Cool jets of air pumped from the car’s AC ruffled past Buddy’s mustache, the man tweaking with the control knob to find the sweet spot. A few clicks to the left, and he nodded. Settling into his seat, a car honked. And then another. Glancing out his window, he could see the glaring face of a driver as they gripped their wheel tightly. In their backseat, a young boy had a backpack on their lap. Buddy didn’t catch their expression before he had returned his eyes to ahead of him.
Ah, traffic. The red light ahead reflected less the symbol of stop and more everyone’s pent-up feelings. The road was at a standstill, and few were happy about it. More honking, one man shouting out their window, “COME ON!” Passers-by on the sidewalks tried to ignore the vehicular cacophony, but a few couldn’t resist flipping off some drivers, causing more honking.
Buddy fiddled with his radio, each station fizzing with static and the occasional slice of music or commercials about this or that product. Pressing the dial to mute, only the gentle hum of a ready engine could be heard. That and the sounds of the wooden clattering of a struggling tied-up mannequin laid across the backseat of his small sedan.
Checking his rearview mirror, Buddy checked in on the struggling fella. The animate mannequin was made from a lighter wood, chipped and scratched. The featureless face was duct taped, but that did little to actually prevent it from talking. So talk it did. Non-stop.
“-ou wizard animals! This is an injustice! An injustice I tell you! I have rights- I am a thinking man, with thoughts and feelings. I even have a name. Not like you would care, you, you bald brute.” It sputtered out in a hollow-sounding voice. Buddy felt an eyebrow raise at that. This one was ruder than the usual. Well, not for long. His office wasn’t too far away, and then he could enjoy some silence.
Red turned to green, and the engine hum turned to slow acceleration as cars began to filter through. Scratching his cheek as he turned down an intersection, he partially tuned in onto the complaining as it went about how uncomfortable it was, and that the car was hot. Buddy nodded idly. AC worked in the front. Good enough for him.
“I’m not some criminal! I deserve better-” The mannequin was, in fact, a criminal. “I want to talk to the Registry!” Buddy shook his head, trying to suppress a slight grin. Had to remain professional after all. “What? Scared of the law?” It cawed. “I’ll set a new precedent for my kind. Just you see. You’ll remember the name Arnold!” If it wasn’t currently hog-tied, Buddy got the sense it would’ve crossed its arms triumphantly.
“I’m a person just like you. You’ll see. You won’t have any moral standing in court. Then you’ll be the one all tied up. How can you live with yourself doing this?”
Buddy looked at his muted radio, moving a hand before moving it back. If not for his unwilling passenger, he could turn something on. As he put his hand back on the wheel, a pothole caused the car to rattle. The mannequin yelped as they bounced a little in his backseat.
“Not my job to worry about the moral implications. Ain’t in the contract.” He drawled while he adjusted his rear view mirror, resuming attention back to the road.
“Hah! You’re just some money chaser, aren’t you. Kidnapping for contract, that’ll hold!”
Seeing a familiar street sign ahead, Buddy made another turn. It was just a straight drive from this point. Traffic had cleared up now that he was on some lesser-traveled roads towards a more tired district. Tapping his wheel, he decided to cut off the rambling mannequin. Enchanted folk tended to be eccentric, but this took the brick house.
“Well, Arnie,” He let a small grin grow. Why not enjoy his job? “The Registry is the one who sent me. Told me to take care of ya.”
“You’re lying.” The mannequin’s tone was firm, trying to raise its head.
“Truth’s geas.” Buddy’s voice grew an odd tone at that, and you could visibly witness the way those words washed over the mannequin. They stopped struggling as much.
“Oh.”
That got it to be quiet, a moment which Buddy let himself enjoy as he began to pull into a worn-down parking lot of a worn-down building with sunbaked bricks and various signs plastered to them. All decrying the services you could employ inside.
Whistling a tune he heard playing in a store once, he drove and parked closer to the back, where a few fire hazard signs lay. For an older building, it had a novel approach to trash disposal. Stepping out, Buddy was hit by the hot humidity that rose from the asphalt. He smiled.
Walking around back to his trunk, he unlocked it and let it swing open. Rummaging through an assortment of spare clothes, a few tool belts, and other work equipment, he pulled out a large empty duffel bag. It was thick artificial fabric with a pair of long straps for carrying. Had that brand-new plastic smell. Dropping it at his feet, he took a short minute to put everything else back into its place. Once the trunk was organized, he nodded to himself then slammed it shut.
