunch of ribcages beneath black hooves.
Toby held Doll's hand tighter.
The car moved onward, turning this way and that. Toby lost all sense of direction. From the sound of the bodies breaking, Toby could imagine them thin as dried sardines. Brittle bone and papery skin. All muscle and fat long depleted. Toby's mind saw bony fingers tracing along the walls to underline every magical word.
The deranged exclamations and laughter never stopped. The cries, the shrieks, the mumbling. The travelers could not bring themselves to drown it out with small talk. The sounds dug sonic fingers into their ears. Deeper and deeper and tighter. A drone like a drill. Piercing their brains. Growing louder and louder and louder, or was that their imaginations?
Junella felt around in a small compartment below the driver's seat. There would be no radio signals out here, but she'd bought some tapes from L'roon. No sense waiting to get home to listen to them. She felt around for the raised 'A' side of one, then slid it in.
Beautiful, lonesome, melting tones began to fill the car. Junella turned the volume knob all the way up and settled herself in.
Toby relaxed. Slightly. The music helped. It was a kind he'd never heard before and it was hypnotically sad. Though if he listened too carefully, sometimes he could still hear cries and giggles reaching through. And he could still feel the car bump softly as it slid over things that hadn't been alive for a long, long time.
-***-