At long last, I heard his baritone grind about. “Some…” he was trying to suck in air and respond with ha$te to quell my jitters. “Invisi- blow.”
“So you weren’t jumped?” I investigated. When no answer came but shallow wheezing, I relented my curiosity. “Take your time, man, breathe easy.”
It must have really been a clandestine wallop. It took a lot to discombobulate the tough old bird.
Eventually I heard, “Hit me... in the ribs.”
“Did you feel any texture?’ I asked. “Take me back over the steps leading up to the event...”
After some seconds of listening to his airways become less ragged, he piped - “Extraordinary. It rocked me like a cattle prod. I didn’t see anything, no shadows, no movement, nothing. Just, Bam!”
“Hmm, not exactly comforting,” I sailed. “I didn’t feel anything, but my hair is a sweaty mop under this bonnet.”
I could hear him struggle to get up, and then the restoration of shuffling steps. “Only thing close to me was the Magphaser,” he said. “I was observing her, from what I took to be a safe distance. This thing’s giving off a mighty lively charge.””
Gutt hoisted burning jelly against the Tomb, which revealed The Apparatus had moved back even more since he had been bowled over. And more riveting, creases quivered in the air, rolling like mid-summer heat waves in front of it. Also, two twinkling threads with a slight curvature hung suspended, heading out from the inflatable tubes like bowlegs, receding into additional darkness out of Sight. The tubes were stiff, struggling for reception.
I marveled. “How are those waves being made?”
“Waves?” said a lost Malibu. “You mean the silver lines?”
“No, they’re plain as day,” I tried to point out to him with another sploosh of Pyrotechnics. “Right there, billowing around the machine’s nozzle.”
Maggy burped up a spontaneous shudder, and the turbine began to rotate behind it, as before. “I'll take your word for it i gander!” Mali boomed, as the roar accelerated to deafening. “But you're missing a sight yourself, bud!”
“Well I dare-say you got blown backwards by walking into the path of this energy neither us could see!” I bellowed. “Now what's going on which i can’t see?!?”
He notified me, “The hunk of junk is hovering!” Just as his speech reached me over the clamor, a fuzzy white light boiled up around the circumference of the floating Engine, issuing enough visibility among its granite glow to bring about half the room into view. The bowleg energy phenomenon had vacated (or been replaced) and had been vaguely dim beside this newfound replacement. This light was hard-shaped as a lasso taut purchase around a target, feeling into the distant wall. But what was attached to the other end? An angelic cowboy?
“Is it magic?” I proposed.
Malibu rubbed at his chin. “How should I know? but it’s neat.” He inclined his head at the frothy beacon that seemed to defy law-jiggle physics. Then a grin curled across his face. “Looks like it simply took an unexpected delay of time to carry out the salvaging operation!”
I locked onto the Bulwark of device. It was now progressing backwards at a detectably steady pace. “It’s really cookin’!” I pointed out, and discovered something else. “Hey, I never noticed it had a seat built into the centerpiece! Were we supposed to ride it this whole time?”
“It doesn't exactly seem safe with all those thrashing parts,” he stated.
With that, a sharp “Crrr-AckKk!” traveled undulations down the formerly straight path of silver light. It was as if two people were flailing a jump rope around. When the forces rammed into the machine, everything erupted white as wool and we were treated to a Winter Wonderland -- that is to say, it was like a crisp, winter sun glinting off ice into our eyes. The luminous beam split in two, staggering us to the ground, and trembled about in a frenzy equatable to that of a fisherman endeavoring to reel in the yet unseen fish of the century.
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“I'll be a monkey's uncle!” screamed Gutterson, being pasted along the floor by immense energy.
I followed his outflung finger to the far side of the building. Two blue dots were twisting on the wall’s surface in accord with the thrashing Rays of light. All manner of sparks were sputtering into the air around the agitated area; being pulled into view on the line’s end was the Gateway Thought-to-be-goner. Or more correctly, held and stretched back open. Maggy hadn't blundered. She’d come through with flying colors (pun intended).
“Yeeee-Whooo!” I rooted in victory.
“Don’t dance just yet - we gotta Ride to catch,” reminded Gutterson. “Hop aboard the device!” My vision swung back down the rope of light, tracing from what could now qualify as a Hovercraft, to the portal halfway across the room, a good football field away. The Maggy-net was backsliding and gathering momentum. Seemed we were going to hope for a Launch like a ball right between the goal posts. The old veteran was attempting to clamber up its steps and onto the funky device.