Picking up the bag up, he moved to the left side door and peered through the window. The mannequin was huddled up best it could. It was crying when Buddy opened the door. Deliberate tactic, or actual sorrow, he didn’t know. This line of work, he’s heard many things sob, weep, or wail. You didn’t dwell on it. Better for your sanity that way. A few memories flashed through his head. Nope. Didn’t dwell.
So, he ignored the mannequin as he unzipped the duffel bag open and began to unceremoniously pose and jam the thing into it. It was resistant of course, but mannequins could bend a lot more than humans could, especially the wooden puppet variety. Before long, it was suitably inside.
Once zipped up, the sounds were muffled. Somewhat. One person, an older man, was walking out of the building toward their car and locked eyes with Buddy. Hoisting up the duffel bag and slinging it onto his shoulder, he waved at the gentleman. Hesitating for a moment, the gentleman waved back. Then they were in their car, a sedan more beat up than his with peeling beige paint.
Watching it pull out of the parking lot, Buddy resumed whistling. The mannequin didn’t pack much heft, making the trip toward the building’s back easier. As he got closer, the smell of ash and burnt things rose. The asphalt here was especially cracked, daisies and weeds poking through in little offshoots. His face twitched as he could imagine the woosh as he got closer.
He had reached the back wall, where the incinerator was. It was a thick green metal box with a large chimney and a hatch on the side. Beside the hatch was a big red button, and several warning lights were locked in metal cages above it. On the brick wall touching the chimney, you could see ashy streaks left behind from smoke, a long gouge of things trying to remain.
Feeling his pocket, he confirmed that he had the small key required to operate the incinerator. Standing in front of it, the char sat heavy in the air. Just breathing it in had a note of finality to it. Exhaling, he unlocked the hatch, and it fell open. It turned into a ramp for easy disposal, with residue of prior trash lining it.
His face crinkled at the wave of heat. He found the warmth of the sun comforting, but this was just condemnation. Lifting the duffel bag, the hatch rang as he dropped it down. The cries inside the fabric got louder as the impending sense grew.
“Don’t dwell,” Buddy muttered to himself, yet he still held onto the bag strap which prevented it from falling in.
“Wait, wait, wait.” The mannequin’s voice rose. The jostling in the bag got worse despite their restricted movement options. “PleaseIdontwanttodie.”
It’d be quite easy for Buddy to let go, watch the bag fall in, close the hatch, and then hit the button. Then that’d be it. Job done. Instead, he was holding onto an increasingly more suspicious duffel bag. One that was sensing its chance.
“Iknowthings, a lot of things. Creatures, magic, secrets. I worked in a library you know? Lots of books lots of reading I had to read them all do you want to know the word number I couldtellyouthewordnumber-”
Buddy could feel his lips thin. Glancing around, he could see one of the daises that grew from the cracks. Staring at the white and yellow, he asked:
“What kind of secrets?”
The bag had stopped writhing by now. Arnold’s voice was very, very quiet.
“Things the Registry would kill to keep that way.”
Buddy’s grip on that strap was iron.
“Truth’s geas?” His voice was firm. He was a statue. There was a moment of quiet, then a response.
“Truth’s geas.”
Buddy felt a shiver as the back of his mind gave a little ding. So. Arnold really did know things. Carefully, he began to drag the duffel bag out from the hatch, slinging it over his shoulder again. Staring down the empty incinerator, the metal clanged as he shut and locked it.
Key still in the lock, he looked at that daisy again.
----------------------------------------
The office lobby was a place of intermission. It was cramped, suffocatingly quiet outside of one’s footsteps, and reeked of over-applied citrus air freshener. Two paintings sat on either wall, picked from a thrift store, but they’d never tell you that. Opposite the hallway entrance, a small desk sat a young man. Their smile was empty, matching the room. Dead eyes gained a glimmer of life when they glanced at the duffel bag, but that soon faded. A haphazard bronze title plate named them as Matthew Dane, secretary.
“Welcome back, Mr. Pall. You have a visitor waiting at your office.”
Buddy grunted an acknowledgment, more occupied with not breathing. He was quick to move toward the hallway.
“Have a pleasant day, Sir.” Buddy could feel their gaze as he walked past before it fell off his back and onto a phone hidden underneath the desk.
Out in the hallway, the citrus was lighter but still sickening enough to warrant mouth breathing. Buddy counted down the doors, stopping at number four. Opening the door, the hallway’s tile transitioned to short-cut carpet, and Buddy took a fresher breath of wood varnish and cedar.
