Alex Reynard

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Chapter Seventy

ZORCH

A pain so profound it was not even pain lanced through Toby deLeon's spirit.

But it was real. Real, Earthly pain. And it felt like Christmas morning compared to the moment before.

They were leaned over his inert, staring form, jabbing the coil into his thrice-singed chest. This time they got a response. The mouse convulsed, every muscle in his body pulling taut. Then he flipped himself over so forcefully his arm blindly backslapped Junella. On hands and knees, his eyes peeled wide, bulging from their sockets. Unspeakable sounds came from his throat. The others watched as his back bowed in and out, in and out, like an oil derrick or a hairballing cat.

The mouse's shriveled body shoved reflexively. His flesh scraped and bled against the metal collar still clasped around his neck. Bile and saliva poured from his mouth like a faucet. Then his throat bulged, and it came out.

Junella stared in terrified revulsion as Toby's esophageal muscles shoved out something thick, jiggling, and unnaturally green. Day-glo green. Shrouded in mucous, it dangled from Toby's throat, wide enough to stretch the corners of his lips. Then it fell out onto the bare brown dirt with a smacking splat. It started wriggling, thrashing around. Junella could see red beady eyes in a wizened, grinning face.

Her automatic impulse was to kill it. No, that wasn't strong enough. Cleanse the world of it.

But it was merely the first one. Toby kept retching. Worm after worm tumbled out of him, accumulating below in a writhing pile. They all had the same same face: a pinched, leering, lecherous expression twinkling in demonic eyes.

When the mouse's stomach was finally empty, the demonworms' squirming mass seemed half his body weight. Toby held himself up on shaking arms, gasping for breath, eyes frozen open. Then one last thing spilled out of him. A scream. A wail of helpless, inarticulate horror.

Junella could not stand to watch any more. She slung off her green backpack onto the pile of clipped-through chains behind her. She limped over to the mouse and nudged him away from the horrible worms. He howled and flailed away from her touch, leaving her standing there not knowing what to do to help him.

One thing she did know though. She looked down at the slimy hill of nuke-green worms and brought her foot down into the pile like the fist of God. Their flesh was acid. Junella jumped back, enraged, and turned her head to George. "Burn them!!"

The stallion was standing a few feet away, legs and neck sagging down. Without a word of reply, he took small, hesitant steps towards the worms. He did not so much breathe fire upon them as let it fall out of his mouth. But it sufficed.

Junella watched them coil and twist and shriek. They were not dying easily. She did not take her gaze away until nothing of them remained but cinders.

Zinc was seated cross-legged several feet away, not facing the others. "What happened?"

Junella's vinyl now resembled pruny fingertips after a long bath. So her voice warped and wavered as she replied. "Toby just threw up a whole bunch of worms. George got rid of them."

Zinc's expression showed no change. "Better out than in," he said, punctuated by a hollow laugh.

Junella wobbled back over to George and gave his forehead a pat in thanks. He said nothing.

Toby was silent now. Still on all fours, he stared across the starfield like he was searching for something. He had bags under his eyes and his mouth was drooped. His whole frame trembled like a blade of grass in the wind. His eyes...

Junella knew shell shock when she saw it. She approached him. "Toby...? Any part of you still in there...?" She reached out her hand to him, nice and slow. No sudden movements.

His eyes did not even twitch to her direction. But the instant her finger brushed his shoulder, he recoiled violently. "DON'T!!!" he exploded. He scooted backwards several feet, curling his arms and legs in front of him protectively.

Junella's tired eyes showed dismay, but her heart felt a tiny fleck of hope. He'd reacted like she was a stranger, but he'd spoken a word. Not a nonev's grunt. Not a mindless shriek. Maybe he wasn't too far gone to come back.

From over her shoulder came Zinc's voice, still pointed away from them. "It broke him," he said flatly. "I knew it would. He'll be a screaming, bed-shitting wreck forever. We're gonna have to cart him around in a baby buggy."

Junella turned and drilled a hole through the back of Zinc's head with her glare. She seriously considered pitching a rock at him.

He could feel her anger from six feet away. "I'm only facing facts, sister."

Junella ignored her partner. She cast a glance at George, who hadn't moved an iota since she'd called him over. He still stared dourly at the blackened crater he'd made. His head and tail hung low. His inner lights were a dying grey.

Toby continued piercing the stars with his gaze, eyes pinned open like he was seeing in x-ray vision. He shook like a Parkinson's patient.

Junella decided to try again with him. She dragged her feeble limbs towards the mouse, then let herself collapse in the dirt beside him. Careful not to touch him this time, she looked into the bottomless wells of his eyes. "What are you seeing?"

There was a pause. Then his jaw jittered. And then, "I... SAW!"

She was startled. It was a sentence. Short, but complete. She hadn't dared to hope for so much. Hell, from the state he was in right now she might've guessed a conversation would be a month's recuperation away. "You saw. Okay, that's something. Can you tell me what it was that you saw, Toby?" She didn't realize it, but her wrinkles began to lose a bit of their sag.

Toby could not tear his stare away from the stars. His corneas burned from dryness, but it was like someone had poured superglue under his lids. He could not close his eyes. Could not. A string of drool leaked from the side of his mouth.

Junella leaned forward and waited. For a moment, she began to lose hope, thinking that his outburst had been a random fluke. But then she watched Toby's bony arm twitch, raise, and curl its skeleton fingers to point towards space.

'Maybe something showed him the curvature of the universe and his mind blew out,' she guessed.

George slowly angled his head towards where the mouse had indicated.

"I don't see anything but stardust 'n asteroids, Toby. You're gonna have to do better than that."

Still pointing, his arm quivering like a thin branch, the mouse sputtered several gasping nonwords. Language struggled out of him on crutches. "I... it... he... they chewed... filth... all filth..."

That was a lot more words than she'd expected. She nudged him further. "Sounds pretty bad. Dysphoria showed me nasty things too. We all saw them."

An immediate shake of the head: 'NO, NO, NO.'

"I know it seemed real. But it was like the pied piper with his flute. Just ugly, bad dreams, made to hurt us."

He seemed to be struggling hard. Those eyes still shone like glass headlights. "No... This was, further... beyond... It was real."

Hope stirred in her. Maybe at least one of their ill-fated party was salvageable. "Fine, okay. Whatever it was, it was real. Tell me all about it. Or don't. Just keep talking. Talk to me, Toby." She risked a touch, reaching up to turn his head away from the milky way, matching his eyes to hers. She was glad to see he didn't flinch this time.

He stayed a blank wall for a moment, gazing straight through her, then Junella watched his pupils slowly constrict to focus.

Her words trembled with urgency. "Toby, don't put my heart through this again. Are you actually seeing me now? Say my name. Or yours. Come on."

He needed a moment to bring all his parts into alignment, but then, still looking into her pale, sea-green eyes, he licked his lips and said. "Junella Brox. Toby deLeon. And what WAS that thing?"

She knocked him on his back hugging him.

He could not breathe. There was a shaking, crying skunk on top of him, crushing his ribcage. "Ju... gasp ...nella! Stop, stop!!"

She jerked herself up off of him and wiped her face on her scarf. "I'm sorry! I just... You scared the SHIT out of me, you little asshole!!" she blurted, laughing.

His expression was uncomprehending. Laughter seemed a foreign concept now.

"I didn't mean that, I'm sorry. I'm just... relieved. I thought-"

George had walked over with such light steps that neither of them had heard him. He inclined his neck slightly. "Sire Toby."

Toby flinched slightly away from this dark being that was so much bigger than he was. But then his head tilted and his posture relaxed slightly. "George. You're George," he said back.

The smallest of nods. "Good."

Junella needed a moment to breathe deep and collect herself. She looked over at Zinc. The cross-legged canine had still not moved so much as a hair. Suddenly she felt a fountain of anger burst forth. "You were WRONG!!!" she screeched at him, gouging out curled strings of her vinyl.

His head did not turn. "Hooray."

This time her hand actually sought out a rock. She barely kept herself from hurling it.

She turned back and, incredibly, Toby was trying to stand up. He had his hands around George's vertebrae and was slowly pulling himself to his feet. George stood motionless and allowed it. Junella considered helping the mouse but wasn't sure if he was still over his aversion to touch. Instead she got up beside him. "Hey, you're doin' allright."

When he'd struggled himself up far enough to lean limply against George's ribs, he turned and looked at her.

'No, he isn't,' she realized. That was too much too soon to hope for.

Dysphoria had changed them all. Piffle comparatively least, but Junella looked like she'd spent a week at the bottom of a lake. Zinc was a blind sarcastic statue. George had retreated into monosyllables. And Toby was a living skeleton.

His white fur hung off his frame like rumpled sheets on a coat hanger. His arms and legs were twigs. His eye sockets were pits nearly as deep as George's. The mouse looked like something had eaten away everything alive inside of him.

And he never stopped staring. Even though he was looking at her now instead of the stars, he never seemed to blink. Slowly he asked, "Did you see him too?"

Her tones were those of a nursery school lullaby. "Toby, I don't know what you saw, but I'm sure it was bad and I don't disbelieve you. I saw my own parents standing over me in my crib, reaching in to clip my toes off one by one with the pliers. That's the kind of rotten bullshit it pulls, Toby. But it's no more real than seeing pictures in clouds, I promise."

His face knotted up. She saw him wanting to argue.

"You don't have to convince me, okay? Whatever you saw, I don't know what it was, so I can't give you answers. But what matters is that we're through. We might all be broke like china teacups, but we're here."

Now that Toby was regaining some function and coherence, he looked around to see where 'here' actually was. He looked back over his shoulder and could see rocks dancing across the nothingness. The asteroid field. Beyond it was a thin white line, a blur above and a shadow below. The wall of the maze. The nothingness. Phobiopolis.

They were on the other side.

He displayed exactly zero reaction to this. The mouse stood wordlessly for a few moments after she'd finished, then asked, "Where is everyone?"

She pointed a few feet away to her petrified partner. "There's Zinc. Piffle and Doll are over there by the rocks. Doll's... not doing so well. Piffle's helping her. And Zinc's just being a sourpuss."

"Fuck off," the canine spat back immediately.

She looked over to him with no anger now, just aching sadness.

