***

Eventually the zombies just plain gave up. They seemed to share a collective mind, coordinating like a flock of birds. One moment dozens of officers were charging forward as viciously as ever, then suddenly they all just... stopped. Maybe they realized that 'full steam ahead' wasn't getting them anywhere. Or maybe the Fearsleigher had crossed some kind of borderline, like a sonic dog fence. Either way, something happened to make the pursuers stop dead in their tracks and stand still with blank expressions on their rotting faces. The ones surrounding the car went limp as ragdolls and slid burbling into the puke.

Everyone was glad to finally roll the windows up.

Zinc came lurching into the car a moment later, a panting wreck. He nearly flattened Toby when he fell in through the side door, but the mouse managed to hold him up.

Toby winced: his friend's wrenches were hot as stove burners. And for a moment he thought Zinc was having death throes. Then he realized it was actually giggling. "You allright?"

A hoarse, rattling laugh wheezed out of his overworked lungs. "That... was... fun..."

Piffle squeezed past to squeeze her beau. "Oh Zinc! You were magnificent! How did you do it!? You said you couldn't handle both sides of the car at once!"

"He took off his doorknockers and swung them," Toby explained. "Cutting their damage but doubling their reach. Brilliant strategy," he congratulated Zinc.

"Wasn't no thinking involved," Zinc gurgled, coughing up a blood clot. "I was just... sick of assholes gettin' in our way."

Toby let Piffle take over propping Zinc up. He fished out the re-flattened cornucopia and got some water to cool down their conquering hero. When he poured it on, it turned to steam. "Ahhhhhhh..." the canine sighed happily.

Everyone was covered in blood and gunpowder, and the whole car stank of barf. Junella rustled around the glove compartment. Soon the interior was swarming with golden ladybugs, all of them happily cleaning up offensive organic matter. Toby still had powder burns on his hands afterward, but that was a far, far preferable smell.

Minutes later, with a long groan of relief, George crawled out of the swamp onto dry land. Everyone was jostled about as he shook the mess from his wheels.

This was Rhinolith proper.

Toby suspected that, like Coryza, it was the name of the region as well as the city on the hill. Also like Coryza, it was circular. It looked like an immense stubby tooth growing out of the ground.

Under a sky like boiling egg yolk, the surrounding land was green. Not a healthy, natural green, but a color that brought to mind toxicity and rot. Every surface was strangled with creeping fingers of plantlife. And like a rug woven of worms, it never stopped moving. Toby was reminded of the veinlike vines in Quinsy, or Lady Xenoiko's wood paneling. He mused that the vomit swamp was a result of people staring at the landscape for too long.

Toby began to hear the city as George drove them closer to it. Above the constant crunch of wheels on plants, there was a solid wall of music. Drums and brass. And a roar of united voices. Laughing, bellowing, cheering.

Zinc rotated his seat, going back to his tour guide voice. "It's a party all the time in there. They have to. This far in the badlands? You kiddin'? You've gotta keep your spirits up or you'll crack. With the long nights and the ugly-ass critters skulkin' around, they sing and dance and drink full-time, so the isolation don't drive 'em bonkers."

Remembering the quote from someplace, Junella sang, "'They revel to beat back the darkness'."

"Sounds like fun!" Piffle said, eager to join in.

"Ehhh," Zinc grimaced. "If you're tough enough, maybe. These folks is on edge. They call themselves the Bargeld. Always got their ears pricked for a fight. Adrenaline insteadda blood. I'd tread cautiously, all of us."

Toby shrank back a bit. He looked out the window again and could now see the city's outer wall in better detail. His jaw dropped. "Are those all skulls!?"

Zinc's tail wagged. "Bingo! Y'see, the city's built like a castle. Big high wall to keep out unwanted visitors. But their first wall wasn't quite big enough, so they built a second one around it. They say this second wall is made outta all the bones of all the citizens what died puttin' up the previous wall. Supposedly."

Toby's imagination could not handle it. Skulls of man and animal, piled up to the heavens. Nearly thirty feet of ivory and eye sockets. And while he could already tell Rhinolith's diameter wasn't as wide as Coryza's, it still beggared belief that this much death could exist.

Toby also didn't see any entrance. "Where do we get in?"

"I have already spotted a door and am heading towards it, Sire Toby," George spoke up.

"Good ol' George!" Piffle said.

The stallion swished his head back and forth bashfully.

Zinc patted the ceiling. "Um, I'm not sure they'll react kindly to a pet nightmare. Most likely they'll try to kill you. A lot. I don't think a transformation potion will make any difference this time."

He 'hrmm'ed in annoyance. "I then predict I will have to spend the night shrunken in Madam McPerricone's gullet?"

"We'll work something out," Zinc assured.

Piffle asked a bit more about the city as they continued to approach. George could feel himself being watched from the windows in the wall. He parked a safe distance away, hoping the people inside would see only a custom vehicle with a fanciful hood ornament.

Junella got out first, hopping down to the carpet of tendrils and stretching her shoulder.

Toby looked out. "Is that stuff safe to walk on?"

"Oh sure," Zinc said blithely. "Just keep moving or you'll end up cocooned and juiced."

The idea seemed to intrigue Piffle.

Toby looked down warily.

"...Now, what you really gotta watch out for are those living Halloween masks," Zinc went on with ghoulish glee. He indicated the toothful creatures hopping around in the grass downhill. "Those things'll jump on your face and start chewing. Next thing you know, they're a permanent addition. Takes an acid bath to get 'em off."

Toby reflexively covered his mouth. "Let's get inside quickly."

When everyone was out, George could not resist cleansing himself more thoroughly of the encrusted puke and zombie giblets that lingered on him after the swamp. If the Bargeld took this as a sign of aggression, then oh well. He was damned if he did, disgusted if he didn't. George sucked in a deep, deep breath, then blew a hurricane-sneeze of fire all over his undercarriage. The offending matter was charred to dust in seconds. He whickered in relief. The Bargeld made no counter-moves, though George thought for sure he saw some rifle barrels peeking out over the ramparts.

The others started trudging up the hill. The tendrils under their feet writhed and made for slippery going. The door was an eight-by-eight slab of metal with decorative sculpted skulls and a sliding panel at eye-height. 

A few feet from it, Zinc glanced back, grimacing. "No guarantee they'll let us in," he admitted.

"What?" Toby and Piffle yelped.

He shrugged. "Ain't like they're contractually obligated, now is they? Plus it's tournament season. They might be booked up."

"Lemme try to sweet-talk the doorman," Piffle offered. "Maybe I can put my powers of cuteness to use." Set in the metal was a sliding panel. Piffle knocked three times with her dainty fist.

It opened with a startling sssshhhHHUNK.

Everyone jumped back a little.

A pointy, fanged face leaned out, topped by a porcelain helmet with eyeholes drilled in the rim.

Piffle curtseyed. "'Scuse me, sir, but we're weary travelers coming from-"

The guard cut her off. "Feck off, we're full."

sssshhhHHUNK.

Everyone stared for a moment.

Toby gawked longer than the others. "He really did have a toilet on his head!"

Piffle stamped her foot. "And he was awfully rude!"

Junella was steaming. She whipped out her sword and started banging on the door with the hilt. "You no-good, inhospitable, dumpsterfuckin', monkey-eatin' shitfaces!!!"

The panel remained closed.

The skunk turned around and clenched her teeth. "FFFFFFFFFFUCK!!!"

Zinc sighed and started rubbing her shoulders. "I told you! The city's like a concert hall. You can't always expect to get tickets at the door."

She fumed a bit and stomped the tendrils under her feet. "Yeah, yeah. I was looking forward to getting' some drink in me and stretchin' out in a nice bed though."

He shrugged. "Ehhh. Shit happens."

As they turned back towards the car, Toby's eyes got wide. "Actually... I think I'm the reason we didn't get in."

Junella turned to him, trying to look reassuring. "Hey, no. They're just a-holes. Don't go assuming you're a jinx or something."

"No, I mean literally! Remember when I got the idea for Red to be a taxi for the vending machine people? Where do you think he brought them to?"

The skunk's eyes also got wide. She resisted a sudden urge to strangle him for depriving her of a drunk night's sleep.

Zinc started laughing at the irony. "No good deed goes unpunished, huh?" He clapped Toby on the back. "Fuggit, it was the right thing to do anyway."

Toby smiled lop-sidedly.

A cheek-smooch snuck up on him from Piffle. "You helped a lot of people, and if that means sleepin' in the car tonight, I don't mind."

He gave her paw a squeeze for being a cheerer-upper. Then asked Zinc, "How much farther do we have, actually?"

"Not much. It's a hop, skip, and a jump to the wall."

"Could we camp out there?" Toby asked.

Junella butted in immediately: "No."

He was a little started. "I'm guessing from an answer like that, there's a damn good reason?"

A nod, and an expression hinting he wouldn't have to ask it once they got there.

Toby considered other options for the night's lodgings. Then realized it hadn't been that many hours since they'd gotten up at Gilla's. It just felt like more. Why quit with so much of the day left? He 'hmm'ed. "Maybe we don't have to find a place to rest at all. I think I'm allright to keep going."

"Are you sure?" Junella asked.

He wasn't, but it seemed like the best idea. "I guess so."

She arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "Oh really? On through the maze and the rats' nest?"

He hesitated a moment, but managed a shaky nod. "I'm feeling pretty rested after my car nap. And if these places are gonna be terrible, why prolong the wait? There were plenty of times with my pills that I'd just gulp 'em all to get it over with."

She took a moment to marvel at the fact that this was Toby making this decision, of all people. Then she smiled approvingly. "Ballsy way of thinking about it. I guess I can skip a beer and a bed."

Toby asked quickly, "We do have to go through, right? There's absolutely no way we could possibly go around? Or over?" He'd inferred as much, from multiple sources, but it couldn't hurt to be absolutely, explicitly certain.

She reached the car and hopped up towards the driver's side. Hanging off, she looked back at him. "Sorry, mouse. I wish. If there was a way, that'd already be the plan. I may be the pettiest grudgeholder in the afterlife, but I'm no glutton for punishment." She disappeared into the driver's seat.

Toby nodded, sighing. It was easy to make brave pronouncements in the moment. Much harder to keep yourself steadily on the path towards them. He heaved himself onto the skate blade. 'We'll do this the same way we've done everything else so far. Full on ahead.'

George was a little puzzled at seeing his passengers returning. "I assume we will not be enjoying their hospitality?"

"They didn't have any," Piffle huffed.

He nodded. "Removing ourselves suits me fine. As while the plantlife here is not actively trying to consume me, they are exploring in some verrRRYYYEEEHEEHHEE ticklish places!!"

Piffle noticed he had vines all up and down his tires. She patted a bayonet. "Don't worry, we'll be outta here soon."

"In fact, lemme help you out with that," Zinc said to George. He gave Piffle a nuzzle and a 'hop on in' swat, then went to work ripping away huge wrenchfuls of tendrils.

"Oh yes!" he moaned. "Thank you extensively, Sir Zinc!!"

***

There was not much to say about Phlegmasia.

Zinc explained on the way that it was only dangerous if you didn't follow the rules. But the maze did not forgive mistakes. As Junella had described before, this place had writing on the walls. To read a single word was to become ensnared. Never able to look away. For the rest of eternity (or until you were rescued) you would scan the walls, pulling yourself deeper and deeper into the maze, lost eternally in fascination.

Toby had a thought. He remembered the candy bars in Sanders' shop. His Phobiopolis-induced dyslexia. If that happened to every newcomer, then how could a reading-trap work?

Junella asked if he'd ever had a dream where he thought up a really clever joke that, on waking, was really just nonsense. Toby nodded. Phlegmasia's writing was the same principle, she said. The maze infected its prey with the artificial feeling of reading something so good you couldn't stop. Photos had been taken of the maze's walls and looked at under laboratory conditions miles away. It was all nothing but gibberish.

George did not have far to drive. Only a handful of miles. The farther they drove from Rhinolith, the more the green tendrils turned to brown. Drying and dying. Soon there was nothing but parched, baked soil.

And the wall.

It was a soiled, dusty white. Absolutely featureless, not even lines of mortar. It stretched across the desert as far as the eye could see. As if a giant eraser had swiped the landscape and removed a perfect line.

The wall itself was not high, only six or seven feet. But there was nothing past it. Toby could feel a headache starting when he looked in that direction. The sky stopped. There was something else beyond, but it was indescribable. Or rather, his mind was not allowed to perceive it. It was a blur with teeth, viciously driving his senses away. Toby kept his head down.

Looking back at the wall, it seemed impregnably solid. Toby had no idea how they were going to get past it.

Zinc sensed the question before it was asked. "There's only ever one entrance," he said. "Just one. And it's always right in front of you. It wants you to come in."

Toby shuddered. And as the group drew nearer, there it was. A single dull eye in the infinite smooth. Staring at them. Inviting them. Dead ahead.

Of course, it was shaped exactly wide and tall enough to let the Fearsleigher pass through.

Junella glared back, not allowing it to intimidate her. "George. Pull up and let us out for a sec."

"As you wish, Madam Brox."

His wheels kicked up clouds of dust that rolled along the barren ground like tumbleweeds. There was nothing else alive out here except his passengers. He noticed how odd that was, for any region in Phobiopolis to be absolutely devoid of constructs.

When the travelers stepped out of the Fearsleigher, they heard the sounds. Murmurs on the wind. Echoes from inside the walls. The indistinct jabbering of a million people who had gone mad.

Plus it seemed impossible that so many one-sided conversations and wild laughs could carry naturally through the wall's thickness. More likely, Phlegmasia was amplifying them. Maybe as a warning. Maybe just to be cruel.

At least the ground didn't move when he jumped down onto it from the skate blade. Toby did not have to ask why Junella hadn't wanted to camp here. Nothing with ears could spent an entire night listening to this. It was already churning his guts.  He wondered, if they parked here with the windows rolled tight and everyone put earplugs in, would he start hearing the voices soon enough anyway? The answer felt like yes.

Doll had her hands over her ears and was turning in circles. Toby picked her up and held her comfortingly. Soon Piffle appeared beside them and added herself to their hug.

Junella popped the hood and rummaged around. Zinc stood nearby, kicking the dirt, trying not to show his unease. Junella hopped down with an armful of headgear and asked George to disengage himself. He was a little sad to give up his wheels, but soon the sensation of stretching his legs improved his mood. Junella told everyone to gather round.

The only 100% guaranteed way to prevent getting trapped in Phlegmasia was to cut out your eyes. Though that left the problem of navigating the maze. This would be Zinc's job. Junella passed out thick blindfolds to everyone else. They had zip ties in the back: no accidental slips. Rippingbean & Woofingbutter's hadn't sold any that could fit George, so she'd bought some heavy-duty construction putty instead. With George's permission, she began to pack his sockets full.

"I'll be your eyes," Zinc reassured George. He reminded everyone of exactly why he'd been given a hollow metal head in the first place. The idea was that, if his eyes were always open, he'd be immune to places that changed their architecture when unobserved. The maze would absolutely try that. Zinc pocketed his tin lids and let his ocular orbs spin freely.

Toby asked how they were going to keep Zinc from reading the walls and getting trapped. Would they glue him to his seat? Like lashing Odysseus to the mast?

"No, but that's not a bad idea."

Junella held up what she'd bought for him: clear plastic safety goggles. When she turned the lenses around, everything through them was blurred. Zinc would have an extreme case of far-sightedness. Able to make out the place's layout and not much else. The canine was patient as his partner superglued them in place.

Soon Zinc was astride George's back. Toby's question gave them both an idea at the same time. The stallion made a saddle, as well as reins of tendon. But in addition, he grew ropy lashes of flesh around Zinc's thighs like a pair of meat manacles. Now, even if the goggles came off, or the maze tried any dirty tricks like words as big as a barn, he would be safely incapable of jumping off and reading himself into insanity.

George and Zinc were hitched up to the car and the others climbed back inside. As Toby and Piffle put on their blindfolds, Junella realized she'd completely forgotten to get one for Doll. She felt a little bad about that, now that she'd actually gotten used to the little creep. Doll solved the problem by simply turning her bag around so the eyeholes were in back. "Smart," Junella said approvingly. Doll could still see a tiny bit through the burlap fibers, so she helped Piffle and Toby with their zip-ties. Then the trio settled into the backseat and held hands.

Zinc ripped his ears off and gave them to Junella. This way she could relay him information, and he'd be spared the sounds of the babbling damned. She handed him a long, thin pole, like a car antenna.

Junella took the front passenger seat, out of deference. She cupped one of Zinc's fuzzy triangles to her mouth. "Breaker breaker 1 9. You read me, good buddy?"

Zinc could see only three things. A smear of white wall, the charcoal smudge of George's head, and the doorway that had created itself for them. "Loud and clear, tower. And while I ain't too thrilled about it, yeah, I'm ready."

"Then good luck, partner."

Zinc held tight to the thin pole. On its end, like the tip of a spear, was an uncapped Neverdry marker. He swiped it across the wall and a red line followed.

Anyone who's been in a hedge maze learns a basic strategy: keep a hand on one wall and start walking. Not the most efficient path, but a certain one.

Zinc flicked the reigns and George took them in. The entrance vanished behind them. Sunlight gone, replaced by a throbbing, artificial glow from the walls themselves.

If the sounds outside had been unsettling, inside they were torture.

Hundreds of voices echoed off the walls. Toby did not need sight to guess that there were many, many victims trapped in this place. Their voices were hoarse, crackling, dry. These were people who had not had any food or sleep in years. They exclaimed in delusional joy at whatever clever bit of prose they thought they'd just read. They asked questions to no one. They laughed. They raged. None of it was actual language. The surface of the collective murmur was a boundless, eager enthrallment. Simmering beneath was anguish. Inarticulate misery. The moans of animals in captivity that have never known the sun.

There also came the sounds of metal carving meat. The Fearsleigher's skates cut through anyone in their path. None of the victims moved to get out of the way. They couldn't. George did his best to steer around them.

Junella could hear it in his zig-zagging steps. "Don't bother," she sang solemnly. "Killing them is kindness. For every hundred or so, there'll be a few who'll have the reflexes to cover their eyes when they wake up. Of those, a handful might make it back to the entrance. This place plays fair in one regard: it leaves the door open if you can get there."

"I understand, Madam Brox."

To the chaotic moans of the maze's prisoners, and the scrape of blade on bone, was added the crunch of ribcages beneath black hooves.

Toby held Doll's hand tighter.

The car moved onward, turning this way and that. Toby lost all sense of direction. From the sound of the bodies breaking, Toby could imagine them thin as dried sardines. Brittle bone and papery skin. All muscle and fat long depleted. Toby's mind saw bony fingers tracing along the walls to underline every magical word.

The deranged exclamations and laughter never stopped. The cries, the shrieks, the mumbling. The travelers could not bring themselves to drown it out with small talk. The sounds dug sonic fingers into their ears. Deeper and deeper and tighter. A drone like a drill. Piercing their brains. Growing louder and louder and louder, or was that their imaginations?

Junella felt around in a small compartment below the driver's seat. There would be no radio signals out here, but she'd bought some tapes from L'roon. No sense waiting to get home to listen to them. She felt around for the raised 'A' side of one, then slid it in.

Beautiful, lonesome, melting tones began to fill the car. Junella turned the volume knob all the way up and settled herself in.

Toby relaxed. Slightly. The music helped. It was a kind he'd never heard before and it was hypnotically sad. Though if he listened too carefully, sometimes he could still hear cries and giggles reaching through. And he could still feel the car bump softly as it slid over things that hadn't been alive for a long, long time.

-***-

PART SIXTY-EIGHT

They stood on the precipice overlooking Dysphoria. The literal edge of the world.

"Now do you see why we couldn't go around?" Junella sang to Toby.

The small albino mouse stood on crumbling white tile, staring in chest-tightening horror across the limitless void of space. Not ten feet in front of him, the ground simply stopped. Beyond was an asteroid field. Great chunks of rock went tumbling slowly by in the vast, cold blackness. This was the manifest fear dreamt of by many ancient explorers, the idea that if one went too far across the world, one might eventually fall off. In Phobiopolis it was possible. Toby didn't even know how in the hell he could hear, or breathe.

Phlegmasia had been an endurance test, but Toby had been able to hold onto the knowledge that he was safe the whole time. The moans made his skin crawl, but the moaners were not going to batter down the Fearsleigher's doors and drag him out. The maze made no move to stop their progress. It took hours of right turns left turns, left turns right turns, seemingly without end, but then it was over. Suddenly the sounds were quieter. Toby could feel the claustrophobic space open up into emptiness. Then George was letting Zinc down to bang on the doors and tell them they'd made it.

Junella took care of their blindfolds with a swipe of her cutlass. Toby's first sight was Zinc ripping off his blur goggles and visibly resisting the urge to crush them in his metal claws. The others gathered around to soothe him and thank him for getting them all through. Piffle held onto him without a word, just warming him with her care. Junella then released George's eyesight via bullet. He was treated to the same gratitude from the others. He said the hardest part for him was the monotony. Violence, he was used to. But the maze itself was like being buried again.

The backside of the wall was here, looking exactly the same as the front.  Though it was streaked in many places from tiny meteor impacts. Behind them was the door. It stayed open, maybe to tease them. 'Wouldn't you like to come back inside and stay a while? It's a lot nicer than where you're going.'

Jutting out from the wall was about forty square feet of flooring before the big drop into the void. The tile felt solid enough beneath Toby's moccasins, but he swore the Fearsleigher's weight was making it sag. Like there might be very little beneath to keep them propped up. The mouse imagined rotting timbers and stringy, dangling insulation.

Looking back above the wall, the nothingness was here too. Toby had thought he'd been getting a preview of Dysphoria, but instead it was simply a barrier that squatted above the maze like a fog. He felt cut off from the rest of Phobiopolis now. Alone on this tiny plank with the maze at his back, and miles of black emptiness looming in front of him. The stars were brighter and more bloated than he'd ever seen before. Comets blazed and pulsars danced. He knew he couldn't really trust his perceptions out here, yet he felt like this made sense. He really was standing on the edge of outer space. Phobiopolis was a flat ribbon floating through the cosmos. Toby, and all the other souls in this place, were adrift and alone with only the uncaring chill of the universe to watch over them.

Toby wanted suddenly, more than ever, to be home again. Even if it meant his damaged mother and his sick-smelling bedroom. At least it was something solid.

Junella could see the dread rising in his big pink eyes and grabbed his shoulders to shake them.

Toby snapped out of it, looking away from infinity.

She told him wordlessly to stop dwelling and deal with it.

It was good advice. He took a deep breath. "...How am I breathing?" he couldn't help but ask.

"You aren't," she replied bluntly. "You're only dreaming that you are. Remember, you're already dead."

Toby shut his eyes tight. "I keep forgetting."

She patted his shoulder. "Come on. We can't stand here forever."

He nodded. For a moment he wondered, if the mere sight of this place was making him lose it, how could he have ever thought he was prepared for what might lay inside? Shaking slightly, he followed behind Junella as she walked to the car's hood and gathered the others around her.

She was scared too. It was plain from the tremble in her muscles. She needed a moment to psyche herself up. No part of her wanted to go back in there, but right now she needed to become Junella Fucking Brox again. She needed to lie to herself so convincingly it became true. The team needed something stable to reassure them.

She stood on the front bumper and looked down at her companions with the commanding glare of a general. She waited, demanding their full attention. George, Zinc, Doll, Piffle, and Toby all looked to her and waited for instructions.

She scraped her needles together, cleaning them. Then began.

"Never give your enemies what they want!!" she started suddenly, and was pleased to see everyone jump.

"In battle, find out what your opponent's goal is. Make sure they never get it. Learn what kind of a fight they want. Give 'em the opposite. Keep them uncomfortable. Give yourself every advantage. Seek their terms, smash them, then write your own. Make it your fight, not theirs."

Toby had no idea what this had to do with Dysphoria but it was already starting to pump him up.

Junella pointed behind her at the abyss of tumbling asteroids. Anasarca was visible beyond it like a broken chunk of chocolate. "Dysphoria wants our minds. It wants to break us. I say fuck that. I say we don't give it the satisfaction."

Piffle nodded vigorously.

"We are going to be walking into the mouth of hell, ladies and gentlemen. This is where the nightmares run loose. This is where the world starts losing all stability, and it can do to you whatever it goddamn feels like. You will know torment like you've never fucking dreamt of before.

"From this point on, you cannot trust your senses." She ticked them off on her fingers. "Sight, sound, touch, taste, smell. Temperature, hunger, time passing. Even emotion. You'll be walking into the Guinness World Record all-star hallucination."

Toby quailed. How could they possibly navigate in a place where nothing could be trusted?

"But we can still slant the odds in our favor. We can cheat. Because our opponent is a soulless, toxic bastard, so I say fuck fairness. We give ourselves every advantage." She pounded the car's hood, twice. "In Ectopia Cordis, I bought us our victory."

Zinc was about to pipe up that he'd helped with that, but didn't want to stop her momentum.

Junella pointed again, this time lifting her arm so her finger seemed to touch the shining top of the mountain. "The only way to Anasarca is straight through. Keep walking forward. I cannot emphasize that enough: keep walking forward. Dysphoria will try to shift you. Turn you back around. You cannot let it. And I won't allow it."

Toby remembered dreams he'd had before, at home in his own bed. There had been times when he'd find himself in a store and he'd see something wonderful. He'd look for Mommy to buy it for him, but Mommy would be nowhere around. So he'd wander, looking for her. And when he tried to make it back to the wonderful toy, the store would change. Everything would be different. The dream would not let him return. And he'd be left stranded and alone among strangers until he woke up.

"George, I have something for you."

The stallion raised his head to the skunk.

She reached into the hood's storage space. Back in EC, she had bundled all the Dysphoria supplies into two distinct bags. George's device was easy to find. "I am going to take a gamble on you. I know you're a nightmare, but you've also shown yourself the most level-headed of all of us."

He scuffed a forehoof along the ground modestly. "My thanks."

"I have no fucking idea what affect Dysphoria will have on a construct. Maybe you'll waltz in there and see nothing. I'm not gonna hope for luck like that, but I'm still going to ask if you'll volunteer to be our front, leading us."

"I would be honored!" he said without the slightest hesitation.

She nodded, expecting that reaction. She held up a small round object, like a compass or a gas gauge. She pointed it directly at Anasarca and pushed a button. Then she peeled a sticker off the back and pressed it firmly to George's forehead.

Just as he was about to ask what it was for... "Ouch!" He reflexively turned his head in the direction of the mountain.

Junella grinned. "Groovy. Works like a charm."

George felt another thump from the tiny metal box. It had not been truly painful the first time, just unexpected. To test it's pull, he looked in the opposite direction. The next pulse felt like strong hands jerking his skull back around. When he kept his gaze pointed towards Anasarca, the thump felt like a reward. "I believe I understand its purpose. It will keep me focused on the direction we need to go."

