The Forty First Wink Page 14

  Oaf closed his eyes as he reached the window, the claws now reaching out for him, the grin parting to reveal even more jagged teeth. With eyes still closed, he swung his hands up in a wide arc, dragging the mallet up in a sweeping motion that carried it into the face of the despicable jester. With more of a honk than a thud, a red nose looped up and over Oaf's shoulder, landing in Timbers' lap, the diminutive captain having spent the entire chaotic event sitting on the floor at the foot of the freezer. Time seemed to slip back into its usual pace, sending the nose's owner cartwheeling out the window and sprawling across the bonnet of the sedan. Oaf had continued his heroic, if ill-conceived flight, but stopped short of the window, landing instead in the freezer, and sending plumes of icy shards into the air.

  Timbers jumped to his feet, still holding his nasal trophy and chuckling to himself. "Thar she nose. Eh? Eh?" The lack of acknowledgement seemed to sully his mood, and he tossed the crimson hooter out to join its owner. "Yeah, all right." He growled. "They can't all be zingers."

  Poking his head out of the freezer, Oaf shook the frost from his hair and blinked. A brief, dazed expression fell away to be replaced by a broad grin. Reaching up from the cabinet in which he sat, he held a choc ice aloft, celebrating his discovery while simultaneously being not entirely sure how he had got there.

  With no time for delicious frozen confectionery, Marty was at the window scanning for signs of their single remaining pursuer.

  Behind them, several outlandishly pantalooned figures were leaping from the chasing sedan onto the side of the van. From inside the car, through the now shattered windscreen, a pair of huge, unwavering eyes stared back at him. Even though he could see nothing else, Marty knew those eyes belonged to Mr. Peepers. Before the clunking on the roof drew his attention he thought he heard his name whispered, which was of course impossible over the bellowing engines. Nonetheless, he had heard it, and Peepers had said it. The icicle where his spine used to be confirmed that.

  Mr. Peepers’ smile now appeared, widening so impossibly that Marty half expected the top of his head to fall off. It may well have done so as Marty lost sight of him behind the plastic sliding window that Timbers slammed shut, and brought him back to the closest thing to reality on offer.

  The scuffing, scrambling sounds were on all sides of the van, as well as the roof, and it was impossible to say how many giggling interlopers were now on board. Marty took that as a sign that there was 'too many' and raced into the cabin.

  The Locust turned as he entered, seemingly still unaware of the peril that literally surrounded them. He rolled his eyes jovially. "They do seem rather persistent, these fellows, don't they?"

  Marty shared an incredulous look with Timbers as the little captain appeared at his side. "Yes, they do, rather. Who would have thought that demented, unstoppable, demonic killer clowns would be so demented and unstoppable?"

  The Locust shrugged, either in answer to Marty's question or simple indifference to his rant, which continued unabated regardless.

  "I mean, everything here is a construct of my own dreamscape. You would think that somewhere in this van there would be some kind of anti-clown gizmo if it's all come from inside my head."

  Timbers tugged at Marty's sleeve, pointing over at the dashboard where a large red button sat prominently next to the radio. "Well, there is," he explained calmly. "I've been pushing that thing for the past few minutes, though I think it's broken."

  In the back of the van, white gloved hands reached in through the side hatch, and leering faces peered in through the rear windows. Marty threw panicked glances back and forth, looking for a way out. In a speeding van covered with homicidal clowns, the ideas weren't readily forthcoming. He returned his attention to the Locust, who still focused intently on the road ahead.

  From the passenger seat, Timbers interjected once more. "We're nearly at the edge of town. If we can get out into the open, perhaps we could signal for the Fathom?"

  "It wouldn't get here in time." replied Marty, shaking his head. "Locust, do you have any suggestions?"

  The jumpsuited geriatric seemed to momentarily emerge from his inner little world, raising an eyebrow as though calculating something. Almost immediately, a wry smile hinted across his lips and he nodded. "Given our current predicament and current rate of velocity, I believe that our only remaining logical course of action would be to crash."