Toby looked to where she'd pointed. He saw Zinc with his back turned, and something was missing from his head. The Fearsleigher, resized, was nearby. Toby looked further across the clearing to see a small hunched figure with wings seated on a flat rock, holding a smaller figure in her arms.

The travelers were scattered across a wide, flat clearing at the base of Anasarca. The dirt, the rock spires, and the mountain itself were all the same shade of milk chocolate brown. A pleasing, creamy color. The clearing was about sixty feet across. Like before, the edge of the land simply fell away into empty space. Caveless stalagmites grew all around, encircling the clearing, making this a relatively cozy landing spot for those lucky enough to survive Dysphoria.

The mountain itself towered high above them, rising up, up, up past the limits of their vision. It was thinner than Ectopia Cordis. A spiraling brown icicle. Further up from the base, snow decorated its craggy features like icing on a gingerbread house.

Toby's mind felt like a ball of water he was trying to hold between his hands. The smallest jolt could make it burst and wash away. Junella was so wrinkled she looked like she'd aged fifty years. Her orange eyes had faded to green like a photo left in a store window under years of sunshine. Zinc seemed to have lost his give-a-shit. George too. Which Toby could empathize with. In addition to his anorexic appearance, he felt like something vital inside him had been taken away. Scooped out. Nothing but a hole left behind. He ran a paw down the xylophone of his ribs. He poked his stomach and his paw went in all the way to his spine. He was literally skin and bone.

It didn't really worry him though. He'd gone somewhere beyond worry. He supposed that made sense. After you've been through the worst moment that could ever exist, everything else seemed harmless in comparison.

Still, he understood why. "I did this to us."

She resisted slapping him. "No you did not!" she pleaded. "Toby, you are the only reason we got through! It's why we're able to have this little chat right now instead of babbling like babies! Yes we're all sublimely messed-up, but nowhere near as bad as when Zinc and I went in before. Toby, your idea about the Adder-whatever pills saved our sanity!"

"Did it?" he asked absently.

She scowled in frustration. "Yes. Please don't do the self pity routine. I just want one of us here I can talk to. Please. Your idea delayed the poison long enough that we didn't get a full dose. We'll recover."

He said nothing.

She lightly shook his shoulders, trying to get him to cough up a response. But she might as well have been shaking a broomstick.

She watched his focus slide away from her, and for a moment felt panic. But it wasn't back towards the stars. It was across the clearing. Toby began walking past Junella like she wasn't even there.

"Where are you going?"

"I just... I guess I'll go see how Piffle is," he said impassively.

For a moment she considered hooking his shoulder and keeping him in place. What if his real intention was to go running off the edge and drift away into space? But no, he did seem to be pointed towards Piffle. 'And maybe she'll have a better shot at putting some life back in him than I did. She's shipwrecked too, but maybe they'll do each other some good. It's not like I know what I'm doing pepping people up. I'm no cheerleader,' she thought. "Well, allright then. I'll be right here if you need me."

Toby walked like a mummy, dragging his feet through the sand and drifting side to side with each step. "Okay."

The skunk stood watching him for a moment, then remembered something. "Oh, wait!" The mouse stopped obediently, not looking back, and Junella chased after him. "This thing's still on your neck. Here, lemme get that for you..."

Toby was motionless as she reached up to fiddle with the metal collar still piercing the back of his skull. There was a pop and a clink, then it fell off into the dirt at his feet.

"There. Bet that feels better, huh?" she said with a feigned smile.

"Thank you," he replied. No emotion. Like a computer had spoken.

The mouse began walking again, not even looking down at the device that had left behind two bleeding holes in his scalp. Junella watched him walk, then scrunched up her face and balled her fists into her eyes to keep from weeping.

She stormed away from him. George followed wordlessly behind her like a docile old hound.

Toby kept walking.

Zinc had not moved from his position. He sat with legs crossed, hands resting on knees. His tail was flattened out behind him like a coffee stain. There was no expression on his muzzle, no wind to stir the fur there. His ears remained, but his tin eyelids had been bent and hung limply from their stalks. Nothing but empty air where his eyes had been.

Junella limped over to him, having to hold back sobs. She plopped her tired hands on the canine's shoulders. He didn't react. She sighed, exhausted. "What am I going to do, partner?"

He snorted. "Don't ask me. I ain't got shit for answers."

She huffed. "I can't even get a word of comfort out of you? Fuck this world. What's got you so damn cranky?"

"You know goddamn well what. You walked through it too," he said matter-of-factly.

She shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Whoever the hell you are, you're not Zinc." She leaned over to rest her muzzle in the empty space between his ears. "I want my Zinc back."

For nearly a minute, he remained silent. His face might as well have been carved from concrete. But then there was a small twitch of the cheek. A tremble of the jaw muscle. And Junella barely heard the whisper, "Me too."

***

Toby took another wobbly step and his ramshackle body didn't fall over. He repeated the feat. Again, again, again. On towards the pair of shiny wings in the shadows at the edge of the flattened land.

Toby looked up at the blazingly bright stars. He had never seen them so big before. Like he could sweep his hand across the sky and it'd come down covered in glitter. But he knew now they hid a secret. As beautiful as they were, they were nothing but a curtain hiding the toxic truth of the world.

As he got closer, he heard sniffling. The last stages of crying after a long, loud, heartbreaking gush.

Piffle was sitting on a rock with her back to him. Her wonderful silly safari outfit was gone, reduced to tatters. Little ragged pennants of pink remained stuck to her in places. The starlight glinted off her green carapace. Her antennae drooped down the back of her head like wilted flowers.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps.

Her scarlet eyes were soaked with tears, her cheeks were sopping wet, but when she saw him her face lit up with hope. "Oh, TOBY!" Her whole body twitched, wanting to jump up and run to him, but she glanced down at the bundle in her arms and didn't dare. Instead she began to sob again, finding new tears after she thought she'd bled herself dry of them.

The mouse did not smile at her recognition, but managed to pick up his pace a little.

She craned her neck back, then shuffled herself around on her rock seat. Her words were difficult to make out through her crying. "When we came out, I- I saw you and- Didn't move- I thought- I thought- But you're okay! Please, please come closer, Toby!!"

He had never heard such desperation from her before. When he was close enough, he knelt. A soft paw immediately cupped his cheek.

"Toby... You're all skin and bone."

"Yes, I am."

Her head turned this way and that to regard him. When he spoke there seemed to be no life inside him. "Toby, what happened?"

"I saw something," he replied simply.

"But... but..." Her chest heaved with more sobs. "I can't- Not both of you..."

And that's when Toby noticed what she was holding.

The burlap bag was on the ground. Cradled in Piffle's other arm was Doll, one hand still covered in emerald green silk. She had lost the other again. Piffle squeezed the little plastic palm tight.

Toby looked and looked. Something was wrong. Very wrong. So wrong. But he couldn't understand it. Doll looked normal. Same pinkish plastic, sculpted in places to resemble fur. Same vague lack of definitive species. Same blond curls. She looked perfectly normal for a toy baby doll, even her rose-painted cheeks and glass green eyes.

"No."

Her face. Oh, her face. Her face. That was what was wrong. Doll didn't have one.

The thoughts struggled to plow their way past the soporific sludge caking the insides of Toby's brain. Piffle was crying too hard to give answers, so he'd have to puzzle this one out for himself. His mind traced images from all along their trip. Doll in Trapforest Path with that jagged gouge where a face should have been. Piffle in the Tatterdemalion fixing her up. Doll coming back from the hospital in Coryza, her edges smoothed down to a clean rectangle. Piffle telling them all the things the doctors and nurses had tried to-

To give her back her face. But the curse had resisted them.

Now Toby was looking at tiny sculpted lips, a triangular nose, dots on the cheeks for whiskers. And two cold glass orbs shoved into the plastic, seeing nothing and reflecting only starlight.

He reached out a hand to touch her.

Nothing but hollow plastic. Inanimate. The fingers in her silk glove didn't move.

Piffle sniffed. "I tried... I tried everything." She wiped her tears on her arm and brushed her fingers over Doll's forehead. "I found her bag and put it on her. I turned my back and called to her. I put her hand in the sand and told her to write somethin', anything at all."

Toby's vision blurred. His chest hitched. But his slack expression didn't change.

Piffle's fingers explored Doll's face. Stiff nylon eyebrows. Pouting lips, open just enough to accept a toy baby bottle.

"I thought..." she started. "I thought if... if I could just love her enough, she'd wake up, y'know? But she hasn't. She won't move. I've tried everything. I can't make her better. What am I doing wrong, Toby?"

She was looking down at Doll, not at him, so she didn't see the utter lack of emotion in the mouse's frozen eyes. "I don't know. I'm sure you did all that you could."

"It... It wasn't enough then. I'll just try harder. Yes, that's what I'll do. We'll both try. Right, Toby?" She reached over to take his wrist, guiding it to Doll's stomach and placing it gently there. She patted Toby's hand, then went back to stroking Doll's curly hair. "Shhh, Doll. I'm here. I'm here. Toby is too. We both want you to wake up and come back to us. Can you hear my voice?"

Toby could hear a despairing quiver in Piffle's voice. Like her heart was trying with all its strength to resist a truth that was plain to see.

From the way Piffle was holding his hand, it unbalanced Toby slightly. He fell sideways, leaning against her soft arm.

She managed a smile, taking it as a sign that he was trying to comfort her.

But it was simple physics. And as Toby leaned against her shoulder, his saucer eyes still stared out across the rock columns and the base of Anasarca. Not seeing anything. Or showing anything either.

He knew enough to know there was something wrong inside him. He could feel the ghosts of emotions in there. Fragments. Like crusts of bread but not the slice itself. He knew he should have been feeling a lot of things right now. Horror. Sadness. Grief. Regret. Loss. But those were just words. He understood their meaning but could not connect to them. It was like he had gone colorblind. Emotionblind. He knew intellectually the facts from A to Z. He had wanted to go home. He had hired protectors to guide him through this madhouse land, and immediately began to throw tantrums and disobey them. They'd had a fight. He had stomped off into the woods alone, shunning their greater wisdom and experience, because the truths they told him hurt too much. Amongst the trash he'd found a doll (and something else). A broken, dirty toy that had called out to him for help. And when he'd gone back to pick her up, was it really to help her? Or to use her as a shield? Wasn't he always putting other people between him and his fear? Tricking them if he had to? Hadn't he begged to go on the scary carnival ride called Dysphoria, even after admitting he no longer had any good reason to? He wanted to make the journey "mean" something. But what did that, itself, mean? Nothing. Nothing except that he wanted. And he was going to get it no matter who else suffered. And now his selfishness had shot holes through all his friends' hearts. That was their reward for showing him kindness.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

But he didn't really feel it. That was simply what a furson said in a situation like this.

