Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
Junella actually did go out for pizza, as Zinc had mentioned earlier. But doing so served a double purpose. She tucked the mutt's untethered eye and ear into her scarf and brought them along with her. Conrad said to get four large pizzas, two with sausage and anchovy, and the rest she and Zinc could decide on. He lent her a wellwatch so full it was practically vibrating. It wasn't too surprising to find out he was well-to-do. The frog was running a thriving business, and all he cared about spending will on was food and more gadgets.
The pizza place smelled great. Junella envied whoever lived above it. She put in her order, then used the wait time to go jogging around the neighborhood. Zinc's parts obviously couldn't give verbal feedback on whether or not they were still broadcasting, but he could move his ear a bit. They agreed he'd give a double-flick if he stopped being able to perceive. So far, nary a twitch. Not even when she estimated she was a mile away from the apartment building.
She stopped at this far point and readied to return. The test was successful and she didn't want the pizza to go cold. She leaned on an alley entrance to give her back a satisfying stretch.
"You look like a real good kisser."
Junella glanced sideways. There was a man behind her. She caught a glimpse of a knife.
She pointed backwards at his throat. "Bang."
"Ha. That's-"
A revolver appeared in her hand and put a real bullet through his neck.
His body hit the sidewalk and she went back to jogging.
The incident wasn't worth mentioning to the boys when she returned. She skillfully balanced four pizza boxes on one hand all through the lobby and the elevator ride. Some kids hovered around her in the hallway, sniffing and coveting. She chased them off with a hiss. It was a lot easier to sink back into Conrad's ooze pit now that it wasn't unexpected.
The trio spent the next hour brainstorming, talking with their mouths full and refining a plan. Zinc reported crystal clear hearing and eyesight throughout the range test (and tossed the skunk a covert thumbs-up for effortless handling of a scumbag.) There seemed no reason they couldn't mount his eye and ear on an RC car and send it out on recon. Conrad said he could probably jack up the remote's power far enough that they'd never need to leave the apartment. He'd used the guard towers as antennae to boost signals before. Junella was fairly impressed by the sheer balls of running wires into the buildings without them getting spotted. He said it was worth it to tune in TV shows from Ectopia Cordis.
After their paper plates were chucked in the trash and their fingers were licked clean, the trio huddled around Conrad's workbench. He brought down a model Indy car; an older model he would've traded in anyway. He began dissecting it. Junella mostly watched and tried to follow the his rapid-fire commentary. Zinc helped too and was naturally quite good at clamping parts together for gluing or soldering. Conrad swapped out the car's tires to give it better grip on sand. To enhance the antenna, he attached a vial of nightmare construct blood: floating in its center was a minuscule shard of glinting blue Zulamang. "I want this car back, Zinc," the frog said firmly. "You cannot get your hands on this stuff at any price." Zinc nodded in full understanding. This was the most legendary of all substances in Phobiopolis. Aldridge's freakin' wand was made of it. Though the canine was curious how Conrad had managed to get a sample. "Found it in the street," he said with a shrug and a smile.
The construction went smooth as butter. Zinc's sensory organs were incorporated snugly, and Conrad was hit with a stroke of brilliance regarding them. He asked if Zinc could stand a brief bit of pain. The half-machine canine just giggled. So the frog fetched some AV cables and plugged them directly into the disembodied bits. It stung like a bitch for a few moments, but the results were well worth it. Conrad wired the remote to a portable TV and soon they were seeing and hearing exactly what Zinc was.
There was a problem though. The boys had been delightedly tinkering away at their toy when Junella voiced a practical concern. "Aren't they gonna notice this thing scootin' around?" That brought the tools to a halt. None of them had considered that. It was very likely someone in the hideout they'd be infiltrating would hear the sound of an RC motor, see an obvious surveillance robot, and blast it to smithereens.
Conrad tackled the sound problem, encasing the motor in whirr-dampening foam. Not silent, but better. Junella suggested maybe camouflaging it as something no one would pay attention to. Zinc had an 'Aha!'. The wastelands were crawling with constructs, and among the most common and least threatening were diaperrats. Garbage-eating loathsome little rodents shaped like used diapers. They scuttled everywhere, spreading stink and disease. Just what the doctor ordered.
Conrad immediately rushed to his safe and brought back a basketball-sized hunk of imaginite. The trio joined hands and all directed their will at it. Within moments they had a flawless rubber diaperrat disguise. It fit over top of the car like a latex glove, and looked just as fuzzy and scuzzy as the real thing. Plus it even muffled the motor a bit further. And the antenna could be hidden nicely inside the tail.
