The Forty First Wink Read online

  "Phew! Zeph's frisky today." He snapped his fingers and turned. "I'm sorry. I've introduced everyone except the ship's parrot, haven't I? Marty, this is Zephyr," he declared proudly.

  Zephyr shined impressively in the mid-morning sun, and Marty stared in awe at this complex array of glittering metal. "Magnificent," he murmured, now satisfied that it wasn't, in fact, about to kill them all.

  Timbers brought Marty's attention back down to tiny pirate level with a theatrical clearing of his throat. "Help enough for you?" The look on Marty's face fell somewhere between gratitude and awe, and was enough to widen Timbers' grin still further, having provided all the response he needed. "Right you are, then. Course and heading, sir?"

  Marty returned fire with a smile almost as wide, and for the first time that day, actually meant it. He motioned towards the neighboring lights of Stellar Island and, almost as soon he did, he could see Bob in his lofty crow's nest making similar motions towards the giant parrot that shared his perch, high up in the rigging.

  Zephyr let out another ear shattering call and unfurled his mighty metallic wings, shaking them at first as if in preparation, and then with a whooshing downdraft, put them into action. His whole body pointed upwards, the colossal bird maintained a firm grip on his perch, and all at once, the Flying Fathom was heaving, groaning, and lifting as the wings beat harder and faster. Rising into the air, the Fathom trailed sea water and twisted far more gracefully than a ninety foot galleon had any right to. It pitched to the right, swaying and listing beneath its imposing courier. Marty clutched the wheel once again to steady himself and craned his neck to peer over the edge of the deck at the fast retreating waterline. The boats that had sat alongside the Fathom grew smaller and more remote as more rushing downdrafts filled the air.

  Casting his gaze across the deck, Marty could see Oaf and Whipstaff to-ing and fro-ing across the deck, clearly having flown skull and bones airlines many times before. Behind him, at the stern of the ship, Timbers stood, hands defiantly on hips, surveying the receding docks and casting his good eye towards the looming theme park which hung gloriously on the horizon.

  At that moment, Marty could not see the patched up, pint sized toy he had dragged along to Kindergarten every single day of his formative years. At that moment, he could only see the captain of a ship and an ally. A friend in a world that still flatly refused to play nice. Timbers glanced back at Marty. He had drawn his cutlass and was waving it enthusiastically, as one rightly should when something undeniably awesome is occurring. As their eyes met, Timbers' grin was as wide and as gleeful as ever, and for the first time since he had woken up that morning, Marty felt a sense that things were going to be all right. He smiled, as much to himself as to the beaming captain in front of him, and aimed a salute at the new friend his old friend had become.

  The Fathom turned to face the theme park, sweeping in a wide arc across the bay as it picked up speed, Zephyr soaring like an enormous silver bullet above them. As the ship reached the edge of the bay it tilted upwards, and Marty could see the giant bird angling towards the heavens. The ship rose higher and higher, the once looming contortions of metal, which made up the loops and dips of Stellar Islands sprawling rollercoasters, almost fading out of sight as Zephyr shot vertically into the bright morning sky. And then, as quickly as they had risen to such a supremely elevated peak amongst the clouds, they were diving, hurtling earthwards, and Marty was clinging to the wheel again as the wind screamed in his ears and the Fathom plummeted towards the speck of a theme park below. Zephyr arrowed through the ether like a shaft of silver lightning, and Marty eyed the bulging sails of the Fathom nervously, half expecting the masts of the mighty galleon to snap like kindling. The masts and the sails stood fast, however, and soon he could make out details on the ground below as Stellar Island loomed impressively below them.

  At ground level, the descending Fathom, borne by its mechanical behemoth presented an equally awe inspiring site, although oddly, only one theme park patron was present to witness the imminent landing.

  From beside a hotdog stand, at the far end of the park's concourse, one pair of eyes bore witness to the Flying Fathom's arrival on Stellar Island. A large, bulging, manically gleeful pair of eyes that rested atop a fire engine red nose and a wicked, impossibly wide grin. A pair of frilly gloved hands rubbed together expectantly. As they did, a yellow balloon weaved upwards into the sky, a single escapee from a clutch of its brethren, which bobbed and jostled each other above the vibrantly psychotic figure. As the figure sank back into the shadows, a muffled giggle chased the balloon into the midday sky, piercing the silence of what should have been the hustle and bustle of a busy and thriving theme park thoroughfare.