Piffle smiled and nodded, pausing in her obsessive patting of Doll's hair to pat Toby's. "I don't blame you."

It seemed Toby's empty shell could still feel pain. A venomlike sting traced the edges of where his heart had been before the microbes ate it. Of course she would say that. Of course she would. Because she was Piffle. The angel of sweetness. And he had broken her heart by killing her best friend.

Toby's hand crept forward and across Doll's face. He did not want to see those lifeless eyes anymore. He closed the lids, but like many other dolls they were weighted to open when the toy was held up. Toby turned his head away.

Piffle looked up at the mountain.

Neither of them were looking at Doll now, but still she didn't move.

Toby knew she'd never move again, and he still felt nothing. Just the breeze of the wind blowing through an empty window in an abandoned house.

His staring eyes did not release a single tear.

'I killed her. My selfishness killed my friend and I can't feel a thing.'

***

For seemingly ages the trio sat frozen in time together. Doll in Piffle's arms, inanimate, while Piffle's hand rocked back and forth across the artificial curls. Toby rested on her other arm, also inanimate. A trio of statues.

Solemn silence had fallen over them, thick as cement.

Piffle continued to believe that if she could just hold onto hope long enough, her faith would bring Doll back to life. But the minutes ticked by mercilessly. She started to wonder if maybe they'd have to go back in... that place. Maybe Doll's lifespark was still lost there. But that idea was a dead end. More likely, Doll was deep in hibernation within herself. Or gone far past Dysphoria to a land none of them knew. Perhaps to the place all their souls should have gone to originally. But Piffle also realized an awful truth about herself. After what Dysphoria had shown her, she knew she could never, ever bring herself to set foot back there again. Not even to save Doll. All she wanted in the world was to save her friend, but her cowardice would not take that step. Though... no. Cowardice was not it. She was simply too delicate to survive a second exposure. It would break her no matter her determination. This realization brought new tears gliding down her cheeks. She didn't know if the rain would ever stop falling.

Eventually Zinc came over, navigating by the sound of their sobs. Junella wouldn't stop pestering him till he relented and followed her order. His bones croaked in protest at standing up and moving, but he forced them. Better that than listen to her nagging.

Though when he heard Piffle's slow unbroken stream of whispered pleas and sobs, the calcified shell around his heart cracked a little. He came closer and asked what was wrong. Piffle leaned back so Zinc could see what had happened to Doll, and when he didn't react, she realized he was blind. She couldn't bear to describe it again, so she reached out to guide Zinc's hand to Doll's face.

He caught on quicker than Toby had.

Finally, sorrow penetrated through to his hardened heart. Apologetically, he nudged Toby to squeeze in beside him. Zinc put his thin, frail arms around Piffle. One advantage they had over his wrenches, they were soft.

Toby didn't mind being shunted aside. In fact, he was relieved. His muscles had been cramping up from kneeling so long. Plus he'd increasingly worried that eventually Piffle would notice he was not mourning with her. But she hadn't. Maybe she didn’t want to acknowledge his stiff posture and lack of speech. Maybe she couldn't.

Toby watched Zinc hugging her. He wished he could have done that.

They seemed like a better fit together, so he turned away and left them alone.

At the sound of the mouse's footsteps, Piffle spoke up, "Toby?"

He stopped.

"Thanks for sittin' with me. It meant a lot."

He didn't look back. "You're welcome."

Zinc blocked her line of sight so she could not see Toby, but she was sure he was listening intently, his cheeks just as soaked as hers. "It's not nobody's fault what happened to her. I'm gonna keep sayin' it till you believe me."

Toby was quiet for a moment. Then he turned away without responding and began walking back across the clearing.

Far away, he could see two dark shapes huddled around a box on shiny legs. The dirt scuff-scuffled beneath his feet. He felt his skin sway back and forth across his bones, like shirts on a clothesline. He realized he didn't feel particularly tired, or hungry, or like he needed to use the bathroom, or anything else.

Junella was with George beside the Fearsleigher, packing some things away and unpacking others. Nearby was the pile of chains and collars that George had bitten off of them in the first few moments of their arrival. Junella was hefting a box into the trunk while George looked on. Her ears swiveled. "Toby? Sounds like you. Would you like to give me a hand with this?"

He didn't say anything. He acted because he'd been asked to, that was all.

She watched a ghost's arm appear beside her and give the box a boost. She flinched, forgetting for a moment what Dysphoria had turned him into. The box slid in with a wumph.

Painting on a fake smile, she gave the wispy hand a shake. "Thanks. I did some walking and found there's an escalator just over there. An escalator! Can you believe it! Just like at Macy's. All this climbing gear we bought-"

"Doll's dead."

Junella was sure she hadn't heard that right. "She what?"

"She's gone," Toby said flatly. "Her face filled in. There's nothing there but a toy now."

George looked up. The lights in his eyes grew a little brighter in concern.

Junella stared for a moment longer, immobilized by the abruptness of the bombshell. She stared at him, unable to believe Toby's words or the blankness of his face. Her lips moved like a fish gulping air. Then she lost her balance and had to brace herself against the front bumper to keep from falling over.

"This is terrible news," George said slowly. His voice sounded like it was covered in dust and cobwebs.

Toby nodded in agreement.

Junella looked over to the rocks where Zinc and Piffle were sitting. She'd sent her partner over there to get him movin' around and hopefully bring the others back to discuss things. She hadn't expected Toby to come back alone, bringing yet another anguish into her already-overloaded life. "I didn't know... I mean, I thought she was just frozen again, like usual. I didn't think anything of it. I was busy focusing on you, Toby. I didn't know..."

George lifted his head to ask, "How is Madam McPerricone holding up?" It was the most words he'd spoken since they'd reached the mountain.

Toby thought about how to phrase it. "She's hurt. She thinks she can bring Doll back, but I don't think she can."

George shook his head, lowering it again.

Junella still felt like the was wind knocked out of her sails. Toby hadn't asked if she was okay, but she responded anyway. "I'm thinkin' about Doll. I was such a bitch to her. I mean, she knew I was just teasing, right? Maybe I meant it at first, after you brought her out of the bush and she scared the pants off me, but... She knew, right? That I was just messin' around?"

Toby shrugged.

Junella shut her eyes tight. "Now I'm thinkin' back and I can't remember what the last thing I said to her was. Probably something nasty. Probably something I'd regret even more if I remembered what it was."

Toby walked over and robotically extended his hand to pat her shoulder. "She probably knew. I guess. She never said much, but I think she realized that was just how you are."

The skunk laughed bitterly. "'What's that say about what I am?"

Toby didn't know how to reply, so he patted her arm again.

Junella tried to get the tremble out of her hands and return to work. "There's... There's imaginite all up the mountain. We looked. Just growing like weeds. I guess we don't need the extra food I packed either. Boy, I'm real good at this." She slammed the hood and braced her arms against it. Toby and George looked at her.

She could feel them staring at her back. Like a pair of vampires behind her. She fought down the impulse to just pick them both up, one in each hand, and hurl them out into the asteroids. She wanted to punch them till her knuckles burst, screaming in their faces, 'SAY SOMETHING!!!' Like with Zinc, she wanted to tear these mopey costumes off of them so she could have her friends again. Yes, Dysphoria had reached inside her and shoved her guts full of icicles. Yes, she felt like she could barely trust herself to stay on her feet, much less take care of five screwballs- 'Four,' her mind spoke up. 'Doll's dead, remember? One less responsibility for you to take care of.' She hung her head and clenched her muscles, hoping Toby and George couldn't see the unbearable strain on her face.

Ignoring the two skeletons for now, she turned and limped past them, snatching up the backpack welder. She kicked the pile of chains, hurting her foot but also scattering them with a nice loud clatter. She rumbled back to the car, threw the pack in the trunk, and slammed the lid on it seven times in a row. If her hands hadn't been full, she would have been screaming hard enough to shred her grooves.

Stomping back, she checked inside the car one last time. They could hook it up to George, and if he didn't wanna pull it up the mountain, she'd drag the droopy motherfucker all the way on piggyback. She spotted the cornucopia, willed herself some tequila and slugged it down. Then she noticed something else, all piled up on the backseat. She paused. She quieted.

Two wrenches, two silver fezzes with spiked balls attached, one hammer, one fork, and a cutlass.

She reached out towards her blade, then drew her hand back. She wasn't ready.

But maybe she would be later. They would be. She went back to the hood and rustled around for the canvas bag she'd seen, not even caring that Toby and George hadn't shifted position an inch all this time. She came back and placed the weapons with reverence one-by-one inside the bag. Then, for now, she leaned them against the skate blade.

That reminded her for no good reason of something else. She walked over to Toby and yanked the back of his vest up. He offered no resistance.

The thumbtack was still there. Angrily, she ripped the tape off and dug it out. "Didn't you even feel this!? Why didn't you say anything!?"

He turned towards her. "It didn't hurt anymore. I guess I forgot it."

She slapped him.

Immediately she regretted it. She was about to apologize when she realized he hadn't so much as blinked. No change in his expression.

"I'm sorry," he said reflexively.

She sucked in a deep breath, then drew the mouse into a gentle embrace. She reached around him to speak, "No, Toby, I am. That was awful of me. It's the stress. I shouldn't have let it get to me. It's not your fault."

"Okay," he said.

Absolutely no emotion. She almost wanted to slap him again, but mentally scourged herself for the idea. Just because it was easy taking her anger out on this ventriloquist dummy that had once been her client and friend, that didn't make it right.

Thank luck she could hear Zinc and Piffle's footsteps. The hug was getting awkward.

She let go of Toby to look around. Zinc was still eyeless, but he at least seemed to be displaying some capacity for reaction now. Poor Piffle was a wreck. Still naked. She hadn't even bothered to pick away the scraps of her outfit. Junella wondered what Dysphoria had shown her to make her tear it to shreds like that. The hamsterfly's face was a mess too. The fur stuck out all pointy from repeated drenchings of tears. Zinc was holding her hand.