His office was the dictionary image of neat: vacuumed carpet, tidy walls. The central desk took up most of the room. The desk itself was organized, papers stacked, and the pencil jar right as he liked it. Behind it, right where the sun would filter through sat his chair. The one in front was meant for any customers. On the ceiling, an old small fan whirred to match the cadence of the back window AC unit. A thick safe was nestled to the control panel’s left—a mix between keypad and combination lock.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Closing the door, the citrus was banished. With a content exhale, he set down the duffel bag and stretched. Home away from home. A few crackles and pops later, Buddy looked at the person idly spinning in his customer’s chair—a familiar silhouette and face.
A younger woman, about a decade younger than he was. Brown hair with a stripe of dyed orange/red framed a tired expression and piercing hazel eyes. They covered themselves in an oversized muted hoodie and baggy brown pants—a poor choice given the recent weather. They swiveled to face him, a slight grin poking through. He took note of the folder on their lap before waving a hello.
“So.” She leans forward. Her eyes flick down towards the now unmoving duffel bag. “What’s in the bag?”
“A librarian.”
She cocked an eyebrow at that, tapping her fingers against her folder. “Oh?”
He nods, hooking his hands through his overalls.
“Doubled as a sprinter, too.” He chuckles with a note of exhaustion. Leaning down, he began to unzip the bag to reveal the assortment of wooden limbs. She peered down, smile turning to a slight frown.
“Oh- huh.”
“Hi, I’m Arnold.”
It still had a quiet voice, and the girl blinked at that.
“It talks.” She shakes her head. “I’m AJ.” Holding onto her folder, she stood up.
“Is it one of the dangerous ones?”
“Tied up like this? No.” Buddy nudges one of the ropes with his boot. Arnold made a sad sound.
“I’m not dangerous.”
“And if not tied up?” She tilted her head, eyes inquisitive.
“He killed a boy.”
The change in her expression was immediate. Something typically softened around Buddy turned to marble as she stared at Arnold.
“It wasn’t intentional, I swear. It was an accident, oh world I promise it was just an accident.” They were swift to begin rambling, but AJ only looked up at Buddy. There was confliction behind her frown.
“What happened.”
“Library. Made some bookshelves collapse. Boy got squished.” He gestured with a hand, moving to pick up Arnold by their armpits. “Then this fella here ran away in the chaos. Got contracted to take care of him. ‘Never to see the light of day’ were their words.” Arnold affirmed his words, but you can see him wiggle slightly at the end of Buddy’s statement.
AJ has a slow nod.
“Okay. Was the incinerator broken?”
“Youweregoingtoputmeinanincinerator!?” Arnold whisper-screamed.
Buddy shrugged, still holding them up.
“Says it knows things. So, here it is now—just a minor dilemma to work out.” He walks over towards the left wall, placing Arnold down to let him stand. The mannequin wobbled, then fell. Right. Still hog-tied. That can be undone later.
Turning back to AJ, he scratched at his cheek.
“I need to fulfill contract or else I will get hounded. Got a good place to keep him? Needs to be dark. We can remove his legs.”
Her lips thinned at his words as she began to fidget with her sleeve.
“Nope. Not keeping it in my closet.” She shakes her head again. Arnold piped up from on the floor.
“If I don’t need to see, I can- I can just disable my visual receptor matrix. I used to work with cognitohazardous material so I would need to…” They continued on but Buddy only really heard the first part.
“Well then do that. And don’t turn it back on unless I tell you. Under geas.”
Arnold stopped moving at Buddy’s words. It made a sound reminiscent of a squeak. These were probably some of the most impressive personality enchantments Buddy has seen in his career. Rarely do you come across something something like this.
With a voice that sounded like Buddy was pulling teeth, Arnold spoke.
“Yes. I Can. Enter a geas.”
Buddy clasped their hands together, smiling.
“Ain’t that dandy.”
She looked at him, eyebrow raised again. She mouthed something and sighed.
“Almost feel bad. So. I found something- but it can wait for tomorrow.”
Buddy raised a pausing hand as he left Arnold to check his desk for something. A place was on his mind, but first, he needed to find something. Now, where was it. As he rummaged through a desk drawer, he asked AJ something.
“So, how do you feel about the deli sandwich shop that’s a few blocks over.”
She tapped her folder again.
“Han’s Hams?”
“That’s the one.” He nodded, both to her answer and to himself, as he pulled out what appeared to be a sheet of postal stamps.
“Given how you probably forgot breakfast,” A statement she didn’t deny despite a quick narrowing of her eyes, “we can go eat, and you can tell me what you found.” Altruism to hide how hungry he was. His ears picked up on a muttered:
“Like you’re faring better.”
