Before now, the only time Andy grappled with death was when he had his mother there to comfort him—that was nearly a decade ago, when he’d discovered that Elvis Presley was dead—long dead. Presley was pretty much Andy’s hero when he was a boy. He loved to sing his songs, learn his dances; when he got old enough, he even tried the ukulele. Once, when he was four, he’d begged his mother if they could go and see the man perform. Miriam ever-so-delicately broke it to the boy that the man had been gone for decades. Of course he took it hard, having the mental capacity he did at the time. He remembered crying into his mother’s arms for what felt like hours.
The morning Andy told his friends about what had happened seemed to go on for just as long. Everyone’s kind words and condolences seemed to blend together into a high-pitched shrill. Andy could no longer discern one from another, his ears had gone numb, his head as much of a swirling fog as the townsfolks’ crystal balls.
Every 'I’m sorry' and 'my condolences,' while well-meant by Vick and Cici, only served to amplify the gnawing black hole inside him. It wasn't that he was indifferent, or cynical, but grief would only slow him down in his quest to salvage what little was left of his family.
Later in the afternoon, Andy walked alongside the river banks, accompanied by Vick and Cici. Vick's hand moved almost robotically back and forth through his hair with a comb. Cici maintained a close proximity to Andy, her mouth running a mile a minute—anything to distract him from the looming darkness. It was only when they reached the first of many park benches in the lush town square that Andy finally decided it was time to cut her off. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat.
“Hey, Cici?”
“Yo?” She turned.
He wondered if he should tell them the whole story—what he intended on doing with Davis when they got to his place—that his dad was working with their sworn enemy, that Andy was strongly considering doing the same. However, the stubborn resentment in his heart didn’t allow for it. Andy looked up.
“I need to get out of town.”
The two looked at him, humored, their brows upturned, nervous smiles breaking out on their faces. Andy continued.
“I need to speak with my dad, face to face. Can't risk him gettin’ so close, the Rangers sniff him out. I have to get out of town and get to him and…and just...give 'im a hug or somethin, let 'im know I'm...gonna be okay. I think I know who can help me, but you guys really ain’t gonna like it. Vick, I need you to set me up with Drew.”
Cici's one eye goes wide. She turns her head away and seems to grow quiet for once. Vick throws his head back and rolls his eyes.
“Tep's sake, man,” he groaned.
“He's the only feller here that seems to know a way out, an'—an' we need that. I need that.”
Everything seems to grow tense for a moment. Weirdly so. Maybe this wasn't the slam dunk of an idea Andy thought it was—but why?
“I know you're desperate and all, man, but getting involved with Drew is a bad idea. People get hurt when they're with him.” The Vampire looked back at Cici, his eyes softening for a moment. He sucked in a breath, all while Andy processed. There was a natural conclusion to be drawn here, but, you know what they say about assumptions. The boy decided to bite the bullet. No easy way around this conversation.
“...What did he do to you guys?” Andy asked.
The Vampire looked away.
“You know how he started like…a rebellion and all that?”
Andy nods.
“Yeah, well. My mom was a big supporter. Really believed in what he was saying. Hell, half the town did, before everything came to a screeching halt. When he led everyone out, she was right there with 'em. And then,” he shrugged. “Then, she died.”
Vick crossed his arms, seeming to shake a bit, like a sudden draft had come through and sent chills down his spine. His posture lost its usual confident aura, and now sat sad and sagging. He pointed a thumb back to Cici, who was seated at the bench, huddled up, legs bouncing.
“Cici lost her parents too. Both of them. Luckily, she's got a lot of family here—not everyone was dumb enough to side with Warren.”
Cici clenched her fists at that comment. The bouncing of her legs grew faster.
“...But yeah. Bad things happen to people who get too close.” Vick concluded. Andy shifted a bit. Nervously. Impatiently. He wanted to feel bad, and console them, but for some reason, he only found himself growing more angry, like he’d had a drink spiked with adrenaline. A quick deep breath through his stuffy nose. Andy nodded empathetically.
“I'm sorry. I’m really sorry that happened. But, Vick, I need this. Please.”
Vick looked almost as though he'd just been slapped. He threw his arms out to his sides.
“Dude, are you kidding? No.”
“I'll do it.” Cici spoke up suddenly. Andy and Vick turned.
“You’ll what?” Andy asked.
“I'll introduce you to him.”
Vick's lips twitched into a sneer, a black-clawed finger pointing at Andy.
“Oh yeah? Just like that? You're gonna just lead him right into that, aren't you?”
“I dunno! Do you wanna get in the way of the touching father-son reunion?” Cici asked.
“Touching? You're setting yourself up for disaster. This whole thing reeks.”
“It's worth a shot!”
“It's not worth sh—!”
“Quit it!” Andy cut the both of them off with a shout. “Y'all're makin' my ears ring.”