And practically glued in Piffle's arm, there was Doll. Junella immediately understood what Toby meant. The face would have been perfectly normal on any toy shop dolly, but not this one. There was supposed to be a little square hole there. That was what made their Doll different from all the others. Because she was alive inside there. Or had been. 'And I never got to know her, not really.'

She and Doll had talked on the bench together in the market town, but that had just been a glimpse at the mystery inside the plastic shell. A lost girl, barely beginning to understand what this new place Phobiopolis was. Then a man with a beard and purple eyes had picked her up and taken her away to his toy shop. It was almost a rerun of what had happened to Junella in the record store. Except Doll hadn't had the willpower to grow into her new form and make it work for her. She had been the toymaker's practice, nothing more. No purpose for her silent suffering. Just a man with a grudge practicing his technique for an unknown vendetta. Then carving away Doll's face so she could never, ever tell.

Junella had asked why Doll hadn't told them all of this sooner. "Shit, I'd be happy to help you find the bastard and rip his googlies off for you."

Doll replied that she'd already waited a long, long time already. A little more didn't matter. It had taken her years to end up in Trapforest Path, and just as long to get out. Toby had done that for her. In gratitude, she had decided to prolong her quest until after his had concluded. That was her gift to him.

Junella couldn't take her eyes off Doll. 'I can't believe I ever hated her so much.'

Piffle tugged Zinc's arm to halt him. "Junella's here," said the hamsterfly, "and Toby and George and the car."

Zinc nodded. He looked to the direction he guessed Junella might be. "Toby clued you in what happened to Doll?"

"Yes. He did. Not much else though. And George still ain't much of a chatterbox either."

As if to contradict her, the stallion spoke. "You have my condolences, Madam McPerricone. I liked Madam Doll very much."

A smile struggled onto Piffle's face and she walked over to wrap a hug around George's neck. "Thanks for saying so, Georgie. You're a big sweetheart. And don't get too down. We're off to see the wizard, right? I'll keep trying to get Doll to wake up, and if that's not enough on my own, I'm sure Aldridge'll pitch in."

George nodded and leaned his head against hers.

Junella could hear the tremble in Piffle's voice. She was as fragile and see-through as Toby in her own way. Yet that damned optimism of hers still wouldn't let up. Junella didn't know whether it was tenacity or denial.

Wiping away more tears, Piffle skipped back to Zinc and took his hand. She tried to smile like she knew everything would be okay.

Junella passed Toby (who was still standing in the exact same position) and put a hand on top of Doll's. "Piffle, I'm sorry I didn't do more for her. I-"

"You didn't know," Piffle said immediately. "It's okay. I took care of Doll and you took care of everyone else, I understand."

The withered skunk was actually able to find a smile of her own. Good God, just one comforting word felt amazing to hear. "Thank you. And, Doll, if you can hear me in there somehow, please forgive me. Or... no. You don't even have to. I treated you like trash, and I'm sorry. I'd take it all back if I could." She squoze the stiff little fingers and, for the first time, it occurred to her that the two of them were both made of vinyl. Like sisters, in a way.

Piffle nodded serenely. "That was very nice of you. And I'm sure she'd say she forgives you. After all, you did tease her a lot, but you also let her come along with us even when you were ascairt of her. Actions speak louder'n words."

A thin little laugh made it out of the skunk. She leaned over to hug Piffle, then whispered as quietly as she could, "You don't know how much it means to me to finally have one of you around who can still feel something."

Another nod. "I'm working on Zinc," Piffle whispered back. Then she squeezed her skunk friend and turned back to the canine beside her. "You doin' allright?"

His lips pulled back in a snarl for a moment, like he was holding back his first impulse. "I... Geez, shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I'll be okay," she replied. Although there was an unspoken acknowledgment of not knowing when that would be.

Junella looked up as high as she could, trying to see the top of the mountain. "So, should we get going again? I can hitch up George to the car, or... No, better if I resize it again."

Zinc bristled. "Jesus, Juney! What's the fucking rush!?"

She whirled around, raising her finger to start telling him off... then abruptly froze. Her expression changed from outrage to epiphany. "Zinc, that is a perfect idea."

"What!?"

Without another word, Junella dashed back to the car, dragging her wrinkles along as fast as she could. She popped the trunk and climbed inside. George craned his neck to see what she was doing. Toby didn't move. A moment later, Junella started throwing puffy purple sacks on the ground. Four in total. She hopped down into them like fall leaves. "George, would you help me slide these over?"

He snorted assent and began to assist her. As she unzipped the parcels, he realized they were sleeping bags. George helped unroll them with his hoof and together they lined them up in the shadow of the skate blades.

That small bit of energy-expenditure made Junella feel good. That, and here was an idea she could actually have a bit of confidence in. She walked back to the others and clapped her hands loud enough to startle them. Even Toby.

"Allright! We're all kinds of fucked-up, let's just admit that. Dysphoria did a number on us. So let's not even try to move on until we're better. Zinc, you were absolutely right, there's no reason to hurry. We're already at the mountain. We're past the pit of shit. Hard part's over. But we're all still sick with side effects, so what's the best cure for that?"

"A good, long rest," Piffle said.

"Zactly. We are going to crawl into those bags and sleep for as long as we possibly can. If we can't sleep, then we'll just lie here doin' jack shit and resting. Maybe tomorrow we might feel closer to okay. It's not the Sleepeteria but it'll do."

Piffle liked the idea very much. Even though her heart still felt like a fresh wound over Doll, she knew most everything seemed a better in the morning. "This way, Zinc." She started leading him towards the bags.

He resisted purely for contrariness sake, but only for a moment before giving in and being led.

George just let himself flop over onto his side with a thud. Maybe he fell asleep immediately, it was impossible to tell.

Junella put her hands on Toby's shoulders and bulldozed him towards the bags. "I'm not sleepy," the mouse said.

"Yes you are. In fact, since you had that great idea about head-medicine before, can you think of any good sleeping pills? I could use a few."

He tried to think. Things like pills seemed too small to matter to him. He couldn't even focus enough to remember what he'd taken before Dysphoria. "I'm sorry, I can't think of anything."

She hid her frustration from him. Getting zonked out of her mind would have been nice. "Oh well. We'll make do." She shoved him down towards his bag, then went to slip inside her own.

The mouse remained in the same position, half-kneeling, half-crouching.

"Get in it!" Junella barked.

"Really, I'm not tired," Toby insisted. "You guys can sleep. I'll just... stay awake a while and think."

That same monotone. Junella's irritation turned to genuine concern. "Allright. But promise me you'll get some sleep eventually, okay? You need it. We all do. Promise me."

"I will," Toby lied.

She cautiously nodded, then wriggled herself down into the cushiony material. It felt good to be surrounded in it. Thick and comforting, just the thing to soothe her pain. She thought about maybe having a cup of warm milk first, but the car door was all the way up there and she was already down here.

Piffle still held onto Doll, not letting her go as she guided Zinc into his bag. "There we go, ace. Do you want me to take your, um, head cap off for you?"

"Yes. Thanks." he muttered. It was alien to him to be sliding into bed with arms.

Piffle removed the metal disk that held his ears and eyelids, setting it carefully aside. Then she wiggled into her own bag and settled Doll in beside her. She whispered, "I'll hold on all night long, just in case you wake up early. Okay?"

The starlight remained constant, as it would remain for millennia on, so there was no bedside lamp to click off. Junella sat up for a moment to survey her troops. George was flat on his side with his legs out straight, looking like a toppled sculpture. Piffle was still holding out her tragic hope for Doll. Zinc looked restless and uncomfortable. Toby hadn't moved.

'Please, please, please, let them be themselves soon,' Junella thought to herself.

"Allright. Well... Goodnight everyone."

"Goodnight Junella," Piffle said. No one else spoke.

"We've, uh, got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow," Junella said, wincing at the cliché. "I know we've all had it hard. I know. Dysphoria reached inside us and rearranged our clockwork. I know we lost Doll, our friend." She gulped. "But at least we're here now. At least it's almost over. We came here to get Toby home, and we're finally going to do it." She looked to the mouse with a smile, but his gaze was elsewhere.

Zinc was on the road back to his old self, but some of the acid remained. "No, partner. Toby came here to find home. We came for glory," he reminded her. "Was it worth it?"

Junella's eyes blazed orange at him, hurt. All she'd been trying to do was give them a pleasant note to end the night on. She thought of a million vicious things to spit back, but rejected them all. She didn't have the energy for meanness now.

She stared longingly at her partner for a few moments more. "It will be, someday," she said. Then she rolled over and pulled the bag close around her. "Goodnight."

***

While the others slept, Toby sat awake all night long.

He'd scooted back until he was resting against the skate blade. The chilly metal propped him up while he sat limp as a toy, just staring endlessly out into the cosmos.

More of his mind remained than Junella suspected. He appeared barely on the right side of catatonic, but part of that was an act. Part of him was still quite active, thinking constantly. But he had to keep that part walled off and say as little as possible. They could not be allowed to know what he was dwelling on.

In his body and in his bones, that baneful touch still lingered. The face he'd seen. The chewing teeth.

The Allfilth.

How could he possibly tell them? It had almost spilled out of him at first when Junella had shocked him back, but then reason intervened and told him to keep his stupid mouth shut. If she'd already known, he might have told the truth. If she had said something like, 'Who? You mean the big dead shitcorpse in the sky? Everyone just thinks he's a myth like the Easter Bunny,' then maybe Toby would have explained how real he was. Drifting invisible among the asteroids, always there. It might have been dead but that didn't mean it wasn't still sleeping. And its dreams poisoned everything they touched. It was why Phobiopolis existed, Toby was certain. When someone on Earth fell too deeply into a dream, they slipped through the dimensions to here. The Allfilth's vile brain had unknowingly built itself an ant farm. A little diorama of trapped souls suffering for its bedtime pleasure. The enormity of the obscenity was too great. Toby felt like his head was a pressurized steam pipe.

And the nightmares. The constructs. Were they just costumes worn by the Allfilth's microbes? No, no... Not quite. Even the convorines were never as vicious or horrifying as those fat little grubs with their trash compactor teeth. So maybe the constructs were the microbes' dreams? The Allfilth had dreamed a world, perhaps his bacteria had added residents.