"A+," Junella replied.

"And will I be towing the Fearsleigher as usual, or shall I merge with it?"

"Neither," she said, then addressed the others. "In fact, that's the next thing. I need you to hand over all your weapons, or anything you could possibly imagine might be used as one."

Zinc whined anxiously.

She nodded in understanding. "Yes, partner. You remember last time."

He grimaced and growled. Then there were four loud clatters as his wrenches and doorknockers dropped off, leaving bare bleeding shoulder meat. He sighed, feeling defenseless, awkward, and naked already. It was one thing to take them off for bed, knowing he'd put them back on in the morning. It was another thing entirely to be ordered to lose them. "Somebody's gonna hafta kill me. I ain't waitin' around to grow new ones." he said bitterly.

Toby was closest. "I'll make it quick."

Zinc felt the mouse's palm touch the base of his neck. "Go on, amigo."

POW

Toby's hammer powdered the vertebrae. Zinc fell, and then he was pushing himself back to his feet on scrawny, feeble organic arms. He sneered at them.

"I'll be needing that," Junella said to Toby about his hammer. "And your fork, Piffle. Toss everything in the backseat."

Toby nodded to her and complied. It felt weird to remove his hammer completely. When he had it in his hand, it still felt connected. After he laid it on the seat, his arm felt like there was a big hollow gap inside. Like pulling a tooth. From the way Piffle was rubbing her tummy, he could tell she felt the same. Toby also unbelted his pouch of pointy things and tossed it in, along with his bracers. They were shields, yes, but they could also be used for bashing and whacking. He watched as Piffle and Zinc both rummaged through their pockets, coming up with all sorts of interesting lethal junk. Doll didn't have anything to turn in.

Finally, Junella pulled her beloved cutlass from its hip-sheath and kissed the blade apologetically before handing it to George. He placed it reverently on top of everything else.

But she knew she had another weapon. Her revolver. It was so fixed in her muscle memory, she knew damn well she could dumbfound it subconsciously. She'd even found a few of them lying beside her bed some mornings. So, holding her hand up where everyone could see, she winced and pressed a thumbtack into her palm.

"Ooch!" Piffle said in sympathy.

"You'll all be getting these," Junella told them, and handed a box of the little silver stingers to Piffle.

She looked with horror at it. "We have to poke ourselves too? Why!?"

"Because it's a pain that's real," the skunk replied in a tone that allowed no argument. "Dysphoria will make you believe you've been stabbed, shot, burned, got broken bones, whatever. Anything to make you break down. But it'll all be illusion. This will be real."

"Something for us to keep our focus on, like George," Toby said, understanding.

She nodded, glad he was such a quick study. "Precisely."

Toby watched Piffle whimper as she pressed the tack into her own palm. "Wouldn't it be easier if we were just knocked out for the whole trip?" he asked Junella.

"NO," Zinc said immediately, looking terrified. "Didn't I say the same about Fugax!? If you're asleep, it'll have total control! It'll make you see anything, and you'll be completely defenseless! If you're awake, at least you'll have some will to sort truth from pigshit."

"Jesus..." Toby felt the blood drain from his face. Partly from the idea of what Dysphoria might do to him a scenario, partly from the sheer frenzied tone of Zinc's voice. Toby reminded himself that the canine had been in there. He knew what it could do to a furson. "If..." He hesitated to ask. "If you can only go forward, how did you and Junella ever get back?"

Zinc was not keen to return to the memory, but he knew Toby meant no malice. He snatched the box of tacks from Piffle's hands. "We had a winch on the Killcanoe," he said. "Harpooned ourselves. It was set with a timer. Dysphoria can't mess with something that has no brain. When the clock ran out, it yanked us back."

Toby's mind went to work exploring the idea. "Why not have, like, a remote-control vehicle that we strap ourselves to and it takes us across?"

"Does the trunk look like it has room for one?" he barked roughly. "Besides, it's been tried. The pilots lost their minds and sabotaged the sled. They never came back. But there were people waiting on this side for them listening to them on radio. The things they heard..."

Toby's mouth went dry. He had never seen Zinc glare like this before. Not even at the screwy-eyed muskrat. But Toby understood why. Zinc was fatigued from Phlegmasia AND the vomit swamp, and was now facing a return to his worst nightmare instead of a well-deserved rest. He cupped the canine's bare shoulder consolingly.

Zinc nodded. "I don't mean to take it out on you. And, also, I'm sorry for this-" He spun Toby around and shoved a tack dead center between the mouse's shoulder blades.

"YAGH!!" Toby squawked.

"That'll keep you from reachin' back and pulling it out," Zinc said with an apologetic half-smile. It was all the good cheer he could manage at the moment. He turned away, closed his eyes, and sighed. Then he placed a tack on the ground, hesitated, and stepped on it. He showed no reaction. "That's so I won't."

Piffle didn't say anything to Zinc, but she put her hands on his tail and combed her fingers softly through. His hunched muscles relaxed slightly, and that made her happy.

Junella showed Toby a roll of medical tape, made to bond permanently with skin and fur. He didn't have to be told it was to keep his tack in place. He held still while she applied a criss-cross to his back. Then she taped up her hand. Then she tossed the roll to Piffle. The hamsterfly marveled at how it felt like it was becoming a second skin. She looked down to Doll and held the thumbtacks out. "Where do you want yours?"

Doll hesitated, clearly not wanting it anywhere. Finally her shoulders slumped and she held out her hand.

As gently as a nurse, Piffle pressed the tack into her small friend's palm, then taped it up nice and snug. "Sorry if it hurt."

Doll shrugged as if to say, 'It's supposed to.'

Piffle bound Zinc's foot too, gaining a tiny laugh when she tickled the sole. She then turned to George. She held the box of thumbtacks and looked him up and down. "Hmmm. Do bones feel pain?"

"Sometimes," he replied, "But I believe the thingamajig on my forehead will suffice." His head jerked back towards the mountain.

Junella could feel the piercing metal in her palm throb in time with her heartbeat. Piffle passed her the tape. She wrapped her hand. Then without a word, she simply held up the next item.

"Holy hell!!" Toby sputtered. "What is THAT for?"

"That's to make sure Dysphoria can't make any of us run off," she sang. It looked like a medieval torture device. Two metal bands, one smaller than the other, connected vertically by a soldered bar. Both were gaping open like the rings in a looseleaf binder. "We'll put these on and chain ourselves together. Link up like boxcars. The big ring goes 'round your neck, and the little one goes through your skull."

All of Toby's muscles flinched. "I've seen guys with pierced noses, but this seems a bit much! Wouldn't a collar work fine by itself?"

Junella shook her head. "If you get decapitated somehow, then-" she snapped her fingers, "-just like that, we lose both halves of you. Naw. Our leashes gotta be anchored to bone. These are made special. We can't be separated even if we die."

Toby could see the logic, but the idea still turned his stomach.

Junella had one for each of them, all except Doll. She figured they could put the last link of chain straight through her head, front to back. Her missing face was useful for once. Everyone else ended up with one of the horrifying metal devices in their hands.

Zinc went first. He slipped the larger ring around his neck. When it snapped shut, so did the smaller ring, embedding itself in the back of his skull. He swore and growled a lot. Piffle and Toby both helped each other with theirs. Toby was surprised how light the things were. Must have been the same metal as his bracers. He wondered how much these had cost, and if Piffle had known what she was paying for. Her cries of pain when he pulled her shut were heartbreaking. When she returned the favor, Toby saw stars. It felt like being punched in the head by a championship boxer holding a barbecue fork.

Junella did nothing but blink hard when hers went on. It hurt like hell, but she needed to keep up her rocksteady appearance. She hopped down from the bumper and had George turn around to apply his. Instead of his neck, she fastened it around his pelvis and tailbase. Not only wouldn't it have fit the normal way, but she didn't think any of them could rip George's skull off even if they did go berserk from insanity.

Then she passed around chains. Each section was three feet long, with carabiners at each end. The travelers did not link themselves together yet, but let each chain chunk dangle down their front: a metal necktie. Doll's flesh turned out to be unpierceable, no matter how many times Junella tried and Doll winced. The best they could do was put the loop around her midsection and hope for the best.

The skunk got back up on the car. "The collars are for climbers, meant to be worn for long periods of time. So the pain will eventually subside. That's why we need the thumbtacks too. And now we've got one more item. It'll seem goofy at first, but it'll help keep you awake." From the hood she pulled a small desk fan, seemingly ordinary. There were raised eyebrows. But when she turned it on, everyone felt an arctic chill. Junella set it a bit lower, then turned it off. "You're more alert when you're cold. It's also got a spritzer on a timer. Hard to fall asleep with rain in your face. George, can you grow some of that nasty-ass backfat to mount it on?"

"That shouldn't be difficult," he said. Junella placed the fan on his pelvis and he concentrated on growing flesh around its base. Like before with Zinc's legs, the fan was soon held firmly in place. He even angled it slightly downwards, anticipating the relative height of his companions' faces lined up behind him.

Junella nodded. "Looks like we're just about ready."

Except Toby didn't think so. He raised his hand.

Junella snorted. "This ain't a classroom, mouse."

"Heh. Sorry. I just..." He kneaded his tail nervously. "I just, I had an idea too. I'm kinda surprised you and Zinc didn't already think of it, actually."

That made a pinched little frown appear on her face. "No offense, client, but we were pretty thorough."

"I'm not saying you weren't! It's just, this is kind of my area of expertise. You said Dysphoria's going to attack our minds, but all your ideas center around our bodies. Why don't we fortify the place we know it'll attack?"

Her interest was piqued. "Spill it."

"Well," he shrugged bashfully, "who here knows more about prescription drugs than I do?"

Zinc made a sour face, clearly not comfortable with the suggestion.

Toby told him, with a firmness that surprised himself, "If I can put up with a tack in my back and a ring through my skull, I think you can deal with a pill."

The mutt's eyebrows went up. Reflexive anger flashed across his face, but faded as he realized the mouse had a point. "You're... probably right about that."

They looked at each other a moment longer. Toby's eyes asked if Zinc was on board with this.

Zinc shook his head, then slapped his own cheeks like a boxer before a bout. "I'm okay, I'm okay. Just a bit on edge, that's all. So whadja you have in mind? I'm not too keen on head-shrinker cocktails, but I'll trust you on this."

Toby blanched for a moment. He'd had the idea, but hadn't thought of a way to implement it. "Okay, lemme think. It's gonna try to scare our pants off to keep us from getting to Anasarca, right?"

"I don't even think it cares about that." Junella sat down on the hood. "I think it does it for kicks. Pure sadism."

"Allright, then we'll need some kind of anti-anxiety medication, or an antidepressant." He thought hard, flipping through his inner pharmacopeia, trying to remember all the gazillions of pills he'd swallowed throughout his life. "The problem with almost all of them is, the most common side effect is drowsiness. And like you said, that's the last thing we want."

Agreement all around.

"So... I'm looking for something that fights anxiety but doesn't make you sleepy..." So many pills in his past. Tiny multicolored ovals and squares and gelcaps and tabs and meltaways, even suppositories. "No stress, but no sleep," he muttered. There had to be something that fit both criteria. He remembered all the after-pills: the drugs his mother would give him to counteract the worst ones. The drugs to make him not care. But they were always at bedtime, and he'd zonk out the whole night long. But wait. He was thinking of a dreamy, mellow calm. Wasn't there something that produced a serene but alert kind of buzz?

Toby snapped his fingers. "Adderall!"

"Never heard of it," Zinc said.

"It's an ADHD drug," Toby explained. "A lot of kids are on it to stop them being hyperactive, so they can concentrate on schoolwork and stuff."

"A lot of 'em?" The canine looked absolutely repulsed by the idea. "For chrissakes, when I was a pup my mom would just send me outside for a while."

Toby was reminded that, despite he and the others looking like they were only a few years apart, there were actually decades between them. "Well, we only have to take it once," Toby consoled.

"What's it do?" Zinc asked.

"It's a type of amphetamine-"

"You mean speed!?" he shrieked. "They give speed to kids!? What the FUCK!?"

Toby held up his hands. "It's a controlled dosage! And whether or not it's fucked up, it's what we need right now if Dysphoria's as bad as you guys are saying!"

That shut Zinc up. All protest left him. Personal ethics aside, he would do anything short of war crimes to reduce Dysphoria's effects. "Fine, fine..."

Junella hopped down from the car, over to Toby. "You're sure no drowsiness?"

The mouse nodded like there was zero doubt. "Believe me. This stuff's used to treat narcolepsy."

That was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to hear to convince her.

"Mom gave it to me every afternoon for about two years before she switched me to Klonopin. I felt super-awake. And really positive! Sometimes I'd feel like alphabetizing my bookshelves for fun."

"That sounds like a pretty damn good state of mind to deal with this place. But where do we get some of this miracle elixir?"

Toby smirked. He whipped his hand out into the open air. Then he looked at his empty palm. "Darn. I thought maybe I remembered the bottle enough to dumbfound us some." He tried a few more times but couldn't manage. "Got any spare imaginite?"

"Always," Zinc answered, and headed for the car. They all gathered around the hood, chains clanging. Zinc plopped a pound of the iridescent rock down in front of Toby, certain they wouldn't need more than that.

"Good," Toby said. He did some math in his head, then put his hands on the imaginite and willed it to change. Lo and behold, there appeared an orange-tinted plastic prescription bottle with twelve pills inside. "Get the cornucopia so we'll have something to swallow these with."

Zinc got out the battered wicker cone and took two pills from Toby. He had to admit, fur-and-bone hands did make handling tiny items easier. Each Adderall was a speckly sky-blue color and had a 10 printed on it. They didn't seem very substantial. "Is this gonna be enough?"

"Twenty milligrams will be plenty!" Toby said. "Two pills is already an overdose. I was hopped up enough on just one."

Everyone else looked warily at their medicine. Then they looked at the void ahead. They reached inside the cornucopia one by one, got cups of water, and swallowed. Piffle helped Doll, needing to poke the pills down her plastic throat so they wouldn't come back up. Toby watched George swallow his and wondered where it disappeared to, considering his friend's lack of organs.

Piffle asked, "When do they start working, Toby?"

"Pretty soon. We shouldn't waste time."

Junella nodded agreement. "Then let's line up, people."

George took the lead. Doll would have to be last, since she'd be dangling off the last length of chain on its clasp. Piffle wanted to be next to her, and Zinc wanted to be next to Piffle. So that left Toby sandwiched between Zinc and Junella.

While the others fiddled with their clasps, Junella checked the bags from Rippingbean & Woofingbutter's one last time, making sure there was nothing left but spares. Then she shut the hood and went around to the back. She'd found something new in the market town. Initially she bought it with murder in mind, but now realized it could have a non-lethal use too. Toby watched her strap into a green canvas backpack with a long hose emerging, attached to a welding torch.

 Junella rejoined the group and affixed her chain to George's. There was plenty of room for everyone to walk and not bump into one another. She started up the flame and began to weld their chains together. "We have already been through a lot. And despite all our toughness and preparations, I am warning you, Dysphoria is still gonna be grueling."

Junella turned and bade Toby hold up his chain. The torch hissed and glowed as it melted the clasp. Toby was massively uncomfortable having that bright tip so close to his throat, but Junella handled the tool like she'd owned it all her life. When his was done, she continued down the line until the whole group was essentially sharing a single body. As she worked, she made her final speech. 

"No matter how much we rig the game, one fact remains: we can suffer and it can't. It has a massive advantage, but we are not helpless. Zinc and I brainstormed for days to dream up anything that could give us an edge in there. Eventually we realized something important. If you don't have a single perfect idea, but you've got a lot of little good ones, there's no reason not to use 'em all at once. Works just as well. So if we can't bust the odds, we'll whittle 'em down. I'm telling you this to let you know, this place has no kiddie lane. People have tried for centuries. People have failed for centuries. But right now, right here, no one has ever been in a better position to get through. It's not just my opinion: it's fact. We have history to learn from. We have the best gear money can buy. And we have each other. It is guaranteed to be the worst experience of our lives, but goddammit, we will get through."

The six of them looked back and forth, sharing glances, confirming that there was no backing down now. Junella was glad to see the cautious confidence shining in their eyes. She hoped hers reflected the same.

One task left. Junella tugged the others with her as she walked back to the car and tossed the welding pack back in the trunk. She slammed the lid with one hand and dumbfounded up the resizing window with the other. Soon the car was the size of a jellybean and it was traveling down her esophagus. The skunk patted her belly. Long term parking.

"I have been afraid to ask, Madam Brox, for fear of looking foolish, but..." George paused. "what exactly am I supposed to walk upon?" With a hoof, he indicated the dropoff and the open space beyond.

"It's another illusion," she sang. "Falling into the stars would be too simple. It wants us to come in, just like the maze."

He was reassured, but only a little.

Junella turned to the others. "Are we ready?"

In their hearts, none of them truly felt that they were, but they nodded anyway.

"Sheer willpower will beat this thing," she told her troops. "I know all of you have it. Even though I'm more used to being part of a two than a six, I do trust all of you. ...Maybe not Doll."

A general chuckle. From Piffle's shoulder, a green-gloved fist shook at the skunk.

Junella tossed a 'just teasing' smile down the line, but in her eyes her expression was muddy. Apprehension. Doubt. Fear. Faith. "Any last-minute preparations I forgot?" she asked Zinc.

He blanked for a bit, then remembered. "Talking."

"That's right!" She pinched herself for forgetting. "It can imitate voices. It will imitate ours, and it will say the awfullest things, believe me. So until we're on the other side, keep your pieholes closed as much as possible. If you've gotta convey, do it non-verbal. Grunt. Make sounds. That way we'll know, if anything's speaking in words, it ain't us."

Toby 'mm-hmm'ed.

"Good." She turned back around and patted George's flank. Then she turned on the fan and the cold air swept over her body. "Set the pace, hoss."

He grunted.

"One last thing," Junella said as she followed George towards the edge. "Don't bother asking if we're seeing what you're seeing in there. It'll make a special dream for all of us, trust me."

And with that, one by one, she began to pry her finger-needles off with her teeth. No weapons allowed. No exceptions.

-***-

CHAPTER 00000

George touched one hoof to oblivion.

Toby watched with worry, afraid he was about to see his friend go toppling over the edge. Maybe the tile would crumble beneath him, tumbling everyone down into emptiness. But Toby got a hold of himself. For starters they were on the edge of space; George would more likely just float gently away. Secondly, nothing bad actually happened.

The stallion could see nothing supporting him, but he felt it, and heard it, when he stamped his hoof on the void. It sounded like thick glass. A low, wobbling echo accompanied his stomp, despite there being nothing to echo off of. George shook his head in uncertainty, then stepped fully onto the nothing. As Junella had said, it held him. Almost invitingly.

He began a slow march. No need to rush. No need to get their adrenaline up early. Just a steady, relaxed pace.

Toby listened to the hoofbeats. Like heartbeats. Piffle's boots were clompy. The 'ting' of Zinc's thumbtack could be heard in each of his steps. Toby's own were muffled wisps. The invisible glass was a little slippery for his sandals, but felt sturdy beneath him. That was a relief.

Junella had finished with her nails. The open holes in her fingertips throbbed, but she still reached back to begin cracking off the shards from her tail. Otherwise, any sudden stop would leave Toby with a faceful of razor sharp LPs. She heard the vinyl icicles fall and smash against the nothingness, trodden on by other paws.

Toby was trying his hardest to ignore the information received by his eyes. There was nothing below him but billions of miles of blackness and starlight. Up ahead were huge cosmic rocks, bumbling to and fro like herds of buffalo. They moved in real-time slomo. He wondered if any of them might float close enough to touch.

His breathing was a little fast. He tried slowing it down. 'This is only the beginning. Keep in mind, it wants you scared. Don't give it any help.'

As if it heard his mind, Toby blinked and Junella was a mile away.

Space stretched. The chains between them strained like a strand of pulled gum. Junella was a little black dot on the horizon. George was gone entirely. Toby whipped his head around and Zinc was barely visible. His heartrate sped up.

The mouse looked all around. Infinite stars surrounding. A second ago he'd felt safe, latched in between two of the bravest fursons he'd ever known. Now he was alone and exposed. The chain looked thin as a guitar string. Anything could break it. Toby envisioned a biteranodon swooping in to catch him in its claws.

'That's ridiculous!' Toby told himself firmly. He felt a little flame of anger. Good. Anger was better than fear. This place was trying to trick him already. But if he calmed down and listened carefully, he could still hear hooves and boots. Impossible if what his eyes were telling him was true.

He looked straight up towards the dizzying blanket of stars. His mind suddenly clicked on exactly why he thought this place might truly exist beyond Phobiopolis. There were no more frolicking constellations up there. This was the same night sky he'd seen from his own bedroom window back home.

Toby remembered the grooved black bulb bobbing back and forth in front of him after Junella finished picking her tail clean. He kept his eyes high and stretched his arm out, letting his hand seek back and forth. He felt it brush over vinyl.

There was a grunting exhale like, 'Yes? Excuse me?'

He made a sound of 'Just keep walking; situation normal'.

Junella shrugged.

When he looked back, the others still seemed miles distant. Toby was a little disappointed that the illusion hadn't been dispelled. At least it had been disproven. He felt pretty good about that. This was only Dysphoria's first strike, certainly the first of many. But Toby had shown himself that it was possible to outsmart its tricks. 'If I can do it once, I can keep on doing it.'

The sextet continued in silence. The only sound was the marching beat of their paws, echoing like they were crossing a vast Victorian ballroom. At one point Zinc made a sound of mild revulsion. Toby looked in every direction, but couldn't see anything icky. Piffle 'eep'ed. He wondered what sights Dysphoria was showing them.

From below came a high pitched crack.

George stumbled for a second, then stopped to listen. Junella gave him a poke and a growl to keep moving.

But Toby had heard it too. And he'd felt the chains go slack for a moment as George and Junella reacted. That was not good. That meant something real might be happening.

Everyone walked a little more softly, ears up.

The sound again. Now it was unmistakable. The heart-stopping crackle of ice beginning to splinter.

Toby could hear Zinc's breathing get louder. Far ahead, he saw a tiny black speck make a move for everyone to keep calm. Toby tried to, but that was not easy. The invisible glass had held them fine so far. He hadn't even considered it might be temporary.

Boots shuffled gingerly rather than stomping. George moved with the delicacy of a ballerina. Doll clung tighter to Piffle's shoulders. Everyone listened.

Icy mutters. The crystalline crunch of more glass failing.

It was hard to tell where the sounds were coming from. Toby looked all around his feet, still seeing nothing but stars. That wasn't fair. If the road really was breaking, they wouldn't be able to avoid the weak spots. He dared to hope that this was just an illusion too. Maybe Dysphoria could choose at will whether it showed something to one or all of them.

He looked ahead. Here came an asteroid the size of a sofa. For a moment his heart stopped as he realized it was on an intercept course with the swaying chain between himself and Junella. But then he blinked hard and forcibly reminded himself he was only seeing a mirage. A moment later he felt relief when he saw the sofaroid sail closer to the chain and pass right through like a hologram. Naturally. Knowing George's real position, the big rock probably hadn't been closer than a hundred feet.

Toby was startled by another new fracture, this time as loud as a windshield bursting.

It didn't seem to matter how carefully they stepped. There were more guncracks to the right, then the left. They were coming quicker now. Each one was louder than the last.

"RUN!!!" screamed Junella.

And Toby was about to. But then he remembered what the real Junella had said before they started. He froze in pre-panic, then put his foot down and forced himself to continue walking.

From the slack and jerk of the chains behind him, Toby could tell Zinc and Piffle had realized it too. They'd had their first voice impersonation.

Just ahead he heard a murmur of appreciation. Junella was proud they hadn't fallen for it.

And it would have been stupid to run anyway. Pounding footfalls would have made the glass fail even more quickly. Toby noticed the breaking sounds had stopped too. Like they were waiting in anticipation for the travelers to bolt like frightened rodents, and when they didn't, Toby could almost feel the 'aw shucks' of a prankster denied his punchline.

Toby lifted his foot and it came down on something that squished.

Several little wet somethings. He looked down and everything had changed.

In a flash so quick it made him dizzy, he and the others were suddenly inside. The stars and asteroids ceased to be. The travelers were now in a pale, dimly-lit room that was carpeted with eyeballs. Toby stumbled and felt Zinc bump into him. The mouse turned and there was that familiar scruffy muzzle. At least the distance illusion had quit.

Everyone else was looking around the room while the room looked back. Toby wondered if his friends were seeing eyeballs too or something else. It wasn't just a bunch of them scattered on the floor like marbles. No, that would be too simple. Floor, walls, ceiling: everything was eyelid skin. A thousand or more rolling eyes poked out, every color of the rainbow. All of them stared at the six travelers. And where anyone stepped, clusters of them would goosh open and squirt clear fluid.

The sensation was absolutely nauseating. Like stepping on rotten cherries. Toby kept marching because he knew he had to, but he could feel the intraocular fluid accumulating on his buckskin.

'Probably retinas and eyelashes too,' he thought.

'Not helpful, brain,' he replied.

Toby had no idea where the asteroid field had gone to. Maybe they were actually still walking through it? That seemed likely. This room full of sight was probably the first of many fake locations Dysphoria would set up in front of them. Funhouse displays. The cracking sounds had probably been fake too. Toby thought back to their starting point. How far away had Anasarca looked? Four miles? Six? A decent walk, but nothing impossible.

Toby absent-mindedly pushed the door aside and walked out into hazy sunshine. He blinked and glanced back. How the heck had he just opened a door when Junella and George were in front of him? And where was he now? This seemed like the back corner of a dust-shrouded farmer's garage. They were walking past a rusted tractor's skeleton towards the open garage door, out into a muggy spring morning. The grass looked dead. Tree seeds floated in the air like fairy snow.

Outside in the sunlight it was quiet, but not peaceful. It was disconcerting to be exiting a building they'd never actually entered, but there was also a clinging aura of abandonment to this place. The farmhouse they'd emerged from had timber rot and peeling paint. Ahead was the looming black shadow of a dead tree, with a tire swing swaying from its branches like a hanged child.

Toby wrinkled his nose at the smell of rotting apples. They peppered the grass around his feet, looking up like the eyeballs had. Flies swarmed around.

A tall shape. Toby jerked his head around and caught a glimpse of something slender made of seaweed ducking out of sight behind the house. Its antlers had been level with the roof. Toby could still see its deep green fingers.

'Maybe it won't come over here.'

They walked on past the tree and time began to melt. Every step they took made the sun rise and set. The grass decomposed beneath their steps. The empty fields became a bleak grey fog that turned to swirling snow. When Toby squinted to see where they were going, there was a long, wide rectangular building ahead. He couldn't read the sign above, but the place was shaped like a supermarket. Toby could see glass doors shutting and opening automatically, like a mouth with the hiccups.