  Even before Marty and Timbers could reply in tandem, a chorus of disbelief that would outline their extreme disagreement of this hypothesis, the Locust spun the wheel sharply. Teetering onto two wheels briefly, the ice cream van righted and gunned at speed towards a rather solid looking brick wall.

  Marty had scarcely enough time to yell, "Hold on to something," before the front windscreen filled with the image of the approaching wall, and then exploded.

  #

  Having had some brief forewarning of the imminent collision, Marty stopped short of exiting the vehicle via the front window as it blasted spectacularly through the brick wall. He flapped and swung from the doorway to the rear of the van, but mercifully remained in a position of relative safety. Relative that was to the half dozen clownish shapes that pitched into view ahead of them as they were flung from their perch atop the crashing vehicle. Clearly, they had not seen the oncoming obstruction and were now sailing through the air like grinning rag dolls as first debris, and then the parts of van, followed them through the gaping hole that had been masonry moments earlier.

  Behind him, Marty was dimly aware of the chaos of flailing limbs and cries of panic of his companions. While Kate struggled to stay upright, Whipstaff and Oaf cartwheeled crazily about the toppling van. In the cabin, Timbers had dived into the foot well and was rattling around like a pea in a whistle as they tilted and began to roll sideways. In the driver's seat, the Locust was securely belted in place and seemed oblivious to the carnage as the van spun onto its roof, then back onto its wheels. It continued in a crunching, bone-jarring pirouette as the verge beyond the wall gave way to a steep slope.

  As the world whirled past in a gut wrenching kaleidoscope outside the window, Marty closed his eyes and counted to ten, hoping by that time they would either be dead or at the bottom of the slope, preferably the latter. He had only reached eight, however, when the van lurched to a wounded rest on its side. As the contents of the van, some of them struggling to keep their lunches down, came to a stop, Marty scanned the interior, taking a mental attendance as he did so. Despite Oaf being lodged head first in a cardboard box, and Kate fishing chocolate sprinkles out of her hair, everyone seemed to be present and in one piece. It was then that Marty realized, although they had come to rest at the bottom of the slope, they were still in fact moving.

  Staggering into the back of the van, Marty hoisted himself up to the side hatch, now operating as more of a sun roof, and peered outside.

  The gloom and oppression of the city had vanished. Marty squinted at the bright sunlight that filled the sky, and tried to focus. In the receding distance, he could see the breached wall, which surrounded the city, still enveloped in its dark shroud. Wide sweeping furrows were cut into the bank that led from the wall, no doubt caused by their haphazard descent. At the foot of the slope, water lapped against a shoreline, and Marty suddenly realized why they were still moving. Stretching back past the hole in the wall that they made ran a lazily flowing river which carried the van in its current. There was no sign of anything clown related except for a single curly red wig floating alongside them.

  Marty ducked his head back inside the hatch. "Hey, there's a river out here. We landed in a river."

  "Ahh, that'll be what all this water coming through the windscreen is from then." Timbers' voice replied from the cabin.

  His supposition appeared to be accurate, and water gushed across the floor of the van, filling it with alarming rapidly. Wading out from the cabin, Timbers was closely followed by the Locust, who lifted up the tiny captain to keep him from disappearing beneath the ri
sing waters. Kate, Oaf, and Whipstaff clambered into the freezer cabinet, which was now bobbing towards the hatch from where Marty watched.

  "We can't stay in here, this van will be underwater any minute," he called down to his paddling comrades.

  "Indeed not," the Locust responded, pitching Timbers up at the hole in the roof. "Here, catch this pirate."

  Marty obliged, and Timbers sat down next to him, feet dangling over the edge of the hatch as the water slowly rose to meet them. Suddenly struck with an idea, and realizing they would need more than a freezer to float away from this car wreck, Marty leaned over the side of the van, clutching and pulling at something. The something wrenched free, and Marty reappeared, dragging the large plastic cone, which had adorned the roof of the vehicle, behind him.

