The Forty First Wink Read online

  "I use this to keep the old outfit looking dapper." He blushed, nimbly threading a needle and setting to work stitching his injured leg. "Please don't tell anyone I sew. It's not really very piratey."

  Marty suppressed a chuckle and raised a hand to his mouth to disguise a smirk, clearing his throat as he composed himself. "Your secret's safe with me."

  Finishing his work with surprising speed and finesse, Timbers rose to his feet and looked up at Marty. "So, come on, are there any more mirrors in the house?"

  Marty's thoughts of the matter at hand flooded back and hit him like a tsunami. Springing to his feet, he was replying even as he turned and sprinted back down the corridor towards his bedroom. "The bathroom!"

  The bathroom door swung heavily inwards as Marty came diving through it. On the floor beneath the sink lay a small mirror frame, face down, with jagged pieces of mirror scattered in a circle around it.

  "No! He got here first."

  Timbers appeared at the door. "Wait for me will you? Little legs eh? And one of them freshly stitched." He panted. "Wow. You're racking up some bad luck with these mirrors, matey."

  Shoulders slumped, Marty trudged back into the bedroom, righted the fallen desk chair and sank into it, deflated. "What now?"

  Timbers had followed him out of the bathroom and stood at his feet, stroking his wool stubble thoughtfully.

  "So this Id chap, he only appears in mirrors?"

  Marty shrugged. "Seems that way. Problem is, I'm all out of mirrors."

  Timbers stamped his foot triumphantly. "How about we fill the sink with water? I'd like to see him break that."

  Marty was already on his feet and racing back to the bathroom. He had already drawn a pool of water in the sink when Timbers caught up with him. "Anything?"

  Marty stared into the sink, blinking and waving his hand over the water. "Hello? Hello? Get back here, you crafty git." His reflection in the water copied his movements and eloquent request to the letter. "It's not working. Maybe it only works with mirrors." Marty huffed, exasperated.

  Timbers tutted. "It was a good idea though, wasn't it?" he suggested, nodding supportively.

  Marty raised a halfhearted thumbs up and smiled weakly. He seemed to be going nowhere fast, but at least he wasn’t alone in all this. Of all the people he would have liked to back him up in a hopeless situation, a two foot talking pirate toy probably wouldn't have even made the list. And yet he was helping, and Marty felt a little better for it. He smiled faintly, remembering all the time he spent with Timbers as a child. It would have blown his mind if the little pirate had been so animated then.

  Appearing to sense Marty's mood lift, Timbers brightened. "Come on, we can figure this out. Seems to me that we need more mirrors. Big ones. One this fellow can't take a running jump at." Marty lifted his head, an eyebrow raised. "Timbers, you are a genius."

  "What? I am? Well, yes, if you say so." The miniature corsair beamed.

  "I need to get dressed, we're going to work."

  Timbers' smile vanished. "What? You're joking. I thought this was going to be fun," he grumbled.

  Marty was unperturbed. He had a plan, and other than an ill-fated scheme to make vodka ice cream, he'd never had a plan he wanted to pursue with any conviction. Smiling, he drew back the curtains and light exploded into the room, exorcising the shadows that had gone before, and opening up the world outside. A world which Marty had seen a million times before, but had never, ever seen like this.

  The sun hung magnificently in a deep azure sky punctuated by impeccably shaped clouds. One, a giant eagle wearing a cowboy hat, another a whale on a pogo stick, and yet another, a rabbit playing the drums. The sky met the ground in a mass of tumbling hills, so green they seemed iridescent as the grass blew in the breeze. Towering over them, and reaching higher than the clouds themselves, were outrageously tall trees. Each one was laden with sparkling points of ethereal light, and Marty could make out lavishly colored birds perched in their soaring peaks.

  The hills gave way to a sprawling mass of cityscape, buildings plunging into the sky and seemingly swaying with the same breeze that held the trees in thrall. In the distance, an ominous black cloud cast a menacing shadow across a portion of the city, and lightning stabbed into the ground here and there, in stark contrast to the sunlight surrounding it. Past the city, colossal mountains stood sentry-like, tapering to snowy points almost out of sight in the heavens. And still further past them, the sky seemed to shimmer, as though viewed through a heat haze which made it hard to make out any detail.