Snowdrifts butted up against the faded yellow sides of the market. The lines of the parking lot were buried. Toby noticed there was no longer any glass in the automatic doors, but plenty on the ground.

When George approached, the skeletal rectangles tried to close on him. George smacked them aside with a toss of his head, denting them permanently open. No patience for such foolishness.

Toby stepped cautiously past the straining, juddering doorframes and into the building. It was dark in here. Not quite pitch black. Scant light snuck in through the snowed-over windows. There'd obviously been a power failure.

The grocery store was snowbound, internally and entirely. Powder had completely conquered the place. There were ankle-deep drifts on the floor and inch-thick blankets covering everything else. It was like the storm clouds had come inside to pick up a few things for dinner. Icicles hung off grocery carts. Still lifes of snowy food sat on the checkout conveyors, suggesting the building had been abandoned quickly. And recently: the cash registers weren't looted. As the travelers progressed into the store itself, Toby could also see that none of the produce had started to rot yet.

Where they walked, the snow beneath their feet made that squidgy compacting sound. Toby's sandals had straps up his calves, but his feet were exposed on the sides, and furless too. The chill subtly began to hurt. Like red and silver lines crawling up his legs.

A thought occurred. He blurted, "Maybe it wanted us in here. Maybe we should have gone around."

Junella spun around with a finger to her lips. "Shh!"

Oh right. No talking. He made an apologetic face to her. 'Geez, that just slipped out. I'm gonna have to be more careful with that.' He felt doubly embarrassed since he'd remembered the rule a moment ago when he'd heard the phony command to run.

The ceilings were low in here. It made him feel claustrophobic. He could see okay about six feet in front of him, but beyond that everything blurred to shadowy greys. The far shelves were barely distinct. They reminded him of the derelict vehicles surrounding Ectopia Cordis.

George led them forward past the peppers and lettuce until he came to a corner. He tried to walk straight on, but the wall was actually solid. He bucked, confused. He did not like having to turn away from the direction his head-thumper was pointing him in, but he had no choice. He turned down the main aisle. More snow. A display of batteries had toppled over and the scattered black packages made holes in the drifts.

Just as they left the produce section, Toby felt a bolt of curiosity. He reached out to snag an orange, then shook the snow off. He definitely wasn't dumb enough to eat it, but he was curious how deep this illusion went. If he unpeeled it, would it still be an orange? He recognized the buzzy, impatient inquisitiveness he was suddenly feeling: the Adderall had finally shown up. He looked around the racks of frozen foods. They were more interesting than frightening now, even in the dark. Yes, if some big snarling animal came rumbling out from one of the aisles, that would be scary. But for now he thought Dysphoria was just trying to creep them out. Get them unsettled. Toby looked down at his orange. It was gone.

He grunted in frustration. He had felt it in his shivering paws, then it had ceased to exist. He leaned over and snatched a cereal box off the nearest shelf and tore it open. He struggled with the bag and it burst. Bran flakes exploded outward. Zinc shook some out of his fur. Toby was surprised by that. He thought it might be a very good idea to keep tabs on his friends' reactions, as a way to tell if any given mirage was shared or personal.

The darkness of a doorway slipped over him. He swiveled. This didn't make sense. They'd been halfway down the main aisle, so they shouldn't have been entering anything. But it didn't matter, because here they were. It was still dark, but a warmer, flickering darkness. An orange darkness. The cold remained, but Toby sensed heat within it.

George adjusted his path according to the tiny headache he was following.

From out of nowhere Zinc shouted, "Drop dead twice, you fat ugly fucker!!!"

It was top-of-the-lungs loud and right in Toby's ears. They rang with pain and he spun around. Surprisingly, Zinc's expression showed he actually had just said that. The canine looked chagrined. He wouldn't meet Toby's gaze. More frightened by the shout than anything else so far, Toby turned back around and wondered what the heck Dysphoria had shown to Zinc to deserve such a reaction.

They were beneath the supermarket now. Toby didn't know how he knew that, but self-supplying information was a hallmark of dreams. They were inside an industrial laundry. It was partly on fire.

The low ceilings had been replaced by a high one. Melting snow dripped from the pipes and rafters above. The sextet walked past hulking, rusted machinery. The doors of side-loading washers hung open like fat, flapping lips. Toby could feel a chill on his left side, licking heat on his right from where an enormous heap of old clothes was burning. It smelled terrible.

One of the washers gurgled to life. Just one. Soapy froth spilled out of its mouth like slow vomit.

A CAW startled him. There was a flutter of heavy wings above. Toby jerked up his arms to protect his face. Greasy feathers glanced them. The crow disappeared back into the ceiling shadows and screamed hatefully at the intruders. Other screeches echoed from around the room.

Another crow swooped, then two more. Piffle shrieked as a beak tore at her antennae. Junella felt something peck her, then just as quickly vanish. Something bit Toby's shoulder. He covered his mouth to keep from yelling at it.

George picked up the pace. The laundry room was long, but not infinite. Maybe the crows would desist if they vacated. He snapped his blackened teeth at the pests as they zoomed back and forth. The others took up a counterattack. Junella managed to smack a wing, getting an outraged squawk in reply. Toby flailed wildly, then suddenly felt a thud and blood running down his hand. A flapping body fell at his feet, looking up at him with the mouse's own pink eyes. They scorched with outrage.

Toby looked at his hand. A long cut ran down his ring finger. Blood was gushing out hot and wet. In the light of the fire it looked like dirty black gasoline.

Toby remembered the tack in his back. It still stung. He looked away from his hand and concentrated on the sting. There was something else too. Something wet. The blood? No. Drips from the ceiling? The fan! The one Junella put on George's back. Toby had forgotten all about it. That was why he felt cold. It kept spraying drops of water in his face to keep him awake. He looked back at his hand. The blood and cut were still there, but now they looked like tattoos hovering just above the skin. 'HA!' he cheered. 'You got me for a second, but not for long!'

He made the choice to ignore the birds entirely and keep his eyes focused ahead. There was another doorway that George was leading them to. The crows circled around, pissed as hell. Screaming and jeering and dropping feathers. A crownado. They pecked and bit at Toby's hair and ears, but the mouse only flinched and kept moving. He ignored the fire and the increasing number of washing machines that were getting sick all over themselves. 'This is all fake. Every last bit of it.'

He stepped through the doorway behind Junella. Green and black checkered tile.

For no good reason, the laundry room had become a school. It was vaguely familiar to Toby. Irritatingly so. It definitely wasn't the one he'd gone to as a cub. Maybe he'd toured the nearby high school once. Didn't he go to a play or something there? A field trip for a choir performance? Was that it?

The travelers kept walking along a decrepit, throatlike hallway. Same air of abandonment as the other mirages they'd walked through, but unlike the tidy frozen market, this place looked like hooligans had made it their personal carnival. Every door was broken open. Every pane of glass was smashed. Graffiti smeared the walls, unreadable but foreboding. Someone had pulled the fire alarm in here as well. The warped wood and rusted door hinges attested to the sprinklers having gone off long ago.

There was nothing outside but an intense yellow light, seen through the bars over the vandalized windows. Toby looked away, into the classrooms on the other side. Desks had been overturned. A chalkboard showed impacts from a hurled fire extinguisher. Plus, someone had been relieving themselves in here. The scent of piss was strong and getting stronger. Feral cats, maybe? 'No, wait.' Toby saw a teacher's desk with a fat, decomposing turd lying across it like parsley on a plate. He recoiled. He hoped whoever had done that wasn't still here.

'Here does not exist,' he reminded himself. And then he wondered if thinking about someone being here might make them exist. He remembered worrying about Biteranodons not too long before the crows showed up. Could Dysphoria read minds?

He stepped on a loose tile and tripped. The floor shattered like cheap shingles and he fell straight through into nothing.

Wind beat at his face and at his ears. He was plummeting down a dark, metal shaft. An air vent. Toby's flailing hand hit thunder-rumbling metal. He opened his mouth to scream in terror. He was falling and falling and there was nothing at the bottom and he was going to fall forever-

'NO I'M NOT!!!'

Just like that, he was back in the school again. His heart rattled against his ribcage. Toby looked around at the others. None of them had seen what just happened to him.

Toby rubbed his hand across his face. He could feel the moisture from the fan. 'That's real. Everything else isn't.'

He scowled. 'You dirty jerk,' he thought towards Dysphoria. His head pulsed and tingled from the drugs. 'Is that how it's going to be? You keep throwing crap like that at us? It's not going to work. We're not dumb enough to believe it. At most, you can scare us. Boo! Make us jump like a cheap horror picture. But we're going to keep walking. I am going to keep walking!' he thought resolutely.

If Dysphoria heard him, there was no response. Just the sounds of window shards being trod upon.

Toby looked down a side hallway and saw a drinking fountain turn on by itself. It overflowed with orange rustwater, making a floor river.

'Not impressed,' Toby thought.

And then he wondered if this was a bad idea, his defiance. Would Dysphoria take it as a challenge? 'I guess it's not like it wasn't going to do its worst anyway.'

The hallway continued, and so did Toby. It seemed infinite. Whenever they passed an intersection, Toby looked down it and couldn't see where it ended. He imagined this wrecked-out dungeon the size of an entire city. How strange would that be, to grow up in a building so big you'd never leave? 'No stranger than growing up in a bedroom you never left,' his brain snarked. This place stank of mildew. The wet wood was slowly falling apart and being consumed by insects. A cockroach buzzed past Toby's ear. He swatted at the whine. Also, were the hallways starting to narrow? Maybe it was his imagination. But it seemed at the start there'd been more room between the classrooms and the window wall.

The graffiti had been illegible. Until this one. Tiles had been ripped clean off an entire section of wall. On the bare wood beneath, someone had spraypainted in humongous letters: "I CAME FROM SPACE TO RAPE AND RAPE."

The instant Toby read the words, he heard them in his mind.

Or was he hearing it somewhere else? Somewhere in the endless hallways? He listened more carefully. The path ahead was getting darker. The ceiling tiles had been torn down. Wires and ductwork hung from square cavities; the defacers had been swinging from them. The odor of mildew was so thick it was like walking through cobwebs.

"I came from space to rape and rape."

Toby turned around. He looked to Piffle and Zinc. They nodded: 'We heard it too.'

The sentence was far away, and spoken like a simple declaration of fact. But the voice itself was as disturbing as the words. It had come out of something without a brain. Something that could not understand language, only sounds. Toby's mouth was full of saliva.

George butted a tilted door out of his way, so dilapidated it crumbled from the impact. Toby could see mold growing over the graffiti now. Or was the graffiti growing underneath the mold? 'Why am I thinking things like that?'

"I came from space to rape and rape."

Definitely closer now. Maybe that sentence was just the monster's mating cry, and only sounded like language to normal ears.

Toby looked ahead to see if there was any end to this hallway. To his surprise, there was. Past another intersection and a few more ruined classrooms was a set of double doors. Not barred or locked either. He stepped over another shitlog some mischief-maker had left as a present. Roaches were gathered around, eating it.

When they reached the intersection, Toby looked down it by reflex. Far at the end was a large hairy being, obscured by yellow light. It had tusks. Toby saw them move when it spoke.

"I came from space to rape and rape."

The being broke into a frenzied scamper. Its flat feet crushed tiles and its gangly arms dragged along behind it like ship anchors.

Toby started running and shoved Junella when she didn't move fast enough.

"I came from space to rape and rape," it said again, just in case they had forgotten. Same monotone. Like a kid at a spelling bee.

George took the cue and bolted for the doors at the end of the hallway. Fast, but not so fast he'd choke his chained friends. They could all hear the rape-thing crashing along the hallway behind them. The top of its head scraped the ceiling. It bashed water fountains and fire extinguishers out of the way in its eagerness to do what it had come from space to do and do.

As Toby ran past the classrooms, he happened to glance into one. A gang of four teenage punks had an overweight teacher tied up naked, his face a purple balloon of bruises. They were piling up chunks of broken desks to burn him alive. The four looked into the mouse's eyes like, 'Wanna join? It's fun.'

George lowered his head as he ran towards the double doors, making himself a battering ram. No time to bother with handles. Piffle urged him on with intermittent squeals. The hairy thing was getting closer. It was much, much faster than them.

George suddenly realized that Dysphoria might be trying to trick him into destroying his head-thumper. So instead of a headbutt, he changed tactics, reared up, and foreleg-kicked the doors with all his might.

"I came from space to rape and rape."

They all heard it turn the corner. Light from the windows flickered as it passed. Toby screamed.

The door popped open with no resistance, just a creak that sounded like a laugh. Junella nearly shoved George out of the way to get through faster. Toby ran after her. Now they were in a gymnasium. Every noise they made reverberated off the reflective lacquered floor. The bleachers had been smashed to firewood. The lines and circles on the floor corresponded to no game Toby had ever seen. Dead students hung from the ceiling on jumprope nooses. At the far end of the room, an EXIT sign glowed.

Piffle kicked the door closed behind her and seconds later a thick leathery hand tore it open again.

"I came from space to rape and rape."

Junella slapped at George's thigh, telling him to get them the hell out of here even if he wrung all their necks doing it. He took the hint and accelerated towards the exit. He could hear the floorboards splintering under the weight of the their pursuer. Having no flesh, George did not have much need to fear rape, yet he somehow knew this thing would find a way.

Toby's vision started dimming. The room seemed to stretch. The exit seemed to shrink.

"I came from sp

No transition whatsoever: they were somewhere else.

Toby was so startled he tripped on the green felt and fell over onto his palms and knees. Immediate pain from his collar. Grunted gasps from Zinc and Junella as his weight pulled on theirs too.

Zinc gave a hard tug and yanked the mouse back to his feet. His sneer said, 'Don't you dare do that again.'

Toby apologized wordlessly. The canine looked stressed enough to take a bite out of him.

They all looked around. The gym was gone. The thing from space was gone. They were standing on a whopping great pool table.

Scattered around were colored balls ten feet across. The travelers were now bug-sized. Or this was billiards for giants. There was a bright bulb overhead, though the rest of the room was shadow-hid. Toby heard sounds of sloshing liquid, the drone of a TV, and the shuffling of dirty clothes. The smell of cigarettes and alcoholism was thick as a fog.

George looked back to make sure everyone was still attached and undamaged. They looked worn out already, but all accounted for. Junella gave him an apologetic pat for being so rough a moment ago, then bade him continue with a nod. His head knew where to go.

Dysphoria was not done playing games though. The group hadn't taken four steps before there came a roar behind them. It was not from the lungs of the rape-thing, but a gang of gasoline engines.

Toby looked back. Four dented, rusted lawnmowers were there. Red toothy discs on wheels with bushy-browed cartoon eyeballs. Long handles protruding. Revving, revving. Toby wondered if they were the delinquents from before.

They waited to be noticed first, then they charged.

From all around came a hearty cheer from the towering phantom drunks in the darkness. This was tonight’s entertainment. Place your bets.

The travelers picked up their feet and ran again. The lawnmowers popped wheelies in unison, showing off nicked and bloodstained blades spinning at full RPMs. Their engines sounded like cackling laughter as they chased their meat and shredded up the table's felt.

Junella tapped George. "Pocket!" He looked back to make sure she'd actually said that, and she mouthed the word to confirm. He nodded and headed for the closest divot in the table.

Toby crammed his hands over his ears. The mowers' motors were supernaturally loud, not to mention the braying laughter from the unspoken crowd. Drops of beer rained down around him in slow motion, hitting hard as water balloons. The stink was making his throat knot up. Toby looked ahead, seeing the hole George was heading for. It looked like a black oversized toilet. Toby did not want to jump down there, but neither did he want to be digested by psychopathic lawn equipment.

Piffle was not a strong runner. Her legs were short and chubby. She could hear the mowers howling behind her, then a shriek escaped her throat as one of them leaped up and chewed a chunk out of her elbow. Blood cascaded down. Doll swung herself around to Piffle's other arm, trying to get out of attack range.

The lawnmowers seemed to cheer. They bucked and hopped, doing acrobatic, teasing leaps.

Zinc was on a hair-trigger anyway. Piffle's pain was his breaking point. He turned his head and shouted, "Come on, you shitbirds!! COME ON!!!"

One of them took the bait and lunged straight at him, metal teeth whirling.

Zinc lost two fingertips but managed to grab hold and swing the goddamn thing up and over his head. It slammed into the felt with a crunch and a shower of sparks. The unseen crowd booed in disgust. Zinc snarled wildly, spittle flying from his jaws. At least he'd killed the rotten motherfuck.

He looked back at Piffle. He met her eyes, then showed her his gushing hand. 'Not real,' he said silently.

She nodded, holding her elbow. 'I know.'

The other mowers were outraged. Their pal was a bent heap with its wheels still spinning. Down to three, they redoubled their effort to shred their prey, revving as loud as they could. Toby felt a trickle of blood run down his earlobe.

George knew he couldn't outrun them at his current speed. He knew all wounds were illusions here, but he could not stand to hear his friends suffer. The pocket was close. He whinnied in apology and took off at a hot gallop.

Immediately, Toby's feet left the ground and the pressure on his neck quadrupled. Sounds around him slurred and green felt flew beneath him. He gagged, felt himself blacking out, and grabbed frantically for the chain, trying to relieve some pressure so his neck wouldn't snap. Junella's tail smacked him in the face like a blackjack. His nose became a bright red umbrella of pain.

The lawnmowers' engines screamed. They chased harder, surging across the table like a pouncing pack of tigers.

Ahead was the pocket. Not far now. George pounded his hooves against the table, shredding felt.

The mowers' whirling blades laughed harder and harder.

Then there was just a quick swerve around the 7 ball and George was diving into darkness.

Toby felt himself being jerked in a new direction. Straight down. His hands squeezed the chain. He couldn't breathe!

The hole swallowed the sounds of the mowers and the disappointed crowd. The six were weightless for a moment, then came a bonecrack as George landed on hard plastic and everyone else followed. Four cries of pain. They landed on their backs and shoulders, then started sliding down the pitch black cylindrical tunnel. A waterslide with no water.

It was pure chaos. Toby was in pain and screaming and he thought his shoulder was dislocated. He couldn't see anything. They were sliding so fast he had no clue what was up or down.

The tunnel seemed neverending. Everyone bumped into each other. Rushing onwards down the tunnel. Onwards. Tunnel. Darkness.

A flash.

Darkness.

A flash.

Darkness.

A strobe light effect, then a loud clanging and the lights came on.

Confused and terrified, everyone looked around.

They were still moving forward just as fast as before, but now they were enclosed within a rattling tin can. Metal floor. Silver seats. Straps above their heads were shaking like reeds in the wind from the rumbling of the wheels below.

Most of the subway car's lights were smashed in. Only one still worked. Toby looked up. There were grasshoppers crawling around on the ceiling.

With the roar of the tracks surrounding them and the windows spitting flecks of light in their eyes, they all grabbed onto whatever they could and struggled to their feet with many moans. Toby pulled himself up with a pole and his shoulder made him wince. He'd landed hard on it, then kept hitting it over and over again as they fell. He tried to focus on the thumbtack to make the pain go away, but it remained. He really had busted it up.

This was a lesson. Dysphoria could not hurt them directly, but it could maneuver them into hurting themselves.

George was whimpering. Junella held him in a gentle hug. Toby turned and saw that both the horse's forelegs had shattered. Piffle pulled Zinc with her so she could hug George as well.

Junella made sure the stallion was paying attention as she carefully unwrapped the tape from around her tack. It didn't stick as well to vinyl. She flexed her freed hand and, with a flick of the wrist, dumbfounded her revolver.

George understood. He couldn't think of a non-verbal way to voice his concern so he risked asking, "Are you sure my death won't untether me from the chain?"

Junella shook her head and replied, "You're a parasite. The harpies squeal to drink your marrow."

George looked horrified.

Junella stamped her foot in frustration. She gestured wildly, trying to convey, 'See!? This is exactly why I said not to talk!'

Toby was horrified. He'd been looking right at her and the voice had seemingly been hers. He knew better, but couldn't resist an experiment. He opened his mouth to say, 'My name is Toby.' "I'm a filthy baby bedwetter."

Everyone stared at him.

His cheeks turned red. He would not be doing that again.

Junella looked back at George and patted the metal rings encircling his pelvis: 'Don't worry'. She held the gun to his head and asked with her expression if he was ready.

He nodded.

BANG

Toby watched it happen. For a moment, George fell limp against the floor. Then a second skeletal horse tried to come into existence in the same space as his corpse. For a terrifying moment there were eight legs and two heads spasming around. The bones were held together by the collar, but they fought it, trying to separate into two. It looked obscenely painful.

Finally, the dead George seemed to absorb into the live one. Shaken, the construct stood up. He conveyed with his expression that, yes, he had felt every second of that. Toby reached out to pat him comfortingly.

Junella was glad to see him on his feet again. She turned and waved the gun: 'anyone else?'

Piffle looked down at her elbow. The blood had vanished, so she shook her head. Zinc rubbed his ribs but declined the offer too. Toby seriously considered it. He thought his shoulder might be fractured. His nose was bleeding for real too.

Suddenly he was horrified to see Junella duck into a defensive stance and aim her gun with both hands directly at Doll's face. The skunk's eyes were wide with fear. Piffle protectively pulled Doll to her chest.

Junella blinked. She looked past both of them, then growled.

Piffle looked back too. Nothing there. She mouthed, 'Did it make you see something?'

An irritated nod. And an apologetic look to Doll. Junella was just about to throw the revolver far away, lest she accidentally fire at someone for real next time. Then Toby grabbed her wrist.

Looking absolutely miserable about it, he pulled the barrel towards his forehead.

She searched his eyes for any sense he was spellbound, but they looked clear. And in pain. She nodded, acknowledging the guts it took to ask for this.

George cringed in empathy.

BANG

Then Toby was mindlessly screaming as his body was filled with more bones and organs than it had ever been designed to contain. For a moment he had two faces, two hearts, two throats, two everythings. His flailing limbs crashed into each other. His skeleton ate itself.

Then it was over and he was clutching himself to the metal pole, shuddering all over. Drool and blood made red and silver lines down his chin. He looked to Junella and his eyes said clearly, 'Never again. Not for anything.'

Her expression was genuinely sorry. She turned and, with a snarl, threw the gun so hard it shattered a window. It went clattering off into the dark of the subway tunnel. She looked away from the others, furious at herself and this living hell. She put the thumbtack back in her hand, making a fresh hole, and secured it with the tape.

Then she swept her arm towards the front of the train. Her face was hard again. They could stay here, or they could keep moving.

George cleared his throat. He reached up to point at his head-thumper. Then he started towards the opposite door.

She smiled sheepishly, thanked him with a nod, and followed.

The next car was on a different train entirely. The light was so low it took their eyes a moment to adjust, but it was clear they'd moved from a subway car to a sleeping car on a passenger train. The motion of the floor beneath them was a different rhythm. Tiny triangular ceiling lamps were the only illumination. The walls were upholstered in a rich red color and felt like corduroy.

George had barely any room to move. The space between the windows and the sleeping compartments was hardly more than the width of his ribcage. He had to take tiny steps. If anything chased them in here, they would have no choice but to stand and fight.

Despite the seeming calm of their surroundings, Toby couldn't help but notice the air in here felt greasy. So did everything he touched. Like it was all covered in a thin mist of wax.

Wind howled outside. A ghost mouse's eyes looked back into Toby's from the window reflection. He leaned in closer to see outside. It was after midnight, definitely. Raining. He could faintly make out a flat, featureless landscape that stretched on towards mountains. They passed a long line of tilting telephone poles.

Beneath them the train swayed back and forth, back and forth. The rivets in the walls rattled.

George reached the far door and was puzzled for a moment as to how it opened. The mechanism looked like a circle and a triangle at the same time. And there was no room for Junella to squeeze past and give him a hint. He tentatively attempted to spin the dial, and his hoof sank right through the metal. The whole door parted like ripples in a pond. Unsettled, but glad it had been that easy, he moved on.

In the next car, in compartment number 03, someone was yelling at the top of their lungs. "I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!" The same words, over and over.

There was no tenderness in the voice. It was a hoarse screech of livid madness. And there was a pause between each repetition, punctuated by a sound of harm. "I LOVE YOU!!!" thump "I LOVE YOU!!" whack "I LOVE YOU!!!" snap "I LOVE YOU!!!"

Somehow they all knew that whoever was on the receiving end of this love had long since stopped fighting back. Maybe stopped being alive.

They crept by as silently as possible, none of them wanting to disturb the occupant in 03. More declarations of love. More sounds of knuckles scaping bone. Toby jumped every time. Piffle was in tears. The shade was drawn over 03's window, but a shadow was moving inside. Piffle held her mouth shut to guarantee silence as she passed it.

George made it to the far end of the car. This time the door was different: an enormous rusted lever. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his hoof against it. It barely moved. He tried again with his teeth. No better. Back to the hoof. By keeping a steady pressure, he could coax the stubborn thing to just barely crawl towards its cradle. In the meantime, they had to keep listening to, "I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!!!"

Piffle held herself tight to Zinc. All of them were bunched up behind George as much as the tight confines allowed. None of them wanted to be close to that screaming.

George was working as fast as he could. The lever was digging its heels in. It was taking all the stallion's strength to keep it moving.

And then suddenly all resistance vanished. The lever fell towards its latch with a clang like a dropped toolbox.

The shouting from the third door stopped.

Piffle saw the shadow turn around. She shoved Zinc and he passed it down the line.

George did not bother with silence any more. He butted the door open with the side of his face and squeezed himself through. Everyone else squashed themselves into the next car as fast as they could.

Compartment 03 slowly opened.

Piffle had never been more happy to slam a door shut in her entire life.

She watched through the window into the previous car. Nothing stirred in there. 'Good.' She would be very happy to live the rest of her life never knowing what had been in that room.

They continued on through a dozen more identical cars. Same red walls, same dim lights. Thankfully, no more screaming. Though once, one of the compartment doors was open. Toby peeked into the small room, wincing in anticipation of a murder scene. It was totally empty except for some baby clothes left on the floor.

The rumble of the train became a pounding headache. Toby had to keep re-focusing on the droplets or the thumbtack to get any relief. But the throb kept returning. A migraine like a cigarette burn. He looked out the window again. Shapes. He cupped his hands against the glass and saw huge, angled beasts out there. Enough to fill the fields. They were either eating or fucking each other, or both. Toby looked up at the ceiling instead. Nothing up there but more red corduroy. That was fine.

George puzzled through yet another door and they all shuffled through. He began to wonder how many more hours of this they'd have to endure.

Dysphoria overheard his unhappiness and was eager to accede.

They all braced themselves as the train gave a sudden violent shudder. Brakes screeched.

Toby looked outside again. The farming fields were gone. Now they were on a bridge with no guardwalls, high above a river. He could see reflections of the rain on the water below.