What did that make George?

Toby knew he would have to avoid George from now on. It would not be out of malice or hate. But how could he continue to sit beside him, or on top of him, knowing the reality of his birth? Because, of course, Toby couldn't tell him. Not any of them. He knew intimately the consequences of that knowledge. His own body and mind were Exhibit A. He couldn't do that to them. Even though they, and everyone else caged in Phobiopolis, were just bugs scurrying in the garden of the most malevolent being to ever exist, would telling them change a thing? Right now they still had some hope that things could be better. The people in Coryza had their wall. The Ectopians had their chutzpah. Gilla-Gilla had his myriad defenses. But none of them were ever safe, and none of them knew it. They went about their lives under the bulbous, alien eyes of a monster that might wake up any day and destroy them. There was literally nothing that could stop it. If it ever stirred from its nap, it could crush everything in Phobiopolis to bloody dust with the barest effort. Just for fun. Because it could. The end could come at any time.

Toby thought about his friends. Their smiles. Their hopes. He could not tell them the truth or else their happiness would die forever. Like his had. They'd looked at him questioningly, wondering why he acted so numb and apathetic. It'd be so easy to just say, 'Well gee, it's because I've looked into the face of God and there is nothing but hate and evil there. In light of that, nothing else seems to matter much anymore! Who cares if I ever get home? Who cares if Gyre 2 falls? Who cares about anything that happens in this whole infected world? It could all end tomorrow! And it'd be worse than any of us are capable of imagining! We're like fetuses in the womb, happily floating along while the doctor discusses our impending abortion. It's all meaningless now. It always was. Everything we've done, I've done, it's all... nothing.'

He couldn't tell them. But they'd ask. So he'd have to lie. For the sake of their sanity, he'd have to pretend that everything was okay and that he was fine and let's go on as if everything's normal, guys. If he was careful, he thought he could pull it off.

He wondered if maybe Doll had seen the Allfilth too. That would explain things. She had seen those soulless eyes and that puckering slash of a mouth, and had found the only possible escape there was. She had drilled down into herself deep enough to hide. If she could bury herself completely, think no more, feel no more, see no more, then she could pretend it wasn't there. Toby envied her.

And then he realized something else. The knowledge brought no heartbreak, since it had been obvious from the start: Aldridge could not send him home. No one and nothing ever could. Because the Allfilth would not allow its prisoners to leave. Once it had them, they were its playthings eternally.

Toby stared at the stars. Knowing it was out there. Unable to see, yet knowing. Even though Junella had torn him free from the microbes' feast, their ghosts hovered right there beside him. Along with the memory of that shriveled, hideous face. The name he dared not think. Mere knowledge of its existence was enough to taint him for all time.

He could not let his friends become what he was now. At all costs, he had to lie to them. Lie, then get as far away from them as possible at the first opportunity. To spare them. It was the kindest thing he could hope to do.

Toby sat for hours with his back against the blade. He did not have to debate his decision, it was simple logic.

And it would not be difficult. He no longer felt loss anyway.

-***-

CHAPTER

It was unfortunate Toby chose not to sleep, or else his mind might have found some measure of quiet.

Anasarca was watching them. From its calming chocolate color, to its escalator for weary feet, to the flowers of imaginite that bloomed on its slopes, the mountain was cultivated to comfort those who had made it through Dysphoria's torturous gauntlet. That included a certain soothing atmosphere. Maybe a smell, or maybe a sound. But it slipped into the others' sleeping bags and brushed gentle fingers over their dreaming minds. It ensured they would face no nightmares as they slept. The mountain could not unravel the damage that Dysphoria had done, but it could help to put the travelers in a state of mind where they would be better equipped to heal themselves. Toby, keeping awake and focusing only on bitter destiny, absorbed none of it.

***

Zinc rolled over, muttering to his dreams. Purely on muscle memory, he reached out for his head-plate. His fingers felt wrong, tiny, but he still flopped his arm around until they encountered tin. He screwed the disc in place, first backwards, then getting it right on the second try. Then he reached back for the glass of water he kept his eyes in, also by reflex, and accidentally dumbfounded it into his hand. He didn't realize what he'd done until after he'd popped the little wet orbs into their sockets. "Aw, dammit." He'd wanted to keep his bad mood going longer.

That small sound was enough to wake Piffle. Her antennae twitched and she stretched, yawning sweetly. In her arm she still held Doll. The plastic had been pressed into her cheek all night long, leaving an itchy imprint of Doll's lips and nose. Piffle sat up and noticed Zinc. "Hey there, tiger. How was your snooze?"

Zinc scratched himself all over. His mouth tasted like dirt. He was about to reply with something automatically snarky, but nothing came to mind. "Actually, I... I slept pretty good." Aside from the normal morning blahs, he could tell right away things were different inside him. His head felt clearer. Less stuffed with cacti and spiders.

He turned around to look at Piffle and instead recoiled, startled. "Holy hellcats, Toby! Have you been sittin' there like that all night!? And what the fuck happened to you? You look like beef jerky!"

The others had slept for twelve whole hours, while Toby had sat motionless for just as long. He had not blinked in all that time. (Because of course, if he blinked, that's when it would appear in front of him. He knew.) The mouse's neck felt like shattering porcelain as he turned it towards the canine. "Hey. Yeah, I only meant to sit like this a few minutes. Guess I fell asleep with my eyes open. Ha ha."

Zinc's nose wrinkled. The mouse's voice sounded normal but... grotesquely not normal. Every word was inflected okay, but the voice itself was as hollow as his ribcage now looked. "That doesn't explain your, ehh, current weight. Or lack of it. Did the bedbugs actually bite?"

Toby stiffened for a second. 'How did he know!?' No, wait. That had been a joke. Just a joke. "Oh! What? No. Ha ha!"

That laugh creeped Zinc the hell out.

Piffle patted her canine's paw. "He was like that yesterday too. Dysphoria did it to him. Like with Junella's wrinkles and my dress and how you lost your eyes."

"Okay. Yeah." He called to Toby, "You feelin' any better today then?"

"Yeah, lots!" Toby lied. He stood up, noticing how his pelt was kind of sticky now. Like a leather seat cover. "I guess this isn't going away though," he added, swinging a skin flap back and forth. "It doesn't bother me though. It doesn't hurt. I'm gonna go wake up George now." He turned and left them, passing a noiselessly snoring skunk.

Zinc bit his lip as he watched the bony mouse depart. "He's full of shit," he said with worry.

Piffle thought that was a little blunt. "He said he was doin' okay."

"Yeah, but he doesn't mean it."

She knew Zinc was right but wanted to hope otherwise. "I guess we can leave him alone for a while until he's ready to talk. Maybe he'll open up soon." This topic hurt so she changed it. "By the way, d'you mind if I ask why you didn't have your eyeballs yesterday?"

He growled. He turned slightly away from her and clenched the edge of the sleeping bag in his weak paws. "It got in my thoughts as we were walkin' along. Convinced me it was a perfectly rational idea to pluck my two marbles out and throw 'em as far as I could. I was on board with the idea because I thought, 'Hey, then I'll stop seeing all the non-stop nightmares it keeps projectin'.' But I could still see. Do you get how rotten of a cheat that is, Piff? I could still see!"

She nodded solemnly. "I unnerstand perfectly. It showed me the awfullest things too. Everything it could think of to hurt me. I saw my stepmom at home, starving herself because she missed me so much. And it hurt because I didn't know if it was true or not. It showed me your face, and Toby's and Doll's and Junella's and even George, all puffed up like big Mardi Gras masks, all telling me how worthless and dippy and stupid I am." She balled her fists and tried to force her tears not to come again.

Zinc stared at his palms. "It made me think I had my wrenches again. But I wasn't in control of 'em this time. I watched myself do things to you. To everyone. Slowly. I had to feel the blood..." He shut his eyes tight, glad now that all he saw was dark. "After that, well, what did I care if I couldn't see anything nomore? Seemed A-OK to me."

"It made my dress itch like bugs until I had to tear it off. It made me ruin my nice pink outfit that Kay 'n Kaye worked so hard on." That did bring the raindrops, no matter how hard she tried to stop them from falling.

Zinc reached out a hand to rub softly up and down her arm. "We're out now."

She sniffled, then nodded. "Yes. And all those ugly pictures were just lies anyway. They weren't real. We could keep on swappin' stories all day, but there's no point dwelling on lies, now is there?"

"That's right." He turned slowly to her, brushed her antennae aside and placed a small kiss upon her forehead. "You make me glad I can see now, Piff."

She shuddered happily. "Thank you."

He held himself there a moment longer, then realized time would not obligingly freeze for him. The world continued to spin and was tugging him to be a part of it. "Allright. So what's on the flight plan today?"

Piffle pointed skyward. "We're goin' up, remember?"

He blinked. He'd completely forgotten where they were. "Oh shit, yeah!" He looked past the car, up the spiraling peak of Anasarca. "Maybe Aldridge'll have some wizard-strength aspirin for this headache I got."

She reached over to rub his metal disc. "How 'bout you go poke Junella and I'll fix breakfast. You said there's imaginite over there? And an escalator?"

"Yeah, Junebug was scoutin' around and found a bunch of stuff." Zinc noticed Piffle was still holding onto Doll like they were riveted together. "Y'want me to take care of her so you can carry stuff?"

Piffle's smile cracked for a second. "N-no, I can do it like this." She wasn't sure how, until she realized she was sitting in the answer. She backed out of her sleeping bag, snatched up a corner, then buzzed off towards the mountain.

Zinc watched after her. He hoped she'd set Doll down sometime and that this wouldn't become some kinda neurotic fixation. 'Then again, if anyone's got the willpower to drag someone back from the dead, it's Piff.'

Anyway, he had business to attend to. He yawned, stood up, walked over to the edge of the land, and peed into space. Just for the invigoration of the daily oil change.

Sighing, and feeling a little closer to normal again, he zipped up and walked back towards the bags. He noticed Toby didn't seem to be trying to wake George up so much as he was examining the sleeping stallion all over. Like George was his science project. Weird. He'd need to have a talk with Toby soon, but that could wait till food.