I started to follow, when I realized we had neglected the essential Sack. I was about to alert him that I’d need to fetch it, when the machine suddenly bucked under his chin, and sent his glasses flying. “Horse hockey!” he cursed and thrashed his neck around in pursuit of locating their descent.
I observed tensely, and sounded off like an alarm. “Other side, behind you!” Gut swiveled his weight rapidly at my instructions. “Woah, watch Ou!--” Crunch*. He stepped right on them. Shit. There was no time to waste mourning. “Stay on board! I have to scoop up the Weapons!”
Malibu lamented like cracked leather, but quickly re-composed. “Don’t leave my rims down there either: the supervisors'll swab this place for any microscopic cells after they notice rummaging!” and went back to flagging down the unpredictable Vehicle with the flamethrower occupying one hand.
I logged the info with only salute for response, & turned my weary system around to speed across an area of half-a-dozen body lengths where the bag was slumped, casually unafraid. Meanwhile frantically, I repeated, “Almost there -almost there,” because my rubbery leg tissue felt like it was hairline-splitting. My nostrils were flaring inside my ears as I crouched down around the bag and curled the elastic into my clutch. I deposited a glance at the portal, as I readjusted to the weight that bit into my arms, & swung the Sack over my shoulder to allow for optimum mobility. But there was no making 15-25 kilograms of lumps comfortable.
The Tap was ebbing and swelling among great imbalance. Every now and then, the portal would swing almost totally out of existence, only to be hauled open wider and wider, by jerky motions between a day-and-night wrestling match. Two adamant forces dedicated to their own constitutes.
As i resumed sprint back toward Gut who waited on the Magnetoid, shaking with consternation, I actually felt like a thief for the first time today. Why had no guards ever arrived to investigate the power failures of commotion we’d made inside their Fortress? But i was grateful for not having to dodge a scourge of exotic ammo.
Nevertheless, spiky metal edges blasted against my back with every step, jarring extra breath from my lungs. (The Hovercraft had steadily spread more space between us since I had ventured away) & it was all I could do to grit away the scorch as I humpback-Heroed through a journey of about 20 steps. But finally I pulled up beside the Contraption, hastily trying to transfer the bulging package to my comrade. Amidst the attempt he barked, “Great, fetch my spectacles!”
“I hadn’t forgot,” I responded and let go of the Loot. But apparently, his clasp had not yet clamped shut. Part of the sack wrenched open and dangled, squirting more than 5 of our glorious collection smashing onto the unforgiving terrain.
“Nuts!” Gutt cried.
There was a moment of indecision, as I waffled whether I should retrieve guns or glasses first. Since the Magneto wasn't stationary, I scrambled for the firearms. I bent down & scooped 2 of the closest items, flipping them upwards for Gutt to deal with. I repeated the process, less smoothly this attempt for piling up 3 weapons in a bid to save time as the distance shifted.
The final thing left on the ground was the Scepter. When I lifted it I noticed part of the head had chipped. I swore silently in my head at the splintered beauty, hoping it wouldn’t affect any abilities when it came time to use. Then I extended that to the Old man, making sure his grip properly affixed -- before I broke away for the warped remains left of his spectacles.
A plumbline stemmed from Maggy stemmed across my left, a discordant dance of 4 neon spaghetti vibrations battling with the Spinal Tap, igniting fizzles and popping. About 30 yards along it, just about where the aisle cleared from racks into open space, I located sparkling reflections littering the floor. Faintly, among shattered lenses, bent rims contrasted in the debris.
The target was on the other side of the chaotic noodle show warbling about 3 feet off the ground; I didn’t feel it was a good idea to try and directly cross that energy. So I slid down along the polished floor like a baseball player. Momentum carried me under along, near the small patch of glass, and I nimbled my white-gloved fingers, ready to score.
They captured the warped material & I snorted with relief -- when abruptly, something tugged up and lodged in my thigh. Groaning, I rolled over on my good side, to prevent smearing any blood as my skid slowed to a relent -- for that much DNA would have been evident to a child. I came up to a knee, (planting on my sturdy leg). Unfortunately the shard that entered me was a long, narrow wedge -- no way I could coax it free immediately, without leaking everywhere.
Just then I heard an awful Screech as if two cars had collided and been sent rolling. As the sound registered, I turned my head to see what was happening. What I saw was Santa Claus and an unconventional sleigh Streaking down the aisle -- our only ticket out of the Stockroom was departing the station without me.