The quiet only lasted for a moment. As Andy wracked his brain, frustration doing battle with his depression, Cici began to stir. Her eye shot back and forth between the ground and Vick, her fingers curling up, fists clenching once again.
“Everyone knew what they were getting themselves into when they joined up, that’s not his fault! He’s a good person, he just…made a mistake. He’s a good person!”
Vick scoffed. “Oh, what, are you president of his fan club?”
“I dunno, your mom sure seemed like it!”
Something snapped. Vick lunged suddenly at Cici, tackling her to the ground with a hiss. The two roll around for a while, pinning one another to the earth quickly and consecutively, throwing a few stray punches here and there to rough the other up.
“Hey!” Andy tried to stop them, but it didn't look like either of them were backing down any time soon. Any attempt at breaking the two apart only result in Andy being launched backwards, tumbling into the grass. Oh well. The boy quickly realized his panic may have been a bit misplaced, for as rough as the fighting looked, neither of them seemed to really be taking all that much damage. They kept going at it for a while, hurling insults at one another, biting each other's legs, throwing clumps of dirt and grass into the other's eye. It was only when Cici got a good sucker punch to Vick's gut that he ultimately let go and backed away, coughing, holding out a hand of surrender.
“Are you two done?” Andy asked.
“Yeah, yeah.” The Xita nodded, getting to her feet.
“Ugh..Screw you!” Vick jabbed a finger at Cici, then Andy. “You too, Kessler! You want me to do anything with that rat bastard, you can forget it. Go have fun dying without me!”
The Vampire waved a hand and began to storm away, coughing all the while. Andy reached out, and Cici placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head.
“Forget him. We don't need him.” Pat pat. She gave the boy a good slap on the back and wiped her beak as she started to walk in the opposite direction.
“Where’re you goin’?” Andy asked.
Cici came to a halt. “Good question, I don't know. Uh. This way, c’mon!”
Turning on a heel, she continued to stride, now northeast a ways...with a shrug, Andy followed.
The walk was a bit tense. Mostly quiet, only broken by the occasional crashing of the wind at the treetops, as well as the usual hustle and bustle of the town. The smells of lilac, sage, bacon and the like all mixed together—they were passing through the restaurant district now, several bolters lined up in the waters of the canals, the neighborhood oozing with traffic for the lunch rush. The group continued, deeper still, into the streets until the buildings began to grow taller and taller. Little complexes cropped up here and there, apartment buildings nestled over hole-in-the-wall eateries and cramped corner stores.
Cici turned and stepped inside once they reached a little old-fashioned dine-in. The bright red awning sticking out from underneath the brickwork of the apartments above looked a bit out of place, as did the rest of the diner—or, perhaps, it was the extension to the building that was off. Either way, they didn’t mesh well with one another.
The interior to the diner was about what you would expect—cozy, so long as you ignored the uneven sagging of the ceiling. Three lines of soft, leather-cushioned booths sat under an array of fluorescent lights, accompanied by a jukebox spewing Huey Lewis and the News. A pearly metal countertop decked out with plenty of soda spritzers and frosty glasses took up most of the leftmost wall. Behind the counter was a stout Kobold, standing on top of a stepladder, munching on a coney dog with his lizard lips. He waved to Cici and gave a hoot of a welcome.
“Hey, kiddo! Here for some lunch?”
“Maybe in a bit,” Cici replied. “We’re looking for Drew.”
The Kobold nodded his head and hopped off his stool, disappearing behind the tall counter for a moment before reemerging on the other side, hands planted firmly on his tubby waist. The Kobold led the way past the counter, through a narrow doorway that led to an even narrower corridor. It zigged and zagged, going upwards a ways until the patterns on the carpet turned brown, and the must of a living space filled the air. Tucked away in between two crooked walls was a stairwell, and at the top of the stairwell lie a heavy wooden door, upon which the Kobold rapped about a dozen times. Something stirred inside.
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Kachunk. Click. Slaaack.
Andy scratched at the backs of his hands, as the sounds of locks being fiddled with and door bars being shoved filled the buzzing atmosphere of the hall. Suddenly, the door flew wide open—within the frame, a muscular man briefly stood. Long red hair covered his scruffy face and the scars it bore. The faux metals of his studded leather jacket clattered as he stepped toward his dirty couch.
“Yo. Make yourselves at home.” The man uttered.
He grabbed the remote control from the cushion and pointed it toward an old flatscreen hanging haphazardly in the corner of the room. On his wrist, Andy could spot a fancy looking cuff—like the one Vick had described. So this was him? Drew Warren? By the time he’d turned to the Kobold to get some verification, the little man was already halfway down the uneven stairwell.
‘Make yourselves at home.’ Hah. It certainly felt like a home. The way everything was strewn about, the way it smelled, the way it looked—it looked lived in, but not in a good way. The floor was covered in bits of laundry and empty cereal bowls with the milk dried onto them. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes, fruit flies buzzing around them under the humming lights. There were some broken bits of wooden…something just sitting there underneath the kitchen table. Whoever this guy used to be, he certainly wasn’t all that anymore.