  From high above, Marty spotted the single yellow balloon rising from the main street that ran through Stellar Island. Looking past it, he could see no movement. No park patrons. No excited children. No staff dressed in colorful costumes. No cars rattling and shunting amidst the shimmering and flashing lights of the Epsilon Crasher and the Massive Dynamo.

  Stellar Island stood empty.

  #

  With a serenity and ease that would surely never come from being deposited back on terra firma by a giant mechanical parrot, the Flying Fathom came to rest near the edge of a large natural lake, which formed the center of Stellar Island. Zephyr stood almost motionless on his perch, only moving to stretch his claws and quizzically twist his giant metallic head to view his surroundings.

  As the Fathom drifted towards the edge of the lake, Marty rose from his sprawled crash position with a whole new understanding of the term 'all hands on deck.’ Around him, the crew was busy with preparations to disembark. Oaf and Whipstaff staggered past, lugging a sizeable gangplank between them, although it was clear Oaf was doing most of the lugging. Bob and Also Bob still sat in their respective crows nests, the former studying the shoreline intently, and the latter involved in some form of communication with Zephyr, still towering over them on his perch. Marty watched as Bob made a slight nod, which in turn drew a sweeping, pointing motion from Also Bob. Immediately as he did so, the giant bird looming over them craned in the direction that his tiny ship mate pointed, leaning visibly and causing the perch to groan and creak under his shifted weight. The deck tilted and pitched, once again betraying Marty's lack of sea legs as he made another grab for the steering wheel fixed to the center of the quarterdeck. The boat was indeed listing to one side. The side, in fact, that Also Bob had pointed at, and that Zephyr had leaned towards.

  Marty steadied himself at the helm and smiled. Timbers wasn't kidding, they really didn't need this huge wooden wheel to steer the ship. No, they had a colossal mechanical parrot to do that for them. Even so, he allowed himself to get caught up in the moment as the boat angled gracefully towards the shore. When he had woken that morning, he had not expected to be going into work, and he had certainly not expected to be arriving at work at the helm of a pirate galleon, with a small army of stuffed toys and a massive robotic bird. Even as insane as that concept sounded in his head, it sure beat taking the bus.

  Marty's smile evolved into a short snigger. Hell, even taking the bus this morning had beaten taking the bus any other day.

  Timbers appeared at the short flight of steps leading down from the quarterdeck as the Fathom came to rest beside a rickety wooden jetty which reached out from the shoreline. The rest of the crew assembled behind him.

  "Ready to disembark?" he asked, already trotting down the steps and heading for the gangplank. Marty relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and headed after the band of pint sized cutthroats, catching up to them in a few strides. From behind them, Zephyr let out another ear splitting squawk, and Marty glanced over his shoulder to see the giant bird settling on his perch, his giant spotlight eyes dimming, and then closing altogether.

  With the sleeping bird now silent, Marty was struck with how eerily quiet Stellar Island was. It must have been approaching midday by now, and normally the place would have been
teeming with gleefully screaming children, adrenaline fuelled thrill seekers, and brightly costumed park employees, not to mention the cheery jingle of fairground music and the thunderous rumble of passing coaster cars overhead. Hopping off the end of the gangplank, Marty assessed the scene, scrambling up the bank from the shoreline to get a better view.

  Since Marty's job mostly involved him dispensing tickets at the entrance to the park, it took a few moments for him to get his bearings. Stellar Park was massive, even the real Stellar Park with its coasters and Ferris wheels, its grand concourse, which boasted shops and stalls of all kinds, and its cable car track, so large it skirted the entire island. As vast as it was, though, Marty was aware of his surroundings, having worked there for some years, and with friends in such lofty vocations as the Quantum Singularity Pie Stand and the photo booth outside the Space Gerbils Wacky Hour theater tent. He climbed onto the pathway, which surrounded the lake, and gazed inwards, into the park. Timbers appeared at his side, also looking inwards, likely with no idea what he was looking at or for.