Zinc knelt down beside his snoozing partner. Most mornings she was up before him, but he couldn't blame her for sleeping late today. She'd earned it. Yesterday, one of them had held onto responsibility while the other sat like a pile of dog turds and felt sorry for himself. Zinc jogged Junella's shoulder. "Hey... Hey, partner. The rest of us are up. Come join us."

She squirmed and mouthed some swear words, turning away from him.

He chuckled. "I know, I know. But fresh imaginite's inbound. Wouldn't you like a nice hot cuppa joe?"

She turned ever so slightly towards him. "Make it whiskey and you've got a deal."

"You can make it panther piss if you like, just get up."

Grunting with the effort, and lamenting being brought out of her dreamless ocean of warmth and bliss, Junella forced herself to sit. She rubbed loose crumbs of vinyl from her eyes and opened them.

Zinc was glad to see they were back to their normal color. He smiled for her.

That was a sight worth returning to the world for. "Hi, Zinc."

"Hi, Junebug."

"You're really back? I ain't still dreaming?"

He patted his chest. "A few parts still loose and rattlin' around, but yeah. I think most of me's here." He lowered his muzzle. "Can we... Can we forget about all the shitty stuff I said to you yesterday and let's just be partners again?"

A sense of boundless relief enfolded her, warm as the sleep she'd just left. She reached up to skritch his cheekfur like a pet. "That'd be allright."

He wagged his tail.

***

Piffle soon returned with a bulging sack of handpicked imaginite and tumbled the little blossoms out in a pile. Normally the mercurial mineral was mined out of the ground in big rocky chunks. These specimens were free-growing, plantlike. They resembled a pile of white iridescent porcupines. She'd needed to be careful touching them.

They were also not will-treated, as one would receive in a thoughtstaurant. Piffle made herself a muffin, then started in energizing the pile to prime them for the others.

Junella thanked Piffle for gathering their meal, but also noticed how she was doing everything one-handed now. It worried her a little, but she figured people were allowed a bit of odd behavior so soon after a loss.

Seeing that Piffle was back, Toby stopped pretending to wake George and finally did it. He'd been studying the sleeping nightmare, hunting for scents or traces of microbe lineage. He found nothing, but was still unconvinced. He grabbed a foreleg and shook.

George's eyelights grew brighter. So did his other illuminations. He said hello to Sire Toby, then thrashed around till he could get his hooves back beneath him. He stood and stretched, feeling considerably different than the day before. His color was nearly back to full hue.

The others were all glad to see it. Piffle gave the big black pony a hug. To everyone, he apologized for his dour, taciturn behavior the day before.

Then he shifted foot to foot, uncomfortable bringing the subject up. "When we were inside, it tempted me to do things. To all of you. Things that were so unspeakable, I think even my earliest self would have refused them on moral grounds." George looked like he was about to say more, then clamped his jaws shut. "That is... as much as I feel I am able to divulge, I'm sorry."

They didn't push for more. Quite the opposite, to his relief. They all agreed that Dysphoria had shown them unspeakable atrocities, taking sandpaper to their heartstrings in any way it could. George was glad to be forgiven so easily.

The others gathered in a circle and began their meal. It was refreshing having something pleasant to focus their minds on, trying to turn bristly crystals into omelets, coffee, bacon, and such. George nudged a single lump of imaginite towards himself, saying it was high time he experimented to see if he could make something of it. He stared forcefully. Piffle encouraged him with a mouthful of danish.

Junella had been right: the rest had done them good. It was easy to see they were still wounded, but at least on the mend.

All except Toby.

It was left unspoken for the moment, but all of them could feel it like a drafty cold breeze. Where their mouse friend sat, it seemed instead like a patch of glaring emptiness. Sure, Toby talked like normal, smiled, and acted friendly. But his eyes were as lifeless as Doll's. Like two glass beads plugged into his face, concealing hollow holes.

Plus, there was an even more obvious clue. Toby remained unchanged. Junella's wrinkles were almost gone. Zinc had his eyes back. George was talking again. And Piffle had blinked back into her sailor suit. But they all watched Toby's skeletal hands rolling an imaginite crystal back and forth. His gaunt, wispy face looked down at it, but were his eyes even seeing it?

Zinc suspected the worst: not only was Toby still deeply under Dysphoria's corrosive spell, he was also deliberately keeping them from helping him. 'Or maybe...' No. He did not want to imagine that something from Dysphoria had entered his friend and was piloting him like a puppetmaster. Even though the idea felt creepily plausible, given the evidence.

He watched Toby bat the crystal to and fro like a cat with a ball of yarn. Not even trying to change it. "Hey, how 'bout I help you with that? I'll make you some nice toast. That won't upset your stomach." He watched the mouse's expression carefully. 'Here it comes: 'I'm not hungry' in 3... 2...'

"Oh, I'm not really hungry, Zinc. That's okay. Thanks though."

"I insist," Zinc said with slightly gritted teeth. He leaned over and concentrated on the crystal till it became four buttered slices. He tried to keep the distrust out of his expression, but what did it matter? The mouse wasn't paying attention anyway. "Eat."

Toby lifted up the plate like it was covered in bugs. "Thank you. I was... having trouble remembering how to make it change."

'More like you couldn't get up the willpower to care enough,' Zinc thought, while outwardly saying, "My pleasure." He whipped up a cup of coffee with cream and nudged it towards the mouse as well. "Makes me feel better in the morning. Try it."

"I will."

Zinc of course saw the lie as if it was lit up in neon. His heart stung. He didn't know what was causing this in his friend or how to fix it. He looked around at the others and, while they were all nibbling away at their various morsels, they all had the same worry in their eyes.

"Behold, an apple!" George suddenly said.

Toby should have been gawking like the others at the utterly impossible sight of a nightmare having successfully altered imaginite to his will. Instead, he stared at his three remaining toast slices as he forced the fourth into his mouth. It tasted like the floor in a sawmill. It was almost impossible to chew, and he tossed the drippy wad behind his back when the others weren't looking.

***

Concealed behind parapets of rock not thirty feet away was a completely modern escalator just waiting to be ridden. Rubber handrails and all.

It snaked up the mountain from base to summit, winding around like a candy cane's stripe. Each metal step was immaculately clean, textured for traction, and easily wide enough for all six of them to fit on at once. The neverending staircase rose slow and mellow. "Finally something easy," Junella said as they gathered around. "Aldridge must've known, anyone who got through that would be damn sick of walking."

The uncomfortable falseness of Toby's behavior lingered long after they'd gotten through congratulating George for his red delicious miracle. The stallion was pleased enough with himself to enjoy his treat, while the others ate quickly and kept stealing glances at Toby's toast, which remained on his plate growing colder. They didn't know what to do with him. Whenever they hinted they'd be happy to listen if he was still having problems, he brushed them off and kept insisting he was fine, fine, fine. He smiled big and bright. But not with his eyes.

There was no longer a reason to stay put, so Junella supervised the reloading of the sleeping bags, then shrunk the car and swallowed it down. She'd set aside the canvas bag and told George to take special care with it. He accepted the duty proudly and slung it onto his back.

After surveying the escalator, George stepped aboard first. He tramped up and down with his hooves, eliminating the possibility it might have been another nasty trap. But they all felt it wouldn't be. Something in the air comforted them that they were safe now. Beyond the reach of Dysphoria's bad dreams. The others hustled to catch up to George's step, and pulled themselves on via ribcage-handles.

To their right was the sheer face of Anasarca. To the left was a concealing wall that came up to shoulder height for most of them. The travelers gathered around the handrail to look out across Phobiopolis below and the milky way above. The metal panel hummed beneath their feet. The escalator seemed to sense it had passengers and sped up a little. Not too much. Just enough to get them to the top in a matter of hours. It felt like coasting on a silver magic carpet.

Zinc was glad he'd snagged some tree jerky before Junella gulped the car. It wasn't cornucopia food or imaginite. It was real. It gave his teeth a challenge chewing it. And it helped focus his concentration on Toby. The threadbare mouse was sitting by himself one step below everyone else. Just sitting and smiling and acting pleasant, and goddamn nothing about him was right.

Piffle was picking imaginite again. The little hedgehog-shaped tufts grew all along the concealing wall. Zinc tugged at her hem. "Hey, um, toots? You mind maybe doin' me a favor?"

"Why sure! Just ask!"

He could tell the idea of feeling useful helped her mood. "Yeah, I was wondering if you could go and talk to Toby for a while. He's actin' funny. I'm sure you've noticed too."

She didn't say anything, but nodded.

A sigh. "I don't know why. Maybe 'cause you and me've been here longer, we've got, like, more of an immunity than him? Whatever it is, I'm damn worried. But I think I'm maybe still too abrasive to get through. If anyone can cheer him up, it's you."

She liked that he had such confidence in her, even if inside she knew her smile was held together with pins and strings. Her grief over Doll was like a river held back by a flimsy dam. "I'll do my best," she promised.

Zinc kept an eye on Toby as Piffle sat down beside the mouse and scooted in. A momentary wince crossed Toby's face, like he'd be so much happier if left alone. Zinc sighed. He had no idea what the mouse was hiding, but for now he'd have to let Piffle do her thing and put his faith in her.

"Hiya, Toby."

"Oh, hi. Piffle. How was breakfast?"

"I liked my omelet very much. Did you enjoy your toast?"

He clasped his fingers together and looked down at them. "Actually, my stomach hurts. I guess I'll eat more later."

"Sorry to hear about your tum-tum," she replied, reaching over to pat it. Of course, it wasn't there anymore and her fingers just sunk into the gap between his ribs and pelvis. She grimaced. "Toby, can't you do something about that? It's kinda spooky."

"I've been trying," he lied with a shrug. "I guess it's a little more permanent than what happened to everyone else."

"But... Junella said Dysphoria couldn't really hurt us."

Another shrug.

Piffle waited for him to say more, but he didn't. She fidgeted a bit, then began on her project. She arranged imaginite blossoms on the escalator floor, then began to will them into purple fabric. Toby didn't even ask what she was doing. "I'm making a new dress for Doll," she said anyway.

"A funeral dress."

A plume of anger scorched through her. "It is NOT!!" she shouted. "It's just...! It's just something nicer than this silly old doll dress she's got, that's all." She patted Doll's front, rubbing the material between thumb and forefinger. "This shabby ol' thing's only fit for a toy. Mine will be for a real lady. I'll even make her a new glove. She'll look beautiful. Maybe it'll make her feel better. Coax her out, see?"