  Marty was not looking in that direction, though. He had an entirely different destination in mind. Away from the city, and beset by an entirely different shade of blue lay the ocean, rolling metronomically towards the horizon, a glimmering multitude of sweeping depths and crested foam. Before that lay the expanse of multi-colored sails and bobbing shapes that was the harbor. And bordering that, enticing with its gleaming metal and flashing bulbs, was Stellar Island.

  "Ooh, shiny." Timbers had climbed up onto the windowsill and had his face pressed up against the glass. He whistled in approval at the sight of the glittering theme park in the distance.

  Marty nodded in agreement. "That's where I work. That's where we're going. Saddle up."

  "Saddle up?" Timbers turned to Marty and frowned. "I'm a pirate, not a cowboy."

  #

  After showering, Marty dressed and was pulling on a pair of socks when he heard the letterbox clatter.

  "That had better be birthday cards and checks from anonymous millionaires," he called after Timbers, who had trotted into the hallway to investigate. "I'd better not be dreaming about getting bills."

  Timbers reappeared at the bedroom door. "I told you, you're not dreaming. You're awake in a dream. Big difference."

  "Let's not get into that again." Marty's eyes shifted to the crumpled paper clutched in the little pirate's hand. "What's that?"

  Timbers raised the paper and held it out, presenting it to Marty. It was a flier, depicting smiling children, colorful balloons, and a big top marquee tent. Beneath the picture was a cordial invitation to the Giggletastic Carnival Sideshow Spectacular.

  Timbers jumped up and down enthusiastically, meeting Marty's determined gaze and immediately seeming to realize that he wasn't acting very piratey.

  "No?" he ventured.

  Marty, still caught up in his plan, marched past his pint-sized comrade, grabbing a knapsack that hung on the door as he went. "There's a time and place, Timbers, and right now, I've got to find myself." He paused, much of the bravado disappearing as he turned. "Yes, I know how that sounds."

  Timbers, clearly sensing the feeling of purpose and motivation needed to be maintained, gave a nod and thumbs up. "Right you are, chief. To the bus stop."

  With the mood restored, the pair made for the front door and out into the world.

  Outside, the morning air greeted them, clean and fresh, feeling like a morning does after it has been purged by a heavy storm. The sun, however, was dazzlingly inviting, hinting at the possibility of a beautiful day.

  Marty stood at his front door and peered up, and then down the street. It was the same street he had seen a million times before and was filled with the same abject normality it had always boasted. The houses, identically filed in a straight line, stood in silence, their front lawns tidy and unkempt in almost equal measure.

  The bus stop was handily situated at the end of the road, and Marty motioned with his head for Timbers to follow. Turning onto the street at the end of the path, neither of them noticed the shadowy figure, lurking behind the fence which skirted the house opposite, which was surprising, as the figure was not really very shadowy at all.

  Sporting long white shoes, bright green parachute pants festooned with stars, a blue and red stripey waistcoat, and an alarming shock of bright orange hair, the not so shadowy figure watched as Marty and Timbers made for the end of the street. Glinting, gleeful eyes rested atop an im
possibly huge, wickedly toothy grin, and stared out from behind ghoulish white greasepaint and a large, bulbous red nose. He watched the figures grow smaller as they headed into the distance, and tugged playfully at the cluster of balloons clutched in his frilly gloved hand. Suppressing a throaty chuckle, he turned and headed in the opposite direction, hauling a satchel onto his shoulder as he did so. A satchel full almost to bursting with fliers. Fliers bearing the legend: Giggletastic Carnival Sideshow Spectacular.

  At the other end of the street, like clockwork, the number twenty-one bus had hoved into view at nine a.m. sharp. As with events leading up to this point however, something seemed a little unusual as it approached the bus stop. At first Marty couldn't tell what it was, but as it came to a stop at the curb in front of them, he found himself staring at the wheels, which hovered a few feet off the ground. He ran his gaze over the bus, just a normal, everyday floating double-decker bus. Shrugging, he glanced down at Timbers.