Everyone shifted their weight as the train lurched to the left. Then an even sharper lean to the right. One of the sleeping compartments came open and luggage tumbled out to bang against Zinc's face.

The lights went out.

Total darkness. Toby's pupils dilated. The brakescreech rose in volume and pitch until it was tearing their heads apart with both hands.

Toby saw the moon in the sky. He saw it roll out of sight as the train fell sideways off its tracks.

The rumble vanished. Everything was silent as they fell.

Toby's heart seemed to pull itself up into his throat. His claws dug into the carpeted walls as everything turned upside down. He saw the loose suitcases swimming. He was frozen, so scared he couldn't even emote. Like he had gone beyond fear to a place of manic acceptance.

'We are falling. If we don't die in the crash, we will drown. There is absolutely nothing I can do to stop this.'

Gravity pulled him into Junella as the train car tilted and dove facefirst for the river.

The shock of impact traveled through Toby's body, clacking his bones together. The lights flickered. He felt the air pressure in his ears change. Someone was screaming. The windows bulged. Through them, Toby could see water rising. They were sinking. Down to the bottom. The first trickles appeared at the edges of the windows. Soon the glass would burst, showering everyone with tiny clear blades and ice cold water.

The train car was at a fifty degree downward angle. Piffle crawled frantically back towards the last closed door. She unfurled her wings and buzzed them. Her chain tugged Zinc's. His hand clamped her ankle. She looked back, antennae thrashing directionlessly. He fixed his eyes on hers and slowly shook his head. He waited for her to calm and understand.

'No backtracking,' he carefully enunciated. He pointed below them, towards the water.

She was a trembling statue for a moment, not wanting to believe it. But there was no choice. She eased her claws out of the floor and took his hand.

Zinc turned and offered his palm to Toby. The mouse was staring out the window, almost paralyzed. Zinc whapped his shoulder. Toby looked around, saw the open hand, and accepted it. Zinc pointed with his muzzle towards Junella and George. Toby swallowed hard, but turned to the skunk and relayed the message.

She had already made George understand what he had to do, but took Toby's hand in hers nonetheless. Anything that helped ground her was good. She caressed George's ribs. He nodded gratitude, then took on the last puzzle.

This one was simple. There was a wheel in the door with an impression exactly sized to his hoofprint. He fit two and two together. Then he looked back at the others.

Everyone gulped the deepest breath they could before George turned the wheel.

The river ripped the door open and swallowed them all.

Their ears filled with the roar. The chill stabbed through their bodies. 'Up' and 'down' lost meaning. Toby saw bubbles dancing all around his eyes.

George pushed himself through the doorway and dragged the others behind him. The train car was still sinking, and fast. He did not like the idea of having it crush him against the river bottom, so he swam for all he was worth. He started heading upwards until the thump in his skull told him the right path was to swim further down. That seemed insane, but he obeyed.

Toby's neck and skull throbbed from being dragged along by a bone torpedo. His lungs burned. He had never felt so cold. The water tore the warmth from his blood. He felt like he was buried miles beneath snow. He clamped his mouth and nose shut, squeezing till capillaries burst. He tried to tell himself that none of this was really happening, he was in no true danger. But his senses refused to believe. Right now they were convinced beyond reason that they were cold and drowning and within oblivion's clutch.

George could see a mossy, drunk light somewhere ahead. Impossible. But he swam towards it even harder.

When Toby realized George was pulling them down deeper, he lost it. He screamed, releasing his remaining air in a chandelier of bubbles. He tore at his collar and his nails left ruts in his skin.

Above them, train cars fell slowly. Massive, tumbling dominoes. They would crush the tiny souls and trap them forever, entombed beneath tons of steel and glass and red corduroy.

The light was the moon, George realized.

His nose broke the surface. He splashed into the light and kicked to find anything solid. To his amazement, his hooves dug into sand. He anchored himself as well as he could and pulled. Grunting with strain, he dragged five chained bodies up onto the shore beside him. Three were still moving.

Junella collapsed in the wet sand and vomited water. Toby was prone, twitching. Zinc had managed to hold both his breath and Piffle the whole way through. She was cold in his arms though. He kissed her forehead, then held her tight as she convulsed into her new living body. No stranger to transformations, it disturbed her less than George or Toby, but the pain was still godawful. Thankfully, seeing Zinc's caring gaze at the end made it recede. She threw her arms around him and nuzzled into his shoulder. He was glad to reciprocate.

Junella helped Toby up. Once she'd gotten through to him that he was out of the water, he looked alright. Queasy, but alright. She was worried for a second he'd gone catatonic. That could happen in here. Sure it could. The mouse swirled back to sentience, then hugged George in thanks for getting everyone out of there. Junella did too.

After Zinc helped her to her feet, Piffle noticed something. She couldn't feel little hands gripping her shoulders anymore. She turned around and found Doll hanging stiffly from the end of the chain, arms splayed. Motionless without her bag. For a moment Piffle's heart broke. But then she remembered how this place played tricks. The chain had been fastened around the burlap, so it couldn't have gotten lost no matter what her eyes were telling her. She took her small friend in her arms and, on the side of her head, spelled out I-T-S-S-T-I-L-L-T-H-E-R-E. Doll was not able to respond.

George looked up at the sky. Rain poured down. They were already soaked, so what did it matter? The moon was so full he could see its oozing craters. They had come ashore out of a pond no more than twelve feet across. Dysphoria was surely having a chuckle at that.

Ahead and all around was nothing but grass and weeds. Emptiness for miles. But the pulse in George's head told them where to go. He looked back to check on his companions. They looked miserable and wet, but stable. George began again to walk.

Toby felt the tug on his chain and followed. A large part of him wanted to just sit down and rest. Take a time-out to mentally deal with everything that had happened so far. But he couldn't. So he followed.

The wind around them moaned like someone lost and searching for home. The rain was picking up. Each fat droplet stung Toby's fur. It flicked his ears and nose. He looked up into the rain, baring his teeth, wanting to scream for it to stop. Instead he dropped his muzzle to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. He kept walking. The grass tickled his ankles unpleasantly, like bugs' legs.

Piffle tried everything she could to get the burlap bag back. She tried holding Doll outside her field of vision, then having Zinc startle her to make the illusion break. No dice. Then she reckoned that her sense of touch might be unaffected. She felt Doll all over. Nothing but smooth plastic. But then when she felt along the chain, jackpot. The bag had slid up and over somehow. And Dysphoria was nasty enough to exploit that and turn it invisible.

Doll felt the familiar scratchy fabric being pulled into place. She looked up into Piffle's ruby globes, still inanimate since the bag remained invisible, but at least she had the peace of mind it wasn't lost. All she could move was one hand, as the river had claimed half of her new emerald gloves. She pulled Piffle's paw closer and squeezed it. The hamsterfly smiled brightly. Then, with a determined smirk, she reached in her dress pocket and dumbfounded something green. Doll was overjoyed. Zinc looked like he'd truly needed a bright spot in the depths of this ordeal.

Nothing much happened for a very long time. At one point Junella clapped four times, then shook her head angrily, but that was it. They kept walking. It felt like miles had passed.

Then something landed on Toby's shoulder. He saw it in his peripheral vision. A long-legged beetle. He slapped at it angrily.

The sound of the wind changed.

The rain changed.

Every drop became a beetle, and they blotted out the moon.

Within seconds the air was thick with tiny black bodies. The sound of a million buzzing wings. Those who shrieked soon found their mouths full. The air had turned into bugs. A rain of bugs. A snowstorm of bugs.

Toby curled up as tight as he could while still walking. He shoved his nose into the edge of his vest. The insects pelted him like plastic bullets. Their awful legs scrambled through his fur. He felt them trying to crawl into his ears. Their pincers were digging in all over. Slick little bodies were mummifying him through sheer numbers. 

Soon enough everyone was wading through inches of twitching insects. Exoskeletons crunched beneath their feet like peanut shells. The buzzing was ceaseless and deafening. Zinc slipped on the carpet of vermin and would have smashed skulls with Toby if Piffle hadn't caught him. Doll was holding herself close to Piffle's jacket, trying not to fall off, keeping her head down so the bugs wouldn't fill up her hollow face.

George knew what Junella had said about weapons, but there were beetles crawling inside every part of his body. They were in his eye sockets. He raised his head and exhaled an orange blossom of flame. Pests were baked to ashes. It gave himself and his companions a few seconds' respite, but he could blow from now until eternity and the beetles would never stop falling. He wanted to hunker down and shield his friends with his body, but that was what this realm wanted. Even if the rain never stopped, he couldn't either. He had to make sure nothing was ever stronger than the steady thump at the front of his skull.

There was a lightning flash and the beetles ceased to exist.

The six of them were left shuddering, covered in bites, all by themselves in a moonlit field without even a breeze of wind.

They should have been happy. The damned bugs were gone. Instead they all felt used. Dysphoria was playing with them. Letting them know it could flick its cruelty on or off whenever it felt like.

Zinc sucked in breath, then screamed for as long and as loud as his lungs would let him. A volcanic eruption of sound. It accomplished absolutely nothing.

Still sopping wet, the six continued walking.

They slogged through the field for another half hour.

At first they were all on edge. They waited for the next dirty prank. They waited for more rain, more bugs, more rapemonsters, or more of that horrible voice screaming "I LOVE YOU". They tried to make themselves ready for anything. Little clenched fists, all in a row.

Zinc kicked at weeds. It was all he could do to vent his increasing rage. There was a limit to what he could take, and beyond what the others could see, there were whispers. Reminders of his first visit to this carnival hell. No one else seemed to hear them and he didn't know why. Wouldn't Dysphoria want to humiliate him even more? He had snapped at the voice earlier, but it did no good. The voice followed everywhere. Buzzing in his ear like an immortal mosquito.

Toby felt his waterlogged shoes squish with every step. He knew all this cold water had been Dysphoria's attempt to make them forget about the spraying fan, but Toby kept it in mind nonetheless. He knew he had to keep his mind active. As fatigued as he was already, he kept on reminding himself that his mind was his only weapon in here. He could not let himself be fooled. There would be time enough to relax once he was out. If they made it to Anasarca, Toby thought he might just lie down and sleep for a weeks.

No one can keep up alertness forever. For a while the sextet watched the horizon and the grass, senses piqued to any new threat. But the unending sameness of the landscape lulled them.

Fear became boredom. Pain became numbness.

And a wall slammed down behind them.

The field was gone. They blinked at the harsh light. They were inside, in dry air.

It was a perfectly square room. Blank walls the color of a fish's belly. Empty except for the six chained companions. They weren't even wet anymore. And Doll's bag had regained visibility so she could move again. This good fortune was surprising.

"Welcome!"

The cheerful voice came from the middle of the room. Now there was a square pedestal all of a sudden. And on it was a perch with a colorful parrot.

'What now?' Toby thought.

The bird's voice had the crackle of an old wax recording. "Riddles for you! Riddles for you! In this room there are two doors, but only one leads to truth! The other leads back here, I fear! Choose true, please do!" It was full of shit though, as all four walls were all completely blank.

Or at least, that had been the case a moment ago. In the instant when everyone was distracted, the room had changed again. To their right was now an intricate wooden door, gleaming with varnish, covered in carvings of scampering squirrels and other forest animals. To their left was a simple aluminum screen door. Dented, and with a few dead flies stuck to it.

The parrot extended its rainbow-hued wings. "I'm high as a kite when my mood is bright, but turn me on my head and I'll dance till I'm dead. What am I? Give it a try!"

None of them were in the mood for this, but it seemed like the only way on to the next irritation. Toby rolled the riddle over in his mind. He tried to remember all the words correctly, as puzzles like these often employed double meanings. At first he thought of an hourglass. That didn't fit the first part though. Maybe an airplane? Falling out of the sky after a tailspin?

The parrot's black pebble eyes focused on Junella as she walked towards it. "Ah, sweet miss! Come to give me a kiss? Whisper in my ear, my dear. Have you solved this?"

She motioned for George to step out of the way and let her get closer. To the parrot she nodded with a satisfied smile.

Then she dug both hands into its feathery neck and clenched. With a savage yank, she pulled apart bone and sinew and ripped its head clean off. Blood sprayed across her face and she didn't even flinch.

Toby jumped back but his chains kept him from getting too far away. Junella's pumpkin-colored eyes smoldered with unfathomable hate. Her fists trembled around the two chunks of dead bird they clutched. Toby realized the skunk had been mostly quiet all this time, but it was just a valiant mask. Her composure was fraying, held together by thinning threads.

Junella threw the head and body against the wall, leaving two red paintbrush smears. She rubbed her face and hands on her scarf, then took a deep breath. 'That felt good,' she mouthed.

Zinc wished he'd been the one close enough to the pedestal to do that. But how were they going to choose a door now?

Junella had known the answer all along. Pure intuition. The minds of devious, cheating bastards think alike. She motioned for George to keep walking towards the far wall, ignoring the two doors completely. When he got there, he gave her a puzzled look.

She rammed her fist right through.

It had never been anything but wallpaper.

Toby felt a moment of insane rage overcome him. He had no good outlet for it, so he gave the middle finger to the parrot's lifeless head as he passed by.

Then the six of them walked through the hole, into coal blackness.

Unsurprisingly, the wallpaper repaired itself the instant they stepped through. Now there was no light at all. It was an enclosed space. The stuffy air told Toby that much. Their feet clanked where they stepped. Maybe an old boxcar? He'd definitely had enough of trains for a while.

Junella trusted George to know the way. And he did. Toby followed the sound of hooves scraping metal.

He stumbled on something. A plastic tube. Then his foot encountered another. And another. The floor was littered with these things.

Toby had a sudden awareness of what they might be. Even as his feet kicked away dozens of the things, he tried to shove the answer away. Maybe if he could keep the image out of his mind, these things wouldn't be what he knew they were.

But George just had to be helpful. He boosted his inner glow so the others could see. In the candlelight, they realized they had been walking over huge piles of used syringes.

The walls were covered in them too. Meticulously glued in place, stingers out.

Toby swore he could hear a long, crackling laugh somewhere off in the distance.

The six clustered closer and took tiny steps. They shuffled along, kicking away the snowdrifts of needles. Piffle, with her heavy boots, did not worry much. Toby was scared shitless. Needles. He'd taken them like a champ plenty of times. But those were sterilized, brand new, administered by a doctor. These ones were encrusted with all kinds of residue. He flashed back to being younger, staring at that little red garbage can in the doctor's office. The one with the biohazard sign. Where the medical waste was supposed to go. He'd had nightmares sometimes, of the doctor coming back into the room and lifting him up, and dropping him into that little red can.

The walls shook. Toby heard Piffle yelp and clutch herself to Zinc. Beneath his sandals, he felt the floor tilt.

'You rotten cheating jerk. You monster. Don't do this.'

And then the metal box was shaking like some gleeful toddler had picked it up for a plaything. 

Toby had a fraction of an instant to cover his face. Then he landed with all his weight in a garden of thorns. The pain was enough to shatter his mind. Needles hit bone. Tubes shattered and fragments drove deep. He had no air to scream with.

Gravity grabbed hold of the chain and yanked everyone straight down. They tumbled end over end, living pincushions, and George slammed hard into the doors, which were covered in needles too. He got a nice faceful of quills before everyone fell out onto concrete.

Screams.

The needles were in their arms, their legs, the soles of their feet, their hands, their hair, their cheeks. Toby was blind with panic, flailing his arms in every direction, trying to scrape away all the pain. Some of the shattered bits had gouged deep into his flesh, stuck beneath the skin. He'd need surgery to get them all out. The cuts were starting to burn from all the terrible chemicals that had been injected into his body.

Somewhere, miles away, someone was screaming, "Attack! Attack!"

What now? What was attacking them now!?

'NO!' Toby's brain screamed, and he wrestled control of his panic. The voice had screamed, 'the tack'.

It took a monumental effort, but he forced himself to shut his eyes and lie still. Only one of these pains was real. Only one. He had to find it. Oh what a dirty, rotten trick. He mentally felt all up and down his back, searching for that one single...

All the other pains faded to static when he found the thumbtack. The needles had never been real. He had only made them real by letting himself be fooled.

And then Junella was hauling him up to his feet. Toby expected her expression to be disgust at his humiliating flopping around.

Instead, her face was an empty room. She looked at him blankly, assessed his condition, and turned to the others.

He looked behind. Everyone else seemed to be in varying states of shock, but had also figured out how to vanish the syringes. Zinc was stomping his foot and Piffle was rubbing her palm. Toby ran a paw across his own face just to make sure it was really unpunctured. It hardly felt like his own skin.

A tug on his chain. They had to keep moving.

Now they were in some kind of colossal concrete aqueduct. Or maybe the guts beneath a stadium. The walls were forty feet of solid grey. Toby felt like an ant. High above were water pipes and swatches of old posters. There were no more syringes, but plenty of garbage and birdshit and sagging cardboard boxes. The sextet's footsteps echoed.

This place was circular. If they stayed here they'd keep going round and round. Could Dysphoria just box them in like that? Trap them with no exit and leave them to starve? 'No, if it could it would've done that already, right?' This place had to be playing by some kind of rules. Toby had to remind himself that they were-

In a flash, he was walking across the asteroid field again. Stars all around, invisible glass beneath. Another flash. He was walking alone through Phlegmasia. He quickly shoved his hands over his eyes. Another flash. He was in Ectopia Cordis' holding cell. Another flash. He was in the Jennie-Mae. He rubbed his eyes till blue sparkles danced, and when he looked again the elephantine concrete colosseum was back.

Toby's muscles tensed. He rubbed his muzzle and directed hateful thoughts towards Dysphoria. Oh, so it could pull THAT at any time, could it? The disorientation had almost been bad enough to make him puke.

Actually, he hadn't been sick in here once so far. Toby latched onto that bit of pride. Something positive to hold.

'It's throwing everything it can think of at you, but you're still moving forward. Remember that. It can't stop you. It can only trick you into choosing to stop.'

From behind him he heard Piffle speak up, sounding broken and tired. "Toby?"

He looked over his shoulder.

"I know the real reason you won't fuck me. Too much medicine made your dick limp. But give it a try anyway. I'm real horny. Zinc can watch you plug it in. He's too much of a puss to stop you."

The words were obviously not hers, and she clapped both hands over her mouth, shaking her head in obvious mortification.

Toby let her know he didn't believe the ugly words, and sneered in contempt all around at Dysphoria's pettiness. 'That was just sick!'

Zinc kept his head down, pretending he hadn't heard a thing. But he reached back his paw, and when Piffle took it, his fingers caressed hers softly.

Junella turned her head and spat at the wall. George nodded his agreement with the gesture.

They continued on. The tunnel seemed to have no end and there were no landmarks to tell if they'd made any progress. Toby could hear PA announcements, rendered almost incomprehensible by distance and echo. After a while, he was sure they weren't language.

Up ahead the way was blocked. At the edge of the curve, some huge mound of garbage was barricading the immense tunnel. As they drew closer, details emerged. It was a mountain of old, discarded phone books. Water pipes had leaked onto them from above, producing the odor of rot. The smell was almost enough to make Toby lose his bit of pride.

There were so many books, going around was not an option.  'Up and over it is then.'

Toby watched George place a hesitant hoof down to test for stability. The water-warped book slid out from beneath him. He snarled and tried again. And again.

It was not easy going for any of them. Every step had to be taken with extreme care lest it set off a yellow avalanche. The books were slippery and apt to crumble apart with little pressure. And sometimes the travelers' feet would sink deep in the pile, feeling the wiggly things that lived down there. Toby kept his gaze focused ahead. This, like everything else, would be over soon. Once they got to the top they could slide down and see what new, fresh outrage lurked for them on the other side.

crunch

Toby looked down at the dry, papery sound. His foot was not stuck in another rotted phone book. 
It was stuck in a tan, papery wasp's nest.

The entire pile had turned to wasps' nests beneath their feet. Hundreds. Just like that.

They all froze. Balancing like dancers. Little yellow bodies emerged from beige domes and began scurrying around their feet.

Everyone held their breath. They felt like they were held up by nothing more than their motionlessness. Another step would bring the swarm's rage. And these nests were not known for durability. Any motion might send the group crashing down deep into the pile. All the way to the bottom, buried in paper and insects.

Toby felt the wasps begin to inspect his ankles. They were trooping in straight lines up the insides of his legs. He was suddenly certain they'd sting his cock first. Crawl right up into his shorts around his balls. He'd feel their tickling wings and prickling legs. And then they'd all start digging in.

But he had to keep moving forward. That was the joke. They had to, and they had to choose to. Dysphoria knew it. Toby could feel its laughter like faraway thunderclaps.

Everyone looked into one another's eyes and the horrible truth was confirmed. Finally they looked to George. He was the leader. He'd have to take that first step.

He raised his trembling hoof.

Then came a minor eternity of blinding pain and running. It was exactly as bad as they all knew it would be. They sank into the hives like quicksand and the occupants mercilessly defended their territory. Trillions of little yellow spears. Toby held onto the thumbtack with his mind's eye. It was his only anchor. As he ran, his pumping arms made the tack scrape against his meat and nerves, and he was so grateful for it he wept. It was real pain, and while he could feel every sting amid the hurricane of stings, they were kept behind a forcefield so long as he could hold onto the thumbtack.

Then scorching pain in his feet broke that forcefield. They were in a bubbling cavern miles below the surface of the world. They were running over fresh mounds of lava. The air in here was thick as jam and hot enough to boil their sweat. The sounds of churning earth deafened them. Fire sprouted from their footwear. The charred corpses of sharks swam through the air, looking at them with high-beam eyes.

Toby ran as much from pain as panic. There was little of his mind still functioning. Everything in front of him was just a redorange blur. He went in whatever direction the chain told him to. His feet were being eaten by the lava. Consumed down to the bone. In another few seconds he'd look just like George. He could feel the air cooking the insides of his lungs with every breath.

Then they were running across a ladder a thousand feet long, balanced over an unfathomable canyon, nearly eye-level with the clouds. Toby almost went into shock when the cold, thin atmosphere hit him. His skin crackled and peeled. The ladder jang-jang-jangled with their steps, wobbling back and forth. If he fell, he knew he'd have a very long time to scream before he hit bottom. Any stumble would send them over! They were chained together! If anyone fell, he'd fall too! Toby reached up and yanked on his collar. He had to get it off! These people were going to get him killed!!

'NO! SHUT UP!!'

He was still running, but now it was somewhere else. Because it was always somewhere else.

There were no walls, there was no sky, only floor. And the floor was a million, billion meat grinders all arranged in tidy rows. Their funnels were just big enough to allow a foot to fall in. The handles all rotated in industrious unison. Toby heard a snap and a shriek behind him. Piffle had broken her ankle and one of the grinders was gobbling her up. Toby could do nothing, only hope Zinc would pull her free. The mouse was too busy looking down and watching his own steps. Watching the grinding screws inside each funnel churn and churn and churn. Hungry. What if one got ahold of him and pulled him all the way inside?

Before Toby knew it he was elsewhere. It was dark, but he could see green plastic walls and the smell was unmistakable. Dysphoria knew they had to keep walking forward, so it had tipped an amphitheater-sized porta-potty in their path. How sweet. Unnaturally blue water leaked out of the gaping tunnel ahead. The stench held Toby's nostrils open with clawed hands and screwed itself inside. A stew of strangers' shit and urine, with sickly-sweet cleaning chemicals on top like a sauce.

'The germs...' Toby hyperventilated and bit his lips shut. He was trudging through used toilet paper and it was sticking to his ankles.

He entered the darkness. Something wet dripped into his hair. Then it became a constant rain. A brown blue rain. His muscles were rigid as bone. Both hands covered his nose and mouth. Waste dripped down like clammy candle wax, covering him head to toe. Not to mention the river of sludge he was slogging his shoes through. The smell was obscenity beyond imagination. Toby's eyes watered and stung. Chemical water dribbled into his ears like they were urinals.

For a long time, there was no light. That somehow made it more bearable, as the remaining scraps of Toby's consciousness were hard at work pretending this was only mud he was tromping through. Only mud. It clung to his shins and weighed down his clothes, but it was only mud.

Then fluorescent light stung his eyes. The first thing he saw was his own face, reflected in a mirror on a crumbling tile wall. He was in a bathroom shaped like a boa constrictor. Like a hundred of the dingiest, most dilapidated public restrooms of all time had mated and fused in a giant chain. The toilet beside him was covered in fungus. The floor was made mostly of cobwebs and TP. The sound of scraping tile fragments accompanied their every step.

The sextet looked like a pack of drowned sasquatches. Toby grabbed at whatever towels he saw, not caring how flyspecked and stained they were. Still cleaner than he was. He tried to sop off the layers of doughy waste, but it was a futile effort. As he continued to trudge along, left, right, left, right, all he accomplished was smearing it around. His fur stuck up like it was gooped with styling gel. Every mirror seemed to loom and leer at him. The shit had gotten into his eyes, turning his pinks red. The shit had gotten into his mouth. He was becoming too numb to feel any further disgust.

On and on the bathroom wound. Zigzagging. Toby gave up trying to get clean. He felt like the pisswater had drained into his pores by now. It was on his insides. He was filth. He almost wished he was running through the lava again. It could burn him to a nice, clean skeleton and he could rest.

They passed bathtubs. Hideously rust-stained bulbous things with broken legs and water-bleeding cracks. The shower curtains were drawn. Shadows lurked behind. Toby saw, and knew at any moment that things might pull away the curtains and come out. They would be worse than the house-sized seaweed whateveritwas. Worse than the 'I love you' monster. And they'd eat him. They wouldn't care he was covered in excrement. It would be like seasoning to them.

His tongue probed around his mouth. Something was wrong there. A tooth. He reached in to wiggle it with his finger and could taste the burning antiseptic chemicals under his nail. His tooth was loose. He barely cared, and pulled it out. There was a string attached. Toby pulled, wincing, his eyes starting to water. plink Another tooth was coming loose, attached to the first one by a long nerve. Toby had no idea why, but he kept on pulling. It was maddening not to. plink plink plink A long necklace of teeth, each one popping out of its socket with a dribble of red, fresh, salty blood.

Toby could hear deep echoes, like the sounds of tireless machines scraping themselves over bare rock. He felt like he was being pulled tight, stretched farther and farther and farther. There was a limit, wasn't there? A point where he'd break?

His mouth was like an empty swimming pool. He tossed the rope of teeth aside and his tongue reflexively probed the gumholes.

At some unremembered point, he made it beyond the bathrooms. Now there was just a silent darkness and bit of flickering light. As he drew closer, Toby saw it was a projection screen. Like the one above the chalkboard in class. The film hadn't started yet, but he walked towards it anyway because Toby's legs had forgotten how to stop moving.

The screen came to life! Brightly colored animated images. Toby was enthralled. It was a cartoon. An old-timey Technicolor story about a happy little family of mice. Here was Our Hero: brown fur, plump, with a mischievous smile. It was his little brother's birthday and he'd bought him a nice big peppermint candy stick. He was holding it up close, trying to get his brother to lick it. "Go on, just like that!"