  "What are we looking at…or for?" he ventured, after some serious scrutiny.

  Marty scanned the rows of attractions and stalls stretched out ahead of him before pointing at a large building nestled amongst various hot dog stands and candy stalls on the right hand side of the thoroughfare. It was jet black, and jutted out of the ground like an obsidian stalagmite. Over the equally black double doors hung a sign that read 'Parallel Hall of Mirrorverse.'

  Marty glanced over at Timbers and winked knowingly. Timbers snapped his fingers and punched the air, delivering a triumphant, "Arrrrrr!"

  They both made a beeline for the obsidian building, with the crew of the Fathom not far behind.

  From the other side of the worryingly empty main street, which flowed like an artery through Stellar Island, two eyes watched Marty and the crew of the Fathom as they strode, and in some cases scuttled, purposefully down the main thoroughfare. A lone figure peered out from the shadows of a concession stand, motionless as the group passed and approached the Parallel Hall of Mirrorverse. The eyes narrowed as Marty and his companions ascended the short flight of steps to a high-arched entrance, pushed open the doors and disappeared inside. As the park settled back into eerie silence, the solitary onlooker emerged from the shadows and crossed the street without a sound, ascending the short flight of steps with those steady eyes fixed on the door that had closed moments earlier.

  The large entrance hall where Marty and his companions found themselves in was garishly lit and appeared to be a gift shop of sorts. Racks and shelves formed several small aisles in the center of the room, with everything from Stellar Island mugs to tea towels to Harvey the Space Beagle stuffed toys lined up neatly from wall to wall. In the corner, by the register, a sizeable bunch of silver balloons hung, glittering in the reflected beam of a spotlight beneath, and flanking the register on the other side was a full size version of the park's canine mascot. The space suited dog grinned amiably from within a large fishbowl helmet. Marty half expected Harvey to turn and face him, wink and start talking. Hell, pretty much everything else had done that so far today.

  As they passed the aisle filled with stuffed toys, Marty paused, removed a miniature Space Beagle toy from the shelf and eyed it suspiciously. The same glassy eyes and cheerful smile looked back at him, but no surprise introduction was forthcoming.

  "Hey, Timbers," Marty half-whispered, breaking the mausoleum silence that had followed them from the street.

  The crew of the Fathom tried on hats in front of a large dress mirror. Whipstaff was parading up and down sporting a wide brimmed sombrero; Oaf had found a woolen bobble hat which just barely stretched over his blonde thatch, while Bob and Also Bob were fighting over an impossibly large top hat. Hearing his name, Timbers turned from the mirror, causing the tiny red propeller which topped the baseball cap he was modelling to spin with a squeak. He smiled sheepishly, removing it and replacing it with his familiar tri-cornered headpiece, before trotting over to where Marty stood, still holding the cuddly Space Beagle.

  "How come these guys don't talk like you do?" Marty enquired.

  Timbers frowned briefly, before raising an eyebrow matter-of-factly. "That's a toy, Marty."

  Marty rolled his eyes and tutted. "Of course. That makes sense." Again, it really didn't. It wasn't important, though, as that wasn't what they were there for. "Come on, Timbers, we're not here to shop." He motioned past the little pirate towards the gift shop exit, which was also the entrance to the hall itself. Timbers whistled softly to his crew, who ditched their amusing headgear and headed to the far end of the room to meet them. At that moment, the door from the street swung cautiously open behind them, stopping Marty and the pirates dead in their tracks. Turning to face the new arrival, Marty could only see a small figure silhouetted in the doorway. His eyes widened as the figure took a few paces forward.

  A girl in her early twenties stepped into a pool of light cast by one of the shop's spotlights. Tall by Timbers' standards, but not by Marty's, she seemed slight and unassuming now that she was clearly visible. She was quite pretty, in that 'long blonde hair, big blue eyes' kind of way, and she appeared to fit in with her surroundings, sporting a black and silver Stellar Island staff uniform.

  Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath, except those who had stuffing where their lungs should be. It was Marty who finally spoke.

  "Kate?"

