Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
Part THREE-THIRTY
The film was utterly captivating to Toby, for a variety of reasons. Making it all the more annoying that he was interrupted halfway through it.
Performances were good, direction was solid, though plot-wise it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before in any number of edited-for-TV afternoon dramas. What really grabbed his attention was what they'd gotten right, and wrong, about Earth. It was easy in every scene to sense something 'off' about the location, even though the filmmakers tried their best to compensate. It looked like they'd taken advantage of Phobiopolan locations that mimicked ghost towns, like Scrofula and Phlogiston. He wondered if they had indeed used Junella & Zinc's neighborhood for some of the internal shots, and if so, how had they kept Tinder Fingers at bay? Other scenes had been shot in Coryza. A lot safer, but you could tell right away from the look of the buildings.
Beyond the little background details that gave away the illusion, Toby also couldn't help but notice a fixation all the characters had on death. Specifically, a constant fear of it. Even the main hero guy, all muscly and invulnerable, seemed a lot more afraid of injury than normal. Weirdest of all, the film wasn't calling attention to this quirk, leading Toby to guess that maybe all movies here were like this. Maybe this was a common assumption people here had about those still living. And Toby had to cringingly admit, he'd been like this himself. But was everyone else? He at least had a reason for it. Were other people always so on edge?
Not long after the car chase, but before the protagonist could figure out who'd set up his best friend to take the fall for murdering Mr. Runka, a firefly leapt out of Toby's pocket and started whizzing around his head, whining like a teakettle. He was so startled, it took him a second to realize this was the scarab Junella had given him.
Piffle gawked. "It's not supposed to do that!"
Toby was out of his seat, frantically grasping at the high-speed bullet that would not stop circling or screaming. "How do I turn it off!?"
"Catch it!"
"I can't!"
"You fuggin' better!" someone in the next row snarled.
Piffle made a lunge for the shrieking beetle and its orbit slid a foot away from her. She tried again; same thing.
Quite a few angry-looking people were swiveled around in their seats, glaring.
Toby held up his hands. "We're trying!!"
Piffle grunted and sprang at the scarab, but once again it eluded her fingers. That's when she noticed a pattern. "It keeps moving closer to the exit! It wants us to follow it, Toby!"
"Then let's go before these people string us up!"
There was scattered applause as the mouse and hamster ran after the buzzing annoyance and out of the theater.
The blue scarab kept darting away from them, always circling, but it wasn't difficult to follow. It was leading them straight through the lobby, back to the street. "I'm guessing this is some kind of emergency alert," said Piffle.
"Junella and Zinc really want us back quick. Hopefully, all it means is that the car's done."
Piffle gave him an 'I don't think we'll be that lucky' look.
Toby acknowledged and concurred.
The still-wailing bug led them outside and took on an elliptical orbit, pointing towards the direction they were supposed to head next: down.
"But the store's over that way," Toby argued.
The bug paid no attention. It was just an inanimate object relaying information.
"I think it wants us to go down a level."
"Just great. So where's the nearest elevator?"
"We might not have time for that." Piffle gave her wings a flex. "Toby... do you trust me to fly you?"
He blanched. He looked to her, then the insistent beetle, then towards the edge of Bigwheel 48.
"Only if I can keep my eyes closed the entire time, and you don't mind if I scream."
***
He certainly did.
Toby had hoped that the scarab would just instruct them down to the next Bigwheel below. But life wasn't being so nice to him. It seemed like he and Piffle spent hours descending, and at a velocity that made his bloodbacon want to make a return appearance.
Piffle held Toby's wrists tight in her paws. He dangled below her like she was his parachute. He was impressed at the strength of her grip and told her so several times. The mouse kept his eyes nailed shut the whole way down. Occasional peeks were just a sickening blur of tumbling lights.
Over the whoosh of wind, Piffle shouted periodic updates on their progress. She said the scarab was shining brighter than ever, making sure they could still follow it as it plunged further downwards. Finally though, it took a right turn. Piffle followed, keeping her eyes peeled for signs of where they were headed.
"Looks like Bigwheel 14!" she called out.
Toby had a lucid thought slip past his terror. "Wasn't that where Zinc said he was going?"
"He did," Piffle said, tight-lipped. She wasn't too keen on running into this Millie person, but she altered her trajectory and headed into the city nonetheless.
Now that they were flying level, Toby dared to open his eyes. As Zinc had said, Bigwheel 14 really was a rough neighborhood. Lots of industrial buildings. Factories and storehouses. Sandwiched all around were innumerable tenements, lines of laundry strung between them. The rooftops were a universal dingy brown, but down below in the streets there was a lot more color. Pushcarts, street games, graffiti murals. At least this place seemed to have a thriving community spirit. There were no carpetwalks down here though. Just hard asphalt.
Up ahead, Toby noticed a ghastly little detail. A huge smear of blood on a sidewalk. Like someone had kicked over a red paint can.
His heart sunk as he realized that was exactly where the scarab was leading them.
Getting even closer, Toby could see, even before they landed, that something was seriously wrong.
There was Zinc, slumped on the front steps of a brownstone. Junella stood beside him with a comforting paw on his shoulder. At his other side was a green-and-brown lass who could only be the storied Millie.
Piffle didn't even mind her presence. All she cared about was the fact that Zinc was covered in blood. A deluge of it, from his neck down to his soles.
Blood everywhere. Except for his newly regrown head, and his bare, furred arms.
*****