"Okay. Yeah, that might work."

It crushed her that there was no confidence at all in his words. He didn't even seem to care whether she succeeded or not. Piffle huffed and puffed, but focused her annoyance into the imaginite. The stuff was abundant enough that she could sketch out several designs before making a final choice. Eventually she settled on a velvet blouse and skirt in somber plum purple. It went beautifully with the green silk glove. She slipped off Doll's old dress and pocketed it. Doll did like it, but hopefully she'd like the new outfit even better.

Meanwhile, Junella and George convened with Zinc around the handrail. The canine filled them in on the mission he'd tasked Piffle with and they both agreed it was a good idea. George admitted he was still a bit befuddled and preoccupied from Dysphoria's aftereffects, so it had taken him a while to notice the oddities in Sire Toby's behavior. Though now the changes were glaring, especially to his nightmare senses. George was skilled at smelling anxiety (originally to aid in creating it), and despite the mouse's fake pleasantries, he reeked of the aroma. Whatever had a hold on him, its claws sunk deep.

Junella agreed. She'd been all over Phobiopolis and seen firsthand the effects of profound trauma. Yesterday she'd been desperate enough for companionship to try jostling him out of it. But today, with a calmer head, she realized that his healing might take a long, long time. And there might not be anything they could do but stay by his side and wait.

The ride to the top of Anasarca should have been a pleasant one. The mountain tried its best to be accommodating, providing all the imaginite a furson could ask for and lowering its concealing walls in places to offer spectacular, sparkling views of the galaxy around them. But no matter where you are, it is impossible to have a good time when someone you love is suffering. The others watched Toby and Piffle talk about all sorts of subjects, sometimes even laughing together, but still what they saw was a hamsterfly and a moderately-convincing animatronic.

George at one point tiptoed over to add his own help. Toby's head spun around at the construct's approach, and for an instant before the mask returned, George saw blind terror in his master's eyes. The stallion made up a phony question on the spot and returned to Junella with Toby's half-hearted answer. The construct was incapable of tears, and had no face to show emotions with, yet Junella knew exactly how he felt. She pulled him close and rested her cheek against his forehead, stroking his old bones silently.

Soon Doll was all kitted out in her new duds with her hair styled up in wavy curls. Piffle asked Toby, "Doesn't she look pretty now?"

"Yes, she does," Toby said, and it was nice not having to lie for once. Piffle may have chosen a clownish safari getup for herself, but the clothes she'd made for Doll were properly elegant. 'She really does care about Doll,' he thought. 'More than I ever did. When I noticed Piffle gravitating more towards her, I was glad to be rid of the responsibility.'

Piffle was proud of her work, but struggled to keep the smile on her face. She'd felt hopeful for a fraction of a second at hearing Toby's genuine response, but that changed when she noticed the pain and tension in his eyes.

'I'll make that pain go away. Even if it takes all day. Even if it takes a week! If I can bring back Doll, I can bring back Toby. I'm not gonna let anything take my friends away from me, goshdarnit!'

***

Up ahead they could finally see where the escalator ended. It was a circular nook of rock, formed by several spires clustered together like birthday candles. Almost like a little lobby. The walls were too high to see past, but there might have been turrets poking up somewhere beyond.

Piffle got up and rejoined the others. She told them she'd tried everything in her arsenal of cheer, but Toby was behind a brick wall. No matter what she did to ease him into opening up, he deflected. His replies were all small talk and insistence that he was already in tip-top shape so there was nothing to discuss. It frightened her that his will was stronger than hers on this. The only thing that made her feel better was the others complimenting her work on Doll's dress. She was grateful for that.

As the escalator ended and each step vanished into the magic slot at the top, George was a little vexed as to how to get off of it. The others stepped off with no problems, but George stood there looking puzzled, bringing his hooves closer and closer together as they neared the edge, until the arrival platform essentially spatula'd him off. A mild grin made it onto Zinc's muzzle at the sight of a stallion who'd mastered flight and a gatling gun, mystified by an escalator.

Toby stepped off lightly and stood beside the others without a word.

There was an exit to the side of the circular stone room. It led to a well-kept green lawn. But before anyone could leave, Junella placed herself between them and the exit. She stood like a crossing guard and directed George to pass her the canvas bag.

Even though Zinc had imaginited up a six-pack of tickle-juice on the way up, he'd have to be blind not to know what was in it. His wrenches were the biggest, bulgiest items inside. "Hey, Juney... maybe it ain't the best idea to give Aldridge the impression we're about to let slip the dogs of war on his humble abode."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that. I ain't brainless." She bent over to slide out the bag's contents on the chocolatey dirt in front of her. "I'm not suggesting we barge in wavin' this stuff all around. I just thought... I dunno. Maybe it'd make us feel a little more like ourselves again."

George nodded his approval. "That seems a solid conclusion, Madam Brox. From what I have observed, a personal weapon may act as a sort of talisman."

"Exactly..." she cooed softly as she picked up her cutlass. She held it across her palms and watched the starlight glint off of its surface. She thought about how loyal this little sliver of metal had been to her over the years. When she slid it back into her hip, she shivered. That felt like home. And with this blade at her side, she thought that maybe she might actually be Junella Fucking Brox again.

Piffle stepped forward with an unsure expression. "I don't really need this silly fork anymore, but it does seem a shame to leave it." She bent over to pick it up with her right hand, her left still clutching Doll. Junella tried to help her get the oversized silverware back in her bellybutton, but Piffle shooed her hand away. The skunk watched her struggle and felt concern again that Piffle did not show any thought towards setting Doll down to make the job easier.

Eventually though, she got it in position and the sheath did the rest of the work sucking it up. Zinc leaned over to pat her tummy. "Y'know, it just now hit me that it's kinda weird you've got a bug shell and also a bellybutton."

She chuckled. "I'm a mishmash."

He squoze her paw to show that was fine by him, then stepped towards Junella. They shared a smile, partner to partner. Zinc stretched his arms out wide, enjoying their last few moments of flesh and fingernails. "Dysphoria tried to sour me on the ol' clankers, but I guess I got enough good memories packed away in 'em to outweigh that."

"Good to hear," Junella said, unsheathing her sword. "Hold 'em out steady."

"Yeah yeah. Like we ain't done this before."

Piffle hopped back to avoid the twin flying splashes of blood.

A moment later, Zinc was flexing his creaking hinged elbows, threading his clamps up and down, and picking up two useless furry twigs to toss them over the side of the mountain. Piffle came closer again to run her fingers along the strong, pitted metal.

"How they feel?" Junella asked.

Zinc arched his back and swung them back and forth. "Normal," he replied after consideration.

Junella grinned. She tossed him his doorknockers, then walked over to Toby.

He had been standing at the back the whole time like a plaster sculpture, but for just a moment he showed emotion when he saw what she was bringing him.

Fear.

She didn't understand why he shied away from the gleaming hammer, nor did she care. With a firm, motherly smile on her face, she stepped forward, snatched his wrist, and forcibly slotted his fingers into the hammer's tonguerubber grip.

Toby trembled. He looked into her eyes, silently asking, 'Why are you doing this?'

She spoke low so the others did not overhear. And though her tone was soft and tender, the words were hot coals. "Toby, I'm only going to tell you this once. If you don't take this hammer right now, I am going to cleave your fucking skull in with it. You are going to get better if I have to kill you one thousand times. Because I'm violent and psychotic and I care about you that much, do you understand?"

He shook his head.

She held his sweating, bony fingers in place around the handle. "Just take it. Please. You can throw it off the mountain later if you want to, but right now I'm passing out Christmas presents to the whole family and this one's yours, okay? I've seen what you can do with that, and I've seen it change you for the better. Now you slip that up your wrist or I will cut you from crotch to throat, client." Her smile was unbroken, but a tear nearly came to her eye. She reached up to softly pat Toby's cheek.

He did not want it. He did not know why he didn't, but he didn't. The thought of putting it back in its sheath conjured images of a giant leech invading his flesh. But he did it anyway. Junella's threat had successfully scared him worse.

She nodded. "Good boy." She turned and walked back towards the rock spike exit, feeling both victorious and ashamed. By God, she'd gotten him to care about something, if only for a second. She only wished it hadn't taken violence.

Toby felt the hammer in his arm like a heavy nesting parasite. It felt cold inside of him. He understood everything else, but not why it was causing such a strong revulsion in him.

Junella said nothing more as she picked up the canvas bag and draped it over George like a Mexican blanket. Surveying her unit, she decided they looked presentable enough. She whistled for their attention. "We've got an appointment to keep."

She let Zinc take point, hoping to boost his confidence more. He sauntered past her and turned at the edge of the stone entranceway.

...Then immediately ducked back behind it.

"There's someone else over there!" he hissed.

From his tone Junella gathered it wasn't the wizard himself. Her hand drifted towards her sword by reflex. "Who? What'd they look like?"

A shrug. "I only saw 'em for a blink. Then they vanished quick as I did."

"Mother of fucks," she snarled. "If this is one more hoop to jump through, I swear..." Keeping her hand on the hilt but not drawing it yet, she slithered past Zinc to take a peek for herself.

At herself.

"See 'em?" Zinc asked.

Junella stared, not quite believing what she was seeing. "Yeah..." she sang, and heard her voice echo.

She rolled back around with the oddest expression on her face. Zinc asked with a grunt, 'Well?'

She hesitated, not sure if he'd believe her. "This is gonna sound weird as all hell, but I'm dead sure that was me."

George nosed forward. "Some kind of security system? Are we to conquer our malevolent twins?"

Junella snorted at the idea. "Not likely. Lemme try something." She pulled her sword and wiggled it around the corner. She saw exactly what she expected on the other side. Ditto when she stepped out into the open. "It's a mirror..."

Zinc followed behind. Then George, then Piffle and Doll, then Toby. They all expected to be met with a sheet of glass. But it was nothing quite so simple.

As the travelers stepped out from behind the rock wall, they watched another set of themselves emerge from an identical wall thirty feet away. Everyone, originals and doppelgangers alike, displayed expressions of utter bafflement. Even Toby managed to find some mild curiosity.