  "What the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound." Pushing the 'doors open' button, he made the one giant leap for mankind into the bus, his tiny swashbuckling companion making a bigger, much more ungainly leap for toy pirate kind behind him.

  Inside, the bus was completely deserted. And not just bereft of passengers, the cabin also stood driver-less. Marty stood for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before a voice rang out from the ether.

  "Where to, please?"

  Both Marty and Timbers jumped, startled. Looking around, Marty could see nobody who could claim ownership of the voice, and yet it had come from the driver's seat.

  "Where to, please?" It chimed again pleasantly.

  Feeling as foolish as he had done talking to a cupboard a short while ago, Marty glanced around before venturing nervously "Erm, Stellar Island please."

  "All righty, one adult and one child to Stellar Island. Two pounds, please."

  "Hey!" Timbers interrupted indignantly. "I am not a child." He drew his cutlass and waved it redundantly at nobody in particular.

  "Shhh!" Marty dropped coins onto the tray beside the driver's seat, raising an eyebrow and waiting for a response. As the coins came to rest, two tickets chattered out of the machine next to the tray, and the voice spoke up once again. "Thank you. Take a seat, please."

  Marty winked at the flustered buccaneer at his feet. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."

  They took a seat by the door, and the floating bus resumed its physics bending journey, moving off at some speed. It bore right at the sort of rate that would have brought squeals of protest from its wheels had they been on the road.

  The street that stretched out in front of them carved a path through a completely decimated portion of the city. Huge chunks had been torn out of the buildings on both sides, and cars littered the tarmac ahead, some of them ablaze. Marty rose from his seat, steadying himself with the handrail as the bus swayed along the uneven street, dodging fallen streetlights and broken, spewing fire hydrants. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. He turned to his little pirate companion, Marty’s mouth on a squeaky hinge, which appeared to be attempting to enquire about the apocalyptic street they had just turned into.

  Timbers was busily crafting a small paper airplane out of his bus ticket but had lifted his head in time to read the very non subtle requests for clarification on Marty's face.

  "What, this? It's always like this down here. If it's not giant monsters it's alien invasions, usually three or four a week on this street. To be honest, we'd have been better going around, but then I'm not driving."

  "No, nobody is.” Marty, having a few minutes ago felt like he was getting the hang of this, clearly wasn't.

  Timbers patted the seat next to him, signaling for Marty to shut up, calm down, and be seated. "Look, it's like this. You dream about a huge monster wrecking your town, it happens here. You dream up aliens raining down lasery naughtiness on the planet…" He motioned out of the window as a large smoldering signpost toppled into the road, causing the bus to swerve violently to avoid it. "All here. Must be a nightmare to clean up, mind you, if you’ll pardon the pun."

  Marty was nodding vaguely. "Sure, that makes sense," he lied. More fallen masonry littered the road now, and he peered out of the side windows, flinching as something exploded impressively somewhere behind them.

  "Look, don't worry," Timbers reassured. "We'll be through it in a minute, obviously providing some massive lizard doesn't stand on us or something."

  Sure enough, the end of the street filtered into view through thick, black smoke and swirling embers. The little pirate leaned back in his seat, picking up his half assembled bus ticket paper airplane and smiled. "See? Nothing to worry about."

  Marty's furrowed brow suggested otherwise, however, even as the bus made a sharp left into a much safer looking, brightly lit, and mercifully intact tunnel. He was starting to feel like he was in over his head. While having a plan was definitely a good thing, charging full speed at said plan, head down and half-cocked, was not.

  "Look, I'm starting to think we should perhaps try and get some help with this. You know, call the authorities of something."

  Timbers, who had now finished his airplane and was preparing to throw it, cocked his head to one side, his one good eye regarding Marty doubtfully. "Like who? The police? The army? The League?"

  "Who are the League?" Marty interrupted.

  "Well, they're actually called the League of Fairly Impressive Super Folk, but nobody calls them that."