  #

  Kate worked in the large cable car building outside the entrance to Stellar Island, concerned mainly with ferrying park patrons to and from the main site. She had worked there for as long as Marty had been an employee, and it had taken him a full two weeks to pluck up the courage to ask her out on a date. It had taken him a full two weeks and one night to completely blow that date. A preoccupation with everything being perfect had led to nothing whatsoever being perfect, and as a result, they had descended into the awkward friend zone, exchanging cursory 'Good Mornings' and furtive glances across the staff canteen. Marty had since tried to make amends by suggesting a second, far less calamitous date, but she had not gotten back to him, and so the sheepish smiles and painful small talk continued.

  As Marty explained everything that happened to him so far that day, she sat and nodded noncommittally, absorbing the absolute fried lunacy on a stick he served up. When he finished, she stared blankly, no doubt processing what would have made a whole team of psychiatrists reach for the rubber wallpaper, before finally speaking.

  "Okay," she began, "I'm in. Sounds like fun."

  Marty blinked, turning to glance at Timbers, who was equally at a loss for any sort of follow up to this definite statement.

  "Erm, I haven't actually said what my plan is yet." Marty interjected cautiously.

  Kate rose to her feet, looking past Marty towards the entrance to the hall. "You're stuck inside your own dream, which appears to include me and this little pirate midget." Timbers scowled and reached for his cutlass. "And you're trying to track down your own reflection so you can find a way to get back to your real life, yes?" As Marty nodded, she continued. "So, seeing as how I'm only a figment of your imagination made real, and I really don't have anything else to do, what are we waiting for?"

  Timbers chuckled, aiming an increasingly trademarked wink at Kate. "Midget jokes aside, I like the cut of this one's jib. She's got some cannonballs."

  Marty sighed, the matter at hand was a corridor away and he was eager to get to it. "Fine, let's get moving then." He headed towards the entrance to the hall, past the small table where the crew of the Fathom had struck up a heated poker game, turning to wait for his new companions, which now seemingly included one sort of ex-girlfriend.

  Scuttling along behind the determinedly striding humans, Timbers paused alongside the makeshift poker table. "Better head back to the Fathom, lads," he ordered. "Get the kettle on. We won't be long here." The little captain followed after Marty and Kate. The crew of the Fathom dutifully gat
hered up their cards and headed for the door that led to the street. As they reached it, Also Bob leaned over to his doppelganger. "I would have won that last hand."

  Behind them, Marty and Kate crept cautiously into the stifling darkness of the adjourning corridor. There didn't seem to be any light switch, and no light intruded from the gift shop. Marty's hands went involuntarily out in front of him to keep from colliding with any hidden barrier or object that might lie ahead in the blackness. He could hear Kate's breathing beside him, and the faint sound of tiny pirate footfalls behind him. Squinting in the direction of the breathing, he addressed the patch of darkness he imagined contained Kate.

  "Are you sure you want to come with us? It's not that I don't appreciate the help, but today has been…unusual, to say the least…" He sensed the approach of several dozen words from his brain that would have certainly turned this question into an awkward ramble if left unchecked, and stopped himself short. A disembodied voice in the darkness replied. "There's nobody else around, the place is deserted. I've been following you since your mechanical budgie dropped you off. At the very least, this could be fun. An adventure, you know?"

  Marty thought that he could even detect a smile punctuating the end of that sentence. It was the same cheerful, animated tone that caught his attention when they first met.

  "He's not a budgie," a small voice chipped in from behind them.

  As they reached the end of what seemed like a mile long corridor due to the darkness and the slow rate of progress, Marty's hands came to rest on the a wooden surface that felt a lot like a door. He searched for a handle, found one and turned it, pushing the door open. Light spilled out into the corridor, betraying the fact that they had, in fact, only traversed a few feet along it.

  Timbers spoke again as he caught up with Marty and Kate. "So, once we get hold of this guy. You. You know, the other you. What then?"

  Marty's plans had traditionally never gotten this far, and while he felt somewhat on a roll, he also knew he was, to a large degree, winging it from here on in. "Well, we'll just have to persuade him to help, won't we?" He was surprised at how confident he sounded. Encouraged by this, he took a step through the door into the brightly lit room full of Martys beyond it.