Oh well.
Closing the desk drawer, he re-adjusted the pencil jar, which jostled to be a little askew. AJ rolled her eyes at that, but held her tongue. Desk alright, he approached Arnold, peeling off a single stamp with care as he did so.
Arnold lifted their head in surprise before freezing in place as his blank forehead got a shiny new eagle decoration. Tapping the mannequin resulted in no sound or movement. Buddy whistled.
“Alright, that’ll hold till sundown.”
Carefully placing the remaining sheet into his pocket, he faced AJ again.
“So, how do sandwiches sound?”
She had crossed her arms now, but her stomach growling undermined her position. Grumbling a curse, she relented.
“Sounds. Nice.” She exhaled. She was fidgeting with her sleeve again. “Yeah, I could go for food. Sorry.”
There was something behind her eyes but he couldn’t quite pick up on it. Putting that observation away in a mental box, he left it for later. She would share if she wanted. For now, Han’s Hams.
Opening the office door, he waved for her to go first. This got him another look, but AJ obliged him anyway. Once she was in the hallway, Buddy gave Arnold a last check-over before shutting the door and locking it behind him after shuffling through his keyring.
His nose twitched as citrus returned. Their footsteps echoed as they walked across the tile back to the main lobby. The secretary did not look up from their phone as they passed by but still offered a one-handed wave.
“Goodbye, Mr. Pall. Bye, AJ.”
AJ waved back before quickening her pace to beat Buddy to the doors. Opening it, she held it for him with a slight victorious smile. Right as the door shut, a “Have a pleasant day” could be heard as Matthew remembered their lines. It was cut off halfway through.
AJ held her pleased look for all but a few seconds before the heat and humidity registered, and she belted out, “Jesus fuck I am going to melt.” Despite her complaint against the sun, she had already begun walking.
Buddy chuckled at that. Looking up the sky, he had himself a nice hearty sigh of contentment. Given the quieter nature of these streets, Buddy whistled as he started down the sidewalk. This tune came from the radio, some pop song. AJ seemed to recognize it, humming along.
The few strangers they did pass by moved out of the way for them, Buddy carving a subtle wake. There was one group of five that split down the middle for them, seemingly not even aware of what they did. AJ would just shake her head.
Once they walked past, she stopped her humming.
“I’ll never get used to that.”
“Hmm?”
“The way you can move through people.”
“It’s handy.” Buddy shrugged. It was a neat trick he learned a while back. Made some jobs easier.
He received another look, but they made it to their destination. Above them, a stereotypically pink pig greeted them with the words “Han’s Hams” emblazoned across its belly. On one of the windows, a small poster boasted this was the best deli in Philadelphia.
AJ was quick to move to open the door for them both, and Buddy felt his smile grow as the lovely scent of baked bread and fresh cuts of meat came rolling out in a welcoming wave. A bell above them rung as they entered, and the duo joined the short line.
The left side of Han’s Ham’s was taken up by the counter and deli itself, workers wearing pink caps with pig ears and a curly pig tail at the back. You could watch their souls wither in real time as they walked around saying lines from their handbook like “We’ll take care of you in this farm,” or “Han’s Hams, perfect for a growing man,” to a child just wanting a juice box as a harried mother was scrounging a purse for change.
On the right side, a massive mural was painted across the wall. Pigs on motorcycles, fighter planes, all warring over what appeared to be a farm stead. One was operating a chain gun that appeared to be fed sausages, firing at the aforementioned fighter planes.
Tables were scattered without any pattern, and the booths appeared only half-heartedly cleaned.
Buddy had their order prepared when it came to their turn. AJ needed a moment to catch their bearings. A teenager took their order, clearly underpaid for what they had to do. Getting through their lines, they complimented AJ’s hoodie which had some band Buddy didn’t know. A kindred look was shared before sandwiches in wax-paper bags were handed over. When payment came about, AJ waved him off and paid for them both. Buddy put his wallet back. He was just happy to have food.
Finding seats in one of the back wall booths near the corner, the sound of crinkling overtaking everything else. AJ put down the folder she was carrying, using both hands to pick up her sandwich. Buddy picked up his. The bread was warm in his hand, with the lettuce that touched his palm being in crisp contrast.
Taking his first bite, AJ had already gone through three. It was a waltz of eat, chew, drink, repeat. Ice cubes sloshed in her cup as she set it down, as Buddy took a sip from his own. Giving himself a moment to enjoy the sandwich, he gestured with it toward AJ.