  Marty chewed his lip. This might actually be a line of enquiry worth pursuing. "Super folk? So they have super powers, then?"

  "Well, yes," Timbers declared proudly. "Erm, sort of," he added, less proudly.

  "What do you mean, sort of?" Marty had already pictured a seven foot tall, armored gladiator with all sorts of impressive powers and perhaps his own theme music.

  "Well, there's the Tea Lady," Timbers mumbled, "but I doubt she'd be of much use."

  "No, she doesn't sound it." Marty rubbed his forehead in anticipation of what would surely be imminently onrushing disappointment. "What does she do?"

  Timbers, to his credit, tried to dress it up, "Well, she has this shiny tray that she flings about. Oh, and she can shoot hot tea from her eyes."

  Marty puffed out his cheeks and shook his head skeptically. "That's not massively helpful."

  Timbers was defiant. "Depends if you want a cup of tea."

  Marty sighed. "Anyone else?"

  "Hmm, well there's Captain Inflato," ventured Timbers after a moment's thought.

  Marty brightened. "Well, he sounds more impressive. What does he do?"

  "Balloon animals mostly," Timbers replied. "He's good at children’s parties, though."

  As the bus exited the tunnel, Marty was momentarily relieved to see the previous street's desolate theme was no longer present. The fact they now appeared to be underwater was, however, something of a dark cloud to this particular silver lining.

  Impossibly, the interior of the bus did not seem to be leaking or flooding in any way, and appeared, in fact, to be making the same steady progress it had been since they boarded. Outside, all manner of marine flora and fauna were passing the tiny window from which Marty was gawping. Off to the right of the bus lay the sprawling wreck of a ship, and Timbers winced, closing his good eye and mumbling something about Davy Jones.

  His face still pressed up against the fogging glass of the window, Marty made the standard stereotypical pirate assumption. "So, water dreams I take it? A bit more your thing, I'm guessing?"

  Timbers ceased his mumbling and shook his head indignantly, "Not necessarily, no. People don't dream about going to work do they? It's the same for me. The sea is my office."

  Marty hadn't really considered that being a pirate was a job. More of a lifestyle choice, or at a push, a very bold fashion statement, but not really a job, as such.

  The bus tilted upwards now and seemed to be picking up speed. A school of dolphins hurtled
along beside the window and broke the surface of the water at the same time as the bus, twisting and arcing amidst a surging uprush of spray. As they returned acrobatically to the sea, however, the bus had somehow arrived back on dry land, rediscovering the road, which, when Marty craned to look back through the window, was leading back down and into the crashing waves behind them.

  "There, land ho! And you were worried." Timbers beamed.

  Marty's thoughts were still on the job at hand. "I'm still worried. Right now, if we call in the cavalry, the most we can expect is a hot beverage and a balloon." He deflated back into his seat in a way that would no doubt have had Captain Inflato shouting, "This sounds like a job for…"

  Timbers wagged his finger, however. Seemingly, he hadn't finished.

  "I hadn't finished." he declared predictably. "There's also Skyrocket, and he can fly."

  Marty raised an eyebrow and snapped his fingers approvingly, "Well, that sounds more like it."

  "Only indoors, though."

  "Pardon?"

  "He can only fly indoors," Timbers repeated. Marty threw his hands up in frustration, "I think we can add him to the 'No' list then. Is that everyone?"

  Timbers drummed his fingers on his chin. "The only other one I can think of is the Locust."

  Marty was starting to think this whole line of enquiry was a dead end. "What does he do then? Eat everything?"

  "No, he just calls himself the Locust. I've no idea what he does, to be honest. He just hangs around with the rest of them. He does have a splendid outfit, though."

  Marty stared at Timbers as if waiting for a punchline. The little pirate shifted in his seat, fiddling with a button on his coat.

  He looked up and shook his head apologetically. "How about we call them 'Plan B,' then?" Standing up on the seat he was now at eye level with Marty. He drew his tiny cutlass and waved it enthusiastically. "Anyway, you still have me."