Except it wasn't candy. It was the barrel of a shotgun, barber-pole painted to look like candy.

Toby's mind recoiled. No, this wasn't right! This was horrible! Stop it right now!

But it was too late. He'd gotten too close to the screen and was now inside. It was a television show. An early morning kiddie program. The host was a great big smiling chipmunk with lime-green fur and great big eyes and a great big smile that NEVER ENDED. He waved everyone over with a "How do you do!?" And he wasn't a cartoon at all. Those grotesque animated proportions belonged to a living being. Toby could hear the squelch of those giant eyes rolling around in their sockets. He could see the pimples and warts poking through the patchy green fur. He could even smell its rotten-meat breath. "Hi, kids! Hi! Come on in! We can't start the show without you! Don't you want to sing along with our friend Music Maggot?"

No, Toby did not. He wanted to get out of here. He looked all around for an exit but he was trapped in an empty soundstage with the doors all boarded up. The cameras were smashed and broken. There was a drain in the floor with something clogging it. Fur and skin. The seats in the stands were all vacant. He was the only audience.  

The chipmunk-thing laboriously waddled towards him on its sloshing, obese legs. Its thighs were like sacks of milk. "Come on! You all know the words! Singing makes everything better!"

Music started echoing out of speakers in the ceiling: a cloyingly happy ditty about the titular Music Maggot and how he was the spirit of music who lives inside all of us. Toby realized, to his bottomless horror, that he did know the words. He had always known them. And his lips were moving. He was singing along just like a good little boy.

He felt something tickle his arm and looked down. Many dozen raw, red holes. Out of each one poked a thick, fat maggot. White and greasy. All of them were swaying in time with the happy, happy music.

A primitive groan of revulsion came out of Toby and he slapped at his arm in a frenzy. But it didn't matter. The spirit of music lived inside of him. More and more holes appeared in his body, drilled from within. His inner thighs, his cheeks, his feet. Puffy white grubs poked their smiling faces through. Fat and happy from eating him.

Toby knocked over a camera in his blind panic. He tried to run and crashed into a bank of monitors. All of them showed the chipmunk's bulging face. "Ah, ah, ah! Naughty boys need to sit still! If they don't, then I guess I'll have to get the Marring Bar!"

Another cartoon came to life on an adjacent TV. A football hero with a chiseled jaw was running down the field for a touchdown. The other team tried to rush him, but from his pocket he pulled something shaped like a gold brick, but twelve inches long and black as night. Then he savagely smashed it over the head of the nearest opponent. It turned his face into a sagging, bloodshot, drooling horror. The football hero smiled brightly as he used the Marring Bar on all the other players, turning their faces into dripping clumps of cysts and polyps.

It was an unspeakable concept. Toby could not force his eyes away from the awful cartoon until the screen fell away and there was the green chipmunk standing behind. He was waving the Marring Bar. That sleek black slice of night that would melt Toby's face into an unrecognizable junkheap. The chipmunk started hopping after Toby. "Come back here! Tee hee hee!"

Toby screamed like a frightened toddler. The green chipmunk chased after him, taking big bunny leaps. His bulk shook the studio whenever he landed. His fat face jiggled like a rubber turd. Toby scrambled up the empty studio bleachers, clambering over chairs, knocking aside the bones of long-dead former audience members. There was a light in the control room at the top of the stairs. If he could just manage to reach it...

He heard the cacophony of something hurling itself up into the stands in pursuit, slamming chairs out of the way with ease. The green chipmunk's flabbiness belied a monster's strength. He was waving the Marring Bar, the magic tool that would make bad little boys ugly forever.

Just behind his shoulder, Toby heard a thunk of a blunt object hitting a skull. Then the chipmunk's wet laughter. Then another impact. And another.

Toby froze. His vision darkened at the edges to a buzzing circle. He could not help but turn.

He had to see.

His chain jangled. He saw Zinc's arm. It seemed normal enough. Toby's eyes traveled upwards. He could hear Zinc's ragged exhales. He could hear the fat chipmunk's breathy giggles. He could hear his own heart's fracturing beat.

His eyes moved slow as a glacier towards Zinc's face. He had to see it. He didn't want to. He'd rather die than see it. But he had to.

A lip hung down to the canine's chest, bloated like a drowning victim's. A tongue lolled out. Bumpy. Hair-covered.

The breathing was louder. Chunks of mucous rattled around.

Toby saw teeth.

He knew without understanding how that when he saw the eyes, he would be torn to shreds. By a thing that was no longer anyone he knew.

And he couldn't stop himself from looking.

***

Toby woke up screaming, clutching his vinyl blankets tight in his sweating fists.

Mid-afternoon sun swam through his bedroom windows. His normal, orderly bedroom. Just the way he'd always woken up in it.

His eyes darted around the room. The bookshelves were tidy and free of dust. His medicine bottles were all lined up like tin soldiers on his dresser. The 'get well' balloons in the corner tried their best to stay afloat. Nothing was wrong. It was all just a bad dream. A horrible, ugly dream.

He sat up holding his head, worried it might crack open. His sheets were a little sticky, but that was also normal. A few of his bedsores had popped. Nothing out of the ordinary. His mouth was gummy and dry. His heart was still racing from those godawful monstrous images.

But they were gone now. They were just dreams and he was here and this was real and he was HERE now.

Everything was alright.

Toby pulled the covers away, wincing when they stuck to him. He had slept naked. Maybe that was it: he didn't normally, so that must have caused the bad dreams. He glanced at the clock. Blank. He made a puzzled sound. Now that his head was clearing a bit, he looked around the room and none of the electronics were lit up.

"Must've been a blackout."

Maybe that was why it felt so late in the day. Toby couldn't tell through the drawn blinds, but the glow from outside was warm enough to suggest it was definitely past breakfast. His chest tightened a little. He'd missed his pills! The blackout must've knocked out Mommy's alarm clock and she'd overslept!

Well, okay, he was a big boy. He could take pills by himself. He brushed his vinyl plushies aside and leaned over his table full of medications. He was having a hard time reading the labels though. His eyes were still fogged and heavy from sleep. The bad dreams kept buzzing around his head like ghosts. Such horrible images. But they were fading now, and that was okay.

He couldn't make out any of the names on the bottles, and taking the wrong pills would be worse than skipping a dose. He looked towards the bedroom door. The shiny gold knob. He was not supposed to, but he didn't have a choice. He'd have to leave the room. He had to go get Mommy. She could give him his morning pills. It wasn't too late, but he had to go get Mommy.

On shaking limbs, he hoisted himself down from the bed. Just that small effort left him feeling lightheaded. He felt like he hadn't been out of his bed in days. Winded and wobbly, he crossed the hardwood floor to the shiny gold knob.

He turned it.

He smelled oranges. No reason why. Why would there be?

The hall carpet looked normal. Red and soft on his bare feet. He held onto the doorknob as he closed it behind him, oddly afraid to let go of it. But, bravely, he did, and toddled down the hallway towards the stairs.

The stairs. Mommy's room was down there. He'd have to climb all the way down the staircase by himself. His legs felt like toothpicks already. He didn't know if he could handle this.

Suddenly the whole house seemed larger. The ceilings more cavernous. Was the railing really taller than he was? Toby's pink eyes shone with fear. He crept closer to the top of the staircase and something was there at the bottom. Something was underneath that fake-orangey smell. He knew the scent. Floor polish. But another smell was underneath.

He crept to the edge of the steps and peeked. Way, way down at the bottom, he saw a foot.

Paws never leaving the railing, he oozed himself down onto the first step. His heart was thudding. First that bad dream and now this. He thought he knew what had happened but he wouldn't let such a terrible idea be true until he was sure.

The staircase curved. As Toby descended, more of the ground floor came into view. And so did the thing at the bottom of the stairs.

It was his mother. Her bucket of floor polish had spilled when she'd fallen. The orange liquid was soaking into the carpeted steps. Mommy was sprawled out across the oak floor, elbows and knees in impossible positions. Her neck had an angled lump sticking out. Her eyes were open. Her mouth was open too, and a pool of saliva had gathered around her unmoving face.

Toby froze in horror. It couldn't be true.

But it was true, you selfish little thing. While you were off having sleepytime adventures, being a lazy, mooching shit in your bed all day long, your mother fell down the stairs and broke her fucking neck. You didn't even hear it you were so dead asleep. Now she's dead. And it's all your fault. If you had just woken up from that stupid dream earlier, you could have helped her or called the paramedics. But no! Lazy little babyshit Toby wants to lounge around all day like a fucking tumor! He can't be bothered to save his mother's life! After all she's done for you!? Worthless little piglet!!

Tears streaming down his face, Toby turned and ran up the stairs as fast as he could. He tripped, and for one languorous instant he was absolutely certain he was going to tumble backwards and end up a broken carcass on the floor right next to his dead mother. How fitting an ending. But his claws dug into the wooden railing and he stopped himself. Then he ran and didn't keep running until he was safely back in his bedroom with the door slammed shut behind him. A trail of yellow had leaked down his leg to the floor, where a puddle was now spreading.

He was gasping for air but none seemed to reach his lungs. He held onto the doorknob for dear life, then all of a sudden his strength left him and he collapsed to the floor, landing hard on his tail. Seated in his own warm piss. Crying his eyes raw.

He sat curled up like that for an indeterminate time. What was he going to do? Call the police? Yes, inevitably, he'd have to. But there was no phone in here. No phone except the one downstairs. He could not conceive of making it all the way down that staircase and past his mother's body. Not possible in any theoretical universe. So what then? Stay up here forever and starve? Wait for the perfume of decomposition to come wafting up under the door!?

Didn't... No.

Didn't he have some friends he could call on for help?

A headache struck him as soon as that idea did.

'No, no. There was something...'

Toby shook his head. His vision blurred. The wood and the wallpaper seemed to run like watercolors.

He could have sworn he had some friends. Close friends. A migraine spike of pain shot through his forehead. But this was important, so he tried to ignore the powerful hurt. He wished he could read the labels on his medicine and give himself some Tramodols. Those things were great. 'No, no, no. Don't get distracted.' He was onto something here. Friends. He could see the hazy silhouettes of people, but they were fading rapidly, like in a bad dream. Had they been a part of his bad dream? Maybe. Then how could they be real? Yet... something deep in his heart told him they were real. And he had to get back to them somehow.

Toby tried to stand up. When he did, all the blood rushed out of his head and he vomited. He started to pass out but the impact of smashing nosefirst into the hardwood woke him right back up again. Lightning bolts of pain screeched through his muzzle. Puke was smeared up the side of his face and down his tummy, staining his white fur the pinkish-yellow of bile. Wasn't like he'd never experienced that before. He tried to push himself up again, failed. Yet he managed to roll away and avoid a second encounter with his sickpuddle. He took a few moments to get his breath back. Then he crawled on his hands and knees over to the bed.

Grabbing onto the post, he hauled himself to his feet again. It took all the effort in his body. He was so exhausted when he finished, he thought he might never move again. He felt like a burnt candle wick.

'I have to get back to them,' he thought.

How, smarty?

Still clutching the post lest he fall over again onto his broken nose (it was definitely broken: he could feel the throb starting already), Toby looked at his bed. The soft mattress. The thick, comforting vinyl blankets. If his friends were a dream, then logically, going back to sleep would bring them back to him. That made sense. He turned to lower himself down onto his soft, warm, inviting bed.

'No. Something is wrong here.'

Something in his memory warned him he did not want to fall asleep. Falling asleep was bad. He didn't know why, but it was. So what other options did he have?

He looked around the room. No other exit but the same door he'd come in through. Well... except for the closet. But that wasn't...

Toby let go of the bedpost and lurched towards the other end of the room. He didn't care how irrational it was. The closet felt right. Something inside it would make everything okay again.

The pain in his head flared bright, trying to drive him back. He nearly stumbled. He held his arms out like wings to stabilize himself. Walking was difficult, but it felt right too. Necessary.

The bedroom seemed as endless as a desert. His bookshelves might as well have been in another country. But Toby blanked his mind, let his eyes unfocus, and concentrated everything on putting one foot in front of the other. The wetness on his leg didn't matter. The upchuck makeover he'd given himself didn't matter either. Getting to that closet door was somehow the single most important thing in his life.

And the farther he walked, the easier it was to take each successive step. He might have been wobbling side to side like a swamp zombie, but he was moving. He was gaining speed.

His migraine drilled into him; a big oppressive jackhammer pounding his skull to pieces. But Toby didn't stop. It was only pain after all. He'd been through plenty of that by now.

He reached out his hand towards the shiny golden knob.

He turned it.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. The bed was still unmade. His puke was still on the floor. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore. So he crossed the room to his closet, towards the shiny gold knob. He turned it.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. The bed was still unmade. His puke was still on the floor. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore. So he crossed the room to his closet, towards the shiny gold knob. He turned it.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. The bed was still unmade. His puke was still on the floor. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore. So he crossed the room to his closet, towards the shiny gold knob. He turned it.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. The bed was still on the floor. His puke was still unmade. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore. So he crossed the room to his closet, towards the shiny gold knob. He turned it.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. His mother was sitting on the bed, naked, fucking herself savagely with a shiny metal hammer. She was hunched over, rocking back and forth and grunting like an animal. Blood drenched the bedsheets. Her eyes were as feral as her uncombed hair. Toby definitely didn't want to be here anymore. So he crossed the room to his closet, towards the shiny gold knob. He turned it.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet. Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet. Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet. Toby walked through the doorway into Hell. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet. Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet. Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet.

It became a rhythm. Open the door, walk across the room, open the door, walk across the room, open the door, walk across the room. And despite the fact he was making no visible progress, Toby felt like maybe he was. Maybe the pulsating crash of his migraine was an indication that something was trying to hold him back, and he was pissing it off by not complying. Of course, he had no good reason for thinking these things. Some part of him cautioned that maybe the sight of his mother lying dead at the bottom of the stairs had driven him insane. It was highly likely he was doing nothing now but traveling deeper into layers of hallucinations. 'Oh well. I'm no worse off,' he reasoned. 'Besides, I have to find my friends.'

Another migraine spike. Whatever was causing it did not seem to like that word. 'Friends,' he thought again, and this time the pain scoured through him all the way to his gut. He retched and wet his chin with a surprise encore of puke. But he was grinning. The headache's anger meant he was on the right track.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. His books had all been knocked off the shelves onto the floor. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. This time his books were on fire. The melting plastic pages smelled appalling. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. It was hip-deep in colorful balloons, all inflated with antiseptic spray. Whenever he popped one, the smell made him dizzier. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he pushed through the room to his closet.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room, past the piano stitched together from living skin and tissue.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. The pattern was starting to break down. He kept noticing differences each time he entered. Mutations. Like the time when the windowshade was up and someone had glued a dead squirrel to the outside glass with its own blood. Or this time, when his stuffed animals all had teeth. Or this time, when the shadows on the floor tried to swallow him up whenever he walked over them. Or this time, when every surface was a mirror and his reflections were trying to swallow him up whenever he walked over them. It was always his bedroom, but it had never been his bedroom. Toby had no idea what this place really was, but he knew if he could just keep opening that closet door, eventually it would lead somewhere else.

'This is the literal definition of madness, you realize that, right?"

'Right. Sure. Whatever.'

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. This time he had to step over the corpses of several mutilated children. They were all around his age: a skunk, a hamster, and some kind of dog. There was also a burned dead horse and a melted doll. He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. He paused. Something about that last room was important. He filed it away for later and crossed the room to his closet.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. Suddenly he remembered everything.

Junella! Zinc! George! Doll! Piffle! He even remembered Luxy and Dorster and the mushroom woman and the parking lot attendant with the funny mouth! He was outraged. "That's what you were trying to hide from me, you bastard!"

"THAT'S WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO HIDE FROM ME, YOU BASTARD!!!!!"

The words came out of the walls so loud his ears nearly bled. His own voice was reflected back to him at hurricane volume. Toby knelt and took a moment to recover. His heart was ramming against his ribs from the shock.

'Okay then. I keep my mouth shut from now on.'

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. The floor was tilted diagonally and he had to pull his way along the wall to get to his closet.

Toby walked through the doorway into his bedroom. Why the hell would you even want to get back to those malformed dicksniffers anyway?

'Shut up. I care about them.'

WHY!? What brand of stupid are you infected with? Do you think they feel the same? That their big ol' hearts are full of love for a skinny piss-soaked weakling like yourself? You're a means to an end for them, I whispered.

'I'm not listening.'

As Toby crossed to the room to his closet, trying to keep his balance as the helicopters made the whole house shake, he did his best to keep his focus straight ahead and not listen to my voice following behind him.

Zinc was in a gang before he died! He and his buddies murdered six people. Beat them and stabbed them to death! For fun!

'No he did not,' Toby insisted.

Piffle's mother is the mushroom woman, but Piffle ain't got no mushrooms on her. Why is that, Toby? Did she perhaps cause her mother's unfortunate condition? On purpose? To slow the old bitch down so she could get out of the house sometimes?

'I am not listening to you.'

Doll is a demon. She's using you for transportation. Like a lamprey sucking away on a shark's belly. Gosh, just what has she been planning behind that unreadable face?

'Total BS,' Toby said firmly.

Junella Brox is the most selfish thing on the planet. She will abandon anyone to save her own skin. What makes you think you're special?

'Don't talk like that about her.' Toby crossed the room to his closet and opened the door.

And George? Little Georgie? He tries so hard, doesn't he? But he's programmed to be what he is. Hardwired. There's a clock ticking down until he reaches his limits and turns on you like any other dumb animal, and you won't hear it because you're too fucking stupid to learn. He's as soulless as anything else you've killed.

"No he's not!"

"NO HE'S NOT!!!!!"

The sound kicked Toby back against the bedroom door, splintering it. He needed several seconds to get his breath back, but then he snarled in bitter hatred and ran at the closet door.

The ceiling started to melt.

Toby screeched as red hot candle wax dripped down onto his arm. He looked up. The ceiling was bulging inwards. The walls too. The window blinds were turning to mush and dribbling down onto the floor. His bed was sagging. The plushies were puddles already. Everything was melting into burning hot wax. More stinging droplets landed in his hair. One ran all the way down into his ear. The pain was so intense his vision turned to silver icicles. He clawed at his ear, trying to get the wax out, only succeeding in burning his fingers. He squeaked like the frightened rodent he was as the floor began to soften as well. His bare feet sank into the warping wood. He looked ahead. The closet door. He had to get out of here. He pulled one foot up out of the slurping mess and leaned over as far as he possibly could. One step. The dripping ceiling was landing in spatters all over his back. Fine; better than his face. He winced and pulled his other foot out. Each step sunk him deeper into the burning quicksand. The ceiling was drooping inwards, bare inches above his head. The walls were buckling. This room was moments from collapse. Toby stopped trying to pull his feet out and just waded forward, pretending he was fighting a deep snowdrift. He could see the shiny gold knob. A pancake-sized chunk of ceiling fell on his bare back. He heard the sizzle. His bedroom was cooking him to death, piece by piece. The pain was excruciating. Stars were dancing in his vision. He stretched his arm as far as he could. He screamed when the ceiling finally buckled and landed entirely on top of him. Blinding him. Burying him. He forced himself forward. The pain was electricity. He reached out as far as he could, feeling the tendons in his arm start to rip. The quicksand was up to his chest. He screamed and the hot wax plunged down his throat. Cooking his tongue, making his mouth an oven. He could feel the doorknob. 

He turned it.

Instantly, he dropped.

Surrounded by clear blue sky, he hung with one hand from the shiny gold doorknob, hundreds of feet in the air above a howling city. The door was on the top floor of a supercolossal skyscraper. It opened onto nothing. The wind sucked the breath from his lungs. Toby looked down at the stripes of tiny black windows all along the building's side. From this height, the city below was nothing but a buzzing blur.

But Toby laughed. With his body still aching, pain not yet faded, he laughed until he gagged on saliva.

Because this wasn't his bedroom.

He sputtered until he could draw a breath. Then he said, "I win," and let go.

Toby plunged into terminal velocity. The wind slashed at his eyes. The building behind him rushed past faster than a bullet train. The sidewalks and cars were leaping up to meet him. And still he laughed. A madman's laugh.

He saw Piffle flying by. She gave him a jaunty wave. Then two giant white-gloved hands plucked her out of the air with dispassionate calm. One of them revealed a corkscrew with a grip like a fisherman's hook. The gloved hand drove the screw into Piffle's squirming belly and began to unravel her.

Toby saw a grinning carnival face in the sky, all shiny and orange and plastic. It smiled lecherously. And it kept getting bigger and bigger and BIGGER.

A hypodermic the size of a mailbox shot towards him like a fighter jet and plunged straight through his midsection. The flesh started to turn brown and rot away.

Toby laughed.

Then Toby and his little friends were trapped in Dysphoria forever. No one ever came to their rescue and they languished in misery for all of fucking eternity. How's that for an ending, you faggot?

'You're an absolute jerk.'

Toby was running through tall grass. Great thunderclaps of pounding feet rumbled behind him. He was being chased by something ungodly huge, something the color of rust. He was in an open field. Completely unprotected. There were trees ahead. If he

'Oh hi, Red!'

Toby was in the bathtub, naked and helpless, squirming to get away as his mother scr

'I know already!'

Toby was boiling cold. Toby was freezing hot. Toby was watching himself sitting on a department store floor, babbling in maniac laughter, unraveling his intestines through a hole in his autopsy scar like a baby playing with a wind-up toy. And the best part was

'I DON'T CARE!'

Toby was running in a circle through the rooms of an enormous spinning mansion, all overgrown with poison ivy. The huge house floated on the ocean. It had no walls or ceilings, but was perfectly round like a cake server. He ran through the dining room, the dressing room, the ballroom, the freezer, the lake, the slaughterhouse, the breeding pit. Toby looked down at his hand and saw an impish little stick figure tattooed there. It met his gaze and took off running along his arm, hiding beneath his fur. He felt legions of these prickly gremlins climbing up his feet, all over his body like being covered in ants. The ink was spreading in his skin and remaking him from the inside out. Toby cowered behind his desk at school, listening to the terrified crying of his classmates. Shots echoed down the hallway. Then the door burst open and the gunman walked in with an erection and a smile. The gun was pointed right at Toby's teacher, and soon her face was painting the blackboard. Toby was lying at the bottom of a pile of corpses. His air was running out. One of the bodies started to move. Toby watched a man strapped to a table get tickled with a feather. He laughed and laughed and laughed, until his face tore apart from the inside out. Toby was walking at night through a prison. In every cell was his father. The endless man clutched the bars in his scarred fists and glared down at his son. "You put me here," he all droned on and on. Toby was stranded in an infinite black room, watching vast geometric shapes drift past. Unfathomably huge, bending time itself around them. To look upon them was to feel one's mind break beneath their weight. Toby watched a doctor's hand holding a flathead screwdriver. It started knocking all his teeth out. Blood spurted hot over his face. His teeth slid one by one down his throat, the shattered edges tearing the lining of his esophagus. Toby was trapped in a room four feet by four feet by four feet forever. Toby watched racks of crying infants expelling their lifeblood as brown-helmeted soldiers bayoneted them one by one. Toby watched Junella turn around to look at him. Her eyes slid around her face like a dancer on a skating rink. Her nostrils opened like assholes. Her features distorted into a hideous, swirling pool. Toby watched a grotesquely pregnant rat lying on her side, dropping litters and feces with equal apathy. Toby was using his hammer to drive nails into the soft undermeat of his armpits. Four, five, six nails now.CAN YOU SEE ME? Toby watched himself rape his mother. Then he watched himself suck her eyes right out of her dead skull for nourishment. Toby shat his pants.Only it wasn't shit, it was a big thick log of coiled tapeworms, writhing for freedom as they slid out of his guts where they'd been living all this time.Toby watched angels with tinfoil wings andtinfoil skin standing around him in a circle as he lay upon the altar. One of them lifted his penis like it was something unclean, and with its other hand began to cut.LISTENToby was fathoms deep beneath the sea, the pressure crushing his skull and driving his intestines up out of his mouth. Luminous fishes nibbledhis numb extremities. Toby watched the drill come closer as the operator made a hole to attach the fishing line. He  anchored it through bone and gum, then tugged the line tight along the mouse's abdomen, down beneath the genitals. When the string was tight enough, the operator began to pluck a tune. YOU RUIN EVERYTHING Toby saw a hooded man with feathers around his neck, standing on the highway,holding a shotgun. Toby was the last survivor of a genocide that had taken everyone he'd ever loved. Toby tripped over a starved dog's carcassNO ONE HAS EVER LOVED YOU Toby's eye was itching so bad it was driving him insane. He scratched and scratched but it did no good. Then he felt something moving deep inside, and a four-inch millipede crawled out of his tearduct.Toby was being chased by something he couldnot see, but it had been chasing him for along time now and his legs were starting to gYOU WILL DIE ALONEToby was riding in a car when the driver disappeared, and hehad to leap into the driver's seat and take conrol. But he'd neverdriven before and trafffic was oncoming and he was heading for a bridge andRUN FROM EVERYTHING YOU COWARDLY LITTLE RATToby had only a bread knife and the devil was coming for hissoul. He tried to stabthedevil and the devil just laughed and laugheToby was drinking his ownToby was in an airpline. He could see the enjines on fire. A stewardess hadher hand deepinside her skirtand thebloodwasToby was pullingtheflesh off his lips and teeth shreddingthemshreddingthem shred dingthem theblood thefire the intestinesWORTHLESS FOREVERToby was lateforschool andhehadabigtest Toby was in the elctric chair butithad legsandwasrunning away TobywasI CAN SEE YOUToby was inside hismomma clawing togetouTobyhadtheknife and hewas tryingToby
watchedtheskyturn reddd TobycantswimbutTobyhastotakehispills
Tobystood overhis fathersbodywiththe shovelTobbycouldn'trun
fasttenuff  toTobyheldthekitten'sbrains Tobyhad germs all
over Toby was Toby was TobywasTobywassstoby
TobyyyyTOBywaswaswas
TOBY WAS

***

He was out. Gliding along the starlight, his head clearer than ever before. He had no more sense of self than a dream ought to. No feeling in his limbs because they were no longer there. Bodiless. But he'd never needed one anyway. His mind could see and think all on its own. Pure. He knew he'd come all the way through to the other side of that hateful realm and whatever this place was now, it was real. He was floating effortlessly through outer space. When he looked as far and deep as he pleased, he could see the stars in all their colors. Nothing was hidden. He was a soul alone among the cosmos and unafraid. Free. Able to move in any direction as fast or slow as his will commanded. Untethered from all reality except that which he chose to become. Unhooked. Space was fathomless and ripe. Anything that could be imagined existed out here. It was all he could do to not be overwhelmed by the enormity, its unsympathetic magnificence. Toby was a microbe out of his dish. This was why, he thought, people stared at the sea. Transfixed. But he had a purpose and he could not let himself be swayed from it. Not for melting rooms or blood-soaked images, not even for the whole of the universe. Amongst all the infinite debris surrounding him, he found the mountain and willed himself towards it. The only mountain that mattered. Anasarca was an upturned ice cream cone dancing in fog. A stalagmite without a cave. But something was in the way. Something large. Something curled up onto itself. Toby thought it was another asteroid at first, until its slow rotation made him realize the truth. It was a corpse. Hanging suspended in space like a grisly Christmas ornament, it was a man, dead for centuries, skin baked brownblack by the sun's unshielded rays. Except... No, all of that was wrong. Toby had no innards but he still felt unease in them. Unease grew to dread as he drifted towards the dead thing. It was not a man. That was merely its shape. A hairless, unfinished, dirt-covered scarecrow with its arms and legs twisted around like a newborn. No, no, still wrong. Toby stared. This unknown object repulsed him yet commanded his attention. He did not realize yet that he was already unable to look away. He could not yet see its face. Just a profile hinting at a dumb, hung-open mouth. The fingers were crooked. The spine bulged. The skin was wrinkled, pockmarked, scabrous. Repellant. Diseased. This thing was not burned. It was not dirt. It was feces. This thing was a man-shaped hunk of excrement, rotating in space. In another time and place that might have been funny. But not here and now, because Toby could smell it. It didn't matter that the vacuum allowed no such possibility, he smelled it. This was the accumulation of all the universe's rancid, lethal waste. What was shit, really? It was food that had been passed through a living organism until everything good was removed. This left only the poison, the indigestible remnants, the toxic muck a body could not use. Every ounce of this behemoth was a vast graveyard of bacteria, some of them still possessed of the most basic desire to eat and eat and eat the filth around them. That was this manshaped thing's true nature. Rotting shit, forever. The smell churned Toby's soul. He wanted to die to get away from it. He wanted his soul to be erased completely to free him from this all-pervading fog of putrid, stinking, virulent decay. This was the zenith of all filth in the cosmos. A black hole core of fecal putrefaction. It existed to soil all things. To ruin all that was alive and had hope. An infinite blight. The dumbest, cruelest, vilest thing that could ever come to being. It had existed since the birth of life itself and it would survive the extinction of everything that had ever been. Toby wished he had hands to gouge his eyes out. He was staring, helpless, at the reason Phobiopolis existed. The magnet that had snared uncountable souls out of the sky on their way to their rightful afterlife. This greedy, omnimalevolent golem had sucked all of the living world's nightmares into itself, and unwittingly wove a web-world to catch the dreamers too. There could be no horror greater than this. The empty expanse of the universe, as infinite and cold as it was, at least held no overt malice. Toby had felt awe as he'd looked across it. But here and now, he felt a revulsion that eclipsed all else he had ever felt in his lifetime. This embodiment of allfilth was much larger than he'd first thought. An optical illusion misled that it was the size of a normal man. But the closer Toby was drawn towards it, the more fully he realized that this was the corpse of a giant. More massive than a hundredstrong army. At full height, it would have been able to reach up and break off the peak of Anasarca like a twig from a tree. If it ever awoke, it could walk across Phobiopolis in an hour, wiping out every screaming soul under its cataclysmic footsteps. Easily. Unthinkingly. In every wrinkle of its hideous, withered skin, massive colonies of microorganisms waited to feed. Yet they would not be microscopic. They would scale to the monster itself. This being was host to the bringers of the end of all life. It was plague incarnate. The omega of omegas. It had never been alive, it had no thought, it had no gender. It only had a name. Toby fought to not know that name. But so close to its dreaming? With its stench ensnaring every fiber of his soul? He had no chance. The word was inside him already, an infection, and he knew the instant he let his mind perceive it, those unholy eyes would open and see him and end him.