“So, what did you find?”
That snapped her from lunch reverie. Using her free hand, she slid over the folder. As she continued chewing, he flipped it open. There was a single document, but the bulk of the contents were blurry photographs.
Peering closer, he was deliberate to ensure crumbs didn’t fall down onto them. The first thing he could make out was that this was outdoors, given the prevalence of greens and browns. Trees, it seemed. Evening sky. Looked like a park of some kind. But the drawing detail wasn’t the trees themselves, but something hiding behind them.
It took looking at several more to piece together what exactly he was looking at. It was an old wooden rocking horse with one of its legs missing. In some of the photos, you could see its head poking out, or the curved rocking base. It was easy to see what was and what wasn’t AJ’s camera work given the resolution of the images.
His eyes moved to scan the document, as he took another slow sip. It was a transcript of several social media posts talking about sightings of a strange small creature in the Frankford Park area. That quickly explained the varying image quality. Didn’t appear anyone else put what it was together yet. That was good. Made things less complicated.
AJ used this time to finish up her sandwich, beneath her the remains of the meal’s doomed struggle for survival. Leaning her cheek into her hand, she waited for him to finish. Buddy closed the folder up, pushing it to the side. He raised a finger to take another bite. After swallowing, he cleared his throat.
“Cute bugger.”
AJ snorted.
“Fast. And camera shy. Once it realized what I was doing last night, fled right on out. Couldn’t catch it since.” She lifted her head to make a scurrying gesture with her hand. Buddy had a slow nod as she spoke, finishing his sandwich. “So, that’s the best I have.” Another sigh. “Sorry.”
“Good news is, if you can’t get a clear picture, no one else will.” He shook his head with a chuckle as she leaned back into her chair.
“I guess. Yeah.” She rolled her eyes but she was sitting straighter. “So, there’s that ‘cute bugger’ skittering around in Frankford.”
He cocked a bushy eyebrow.
“It skitters?”
He can see the memory flash through her eyes as she taps the table. She has a slight grimace when it’s over.
“Not sure how, but it does.”
“World’s grace, we get the best.” He raised his cup in a jesting toast. She matched his gesture.
“Not as bad as the dolls.”
His face twitched.
“Nothing is as bad as the dolls.” Suppressing the shudder and spider legs, he flipped through the folder again. Couldn’t spot anything off about the feet, which looked attached to the base. Hard to tell through the blur.
Another snort, and she was looking at her hands.
“Well, Buddy, if you need help with this one, I’m free this week.”
Closing the folder again after the endeavor proving fruitless, he slid it into a special sleeve hidden in his overalls. It sat right next to the contract that wanted one particular mannequin taken care of.
“You know how the Registry feels about that.”
Her face blanched at the name.
“Right, them.”
“It’ll send ‘em into a tizzy.”
“The last time you said that,” and she took the care to stress the next part, “I was left wishing it was the FBI that came knocking on my door.”
“They’re nice and respectful people.”
AJ choked.
“Hah. Hahaha.” She blinked a few times, massaging her head. “My offer still stands.”
He started folding his empty paper bag into a firmly pressed rectangle. Storing it in one of his pockets, he stood up.
“You’ll want work clothes and boots for this. I’m thinking tomorrow morning, 5 AM.” He picked up his water, chugging the last of it.
She joined him, brushing crumbs off her hoodie.
“My sleep schedule loves you.”
Hooking thumbs through his overalls again, he flashed her a winning smile.
“Bright and early for a good day’s work, ey?”
She decided not to comment, moving to throw away her empty cup. When she comes back, she gestures towards the door.
“Want to go before one of us gets approached with a hat and a job offer?” To their left, near the deli section, you could see an older man passing around ‘Now Hiring’ flyers to random customers—a lovely time to make an exit.
The walk outside was quick, and they returned to the heat. This time, AJ refrained from swearing as two young kids walked past, their parents holding one of those water spritzer fan combos.
Watching them turn down to a new block, AJ let loose a long exhale, which transitioned to a very quiet “it’s hot.” Once that was done, she snapped her fingers.
“Well, I should probably head home to crash now. To go send them into a ‘tizzy,’ as you say.”
“That’s the spirit.” Giving her a thumbs up, they both began walking back to the office building. One needed to drive home, and the other needed to figure out what exactly to do with a wooden mannequin that talks.
Buddy rubbed his hands together, drawing a look from AJ.
“You’re going to show him your tool collection.”
“I am going to show him my tool collection.”