There were high fives all around. Success seemed assured.
Conrad added an IV tube from his median cubital vein to the car's remote control. Zinc heartily approved. His own wrenches were bloodpowered, so he knew it was the best choice for adding finesse to a power source. Everyone watched on the monitor as Conrad drove their rat-car down the hallway to the elevators, then out into the lobby. Much amusement was to be had at the concierge's reaction.
From there it was just maneuvering it down the street and out of town. No one on the sidewalks gave the faux-nightmare a second glance. If someone had picked it up they'd know immediately it was a phony, but darting past in the shadows, the illusion was perfect. The rubber paws were even positioned so the wheels made them jitter up and down realistically.
There was a smidge of trouble getting it up and onto the downed Coryzan wall panel, but from there it was smooth sailing off into the desert night. The ratcar skimmed over the dry, dead ground with ease. Parasomnic constructs were all around, searching the darkness for living souls to terrify. But they were no impediment. Nightmares had simple instincts. They never bothered machines.
Plus, luck graced the trio with a much-welcomed gift. They had sent the ratcar out with no particular direction other than where Eagsyne had seen the three meatheads come from. But out in the wastes where the winds rarely blew, Zinc's eye saw footprints in the moonlight. Constructs didn't wear shoes. Sulilong's monsters had laid out the red carpet. Junella was so flushed with victory she jumped around and splashed in the slime.
Their anticipation made time stretch. For a while they wondered how much longer it would take to catch a glimpse of the hideout. And then they wondered no longer. The glow on the horizon wasn't a bright star at all.
"We know one thing about 'em at least," Junella observed. "They're too brazen, or too dumb, to hide themselves."
From so low to the ground, Zinc's eye couldn't observe much detail. But Sulilong was clearly living well. The hideout was a bronze-and-gold striped palace encrusted with blazing lights, parked on a base of soil-chewing construction treads. Junella thought it looked like the massive rolling platform they used to move the space shuttle. Zinc was reminded of a carnival tent, or the kind fumigators used.
There seemed to be a party going on inside. Quite the ruckus. If any henchmen were patrolling, none were visible. But there were constructs nosing about, looking for scraps or limbs. A few pigthings. Something that looked like a skeletal dimetrodon. And quite a few diaperrats. Junella thanked her lucky stars.
Even though no one in the castle could hear them, Conrad whispered. "You guys don't jusht want to circle the perimeter, right? You wanna shnoop around inside?"
"You betcher butt."
"Then we have a problem."
It was easy to see. With the structure raised up on treads, there was no access to air vents or basement windows. And the ratcar had no jumping mechanism.
Junella could see Conrad's worry at disappointing her. "Keep driving around. Just knowing their position is good. If there's no way in, oh well. But if there is, patience will show it to us." She clapped his shoulder reasuringly.
He visibly relaxed. "Allright."
"And Zinc? Keep your ear open. If we can't get a view, maybe we can eavesdrop something useful."
"Roger that, captain." He leaned forward on the workbench with his head on his wrenches, closing his remaining eye to concentrate more fully.
Conrad drove their rat as close as he dared to the castle's ominous underside. It looked as though the builders had scavenged the bottom halves of a dozen excavators. The treads were mammoth. Each was about hip-high on an adult, encrusted with years and years of dried-up construct remains. Browned blood splatters. Tatters of fur. A hooved leg was wedged sideways in one, like spinach between someone's teeth.
The minutes crept by and the trio's tension ratcheted. Conrad dared to maneuver around among the treads, knowing that if they suddenly jolted to life, the car might be squashed and his pal might end up permanently half-blind and half-deaf.
Suddenly Zinc sat up. "I heard a thump. Like a ramp hitting the sand."
Conrad whirled the ratcar around and Zinc directed him. There was a rectangular shadow covering part of the night sky.
"Go for it!!" Junella screamed.
Conrad slimed rather than sweated; now he was almost a waterfall. His eyes bulged with concentration. His fingers made deft corrections as he blasted the car at top speed through the maze of treads, then out into the open. He drifted into a 180 turn.
There was indeed a ramp. And a perfect specimen of low-level thug moseying down it. He was smacking a pack of cigarettes against his hand. Smoke break time.
"He can shee us!" Conrad whimpered.
Junella pounded on the table. "Who cares!? Blow past his ass!! The faster we are, the more likely we'll get away with it!"
"All on you, Hopalong," Zinc encouraged.