			LOGDORBHOK

Toby had doomed himself. Eternally. He had called its name. He had drawn its sleeping focus. Made himself its plaything. He could not stop himself moving closer, and the smell tore edges off his sanity. He could never escape. Nothing he could do now could ever change his fate. Already he could see the giant's leathery fecal skin begin to ripple. Microbes squirming free of its wrinkles and pores: the heralds of their master. Toby saw a cloud of gnats swarming through space towards him. He had never known fear like this, and he had no body to grant him release from it. He could not lapse into shock, he could not black out, he could not even wet his pants. They were coming. He could hear their teeth. Rotund blobs of filth, born from filth, embodiments of filth. Piggy eyes. Sunken noses. Limbs like tree branches. Their rattish teeth spun. The mouths moved and whirled like a garbage disposal in the center of their globulent faces. The microbes were joyful at the prospect of fresh meat after so many centuries. Toby realized he had no mouth of his own. But he had a body now. Because these things willed it. How else could they eat? Toby screamed with all his might but no sound made it through his melted-shut lips. The cherubs of malice and rot sped closer. Toby thrashed in the void, trying to swim away. They laughed and the noise was like sandpaper against his neurons. The most mercilessly sadistic sound in all existence. They lived to cause anguish. Misery drew them like sharks to blood. Toby could hear their squeals of glee as they surrounded him and began to feast. His back arched. His lungs drove more and more power into his screams and there was no result but silence. The beings' arms sank into his helpless flesh, burning like branding prods. Dozens of those stabbing claws, all over every inch of his skin. Then came the teeth. Jagged slashes that drilled down into his soft living tissue. Into his arms, into his eyes. Toby had one last hope, and that was the realization that there was no reason for the allfilth to have blocked his screams unless it was his only salvation. Driven by a desperation he had never dreamt in his waking life, Toby rammed his hands towards his muzzle and started digging. The microbes laughed and lapped at his tears and their slimy bellies shook with mirth. Toby cried and clawed, and the pain he caused himself was bliss compared to their merest touch upon his flesh. He scraped layers of meat away, chewing with his teeth as well, until he had made a hole. He sunk a finger in, then two. He pulled with a demon’s strength. His ears were plugged with the scavenging claws of the avatars of loathing, but nevertheless he could hear his cheeks rip open. And finally his scream was free. It shattered the universe's eternal silence. It rippled the cosmic tides. Toby felt the horrible creatures' taunting stop, and for a moment he thought he'd solved their weakness. But then came their laughter again. Higher and richer to see his hope rise and die. Their laughter was a keening pandemonium that boiled the marrow in Toby's bones. And then they began their meal in earnest, now that the food was properly seasoned with despair. Toby shrieked mindlessly as those teeth went to work. All their gnawing before was mere teasing. Now their fangs scraped his skeleton and carried away juicy mouthfuls of Tobyflesh. Each bite regrew in an instant so it could be eaten again, eternally. The wounds festered, hissing, corroding. The sound of chewing obliterated all else. The parasites began to crawl inside the holes they had made, to warm themselves among the boy's intestines. With his last ounce of awareness, the meat that had been called Toby saw the allfilth's head begin to turn. Sinkhole cheeks. Runny skin. A horizontal, quivering gouge of a mouth like a horse's cunt. And there were its eyes. Eyes as round and lifeless as mother-of-pearl beads. The infinite blackness of those dead, dried pupils bore into Toby's elements.

Oh god, there were things worse than death! There WERE!

-***-

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."

-***-

Part Seventy-One

His accent was buttery soft, with a small, precise voice ill-fitting for a mouth that enormous. The catfish's head spilled out of his robe like a great speckled brown tongue. Small eyes scrutinized the travelers. Whiskers twitched.

"Uh..." said Zinc.

Aldridge smacked his forehead. "Oh no, forgive me, I'm misremembering from years ago! Good gosh! You  came here to talk, didn't you? You actually made it past Dysphoria and everything!?"

Junella took the lead. She stepped forward, stood up straight, and put on her 'diplomacy' tone. "Good morning, sir. I hope we're not interrupting anything. We have traveled vast distances, across monstrous terrain, all to meet with you. We came for a variety of reasons, mostly on behalf of my client here." She put her arm out, expecting the mouse to be there. "...Toby?"

Toby had melted back behind George, suddenly feeling like he had no right to be here. After getting over the surprise of finding out the guy was a fish, Toby could see that there was just something about Aldridge. He didn't need a starry cloak and pointed cap to have a certain aura. Or maybe it was mere anticipation, wanting him to be more grand than he was. It was also possible this was just John Q. Average standing here in his bathrobe. Maybe all the stories were just myths, or maybe his magic had been used up over the years. Doubts of all kinds swirled around the mouse's head.

Junella grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into Aldridge's view. "Grrk!"

"Like I said, my client." Junella displayed him like a home appliance. "My partner and I, our bankroller, and our transportation, have all come a long way to ask for your help."

George piped up, "Again, we apologize if this is an imposition."

Aldridge handwaved that, absently. "Nothing to apologize for." He didn't look George's way because he was staring down at Toby. Through him.

The mouse froze like a deer in the headlights. Aldridge's beady eyes swam over him like they were taking inventory of his every thought and memory. "Hello, sir," he squeaked out. He extended his paw.

It was gently accepted. "You're in conflict," Aldridge said softly, to Toby alone.

Well, he couldn't deny that. "Yes, sir."

The catfish gave the mouse a subtle nod to convey that any reluctance was forgiven. Then the private moment was broken and Aldridge looked back to the group. He clasped his hands together in a firm rub. "Now then! It's been a while, but I think I still remember my manners. You've come to me for favors and granting them is usually quite fun. Let me just wand you over. Then you can come inside, have a sit on the sofa, and Becca will make tea."

Toby looked down at his paw. Aldridge had actually touched him. And a fish's hand wasn't anywhere near as slimy as he would have expected.

From deeper inside the house, kitchen sounds were heard. Aldridge reached to the side of the doorway and brought out an honest-to-gosh magic wand. The shaft was simple wood, but the tip featured a tangerine-sized gem as blue as the ocean.

Zinc was transfixed. The gem sparkled in his eyes. He felt himself salivating. "I've never seen one that big," he husked.

"That's because there aren't any others this big," Aldridge replied. He made passes over the canine, saw nothing unusual, then moved on to the others.

Toby was momentarily sure the wand would call him a liar and zap him to cinders, but instead nothing happened as it hovered over his head. Junella also raised no alarm.

Piffle's antennae perked in resonance with the wand as it passed them over. Aldridge was confused by the 'readings' for a moment, and grimaced a little at Doll. But then he shrugged and moved onto George. Now he really got perplexed. His initial assumption had been transformation accident, then his senses said parasomnic construct, and now the wand was telling him even more conflicting information.

George fidgeted. "Shall I stay in the yard, Sir Aldridge?"

The wizard squinted at him. "That's quite allright. So long as you wipe your feet I'd be-" Suddenly a lightbulb clicked on. "Oh, wait! You're ascended, aren't you? Goodness me, your kind only turn up once in a generation! Congrats, dear fellow!"

George was overjoyed to be so warmly accepted. "Thank you very much for saying so, Sir Aldridge!"

Aldridge hung the wand back in its nook beside various housekeys. "Righto, that's it, that's all. Let's sit by the fire and discuss."

They all moved a little closer but couldn't go farther. Junella dared to state the obvious. "Um, sir, you're blocking the door."

He blinked. "Sorry. Forgot." And then he disappeared.

The wizard seemed to turn himself off like a light switch. They were all startled, but another glance showed that he was still present, just extremely transparent. Perhaps five or ten percent opacity. His face was still frozen in the last expression he'd shown. Junella stepped up onto the welcome mat and waved her hand through the space he'd been occupying. Nothing. It felt like regular old air.

"I guess wizards do this kind of thing." She wiped her feet and stepped inside.

Everyone else passed through Aldridge's afterimage as well. Piffle was barefoot again, so she could appreciate the luxuriantly soft carpet. She cooed and rubbed her toes back and forth in it. George ducked his head through the doorway and was exceedingly careful not to bump into anything. Already he could tell this would be a challenge. The house was nearly as full of Delicate Things On Shelves as the Jennie-Mae.

Toby nervously stepped past the threshold, still somewhat worried that the house would recognize something unclean in him and exorcise him off the property. Nothing like that happened though. In fact, he felt somewhat lighter when he entered. Like stepping out of pollution into cleaner air.

The look of the livingroom was fairly predictable from the house's outside aesthetic. More yellow, green and red, but with touches of blue and purple. Tasteful and comfortable. To one side was a fireplace with a crackling blaze already lit. Close by was a recessed conversation pit with a horseshoe-shaped sofa nestled inside. There were artworks displayed in every space that wasn't already taken up by shelves. Books and trinkets abounded. There was even a surprisingly up-to-date television entertainment system above the fireplace.

Zinc was staring with naked lust at Aldridge's wand, clearly fighting the urge to snatch it up and run away.

"What IS it?" Piffle asked him.

"It's a Zulamang Drop..." he husked reverently. "I've only had my hands on fake ones before. You know how a megaphone amplifies yer voice?" She nodded. "A pea-sized pebble of this stuff can amplify willpower. Focus it into a scalpel."

She gawked. "Oooh!"

Zinc scratched his cheek. "I can't believe he just keeps it hanging there. Not locked up in a vault or nothin'."

A reply came from across the room. "No need for locks or guard dogs! There's no better home security than my Rebecca!"

A pleased giggle from the kitchen.

Zinc looked around for the source of the voice and saw an ibex in a blue bathrobe standing by the fireplace. He didn't even have to ask if it was Aldridge. Same voice, same bearing. But how? And why?

Aldridge answered Zinc's questioning expression with a demonstration. The ibex vanished just like the catfish had, while at the same time, a lop-eared rabbit popped into visibility closer to the door. Same bathrobe.

All around the room were extra Aldridges. They were hard to spot at first, until Zinc adjusted his eyes to the slight distortion. Each unused body was clear as ice until he inhabited it.

The rabbit shrugged. "For convenience."

Rebecca's voice called out, "Don't just stand there showing off, honeycomb. Introductions!"

"Yes, right. Um. I presume you all know who I am." He put a hand to his chest. "Albion nomiddlename Aldridge, pleased to meet you. You can carry on addressing me as Aldridge, though I like Brian just fine too."

"Hi, Bri," said Zinc.

A bow towards the metallic canine, then a sweep of the hand towards the kitchen. "Mastering the teapot this evening is my beloved wife, Rebecca Polidori Aldridge."

"Almost done!" she hollered.

The wizard looked to his assembled guests. "And you?"

One by one they gave their names. Junella did a low, regal bow. Piffle pulled off a curtsey as best she could while holding Doll. Zinc shook hands vigorously. George extended his hoof as well. Toby just waved a little from the back of the pack.

"Excellent,"  Aldridge said, clapping his hands. "I'm exceptionally pleased to meet you all. And not just because it's been the two of us alone up here for... well... Let's just say a long time. Quiet togetherness is nice, but interruptions in routine can be much-welcomed too." He indicated the sofa. "Shall we?" The rabbit vanished and the ibex reappeared.

The travelers walked towards the fireplace and were a bit startled to see furniture and shelves adjusting themselves out of everyone's way. And when they stepped down into the conversation pit to choose seats on the couch, the cushions seemed to fluff themselves and curl around whomever sat upon them. George remained standing, but felt envious of how cozy it looked.

Aldridge pointed to Junella. "Could you scoot over one seat more, my dear?"

She belatedly realized she'd sat down right in the middle of one of his spare bodies. "Whoops. Didn't see you there."

As soon as she moved, a slender red panda in a blue bathrobe popped into existence beside her. Legs crossed, hands on knee. "There we are. Everyone sitting comfortably?"

Agreement from the others. Piffle bounced a bit on the cushions. They were as beautifully blue as Aldridge's wand.

"Good good good. Now, I'm sure you're all eager to ask me for whatever it is you came all this way to ask me for, but if you'll indulge me, I always like to get to know people first. I'm sure you have questions about me, and I have some for you as well."

Toby was seated furthest from Aldridge. He turned his attention away, looking around the room. So many little treasures on shelves. He wondered about their stories. He realized that he was really just letting himself be distracted away from his own embarrassment to be here. Sooner or later it would come up. Junella or Zinc would mention his quest to return home. And he'd have to find some way to pretend he didn't already know the answer Aldridge would give. He found himself staring at a strange object on the far side of the room. Some kind of large sculpture on a rotating base.

Everyone else looked at each other, not sure who should speak first.

Finally Junella was bold enough. "Are the stories true? I mean, I've heard them everywhere. Zinc was telling some in the car earlier. About how you built so much and fought the nightmares and ended the war and then... you just kinda bugged out."

Aldridge smiled with a long-ago look. For the first time the others noticed that, despite his cheerful first impression, there was a deep and silent sadness written on his face. A weary melancholy always present in his eyes. He suddenly seemed very small and fragile to them. "I suppose most of them are true," he said, and licked his lips. "I admit I used to be much more active. I was like a 'super hero' to some people. But it wasn't a job I set out wanting. I've merely been here long enough to... Well, have you ever played a video game long enough to see the cracks in the simulacrum? You begin to understand the real rules of the game, not just as presented but programmed. Same for me. I'm no great magician. I'm just this realm's oldest resident, and I've had a lot of time to learn how to cheat."

Piffle wasn't sure what a video game was, but could follow the context well enough.

Junella was stunned. This was nothing like what she expected. Certainly it didn't resemble the confident, crusading Aldridge his legends portrayed. "How long have you been here?"

A shrug. "I can't remember. Though long enough to know how Phobiopolis formed and why we're all here."

A rattling cart approached from the hallway. "Sorry to butt in. Tea's ready."

The travelers all looked up, expecting to finally see the elusive Rebecca Polidori Aldridge. Instead, they saw a lone tea service rolling by itself towards them. It slalomed around the bookshelves, down the ramp, and into the conversation pit where it came to a graceful stop.

Piffle thought of Mr. Woofingbutter. "Did you get invisible'd?" she asked Rebecca.

A chuckle. "Nope! I'm the house!"

"What?" Junella sputtered. That was a bit unusual, even for Phobiopolis.

They could practically hear Rebecca smile. "Yup, and everything in it! I'm the roof, the walls, the carpet, the works. The only thing I'm not is the lawn and the only thing I'm missing is a bathroom. For obvious, smelly reasons. You're sitting on me, you're watching me burn in the fireplace, you even wiped your feet on me before you came in."

"I had no idea, Madam!" George yelped. "I am genuinely sorry!"

She cackled. "Don't be! Felt like a backscratch. I have Aldy scuff his feet across me all the time when I get an itch."

Piffle was thrilled by the idea. Of all the things she'd been before, she'd never been a whole house! "That's amazing! So you were just making tea with yourself, out of yourself!?"

More laughter. Rebecca clearly enjoyed their reactions. "You're getting' it, kid!"

It was a bit hard to envision, but Piffle had enjoyed being a meal on several occasions, so she could at least understand that part. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. She imagined all her friends living inside her. She could always keep them cozy and happy.

Zinc looked at the ceiling, as if in search of a mouth somewhere. "Not to be rude but, uh, were you born a house or did you convert?"

A little bit of levity left her voice. "Nah, I started out as a plain ol' coyote. That's what I was with Brian back in them old castle days."

Zinc nodded. "We noticed it outside. Nice digs, or useta be."

"They were," Rebecca agreed with a bit of yearning. "Ah, but don't weep for me now. I've been like this for ages. Aldy busted his brain trying to change me back, and after a while I told him I wanted to just try it out for a little while. As you can see, that little while lasted. I like being a house. Only real drawback is, everything on TV looks backwards. But, oh man, there's nothing more close than sharing a book with someone when you're the book!"

Piffle cooed. That sounded very romantic.

"And if I ever really wanted to turn back, I know I could. Pretty sure. Heck, I can change my appearance whenever I like." She demonstrated by briefly sending everything in the room through every color in the spectrum: wallpaper, ceiling, even the sofa they were sitting on. It was a bit startling. When things went back to normal, it felt like the end of a carnival ride.

The teapot started floating around, filling cups. Then a sofa pillow nuzzled Aldridge's ear. "Plus I get to entertain guests, and always keep track of my absent-minded fuzzy sweetcheeks."

The wizard smiled broadly.

Literal flying saucers brought steaming cups to everyone. The aroma was delectable. As Zinc very, very carefully clamped onto the delicate china handle of his cup, he thought about the mechanics of Brian and Rebecca's relationship. "So, how's all this work in the bedroom?" he blurted, then immediately winced, realizing the inappropriateness of the question only after it was already out.

Aldridge grinned wickedly. "A gentleman never tells. But I will say that we've had lots of time to get creative."

A pillow bopped him playfully on the head.

Junella tested her tea's temperature, not wanting it to melt her mouth. It was actually just about perfect. And the taste was indescribable. It made her think of autumn and faraway villages and calligraphy.

Rebecca recognized that dreamy smile. "Like it? It's something I used to pick up in Scarlatina."

Junella gazed into her cup. "I might have to visit."

Toby enjoyed the smell but couldn't bring himself to do much more than tip the cup towards his mouth and pretend to sip. He still kept glancing back at that thing in the corner. Until finally it clicked. "...It's a globe!"

They all looked up from their tea. Toby had been so quiet they'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Clever to have figured that out,"  Aldridge said approvingly. "Rebecca, would you bring it closer?"

"Sure, pops." It came gliding across the floor towards the pit so everyone could get a better look.

Upon a wooden base was mounted a large rectangular mirror. Glued to the reflective surface was what looked like a giant's fungus-covered toenail. It curved out and back towards the mirror in an arch. The mirror let everyone see both sides of the sculpting. The outward face was lumpy and multicolored, the underside was craggy and coal-black. At the top was a spray of pebbles, then a central spike that extended just beyond the glass.

"We're right there at the tip, aren't we? That's why we merged?" Toby asked.

"Two for two!"  Aldridge complimented. "I admit, even I don't know where the bizarre reflective property comes from, but you are sitting in the only spot in all of Phobiopolis that's immune. Right now, the people in this room are the only people in this room, and that's unique for all the world."

Junella's mind boggled. "Hot Jesus! I thought it was just something weird about your front lawn!"

He leaned forward, grinning at getting to explain it. "Not so; it's the whole kit and kaboodle. Every single place in Phobiopolis you've ever been to has an exact duplicate on the other side of the world. While you were trekking up here, your mirror images were taking the very same journey. Saying the same words, eating the same food, breathing the same breaths. There is not a single thing that happens on one side that is not replicated, down to the atom, on the other. And why not? Cause and effect apply the same everywhere in the universe. If the real you bumps an object off a shelf, and your image, mirroring you, does the same, then both items will fall."

Zinc looked pained. "This is setting my brain on fire."

Aldridge giggled, slightly crazily. "The knowledge does have that effect on most people. Even worse? Ponder this: If someone first arrives in Phobiopolis at the exact bottom, as most people do, then there is an equal chance they will run to the left or to the right. Depending on which way they run, they are either going to wind up in the real Phobiopolis, or its reflection. The people they meet may be real or reflections. There is no way of knowing which. Just as you and yours had no idea which was which when you met one another. And since there is absolutely no way to distinguish between the two, the question arises, does it even matter?"

Zinc screamed.

Aldridge tittered madly.

"He'll spill his tea, darling," Rebecca cautioned.

Aldridge could not resist his enjoyment at the looks of dismay on all his guests' faces. "It drives some people insane. That's one reason I chose to live here. Not only does it cut down on door-to-door salesman, but I can be secure in the knowledge that I'm the only me."

"And the same goes for all of you now," Rebecca said soothingly to the others. "You all merged before you came in, so you don't have to worry about it anymore. And when you leave, the reflections will go in one direction, all of you in another. So that works out too."

Aldridge sipped his tea. "Ah, but which direction will you go? Back the way you came, or down the other side? Did you come from the real world, or from an illusion?"

"Honey, you're just being sadistic now."

"I can't help it! Confusion is fun!" He took another sip. "Plus, it's good for the brain. Rattles it around to keep the dust from settling on it."

"You've certainly given me plenty of sleepless nights for the next few weeks," Junella warbled.

"You're welcome," he replied mischievously.

The travelers all puzzled over this revelation for a while. They thought about people they knew and wondered whether they'd been interacting with a real furson or their puppet. It was the sort of thing that their emotions demanded an answer to, but their reason couldn't help concluding that it really was irrelevant. If two things are exactly identical, why does it matter which one is 'real'? Or are they both, somehow?

Rebecca brought out some tiny cakes on napkins and began passing them around, hoping the sugar would settle the travelers' nerves.

"Would it help if I told you how all this came to be?"  Aldridge asked. "I know you must have urgent reasons for being here, but I've got a bit of professor's blood in me. It's been ages since I've gotten to explain anything to anyone else!" He wiggled on the couch like a boy about to open Christmas presents.

"Believe him," Rebecca said. "One of the perks of being a room is that, when he slips into 'Ohhh lookit this dear!' mode about something he's already told me for the millionth time, I can totally tune out and he won't notice a thing. Just keeps on rhapsodizing."

Piffle chortled.

"Well," Aldridge said, cheeks slightly pink. "That's not inaccurate. Do any of YOU mind though?"

"My tank's full, teach," Zinc said. The revelation about the shape of the world was enough for one day.

"Well I'm interested," Piffle said. The others nodded.

"Fantastic." Aldridge leaned back and settled comfortably. He cleared his throat, letting the old stage patter rhythms return to him. He pointed to the globe. "What you are looking at is a representation of a cosmic accident. More years ago than your minds can handle, God created the heavens and the Earth."

Junella choked on her cake. Up until that moment she'd been a passive atheist.  Always assuming that the universe was a random swirl of stars and dust, with Phobiopolis as its only afterlife.

Aldridge sipped his tea. "He created angels to love him. And when those angels started displaying free will and disagreement, he created Hell for their punishment." A frustrated sigh. "He was never very patient. Always the type to barge ahead in stubbornness when someone pointed out he'd been wrong. So he found a creature floating in space. A single being comprised of the souls of untold worlds, all bound together into a semi-corporeal whole. It had the ability to become whatever it dreamed, and could grant this ability to any of its passenger souls. God reached out to this celestial being, and killed it."

Piffle's antennae shot up in horror.

"He emptied it out like a jack-o-lantern,"  Aldridge continued, "and he used its corpse to build the realm we know as Hell. He has sent innumerable souls, mortals and angels both, to this haunted house world. And in its sloppy, enraged construction, he left behind chunks of waste material."

Toby saw where this was headed.

Aldridge gazed out the window to the stars. "Even in death, the celestial being's tissue reflexively sought new souls to join it. For you see, it gained nutrition from contact, and conversation, and learning. And so, the largest cast-off chunklet found itself reflexively drawn to the nearest source of soul energy. It journeyed blind across the cosmos to meet this new friend. Unfortunately, this source was the dreaming fiend we call The Cruelest One."