  Timbers snapped his fingers in approval. "I like it. It's not what you'd call traditionally seaworthy, but I like it."

  Kate's head rose from the hatch between them, as the water pushed the cabinet out of the sinking van. A pair of green gloved hands followed it, gripping the side of the hatch and hauling the wiry form of the Locust out to join them. Nimbly, the aged crime fighter hopped onto the floating cone that was now being piloted by Marty and Timbers. The top of the van drifted beneath the water as the cabinet popped up alongside them. Marty made a grab for it, relieved to see that it still contained two pirates. He was even more relieved Kate was still sitting with them. Blowing hair out of his eyes, Marty shot her a smile borne partly from the exhilaration of both survival and escape, but mainly from the fact that she was smiling just as broadly.

  "Well, it's not exactly a romantic boat ride." He shrugged, still beaming.

  She hardly skipped a beat before replying. "It certainly beats being chased by clowns, but if this was a date, you'd be in trouble."

  Timbers chuckled, jabbing Marty with a clothy finger. "Look, if you're going to just sit here and flirt, you can get off my ship."

  "This isn't a ship." Marty pointed out. "It's a giant ice cream cone."

  "Yes, yes it is." Timbers straightened his coat and placed his hands on his hips. "And it's mine. I'll have no talk of mutiny on my cone."

  Marty's grin remained, and he turned to Timbers, casually knocking the tiny captain's hat off and delivering a mock salute. Timbers caught the hat before it hit the water and shot Marty a look. It was an expression tempered with amusement and mirth, which was quickly put to one side as he turned to address the Locust.

  "So, we made it out, and we find ourselves, albeit a little damp, in a fortuitous position." He glanced back at Marty, pointing as he did so at the green suited pensioner beside them. "The Locust here is quite the bookworm, shall we say. Shall we also say that he knows a thing or two about a thing or two. I'll bet you doubloons to doughnuts that he knows how you can get home."

  Marty blinked, taking in that last statement and regarding the amiable old fellow who sat beside him, peering out happily from behind his spectacles. Finally he arranged his thoughts in the correct order and gave voice to them. "Do you? Do you know how I can get out of here and back to where I belong?"

  The Locust raised his eyebrows, leaning closer to Marty and patting him on the shoulder. "My dear fellow, I haven't got a clue."

  A moment of silence passed between them as the response that everyone had expected failed to materialize, replaced instead by a rather awkward shrug of the shoulders.

  Timbers broke the silence with the sort of overblown gusto that one would expect from a pirate. "What? You're supposed to be this big know it all, and the one question we ask you, that we actually need an answer to, you've got nothing." He reached for his cutlass before remembering it wasn't there, settling instead for an industrial strength scowl.

  The Locust raised his hands in a calming notion. "My friend, you don't understand. My knowledge stretches the length and breadth of this land. I can tell you how long it would take to get from one end to the other on a pogo stick. I can tell you how often the cheeseburger trees need watering. I can even tell you how to hotwire one of the mechanical pandas. This, however, all takes place within the confines of your dream. If you want to know how to get out, you will need to speak to the Book Keeper."

  Pausing, as if to add weight and dramatic effect to his speech, the Locust spotted the blank expressions staring back at him, and continued. "The Book Keeper is in charge of the comings and goings. He will, undoubtedly, have the answers you require. And as luck would have it, we are pointed in the right direction already. If you follow this river to its source, you will find him." Rising to his feet, he put his hands together and bowed slightly. "I wish you the best of luck and farewell."

  Marty frowned, glancing at Timbers as the pint sized buccaneer leapt to his feet. "Wait, you're leaving? You've come this far with us. You can't leave now." he beseeched.