Between the two sets of fursons was an immaculately-kept rectangle of pianograss. There was a set of patio furniture (two chairs and a table with a sun umbrella) positioned precisely in the middle of the lawn. Along the edge of the rock wall were several mirrored rose bushes, two mirrored lawnmowers, and two mirrored croquet sets. The yard was cheerfully lit by four mirrored tiki torches. No bug zappers to be seen; they were unnecessary at this altitude.

The patio chairs were positioned to look out past the end of the lawn, where there was a sheer cliff face and a breathtaking view of Phobiopolis below. From here the travelers could see that the world really was flat after all. They had suspected it at the edge of Dysphoria, and here it was proven positive. Phobiopolis was an unimaginably huge ribbon, curling in a circle towards the mountain, where the tail broke off into floating rubble. They could see the Veil Of Tears wrapping around it like a water coat. They could see the wall of Phlegmasia cap it all off. They could see swirls of green and brown and yellow and red, and it was amazing to think those were places they had been just days ago.

Behind them was the castle and the house. Only one of each, thankfully.

The castle resembled a medieval fantasy merged with a painted canyon. Hewn from the mountain's top, it looked as ancient as the pyramids or the city of Petra. The stone was banded like a snake: beige, brown, ocher, and maroon. The towers stretched up forty feet, riddled with tiny windows. But the structure was clearly a ruin now. The front of the castle was nothing more than a cavernous gash. Some great force had cleaved it down the middle, as if been struck by Thor's greatest lightning bolt. One could see directly inside to the empty stone rooms, long devoid of furniture or occupants. At the base of the castle were two massive piles into which the debris had been swept. Imaginite grew over the giant chunks of rock, twinkling.

The house was smack dab in the center of the castle's remains, in the cleft where the main hall had once been. It was startling how something so ordinary could look so completely out of place. Just a normal one-story suburban domicile. Like the model houses that surrounded the Jennie-Mae in Phlogiston. But someone had been taking much better care of this one. It was painted in pastel red, yellow, and green. The window blinds were drawn, but lights were on inside. The gutters were clean. The flowers along the foundation were in magnificent health. This was clearly not just a house, but a home.

Too much to look at. Piffle's head swiveled around and around till she was worried it might unscrew. From the starlight view of the world below, to the devastated hull of the rock castle, to the peculiar little house at its core, though finally her eyes settled on her own. Or rather, on the ruby disco balls of the mirror-Piffle standing in front of her.

She waved, it waved. She blinked, it blinked. It was definitely a mirror image, yet the other hamsterfly looked completely solid. As real as her companions standing beside her. Piffle saw the doll in her opposite's arms, wearing the exact same dress, with the exact same lifeless eyes. It unnerved her, and she turned her Doll's face away.

George on the other hand was quite pleased. Besides the reflection in ponds, he'd never seen himself fully before. He turned side to side, admiring his strong flanks. He blew a circle of flame from his nostrils and watched his double do the same.

Toby understood now why the others weren't falling for his act. He stared into the mirror Toby's staring eyes and saw nothing but trainwreck horror there. And tiredness. Living death. He was also finally coming face to face with his new fleshless body and felt repulsed by it. His fur was draped over bone like a plastic bag caught on a chain link fence.

Junella was simply sizing up her other self with calculating determination, not sure if this was yet another puzzle they'd have to solve before moving forward.

Zinc nudged George and indicated the canvas bag. Not knowing what would happen, Zinc pulled it down, wadded it into a ball, and threw it towards the line of copies. The other Zinc did exactly the same. There was a blur in the middle where the two objects passed, but then both Zincs caught the bag the other had thrown. In amazement, they patted it all over. It seemed perfectly solid. Zinc even checked the brand on the side: the name was readable as ever, not backwards.

"Now if that ain't just the kookiest," both of him said.

He jumped. That was a disquieting effect. It was like an echo, but simultaneous. He was hearing his voice as it sounded inside his own skull, but also as it sounded to other people. He walked closer to the other Zinc, the pianograss making pleasant notes beneath his boots. "Say something else," they said. "Holy moly! What kinda space warp bullshit we got goin' on here?"

Piffle approached her twin and sang a note. The harmony was quite nice.

They all came closer to the center of the lawn and watched their doubles approach as well. None of them wanted to get too close though. Even though they'd seen the outcome of Zinc's bag experiment, thoughts of paradoxes and antimatter loomed in their heads.

Junella stretched her sword out until it was an inch away from the other's tip. "What happens when they meet?" she asked, and watched herself scratch out the words too.

"No way to tell until you try," said the Zincs.

Gulping, the Junellas each took a step forward and touched their swords together. Everyone expected sparks or maybe an explosion, but instead the two blades seemed to shimmer through one another with a strange, faint glow. And Junella felt a tug on her wrist. "They're magnetic," she both sang. She jerked her cutlass away, afraid for a moment that she might not be able to. But no, it came back with only the slightest wiggle of resistance. Then she and herself both gawked at each other.

It was no surprise that Piffle was the first to try making friends with her other self.

Zinc yelped a warning as the hamsterfly extended a paw towards the other hamsterfly, but this time something wholly unexpected happened. There was the same gleam of purple light, and instead of the two Piffles shaking hands or passing right through, they merged.

The singular Piffle now looked in all directions for the other one. "Where did I go?"

"This is giving me headaches," Zincs said.

Wanting to explore this strange phenomenon as much as possible, Piffle shrugged and headed towards the far side of the yard. As she did, the other Piffle separated from her and walked in the opposite direction.

Zinc's eyes almost popped out. He called across the lawn, "Get back here, Piff! Your copy's givin' me the creeps!"

"But I'm the real Piffle!" both of them said.

The canine made kind of a 'yeeerkgh!' noise.

The Piffles put their hands on their hips. "You're just being silly! Look, I'm as real as you." She reached out and grabbed his wrench. He was astonished. He expected it to pass through like a ghost, but instead it felt like her normal, fuzzy hand.

"There can't actually be two of us," George reasoned. "One must be an illusion."

"But which one?" the Junellas wondered in unison. They pointed their swords at each other.

Zinc ran a wrench along the copy-Piffle's curves, making her wiggle. He had to admit, she did feel real. And then he got a nifty idea. He stepped towards his double until there was only one of him. Then he beckoned with both hands for the Piffles to come closer. For one blissful moment, he had a gal on each arm. Two sweet smiles surrounding him.

Junella rolled her eyes and moved to merge with her other self. She winced a bit beforehand, but was glad to discover no unpleasant side effects. She much preferred being the one and only.

Toby didn't partake in the merging experiments. He wasn't really in the mood. But he did try to stay out of the way and let the others enjoy the moment. They certainly deserved a bit of lightheartedness after everything else they'd gone through. Toby simply looked into his mirror image's eyes and wondered who he was.

"Are you nice people gonna keep trampling my grass or are you gonna come inside one of these days?"

All heads turned. The door was still closed, the windows were still drawn. They seemed to be the only living things on the mountain.

Yet the voice had definitely come from the house. A female voice.

"Well? Ya mute?"

George spoke up, not exactly sure where he should direct his reply. "Our apologies, Madam! We intended no harm. In our fascination, we momentarily forgot that we are technically trespassing."

The voice laughed at George's over-politeness. It was sunny and brash. Diminutive and feminine, yet with a smoky, powerhouse edge to it. This was the voice of someone who'd had a lot of practice ignoring fear. "I've been keeping an eye on you guys the whole time. No harm done. So unless you're here to rob the place, why don't you get yourselves singular and head on over?"

Glances were exchanged. None of them had any idea who was speaking to them, unless Aldridge had at some point decided to switch genders (which might be something wizards did). Junella was already merged, so she led the way towards the house. As George walked into his opposite, he was momentarily a horse with two back ends. Zinc walked along with a Piffle on either side. They resisted coming together for as long as possible, enjoying being sisters.

Toby followed the others at the rear. He put out his hand towards the other Toby. For an instant he was terrified it might feel like in Dysphoria, when he'd died and resurrected with the skull collar on. That was such a grisly feeling he never, ever wanted to go through it again. But thankfully, merging with his twin was an anticlimax. There was a seam of warmth at the joining, like a sunbeam, then a bit of pressure and that was it.

Junella did glance back at him. She felt a small ray of hope at seeing something other than gloom and doom in his expression. She hoped meeting Aldridge would finally have some effect on the mouse. Maybe the wizard even had some kind of anti-Dysphoria potion.

They gathered at the front step. There was a marble semicircle just before the green door with a wicker welcome mat upon it. No mailbox or house numbers, though that was hardly surprising. The porch light turned everyone yellow.

The voice spoke again, still without a visible source. "What a fascinating patch of oddballs we got here today. Sorry if I'm uncouth, but it's been a while since we've had visitors."

George noticed the 'we'. "Just to be certain, Madam, we are at the residence of the wizard Aldridge?"

A mock-exasperated sigh. "Of course it's for him! It's always for him, Mister Big Shot! Yeah, lemme rustle him up." They heard the voice directed inside now, at window-rattling volume. "Hey Poopsiecakes!! The peasantry seeks an audience with Yer Royal Distractedness!"

Zinc and Piffle looked at each other. They'd shared some sappy nicknames at times, but nothing as bad as 'poopsiecakes'.

No footsteps were heard from inside, but they all heard the mutterings and bangings-about of someone ungluing themselves from their work and fumbling towards the door.

Toby peeked out from behind the others. He felt a strange, queasy casserole of emotions. Overriding all was the dread he couldn't let go of. But struggling up from its inhospitable soil was a bit of genuine curiosity. Maybe even hope. If the Allfilth was the dark, maybe Aldridge was the light. Maybe there were answers here. Maybe even healing. Or maybe Aldridge would turn out to be a powerless old hermit. Still, the fact that Toby was actually here in this moment was startling and surreal. He remembered the wizard's name coming out of the mushroom woman's mouth on the day he'd first arrived. That was weeks ago. Or had it been a whole month? Multiple months? It felt longer, yet also like no time at all. He had struggled and begged and bargained and even killed to get to this moment. Yet he'd never fully believed it would actually arrive.

The doorknob rattled and turned.

Light from the livingroom crept across the welcome mat.

Toby's eyes bulged.

Of all the ways he had envisioned Aldridge, he never could have dreamt up a bewildered big-mouthed catfish standing primly in a blue bathrobe.

"Is this about the sprinklers?" the wizard asked sweetly. "Sorry, but we already took care of them last month."

-***-

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