Toby felt ice blocks collide in his guts. His eyes widened. His breath halted. He'd never expected Aldridge to just come right out and mention the Allfilth directly. Toby's lips moved before he could stop himself. "I've seen him."

Aldridge's head whipped around towards the mouse. "You can't have."

"No, really!" Toby did not dare say its true name, but he drew in the air with his fingertip: the round eyes and slitted mouth.

Junella looked at Toby, jaw in her lap. "That was why-!? Why didn't you tell us!?"

The mouse felt drenched in nervous sweat as he scrambled to rebuild his mask. "I... I didn't think it was important, really. I saw a big ugly head as I was leaving Dysphoria. And sure, it was scary. But I assumed you were right when you said it was just another trick it was playing on me."

She scowled. She didn't believe a word of his carefully-chosen response. But she did believe the raw horror that had been in his voice a second ago. And she got the sense Toby had gotten a lot closer than just seeing it. 'This explains so much. Goddammit Toby, why didn't you trust us to help you?'

Aldridge was pale. He completely missed the reactions of the others, his attention focused wholly on Toby. "How in the name of God did you ever get away?" he breathed.

A shrug. "I don't know. My friends saved me somehow."

"Junella juiced his chest with a live wire until he snapped out of it," Zinc said.

Aldridge looked like he could not believe what he was hearing. He shook his head. "All I can say, young mouse, is that I hope you never know just how grateful to your friends you should truly be."

Toby nodded. "I am." He looked to all of his companions. "Thank you," he felt compelled to say.

The others didn't know what to feel. The revelation of The Cruelest One was comparatively easier to deal with, since it wasn't a stretch to guess that Phobiopolis might be watched over by some megalithic horror in the darkness. But overriding that was their worry for Toby, and a feeling of betrayal that he'd kept his encounter to himself. Did he not think they could help, or understand?

Piffle, George, Zinc, and Junella shared a flurry of glances between them, vowing without words to confront Toby about this as soon as tea was over.

The mouse sat with his lips shut tight, hoping his lie had worked. He intertwined his fingers in his lap.

Aldridge shook his head in astonishment and tried to remember where he'd been in his story. He babbled until he got back to it, like an unsteady takeoff. "As I was saying... What was I saying? Phobiopolis. Him. Right. The Cruelest One, also known as the Allfilth."

Toby's whole body clenched at hearing that word spoken aloud.

"By a monstrous accident of fate, it was its will that shaped the beginnings of this realm. A flying blood clot turned into an afterlife. Even though the celestial being lived to provide comfort and happiness to all its passengers, the Cruelest One's tainted soul corrupted it. That conflict between their natures is likely why the whole of this realm is not like Dysphoria. There exists both suffering and solace here. I've held out hope that maybe the spirit in our soil is not dead, but only hibernating."

He pointed to the globe again. "It used to be omega-shaped. Can you see it? The way the land curves around in a broken ring? Technically it's upside down, but everyone perceives Anasarca as being the highest point in the land, so there you go. Anyway, long ago, caused possibly by the abrupt ending of its journey, the bottom lines of the omega broke off and fused together. That simultaneously created the mountain you are sitting on, and the debris field surrounding it. But the rest was a boundless psycho-reactive void. Even in dormancy, it pulled souls toward it like a magnet. Why this place seems to attract sleeping souls more than dead ones, I haven't a clue. Possibly due to the dreams of The Cruelest One? I can guess right now that a majority of you here, possibly all except George, went to sleep one night and found yourselves here. Or were rendered unconscious by accident or anesthesia."

Even without replying, everyone confirmed this through their pensive expressions. Some had no concrete memory of it happening, but felt sure nonetheless.

Toby realized now, he couldn't remember if he'd ever actually asked his friends how they'd come here. Maybe because he wasn't yet sure of how he had. He knew he didn't want to talk about it. Although he couldn't shake the tense, sick, familiar feeling that maybe he already knew. Maybe, even after all his introspection in Dysania, there was something still left undiscovered.

Aldridge continued. "This world works on principles which we perceive to make sense, and they make sense only because we perceive that they will. Any baseline physics are simply what the majority of souls expect to happen, based on experiences from Earth. The entire population is in a constant state of dumbfounding. Otherwise, Phobiopolis would be in complete chaos. There is only any stability here because the first inhabitants assumed it must exist somewhere, so they set out and found it."

The idea went against everything Junella thought she knew. "So are you telling me that... everything's like the sunny sky up on Bigwheel 52? Ectopia Cordis is on stable ground not because the ground's stable, but because enough people all thought, 'Yeah, I guess it is'?"

"That's about the gist of it," Rebecca answered.

Junella massaged her temples. The idea seemed too big to fit in her brain. "I'd heard the theory before, but it was just people spitballin'. Kicking the possibility around. I never believed it because... it can't be true. It turns cause and effect backwards, doesn't it?"

"Not really," Rebecca said. "Think of it this way. Y'ever been in a situation where something important popped up and you HAD to do it, but you weren't sure if you could, so you pulled an all-nighter anyway and went into kind of a daze? Then in the morning, you can't even remember how in the frig you pulled it off, but there it is, done! Sometimes you can accomplish things precisely because you just DO them without knowing how. Especially here."

Junella immediately thought of Toby's paint can trick. "Does this mean," she reasoned, "that if someone could just get, I dunno, 'zen' enough, they could change anything?"

Aldridge smirked. "Not only could they, but you are sitting beside the all-time grandmaster."

Junella gaped.

"You're soooo humble, honeycakes," Rebecca playfully poked.

"Just being accurate," he defended. "But yes. I have amassed all sorts of tricks and techniques over the years to boost my unconscious power and control it consciously. It used to be there were many more 'sorcerers' like me. By now, either their talents have been lost to obscurity, or discovered again in random accidents. Or the tricks have become so commonplace that no one anymore stops to think about them."

Zinc nodded. "Right, right. Like I was tellin' 'em about how people didn't useta know how to mindf- er, dumbfound. And now they can. Because they already know other people can."

"Absolutely correct," Aldridge said.

The canine was glad he was keeping up with all this.

Aldridge leaned over, resting his face in his paws and letting out a nostalgic sigh. "I miss those days, and yet I don't. There were only ever a handful of us. The magicians, I mean. But for a time, we were this world's biggest celebrities. I commanded standing-room-only audiences. 'Aldridge The Impeccable.' Oh, it was grand. But it was taxing too. It required me to put on a persona of someone I wasn't. Someone with much more assuredness and optimism.

"The problem is, as it always is, power seeks to grow. We all wanted more of it. Some just because we were rivals. Greater abilities meant greater ticket sales. For me, I wanted more because I saw so damned many things in the world that needed fixing, and I was in a position to fix them." He closed his eyes, and his voice lowered. "Others, on the other hand... One in particular, who I will not name, wanted more power in order to punish the world."

Zinc had heard all the stories, and knew exactly who Aldridge was remembering. "She was why the war started, wasn't she?"

Aldridge looked uncomfortable with that phrasing. "Was she? Or was I, for waiting too long to contain her?"

Rebecca comfortingly patted his shoulder with a pillow. They'd been over this many times.

"I tended to act only when I realized no one else could, or when no one else was stepping forward. So while this little contest of sorcery was escalating, I watched a certain furson gathering power and I kept telling myself that her seething spite would burn to the wick eventually. I talked with her so many times. In those days she made no bones about her amorality, but she was still approachable. She could speak so reasonably, so convincingly." Regret was plain in his voice. "I gave her the benefit of the doubt too many times. And then, it was too late."

He reached up to caress the pillow. "Rebecca was my Pearl Harbor, I suppose. When my rival saw that Becca made me happy, she changed her into her current form. A cruel joke. That was what finally convinced me her behavior was not just harmless pranks. Her venom would never run dry. She meant to strike at whatever caused the most pain, in anyone she deemed deserving."

Sensing the ache in her lover's voice, Rebecca asked, "You mind if I butt in to tell my part in this? How I found you?"

He looked intensely relieved, like she'd thrown him a lifeline. "Oh, yes. Please. It's a much better story."

They could practically feel her glow. "I first saw Aldy at one of his shows. Man, he was the greatest! He did stuff the other guys couldn't touch. Made it look so easy too. And... I fell in love. I knew it started out as just a schoolgirl crush. I mean, what would a big famous magician want with little old boring me? But I snuck myself backstage to meet him this one time. Then again. And after a while, he started expecting me."

Down from one of the shelves came a framed photograph of a young and happy pair. As a coyote, Rebecca had looked plain yet radiant. Her smile and sheer will shone from the photo. And Aldridge...

Toby was incredibly surprised to see that the wizard's earlier self had been a mouse. Just like him.

Rebecca sat the portrait on the tea tray. "No one called it a war until it had already been one for a good long time. The magicians were consolidating power. Entertainers into politicians. And a lot of people started getting worried about that. The main opposition was Luxy Bleeder, that crazy bastard." She spoke his name with begrudging respect. "He wasn't the first to say it was a bad thing for certain folks to slowly build themselves into Gods, but he said it loud, and he said it well. By then, some wizards and witches were actually drawing borders. It was getting uglier. Aldy couldn't stand it. He built his castle up here just to get away from the noise. He started doing fewer shows and spending more and more time away from everyone else."

A cup of tea poured itself, and then drank itself. "After his last show, he told me he couldn't see me anymore. He said he loved me, but the world was nothing but a big migraine and I was safer without him. He was the only one who could fly over Dysphoria where it couldn't reach up and catch him. It became his barrier against everyone else."

Aldridge said softly, "I still can't believe I was stupid enough to think you wouldn't follow."

Junella put two and two together. "You made it through Dysphoria too?" she asked in amazement.

They couldn't see her proud smile, but felt it anyway. "Sure did!"

"All by yourself!?"

"Well, I had some help. My idea was, I spent all my savings and had some friends build me this harpoon setup. I stood on the edge and fired it at the mountain for a guideline. Then it was just hand-over-hand the whole way."

Junella's jaw dropped, outraged that such a simple solution was possible. "You're shitting me!! After all the crazy crap we hadda do to ourselves to get through, and you just walked across!?"

Rebecca laughed in a melancholy way. "You make it sound so simple. Lemme put it this way. You got through that hellhole yesterday, right? And you're speaking complete sentences to me now? That's the difference."

Junella quieted.

"I only made it because I was so full of myself and I had no idea what I was getting into," Rebecca admitted. "Love makes people stubborn. I just kept pulling on that rope thinking, 'It has to end sometime'. Yet it didn't. Even when Aldy realized what was happening and helped pull me out, my mind was still trapped in there for a long, long time. I was crippled in every way someone can be. Took almost a year for Brian to nurse me back to health. I nearly lost everything I was."

The skunk looked around at her companions. They had all taken a hit from Dysphoria's relentless punches, and some fared worse than others. She looked at Doll, still hibernating within herself, and at Toby, cut down to a fraction of what he'd been before. Yet she also looked at George's colored lights, Zinc quietly holding hands with Piffle, and her own cutlass. Their outcome could have been so much worse.

"She is why I made the escalator," Aldridge added. "Sometimes, when a loved one is in pain, you wind up with a powerful store of nervous energy that you feel must be channeled into something that makes a difference. Even if it's relatively minor. I reasoned, anyone else brave enough to make it across the reach deserved an easy path the rest of the way."

'Thought so,' Junella said to herself.

"Why didn't we do the harpoon-guideline thing?" Piffle asked Zinc. "I mean, plus all our other ideas."

"Too damn dangerous! No guarantee the spike'd hit the mountain instead of one of the asteroids," he replied.

The hamsterfly nodded, then looked at the tea tray. "You must've gotten super lucky, Rebecca."

A soft chuckle. "Brian's told me that lotsa times."

"And in a way, that's where the story ends," Aldridge added. "I joined the war. It came down to myself and my rival. Terrible things happened. I won, and I..." He cleared his throat. "I dealt with her in a manner suitable."

That could indicate a great many things. Zinc's brain started imagining them.

"I didn't have the heart to end her permanently, and sometimes I wonder if that was the right decision. But during that awful period, a common way of disposing of one's enemies was to toss them in Dysphoria. To end this atrocity, and to safeguard myself and my love against my rival's possible return- or revenge by her thralls- I set out on my last great project. I had reached a point where I felt I had done all I could for Phobiopolis. The rest, people would have to muddle through on their own. But I could do one more thing. I could starve that contemptible abyss of future prey. And so I built the great white wall."

Zinc jumped off the couch. "YOU BUILT THE MAZE!?"

No change in expression. "I did."

The canine barely restrained himself from throwing his teacup in Aldridge's face. "WHY!? For fuck's sakes, have you SEEN the people trapped in there!? I sure as hell had to!!"

Aldridge's mouth became a stone slit. "Can you tell me, in all honesty, that it is worse for them in there than it would be in Dysphoria?"

Zinc's planned reply caught in his throat. His mouth froze mid-roar. He tried to think of a counterargument to that and couldn't. Even with the blurred goggles, he had seen those wretched things in Phlegmasia that had used to be people, crawling around in blind delirium. And yet... Given the choice between spending the rest of eternity in either place, he knew what he'd choose without hesitation.

Piffle saw the snarl on Zinc's lips change from anger to frustration. She tugged on his wrench, easing him back down to his seat. She asked Aldridge, "Couldn't you have, I dunno, maybe tried something a little less..." She couldn't think of a word that didn't sound rude.

"I considered many ideas," Aldridge said without emotion. "I decided I cared more about effectiveness than compassion. Anything was better than the valley of The Cruelest One. I thought to myself, if I had to be trapped in only one emotion for a very long time, what would be the most merciful? The enjoyment of a good story seemed a fair choice. You can see my books. This isn't even all of them. I made an entrance to tempt the arrogant to try; to think they had a chance. I designed the maze to always steer its captives back towards this entrance, away from Dysphoria. It holds no one forever. But it is designed such that, once you are free, you will not want to return."

It was all very reasonable, but also very cold. The travelers felt their image of Aldridge shift with this new information.

The wizard finished his tea. "I haven't the foggiest how you six got here, but I'm sure you'll tell me soon. I'm sure you have a grand tale of all your travels. But I'm glad I got this opportunity to let you see the real me. To let you know that I try to be kind, but I can also be ruthlessly practical when necessary. I don't want you to think of me as your magic fairy godfather that can make all your wishes come true. My power has limits. And if my guesses are correct, I'm going to be disappointing at least one of you when you start making requests."

"Mind if I ask one more question before we get to that part?" Junella asked in a deceptively disinterested tone.

"Certainly." He set his saucer down. "If there's one thing I try to be, to make up for all my other failings, it's honest."

She leaned back against the sofa and looked him in the eye. "A while ago, you spoke about God like you knew him personally. You're not just the oldest resident here, are you?"

He froze. Oh this one was very clever. "What exactly are you implying?"

Junella's tone was perfectly calm as she called out the most powerful being in the world. "I'm not implyin' shit, mister. You're this place's guardian angel, ain'cha? You're here to keep us all in line."

The others gawked.

Aldridge actually laughed. "Yes, and no. Correct assumption but incorrect conclusion. Still, that's definitely worth my respect. Bravo." He clapped for Junella.

She was not charmed.

Rebecca chuckled too, in a 'jig's up' kind of way. "May as well show 'em, honey."

He was startled. "But only you've seen...!"

"What can it hurt?" she replied.

Aldridge sat up straight, considering it. "Fair point." With that, he stood and let his bathrobe fall to the floor. Underneath he was wearing blue satin boxer shorts. Piffle was just about to giggle, but then his wings came out.

The room filled with light.

Aldridge bowed his head and solemnly extended them to their full span. The tips on either side scraped the walls. The glow emanating from the shining white feathers outshone every lamp in the room. Immaculate. Aldridge's face was taut. Closed off. Almost ashamed.

His guests were literally unable to do anything else but stare dumbstruck in awe.

Then he folded away his wings and sat back down. He shuffled his robe back on and reached for a tiny cake.

The room was dead quiet.

"You're a real angel!!" Piffle finally sputtered.

He shrugged, as if that wasn't so out of the ordinary. "Yes."

Junella was goosebumpy as anyone else, but hadn't forgotten her question. "But you say you're not the world's warden?"

He shook his head and snorted at the absurdity. "If you're asking if I was sent here with a purpose, absolutely no. God tossed me out like all the rest of His trash. By purest accident, His aim must have been off and I shot past Hell and landed here. I found a violent and ugly pioneer world where nothing stayed the same when you turned your back. At first I was too anguished to do anything about it. But when other souls began to arrive, I had to."

He smiled bittersweetly. "I already told you, I never wanted this job."

No one knew what to say then. They just stared at him, remembering the sight of those wings. How they blazed, like sunfire.

Aldridge looked directly at Toby. "Unless I'm mistaken, you came to ask if I could send you home."

The small mouse's throat turned to sand. The question had come before he'd had time to prepare his lies. He opened his mouth but nothing would come out. Finally, all he could do was nod. It was true that home had been his original goal, after all.

"I can't," Aldridge said flatly.

Toby showed no reaction. Because of course he wasn't surprised.

Zinc however, bared his fangs and snarled. "WHY YOU-!!!"

The wizard held up a finger, refusing the outburst before it could start. "When you started on this jaunt, did you know for a fact that I could send people back to Earth? Hm? Or did you hear stories and assume them true?"

Zinc deflated.

Aldridge opened his hands, palms out, to all of them. "You think you're the first to make it here?"

Junella was heartbroken. Yes, she'd told Toby to be cautious, that there were no guarantees. But her own hope had never wavered. Of course Aldridge could. Because... Because he was Aldridge. Aldridge could do anything. "But..."

"The legends had to have come from somewhere, didn't they?" he asked somberly, to no one in particular. "Some, when they heard the choice I actually have to offer, decided they didn't really want to leave here all that badly after all. So I flew them back across the divide. They returned to their villages and either told the truth, which no one wanted to hear, or spun fantastic tales of the wizard Aldridge's great power. Which do you think survived? Which was passed on?"

Junella felt like he'd carved a hole right through her. She looked over to Toby and mistook his stone face for crushing numbness. She was almost there herself. If there was any silver lining, at least he'd confirmed that he took people home. Junella had been dreading the possibility of having to backtrack through Dysphoria.

Toby was very still and very quiet. He didn't dare let it show, but he was feeling one emotion quite strongly. Relief. With those simple words from Aldridge, 'I can't', Toby's problems had been solved. He didn't have to make any excuses or choices. He'd never have to say a word to any of his friends to justify turning back. Aldridge had given him freedom. When later they went home with an 'oh well' and a 'so long', Toby was free to disappear at the first chance he got, taking his head full of toxic truths far, far away from the others. Sparing them from the slow poison inside him. It was the best thing for everyone, really.

He almost felt happy.

Piffle reached past Zinc to put a comforting paw on her mouse friend's shoulder.

Toby reflexively flinched from it, then accepted it to preserve the act.

She was glad he let her paw stay, but something in his eyes made her shudder. A glint of something so completely un-Toby-like, she must have hallucinated it.

Junella was trying to untangle these last remaining knots. "So, the people who never got home... were they just the ones who got lost in the maze and Dysphoria?"

"Not all," Aldridge said very quietly, in a voice on the edge of tears.

She felt like maybe she shouldn't ask. Like maybe she didn't want to know the answer. "...Where?"

Aldridge's head had gradually sunk lower and lower towards his folded hands. At Junella's question, he straightened up and put on a face of calm practicality. He spoke in a clipped tone without any trace of feeling. "It is another of my self-imposed duties in this world, to look after a certain object. One, I believe, that followed me here from Heaven. When I first saw what it could do, I knew I had to lock it away forever. But some have asked about it. And I could not in good conscience refuse this request, even knowing the consequences."

The skunk could hardly breathe the words. "You're talking about the Oblivion Door."

Aldridge was slightly stunned that word of it had survived. "I am. Its proper name is the Neculaunis. I touched it once and knew."

Piffle ran her hand nervously along her carapace's ridges. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Junella nodded slowly. "You listen long enough, you hear all kinds of stories. This was something I heard bad people threaten other bad people with. And only when they were so pissfire-angry they didn't know what they were sayin' anymore." She paused, some angel on her shoulder shouting a warning she didn’t understand. "S'posedly, it's a door that if you walk through it... you stop being there. You just... stop. Alltogether."

Piffle put her paws over her mouth.

Zinc looked to Aldridge for confirmation or denial.

"For once, the legends are entirely accurate," he replied.

"But that's horrible!!" Piffle protested. "Who would make something like that!? How could you ever let anyone use it!?"

Aldridge's face was cold marble as he looked to her apologetically. "Because it is not my right to decide life and death. Who am I? To tell someone, 'Your suffering must continue because I can't bear the thought of your choice'!?" His volume began to slowly rise. "To some poor souls, the thought of a final, permanent escape from this unceasing nightmare is the greatest solace I can give them!!"

"Calm down, love," Rebecca said gently.

There was a murmur from the opposite end of the sofa.

They all looked at Toby, not sure if he'd spoken or coughed.

"Did you say something, Sire Toby?" George piped up. He had remained quiet for some time now, simply because the stories were engrossing and he had nothing to add to them.

Toby's eyes were glassy and wide. His posture was rigid, face slack. But the others could practically see the thoughts whizzing around in his head like carnival fireworks. "I asked," he repeated quite clearly, "if we could see it."

Disbelieving stares.

"Please," he added.

***

Oh, there was a big kerfuffle as they all chimed in to talk him out of it. But Toby stuck to his guns. He didn't even hear their words. He just held up his hands and kept insisting: "I only want to see it. I only want to see it."

Piffle was torrenting tears again. Zinc shot fury at Toby from his incinerating gaze. Junella was so bitterly disappointed she looked like she wanted to die. And George's voice was quavering with a depth of emotion the others had rarely heard from him.

Still, Toby insisted.

He wasn't even sure why. He had no plan in mind. Yet an electric wire inside him had surged at Aldridge's mention of the artifact. Like this was the missing piece of a puzzle he'd been working on blindly all this time.

Of course, he wasn't going to walk through.

Yes, he acknowledged that all his internal doubts were whooping in celebration. 'Here's your chance, crybaby! Here's your chance to end it all and do something useful for once!' But he knew he wasn't going to listen to those voices. If nothing else, just to deprive them the satisfaction.

Maybe it was that he felt he had to confront this 'oblivion door' face to face. He had never truly decided whether his heart wanted to leave or stay. This was a third option. To leave everything, permanently. All the pain, but also all the joy and memory and future chances. He was sure he didn't want that.

But still... he had to see it. Just once.

Aldridge became very serious and asked him several times if he was certain. The wizard's mesmerizing eyes drilled deep.

Toby barely heard the words. He was sitting up straight with his hands on his knees, ready to go the second the word was given. "One hundred percent, sir," he replied.

Aldridge closed his eyes and sighed. The mouse was one of the worst liars he'd ever seen. Toby's inner thoughts were so transparently manifest, he might as well have been writing them out on a chalkboard. And Aldridge knew his expression. He recognized the insistent denial. He'd seen it all before. Nevertheless, it was his duty.

He stood and said, "If you must, then Rebecca will show the way. I'll be there waiting." And he vanished.

Toby stood up too. His skinny body didn't feel so weak anymore. In fact, he almost felt like he was floating.

There was an acid edge to her tone when Rebecca spoke. "If you're planning what I think you are, it'll sink him like a stone! I'll be consoling him for months! And have you even thought about what it'll do to your friends!?"

Toby did not flinch. He simply repeated, calmly, "I'm not planning anything. I only want to look."

There was a harsh hiss of contempt, then the tea cart raced off across the floor. Fast and clattering, like the furson pushing it was steaming with anger.

Toby watched the cart and remembered its path. He started after it.

The others were all staring at him in total shock. Zinc reached out to tug the mouse's arm. "Hey, chief, c'mon. Be serious here. You're jokin' with us, right? The mouse I know would crap his pants runnin' away from a thing like that." As the words left his mouth, Zinc realized that in his desperation, he'd said the absolute worst words possible.

Toby turned to him and said stiffly, "Yeah? Well, I've grown up some. Chief."

Piffle was crying now. She stood up and spread her arms like a crossing guard, blocking Toby's path. Her mouth was set in a firm line.

Toby hated to make her feel this way, but if she wouldn't take him at his word then he wasn't going to waste time convincing her. He turned and walked around her, marching up and over the back of the couch.

Junella had not moved an atom. She was still sitting in her same position, arm draped over the back of the sofa. Eyes narrowed. Looking exhausted in every way a furson could be. She remarked flatly, "Gee, mouse, I never thought you'd be this much of a coward."

Toby's blank expression broke and he whirled around in her face, scarlet with anger. "If none of you are going to do anything but insult me and try to hold me back then you can all just go to Hell!!"

Junella remained motionless. But the bitter scowl on her lips deepened.

Toby turned to walk away, but a wrench knocked him to the floor.

He picked himself up, seeing stars and feeling an orange-sized welt emerge on his cheek. "This is how you treat your friends?" he hissed.

Zinc stood over him, his face a concrete slab. "When they're actin' like assholes, yeah."

Piffle jumped up and clutched tight to Zinc, looking back and forth between him and Toby. "Stop it! Stop it right now!"

Neither heard her.

Toby grabbed the edge of the couch and pulled himself to his feet. His eyes met Zinc's. He tried to shove all his willpower into his gaze like a bulldozer. "I'll do what I decide to do. If you're really my friend you'll respect that. If not, then hit me again when my back is turned. Like I care." And he made good on his word, swiveling away from Zinc towards the hallway. He steeled himself for a killing blow.

Instead, Zinc stood silently and stared through the back of Toby's vest, knowing he couldn't solve this with brute force.

Toby followed the tracks the tea cart had left on the carpet. The rest of the house displayed the same comfortable aesthetic as the living room. Everything neatly in its place. Not a speck of dust to be seen. Toby passed a wall full of portraits. He didn't bother looking at them. Down the hall he could see half a dozen closed doors and a single one open. He headed straight for it.

Hoofbeats on the carpet behind him. "Are you going to try to convince me out of it next?" he spat.

There was clear hurt in the quiet reply, but also steadfast loyalty. "Sire Toby, until it is your choice to let me go, I will be at your side wherever you are and whatever you decide."

Toby stopped. He turned around. George was standing a few feet behind him in the hallway, looking like a faithful dog who'd attend his master anywhere. Toby felt some of his anger subside. "Thank you, George," he said softly. Toby turned back and kept walking towards the open door. But he listened, and was glad to hear those big, clunking hooves follow.

Piffle, Zinc, and Junella were a still life for a moment. Then Zinc growled, resisted the urge to smash something expensive, and followed after Toby. Junella swung herself up and away from the couch, following her partner.

Piffle fretted for a few moments more. She looked down at Doll in the crook of her arm. Looked up to the open door Toby had vanished through. Then, trembling, she turned and laid Doll down upon the cushions. "You might not want to see this," she said quickly, then gave her silent friend's forehead a kiss and scampered off after the others.