Conrad steeled his nerves. He surged his willpower into his bloodstream, down the IV into the remote, and mashed the trigger. The ratcar took off like a bottle rocket.
The thug had barely any time to react. His hands were already full with a cig and a lighter. All he could do was shout when one of those nasty-smelling rat critters skittered past him into the castle. "GawdDAMN! Sully's gonna rip my mustache off for this!"
He took a couple of running steps, then saw how much of a head start the little construct had. He put his hands on his hips. "Fuckit. Least them's don't kill nobody."
He shook his head and went back to his break.
Conrad was involuntarily screaming. He turned left and right blindly. They were inside! He had no idea of the layout of this place! People could be anywhere! Someone could stomp on him! Holy shit!
"There! That bathroom!" Zinc pointed out.
The door was ajar and it was pitch black inside. Perfect. Mere seconds after Zinc had finished his sentence, Conrad was in.
Safe in darkness. Totally alone. Everyone collapsed on the workbench and panted for a moment.
"We did it. We did it," Conrad muttered, as if to convince himself. "Totally, one hundred percent, tubular."
"Ain't finished yet," Junella cautioned. "We can rest for a bit. Get our nerves to stop jangling. Then it's back to work. We gotta get the layout of this place. Learn whatever we can about who we're up against and how he did what he did to the wall."
"Thish is gonna take more grape soda," Conrad assessed.
"Got any booze?" Zinc asked.
The frog did not. But he did have steadier nerves after he'd downed some sugar. Now that they were inside, they could take all the time they needed. Conrad was focused and careful as he navigated out of the bathroom and down the hallway. He hugged the corners, trying to move in furtive spurts like a real diaperrat.
They couldn't tell if the whole compound was like this, but the section they were in was structured like an army camp or a submarine. Close quarters. Everything drab and functional. The concrete floor was a breeze to drive across.
Conrad was a silent statue, eyes glued to the screen. Braking at any hint of movement or footsteps.
"You're doing great, man," Zinc whispered.
Conrad simply nodded. "Atari skills."
Judging from the constant background thump, music and dancing were going on somewhere else. Junella wanted a peek. Nothing more though. The fewer people they encountered, the better. Conrad eased the ratcar towards the commotion. Legs and boots passed them. Mostly men. Zinc said he knew the type. Work all day at some shitty manual labor job, spend all night at the bar. Up ahead was a doorway where colorful light poured through and the echoes conveyed a commodious space. Conrad zipped around the corner.
There was no worry about anyone spotting them in here. The ballroom was packed so tight, all they could see was the sparkling ceiling and endless pairs of dirty pants. Strange music energized the air. Drunks hooted in the typical manner. There were a hell of a lot more people here than any of them had expected. Sulilong didn't just have a gang, he had a small army. Possibly a cult.
Junella prodded Conrad. "That's enough. Let's get outta here, back to the quiet part."
"You do not have to tell me twice," he replied, and reversed course as quickly as safely possible.
The trio's hearts beat slower once they were away from the noise of the party. It wasn't clear what their enemies were celebrating, but the imminent pillaging of Coryza was a good guess.
Conrad drove past tight-locked storerooms, and crew quarters with racks of bunkbeds. There was also a miniature jail. He didn't have the nerve to give it more than a glance, but the few details they saw indicated the prisoners were not treated well here. No one ever seemed to mop up the stains. They continued on through the cramped, maze-like corridors.
"Wait, go back," Junella sang suddenly.
Conrad put the ratcar in reverse.
"Zinc, can you look way up?"
He could. It was a door like any other, but upon it was a taped-up sign: LAB
"This piques my interest. Squeeze us in, tadpole."
Conrad nodded. Making sure first that no one would spot their entrance, he crept the diaperrat up to the door and gingerly nudged the motor a few times to push them through.
It was dim. Lots of shadows to hide in, which was good. Conrad held close to the wall and slowly traced the perimeter. There were shelves full of bottles and body parts. Open barrels full of raw materials. Unknown but ominous equipment. Three hefty tables had three nervous-looking gentlemen hunched over them. The skink and cat were both in lab coats, but bizarrely enough, the moose had bright pink head-to-toe pajamas.
"Stop! LOOK!" Junella pointed at the screen.
Behind the scientists was a corkboard, and on it were pinned many notes and photos. Among them, several snapshots documented the growth process of a group of six test subjects. Half of the men just turned ugly. But the rest turned ugly and big.
"Eagsyne's monsters," Zinc marveled.
Junella patted Conrad's shoulder in congratulations. "I think we're gonna wanna park it here for a while and just observe."
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