  The Locust turned to face Timbers, kneeling to eye level. "I'm afraid it's one rescue per customer, so you're already one over quota. And besides, as his name suggests, the Book Keeper…well, he keeps books. That's off limits for me. He doesn't like me nibbling on his collection, you see." The old man's face softened as he gestured towards Marty and the others in the freezer cabinet. "You'll be fine. You're back with your friends and heading in the right direction. My work here is done."

  Timbers nodded forlornly, shaking the green gloved hand extended towards him. Without speaking another word, the Locust launched himself high into the air, turning an impressive somersault as he dropped salmon-like into the water, vanishing without a trace.

  Marty placed a hand on Timbers' shoulder. "Come on. This cone needs its captain."

  Timbers giggled. "That doesn't make any sense," he replied, before trotting over to the front of the makeshift ship.

  Marty rolled his eyes. "Everything that's happened today and that doesn't make sense?" He managed a half-suppressed chuckle.

  Nodding, Timbers turned and barked out orders to his crew in the cabinet alongside. "Right, men, get these two craft secured together. It seems we're off to the library."

  #

  All things considered, and after everything that had happened that day, the boat ride seemed almost serene. Certainly a pleasant distraction and, at the very least, a welcome breather. Marty sat at the head of the giant cone, keeping a firm hold on the freezer cabinet that floated lazily alongside. Squinting as the sun threw shards of brilliant light back up from the sparkling water, he smiled nervously at Kate who sat beside him. Since most of the day had been spent rushing from or to somewhere, there had scarcely been time to think, let alone engage in small talk. Now, with the complete absence of peril bearing down upon them, Marty found himself struggling for something to say.

  Back on the lifeboat, he had been full of courageous intent, riding in the wake of the plan he had concocted so the verbal jousting that had occurred had been almost automatic, the very definition of 'winging it.' Here, there was no plan, no real urgency. They were literally meandering towards their destination with no conceivable threat in the vicinity. Of course, this was usually the juncture at which a threat leapt out from nowhere and bit your legs off, but if one spent all of one's time worrying about such things, one wouldn't get very far, Marty reasoned.

  Sparing him any further deliberation, uncertainty and philosophical claptrap, Kate broke the silence between them. "So, this isn't too bad, considering, is it?"

  Marty smiled, nodding in agreement. "There are certainly worse ways to make a getaway."

  She returned her gaze to the water, glancing back at Marty out of the corner of her eye. "Like I said, if this was a date, you'd be in trouble right about now. Crashed ice cream vans don't exactly create a good first impression."

  Marty's eyes widened, and he turned to face Kate. She was still studying the water but had allowed a wry smile to play across her face. Searching for a comeback to this unexpected comment, a stifled, nervous laugh was all that was forthcoming.

  Realizing she, too, had giggled bashfully at the implication,
Kate changed the subject. "So, when you get back, what do you think you'll do?"

  Marty paused for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "I don't know. I mean, I can't really tell anyone about this. They'll stick me in a padded cell. I suppose I could write it all down, but I never really was that good with words." He sighed.

  Kate leaned towards him, grabbing his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I think you do better than you think."

  Popping up behind Marty, Timbers completely ruined the moment. "I hope I'm not ruining some kind of moment here. It's just that you might want to take a look at this."

  As Marty turned to face him, the tiny captain gestured over the side of the cone. "It's the water. It's gone a bit…papery."

  Looking down over the side of the cone, a sheet of paper whipped upwards out of nowhere, clinging to Marty's face before the breeze took it skyward. Down where the water used to be, and indeed should still have been, a lapping, swaying torrent of pages swept past. Marty blinked as his mind struggled to process what he was seeing. It was paper, but it was behaving like water, flowing past them and swelling against the sides of their makeshift crafts.

  "Will you look at that," Timbers tutted, shaking his head. "A man overboard who drops into that is going to be in paper cut Hell."

  More pages fluttered past and dropped into the writhing throng. In fact, more paper seemed to be sweeping into the air as the water current became more urgent, carrying the cone and cabinet vessel along faster than ever.