***

The door at the end of the hall was a couple of inches ajar. Toby could only see light from inside.

He definitely didn't want to be here anymore, so he crossed the room to his closet, towards that shiny brass knob. He turned it.

The Neculaunis room was like nothing else in the house. It was unthinkably big, impossibly big. Toby should have seen this barn-sized bulge from outside. Or maybe the room actually was normal sized. Maybe it only appeared so large because it was stretching itself away in fear from the silver masterpiece at its center.

An unshielded bulb dangled from the ceiling, spilling a yellow glare across the room. No wallpaper, no carpet. Just unvarnished boards and a single window. And one door.

It seemed more real than anything else in the room. Or the world. It seemed more there. It seemed to exist in a dimension beyond, and this was merely the representation that souls like him were allowed to see.

No ornamentation. Flat. Just silvery-white metal, or metallic paint over wood. Smooth enough to reflect. Toby could see a distorted, wrung-out mouse with wide eyes walking slowly towards himself. The angles of the frame were uncannily precise. The knob was as perfectly round as a crystal ball. No keyhole. The Neculaunis stood waiting, suspended above the hardwood on nothing but its own aura. As Toby came closer, it looked down at him with aloof grandeur. It did not have to care whether or not he stepped through. It would remain in place eternally, ready to open, or not, at anyone's choice. Even Aldridge's.

The wizard's body in this room was his original one, a sandy-furred mouse. Again in blue. He stood with his arms folded in the small of his back, leaning against the wall to Toby's left.

"There it is," he said with slight reproach. "You've seen it now."

But Toby shook his head. This was only the outer vessel. This was the candy box, not its contents. He had to lift the lid.

Toby heard the others enter the room and stand near Aldridge. They did not come any closer, and the mouse was glad for that. Maybe they feared the Neculaunis more than he did, or maybe they were finally acting like friends and listening to what he'd told them. There was nothing wrong with wanting a look.

The Neculaunis held his gaze as if soft silver hands had extended to cup his face. Its presence was overwhelming. Toby could hardly look away. He felt drawn into its pristine silver surface, wanting to dive in and make ripples like a summer pool.

Maybe this was what had been calling him all this time. Across the whole vast distance of Phobiopolis. What if it had been whispering to him inaudibly through all his days and nights here? What if it was lonely?

With an extreme effort, Toby turned his head away slightly, towards Aldridge. He had a sensible question. Practical considerations came first, after all. "Is it safe to open? Like, will I be sucked inside as soon as I touch it?"

Aldridge was steeling himself for what he knew now was inevitable. He forced calmness onto his face and did nothing but watch and answer. "It has no hunger. It will not take you unless you walk through on your own, uncoerced, volition."

Toby nodded. There was wanting to face the unknown, and then there was taking unnecessary risks. Ha ha! He wanted to see it, but he didn't want his friends to all go spiraling into a black hole along with him.

He stepped towards the Neculaunis door and extended his hand. His every movement felt calm and confident. As if he'd practiced this moment over and over. What an odd moment of deja vu... He reached towards that shiny silver knob, knowing in his heart that this was the right decision.

Piffle gasped. She started to run towards Toby and beg him to stop.

Junella put an arm across her chest.

Piffle looked at her, shocked, unable to find the breath to ask, 'Why!?'

The skunk's face was utterly inanimate, but her eyes were red at the edges. She stroked her finger-needles gently across her grooves."The client decides where to go. Even when we may not like that."

Piffle's lip trembled. She wanted to smack Junella, but instead grabbed the skunk's scarf and crushed her tear-stained face into it. "I can't lose him too. I can't, I can't. I'll break."

A gentle wrench reached across her shoulders to tug her away.

George leaned in closer to his companions. "I understand everything you are feeling, Madam McPerricone. But I believe it best to trust in Sire Toby to be wise in this decision."

Piffle looked at George, then back to Toby. Her mouse friend stood at the door as if entranced. She didn't know if she could trust him. She didn't know if he was really the one in control, or if something else had its fingers in him.

Junella watched every move Toby made with silent, hawklike patience. She understood having faith in the people you cared about, but there was an unspoken line. If that mouse crossed it, she'd be across the room like lightning, chopping off his ankles to keep him from taking another step. Let Aldridge try to stop her. Fuck choices. She wasn't about to let Zinc, Piffle, and George go through that misery.

Aldridge watched as well. He saw things no one else in the room did, and kept his thoughts private.

Toby felt an energy shooting through his skin as he drew closer. Like fingers of wind brushing through his essence, making his fur stand on end. The silver doorknob was cool to the touch. Frictionless at first. But when Toby wrapped his hand around tightly and squeezed, it began to turn with almost no effort.

There was a gap in his memory then, because suddenly he was standing in front of the open door with no recall of having actually opened it. What was inside tore his eyelids open and vivisected his mind.

Nothing.

It was horrifying. It was haunting. It was tantalizing.

Toby felt madness enter him. This was a more creeping, sinister strain than Dysphoria, because there was no malice here. This was closer to the moment when he had floated alone in the presence of the infinitely indifferent cosmos. But even the universe, in all its breadth and majesty, was at least comprehensible. The Neculaunis' heart held nothing inside. There was neither light or darkness, shade or color. No smell. No sound. It was nothing. And Toby's brain screamed in atavistic rebellion at the idea. It could not abide such a concept. There had to be some way to describe the impossibility before his eyes. Yet every effort failed. This was as far beyond him as astrophysics was to an ant. This was an aspect of reality he was utterly incapable of conceiving. And yet he was seeing it.

He had to touch it. He had to. The thought transformed instantly to a solid truth in his mind: The moon is in the sky, water is wet, I must know this unknowable thing in front of me.

Toby tried to raise his hand, but his body fought him. It knew better. Toby's waking mind might have been ensnared, but his brainstem and nervous system recognized this as some hellaciously bad shit they wanted exactly no part of.

Aldridge had seen the look in the mouse's eyes more times than he could count. Though that was a lie. One hundred seventeen. How could he possibly forget even one? He clenched his teeth and locked his muscles down tight no matter how loud his conscience screamed. His every molecule called him coward, but he knew he had no right to interfere. His duty was to provide the choice and bear witness.

Toby forced his arm to raise, ignoring all warnings. Thoughts of Aldridge vanished, as did awareness of his friends. He was alone in this room. He was alone in the world. With the door.

His eyes burned. He took a hesitant step forward, somehow still aware that he did not want to trip and fall in. Oh no, he still had at least that little bit of automatic self-preservation. But his arm extended, and his fingers reached out. The nothingness was unspeakably repulsive, agonizingly beautiful. Just one touch, he promised, and then he'd be satisfied.

Junella and Zinc were both restraining Piffle with difficulty. Tears flowed like rain and she covered her mouth to keep in her screams.

In his peripheral vision, Toby saw the reflection of his own twig-thin arm reaching for the surface of that inexpressible other world.

Not a world though. Not a pool or a wall or a cloud. Nothing.

Nothing was impossible. Nothing was all anything ever really was.

The pad of a single digit of a single finger touched the barrier between existence and nonexistence.

To call it indescribable would have been inadequate. Toby could have filled books trying to recapture that sensation. If there was any one adjective that stuck out and held true, it was "overwhelming".

Toby was instantly addicted. He had never felt anything like this before, or dreamed such a feeling could exist. Chills ran up his bones and raised goosebumps on his skin. The touch froze him to the marrow. It sent nails through his flesh. It caressed him. It flayed him alive.

He was in control, he thought. A little more couldn't hurt?

A voice far away was screaming that he was trapped now. He could never pull away. Any motion forward would doom him irrevocably.

Toby didn't listen. He was sure he knew better.

He sunk his fingers deeper.

He gaped, beginning to drool, enraptured at how unbelievable the feeling was. How wonderful. His fingers just... ceased. They stopped being there. Like he'd always lived without them. Like they'd never been there at all. They felt no more pain. How thrilling! Numb to all hurt! He'd never have to worry again about pinching m in a drawer, or banging them with a hammer, or getting stung by an insect He would feel nothing from them ever again. Nothing was fine. Nothing was just fine, wasn't it? Toby lifted his hand away to see better. His hand now ended in four little stubs. They wiggled like pink tater tots. He laughed. Saliva spilled from the corners of his mouth.

'Wait. This is not normal.'

It was a tiny squeak, but he'd heard it. And it had come from inside. He continued to stare at his nubby hand. He felt a sudden twinge of confusion. It had felt so good, why wouldn't he continue? There was no reason not to, right? He watched the four little piggies dance. No cut, no blood, no skin, no scar. Just... gone. Good. Gone was good. Gone was...

No.

Toby realized he was looking at something else without seeing it. Something else about his hand...

A line. On his palm.

How was he going to hold his hammer without any fingers?

That simple, practical objection made it all the way across the cloying layers of miasma the Neculaunis and the Allfilth had fogged across his brain. Toby felt himself snap back to awareness. He looked down at his feet and realized he was much closer to the open door than his senses had relayed. He hadn't just taken one step forward, his knees were practically scraping the border. He stumbled back and tried to grab the door handle. His fingerless hand slipped and he almost spiraled backwards. Though that would have been a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

He looked back at his freakish, malformed fingers, wriggling like the heads of caterpillars. He looked over to Aldridge, desperate to ask whether this was permanent. To ask if he'd just crippled his hand forever.

But Aldridge wasn't looking at him.

Aldridge was turned around to face the room's entrance. His attention drawn completely away from Toby and the Oblivion Door.

Toby turned. His friends were still staring at him, so they didn't see. But someone else was there. Someone else had joined them.

Standing by the doorway was a pinkish-beige baby doll with no face. She leaned on the frame, casually, just waiting for someone to notice she was there.

The other four followed Toby's dumbstruck gaze and turned around as well. Piffle's heart practically crashed straight through her carapace. She sucked in a huge breath to scream at the top of her lungs in joy.

But then Aldridge said two little words that changed everything.

"Hello, Scaphis."

The world and everything in it froze.

Doll wasn't leaning on the doorframe. She was infecting it. Melted plastic from her hand had crept like wet paint all up and down its surface. It crept towards the floor, then spread out in a small puddle. Liquid plastic. A little pool, growing. Her green glass eyes were gone. Her face was back to the roughly-cut gap it had been throughout their whole journey together.

Her arm was behind her back. Casually, she showed them all what she was holding.

Aldridge's wand.

The wizard was stiff as steel. His face was composed and nonchalant, but his eyes were shifting back and forth rapidly, thinking at a rocket's pace. "Did you really think you'd fooled me? You confused my wand, I'll have to give you points for that. And I don't know how in the world you changed your shape. Sheer tenacity? Congratulations are in order. But, don't you think I've perhaps spent a few sleepless nights worrying about the day you'd make it back here? Did you think I wouldn't be ready? Did you think you got in for any reason other than I let you?"

Scaphis began to swing the wand back and forth. Tick-tock. Like a metronome.

Aldridge did not move from his spot. His showman's smile did not falter. But his eyes began to water. "Come to finish me off? I always knew it'd be on your mind. I could never stop giving you the benefit of the doubt, could I? I just... I guess I just didn't want to believe you had involved other people this time. These nice people. You used them like stepping stones to get to me. You made them care about you. That's shameful. You're sick, Scaphis. You're in pain and you need help."

She looked directly at him and smoothly shoved the entire wand straight down her throat. Then she showed her hands empty. Tada. A magic trick.

Two tears made tracks down Aldridge's cheeks. There was a tremor in his voice. "We don't have to do this. Why do you think I told them about the wizard's war? I wanted one last time to try to reach you."

Scaphis began to walk towards him. In the space of seven steps, she grew from an infant into an adult. Blooming into womanhood right before their eyes. The plastic encasing her squeaked and crackled as it struggled to hold her emerging body. Soon it was stretched thin as latex.

"I never learn, do I?" Aldridge said sadly.

Her legs elongated. Her pudgy, comical torso became mature and confident curves. Her new velvet dress turned to ribbons from the inside out. Her hands burst through her gloves. Her artificial hair fell away, leaving a bald, smooth scalp. And the hole in her face changed too. The edges boiled and churned. Flanges, like rows of tiny fingers, emerged and wriggled in some strange unison. As if she was speaking through them.

Scaphis parted the four gawking travelers as easily as walking through water. She was focused on only one man in the room. Aldridge. Her keeper. The others were secondary. And, since none of them had paid any attention to the pool of plastic rolling across the floor towards them, they didn't resist when a single touch paralyzed them into statues. Now they could have a turn being dolls.

Aldridge stood his ground. He gazed into the black void he'd sat across from so many times and tried to reason with. He knew her power. He knew her Bakhtak training. Sleep paralysis. It was her specialty. "I assume you've already dealt with Rebecca. I thought she'd gotten quiet."

That bald, expressionless dome nodded slowly, lingering with satisfaction. She walked up close enough to place one hand on Aldridge's chin. With the other, she reached out for Toby.

He had watched it all happen. And his mind was clearer than it had been in days. He saw everything and did nothing about it. But Scaphis' magic hadn't gotten him. He was simply scared stiff. Though as soon as he saw her hand move towards him, he started to run.

Scaphis' arm lengthened like the swing of a whip and wrapped around the mouse's waist before he'd gotten two steps. He squirmed, hyperventilating, eyes bulging as she squeezed. But she lifted him up with effortless strength and dangled him towards the open Neculaunis.

Aldridge spoke very carefully. "I know you would. But please, don't."

The squiggles of flesh around Scaphis' void quivered with laughter.

She shoved Toby towards the nothingness with all her might.

He did not have time, nor air, to scream.

WHACK

Pain spread through him like a lightning strike, and when he had a second to think, he realized that pain was much, much better than what he'd expected.

Aldridge's brief expression of horrified panic changed to amusement. He actually laughed. "Ha! Forgot, did you, that no one can pass through except by their own will?"

She shook with rage. She planted her feet and they twined together into a single, plantlike stalk. She reared back like a cobra and rammed Toby into the open door again and again and again.

WHACK WHACK WHACK

Toby barely had time to get his arm up in front of his face to shield it. He felt every bone inside shatter, but not a hair of him passed through the door. He felt his humerus split through the skin. He felt his ulna and radius explode around his hammer. He felt his wrist dislocate. He felt blood splash out from his split forehead. But he didn't feel the nothingness take him.

Disgusted, Scaphis whipped her arm back and pitched Toby into a corner of the room like a sack of trash.

Aldridge spoke again, and this time it was in tones of genuine compassion. "You're ill, Scaphis, and you need care. Stop this. You can see it's not gotten you anywhere. You can see for yourself that no matter how much you burn for your revenge, your addiction to your anger will always keep satisfaction from you."

She turned towards him, her body bending like a tree in the wind. Her facefingers rattling with fury. She drew closer, reaching out both arms. She touched her fingernails to the top of his skull.

He kept his expression stoic, even knowing he was moments from destiny. "Don't mistake my tears, Scaphis," he said, and this time he sounded simply tired. "It's not fear. It's sadness. We're really going to go through this worn-out routine one more time, aren't we?"

She nodded.

He sighed. "If you insist."

Her plastic fingernails dug ruts into the flesh of his scalp.

"But keep one thing in mind, poor maddened child."

Against her better judgment, she hesitated.

"You'll never have my hatred. Only pity."

Her restraint broke. She could not stand another second of his sanctimony. She dug her fingers straight down through his face and pulled him entirely in half. She parted him like the red sea. Blood oceaned out onto the clean hardwood floor. Then she began to ravenously shovel chunks of him down into her throat.

No one else in the room could do anything but watch and listen to the sounds of sloppy eating, like pigs at a trough. Scaphis consumed huge, bloody handfuls of Aldridge until there was nothing left of him but a blue bathrobe and a massive spray of crimson all over the walls and floor.

Toby was crumpled in the corner. He'd landed on his shoulders and something had definitely snapped inside him. He couldn't move. But he could see everything she was doing. And now it wasn't fear preventing him from stopping it. Simple mechanical failure.

Scaphis turned towards her captive audience. Red rivers poured from her quivering mouth, trickling down the front of her shining plastic torso to the floor. She looked carefully into the eyes of the horse, the skunk, the hamsterfly, and the canine. They were afraid. Good.

She focused on George. From within the black hole of her face, words appeared. White, neatly-printed letters. The words arrived one by one like a slide show.

	YOU'RE
	OF
	NO
	USE
	TO
	ME

A glance sent the stallion sliding sideways across the room, separating him from the others. Two enormous hands formed out of the plastic-coated walls and slammed into him like a car crusher. The sound was like cracking a redwood in half. George was broken and squeezed, the bones fused into a ball. Then Scaphis hurled him through the room's only window hard enough to blow the whole wall outwards, sending George's remains skyrocketing hundreds of miles away.

	ONE
	DOWN
	WHO'S
	NEXT?

She swayed back and forth in front of the remaining three, savoring their heartbreak. She extended one icicle finger and played eenie-meenie-miney-moe. Their bulging eyes followed the fingertip. Nothing else could move. They could not even scream.

The finger landed on the skunk, but that was no good.

	I
	WANT
	YOU
	TO
	SEE
	FIRST

she told Junella. Then she reached past her and picked Zinc.

He was scared like never before. He tried his hardest to squirm free. He made himself remember all the will he'd put into taking down the mall. Why couldn't he do anything now!? His body was locked up in an invisible straitjacket. His eyes darted to his partner, and then to sweet Piffle, as he was dragged past them to face the horror Doll had become. The horror of her new form wasn't nearly as crushing as the realization that this was what she'd been all along. Waiting and hiding herself for this moment. He had ridden beside her while this thing lurked inside. He had laughed and joked with her.

From out of her void grew a long black tongue, capped by an emerald stinger. It moved like a separate creature. A sentient slug. Scaphis brought Zinc close, drinking up the panic in his eyes. She swirled her tongue around his face. Spiraling. Circling in. Until the tip touched the spot right between his eyes.

With a sickening crunch, it sunk in.

Piffle screamed so loud she thought her head would burst, but not a single sound came out.

Junella shoved aside all the pain and terror and loss, because all that shit was for later. Right now, there had to be a way out of this if she could only keep her cool and THINK.

When the green needle drilled into Zinc's face, his eyes froze too. Straight up at the ceiling. They began to lose their color. A green mist started trickling up from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth, filling in the empty gaps of his head. A seam appeared around his features.

Scaphis smiled pleasantly as she watched the process play out. It had been so long since she'd gotten to enjoy this.

All color drained from Zinc's face. The seam completed and became a deep-set groove. The canine's eyes, nose, lips, and teeth were now a single piece. A porcelain mask. More mist seeped from the edges. Scaphis jerked the needle out. She reached up and delicately lifted off Zinc's face like the lid of a cookie jar. There was a puff of dissipating green mist, then she held the canine's limp body up so the others could see. Zinc had a void where his face had been. Just like hers.

Piffle wished and wished and wished with all her heart to wake up from this bad dream.

Scaphis set the harmless toy down on his feet, then callously dropped the face. It shattered on the floor like ceramic.

She reached for Junella.

The skunk refused to believe what had just happened to her partner and deepest friend. It was bullshit. Once she got herself out of this cunt's clutches, Junella Fucking Brox was going to slice her up right. Keep her alive and torture her for a long, long time. For daring to think that ANYone could EVER do that to someone she loved.

Scaphis giggled at the pointless fury in her victim's eyes, then sunk the needle in again.

	2ND
	VERSE
	SAME
	AS
	THE
	FIRST

She watched the fight in those orange eyes die, transfixed by the syrup she was injecting. It hollowed the skunk out, eradicating everything. Making it all nice and clean and empty inside. Like a brand new trashcan. Junella's eyes turned chalky and so did her surrounding features. The seam appeared. The green mist rose. And then another mask was smashing to smithereens against the floorboards.

Piffle watched Scaphis set Junella's carved-out body down next to Zinc's. The two of them just stood there, lifeless. The poor hamsterfly's mind was a whirlwind. On no level could she deal with what was happening. The horror. The sadism. And above all, the betrayal. Pushing as hard as her heart could stand, her indomitable will managed to coax a single sentence from her lips. "But... I... love... you..."

Scaphis answered Piffle with the single cruelest word she could have possibly said.

	LIAR

She drove the needle in hard, cracking Piffle's skull.

Her face, when it was finished, did not so much come off as crumble inward. Scaphis turned her over and shook the crumbs out onto the floor.

Toby was paralyzed. Not from Scaphis, not even from his injuries, but by sheer emotional fatigue. He had reached the limit of what he could take. He had come through miles of Phobiopolis, hordes of nightmare constructs. He'd survived the arachnopus, Doctor Dacryphilia, Rither, Gyre 2, the catskulls, the crashing planes, the soap, the maze, Dysphoria, Logdorbhok, the lure of the Neculaunis, even his own toxic memories. And all it had come to was this. Losing everything to a monster. A monster he had trusted and loved. A monster he had grieved for when he'd thought she died. That grief had compounded his depression. He had been within inches of committing suicide over her. Doll. Scaphis. This thing that had just destroyed the best friends he'd ever known.

Toby rolled over onto his legs, ignoring the pain. He flattened his left palm to the wall and frictioned himself up to stand.

Scaphis had known all along he was still conscious and uncontrolled. She had wanted him to see. To damn him for not cooperating and going through the door like she'd asked. He was so close anyway! Why had he resisted? Rotten cheater. So she'd let him watch his friends fall like dominoes, and did not interfere as he struggled to his feet. She wanted to dangle hope in front of his coral eyes and watch it turn to ash. He deserved no less.

Toby's whole body throbbed. He could feel the blood pulse up and down in his muscles. He could feel the bone splinters moving around in his arm. Blood ran down from his forehead and caked into his fur. He was awfully tired.

He turned to face Scaphis. The room was almost fully coated in her flesh by now. It oozed along the walls and floor. It dripped from the ceiling. He was painted into a corner, literally. Scaphis was everywhere. Like someone had tried to sculpt a nightmare out of Silly Putty.

That idea struck Toby so funny he hiccuped a laugh.

She didn't expect that. Unless the little pig had gone totally into shock.

Toby felt lightheaded, yet clear. He knew where he remembered her from now. "It was you," he said. It came out slurred, so he spat some blood out of his mouth. A pseudopod of Scaphis-carpet jumped out to lap it up.

A question mark appeared in her void.

"It was always you," Toby said. He had never been drunk before, so he didn't realize how close it felt to hypoxia. "You were the sorceress that made the deal with Lady Xenoiko. You messed Mr. Rippingbean's face all up. And you were the one who used to own Ectopia. That's why you didn't want to go inside. Was it 'cause you were afraid Luxy would spot you, or did you just not wanna see what he'd done with the place?"

Scaphis was honestly puzzled. The mouse seemed lucid. Everything he'd said was on the nose. But where was his fear? His heartbreak? What the hell was going on inside that bleeding skull?

Toby held his shattered arm at his side as he walked across the room towards her. He showed no fear. And not in the 'stiff upper lip' way that Aldridge had. He simply had none left. His needle was at E. She'd hollowed him out. Or rather, this world of rot and garbage had already done it, and she'd just scraped off the last few smears. "You lied to us the whole time. You faked dying. You made Piffle cry. All the times you pretended to be nice and helpful, it was all just acting."

He walked right up to her and shrugged. "I don't even give a shit, honestly."

Her arm flashed out, becoming a rope. It wound around him from neck to ankles. She pulled him closer till their faces were inches apart. He could smell the bile and meat on her breath that moments ago had been Aldridge.

Toby did not react. His eyelids were heavy. He was tired. Not sleepy, but weary.

Scaphis shook him violently. Apathy? That was all? No!! He didn't deserve that refuge! Not after everything he'd done to her! Not after all his broken promises, always with his own selfishness truly at heart. Just like all the others. ALL of them. Scabs. Dirt. Liars. She shook Toby until his eyes rolled back in his skull. Then she held him up good and close and pinned his eyelids open to make goddamn sure he got the message.

	YOU
	HAVE
	NO
	IDEA
	HOW
	MUCH
	YOU'VE
	HURT
	ME

Toby read the words and felt nothing but a mild discomfort in his neck. "So? Are we even now?"

Scaphis slapped him. She punched his face until she felt his nose invert. She grabbed hold of an ear and tore. Her hand was stained red up to the elbow.

Still the mouse didn't react.

	I
	TOOK
	YOUR
	FRIENDS
	DON'T
	YOU
	EVEN
	CARE

she screamed.

Toby coughed. A few teeth fell on the floor. "I guess."

She squeezed his ribs and felt them snap one by one. Her black tongue lashed out. The green needle glinted in the room's yellow light and plunged towards Toby's face.

Toby did react then, but it was barely a conscious choice. He had felt it start to happen anyway as she crushed his guts to goo, then thought, 'Why not?'

He had felt her paralysis seeping into most of his body, leaving only his face so she could watch him react. But this was a feeling he was well acquainted with. She didn't know that. He'd woken up plenty of times from dreams of mindless terror, feeling like some invisible creature was sitting on his lungs. It was awful, sure, but it was just something that happened with nightmares. Fighting to move only made it worse. Toby had learned over the years that if he could relax enough to calm down, he could get up, turn on the light, and read until he felt better.

So he relaxed. Everything.

Scaphis felt a warmth growing in her hand where she held him. The odor of wet shit hit her nose.

There was no scream of disgust except in her mind. On pure reflex, she hurled the disgusting mess away, through the hole in the wall where the window had been. Toby went with it.

He felt cold night air rustling across his fur. His body was so broken he couldn't possibly move, and so he didn't. Drops of urine scattered behind him like a crop duster. The load in his pants sloshed. He was flying.

Toby felt drops of Scaphis' venom slithering around in his brain as he soared through the empty sky like a shit-covered bullet. The needle hadn't had time to do much, so only a little bit of mist got in. Not enough to carve away his face, but enough to go to work with a vengeance on his memories.

He didn't care. At all. Nothing mattered. It was all down the toilet anyway, so why bother? All this world ever did was take and take, ripping apart everything good. Fine then. Let Logdorbhok smash it all. What difference would it make?

He felt the mist prowling his mental corridors, corroding everything it touched. Toby could feel his memories dying one by one, like photographs burned in a fire.

He was flying. He didn't care. The stars were all around him.

He lost the first book he'd ever read. He lost his father. He lost the names of countless medicines. He lost Piffle.

Nothing mattered. He closed his eyes.

He had faced the Neculaunis. Oblivion didn't scare him. And not having to remember? Cherry on top.

He lost his mother. He lost George. He lost his name.

It felt nice.

The mist destroyed him piece by piece, unraveling the jigsaw puzzle of his life, and Toby just sailed past the nebulae and galaxies and didn't resist.

He was done.

It was over.

He could rest.

He had lost everything.

He couldn't...

have cared...

less.

~~~*~~~*~~~
END OF BOOK THREE
~~~*~~~*~~~