The boy remained standing as his Xita companion took a seat right next to the stranger, grabbing some popcorn out of a bowl that was on the floor. Drew lit a cigarette—only after this did Cici think to actually look back and check on her unmoving companion. Andy looked stiff as a board. He kept his arms tightly crossed over his chest, careful not to touch anything, as if he was afraid of being contaminated.
"C'mon, Andy," Cici said, nudging a cushion next to her with her foot. "What are you standing around for? Have a seat."
Andy hesitated still, but slowly uncrossed his arms and walked over to the couch. He carefully picked up a bit of crumpled newspaper off the cushion before settling down, hands nervously resting on his knees. All the while, the stranger watched with a grin.
"Loosen up, kid." Drew said, letting out a puff of smoke from between his teeth. "I don't bite."
"I'm not scared," Andy replied.
Drew laughed out loud.
“God, Cici, who is this kid?”
“This's Andy. He's uh, new here.”
“I can tell. Fresh fish outta water.” He takes another drag. “Stayin' at Hudson's?”
Andy nodded with some hesitation.
“Don't plan on it for long.” Drew said.
“I wasn't.” Andy replied rather shortly.
“Mm. Right, so whaddya need?” The man asked as he leaned forward. Cici cleared her throat.
“He needs to get out of town.”
Drew’s lips scrunched up, his face fighting the massive sneer attempting to form. Cici, clueless, continued.
“I told him you could help him and that like, you could hook him up with a way out of here. Since, you know, you always liked—”
“Shut up.” The man cut her off. He let out a loud chuff and got to his feet, swaying drunkenly backwards for a moment. Squinting, now, at the boy, his fingers drumming on his thighs, the man took a good long look at him. Shivering. Shaking. Pathetic. What a sad sight this kid was. A deep breath in, and he sat down on the ottoman across from the two.
“You’ve got thirty seconds.” The man said.
“Thirty seconds until what?” Cici asked.
“Thirty seconds until I kick yer asses outta my apartment, now talk. What’s your game?”
Andy fumbled over his words a few times before he could really get anything coherent out, all the while the man's expression only grew more fierce. Composing himself, he finally got out a simple string.
“I need to say goodbye to my dad.”
The boy’s face fell as the words left his mouth. Sure, it wasn’t entirely true, but should this whole thing go south, it really could be his final opportunity to talk with Martin face to face, to air out any regrets. Something sparked in the man's eyes at that, a flicker of recognition, some element of understanding.
“Your dad,” He repeated, letting the words hang in the air as he took a deep pull off his cigarette. Andy nodded, biting his lip as he did so. Silence. Silence, and a sigh.
“Sure…yeah. Why not?”
Cici pumped a fist in celebration, but the man went ahead and pumped the brakes on that. He put up a hand as if trying to temper a storm with his mind.
“On the condition that you do exactly what I say when I say to do it. Got that?”
The two teens looked at each other and nodded.
“We’ve got it,” they said unanimously.
“Good then. You got all your stuff packed, little man?”
Andy nodded. Drew smirked.
“A’ight. Let’s get going then.”
…
The bubbling, babbling brooks of the valley stretched on for miles, it seemed, especially now that the gang had been traveling by foot. The initial ride into town was so fast, so intense, Andy really didn't realize just how huge the region was. The group wandered for some time, far beyond the safety of civilization and into the untamed land which surrounded it. It would have been a fairly standard forest, to Andy, aside from the blatant inclusion of wild griffins and slobbering squonks.
Drew at last came to a stop at the head of a small clearing, just at the outcroppings of the woods, between them and a large, wheat-filled plain. The waters of the river here seemed to swirl in some parts, this section of the stream being dotted in hundreds of little sinkholes, as well as the scattered bones of creatures much larger than any of the three.
“This here’s called the Devil’s Loop,” Drew said. “Ride a bolter through these waters, they’re as good as gone. See the whirlpools? Their big fat bodies get stuck right on ‘em. Can’t wriggle free. It’d be tragic if it wasn’t so hilarious.”
Snorting, Drew turned to gauge the other kids’ reactions, though his type of humor hadn’t landed well—Andy gave a scowl in response.
“Where does all of it go?” Cici asked. “The water, I mean.”
“Hmm. Now that’s a good question,” Drew replied. “Let’s see.”
Drew nonchalantly approached the river side, hands behind his back, tipping back and forth with each step. Quite suddenly and with a shrug, he hopped in, feet first, right into one of the many man-sized whirlpools, and disappeared quickly beneath the rapids. Both the teens’ jaws went agape.
“Drew?!” Cici screamed, running to desperately try and catch the man who so clearly wasn't there anymore. Andy, too, jumped from the shock of it. No, it didn't seem like Drew was coming back up for air any time soon. Gone, gone he was, for a good long while. The two kids, left behind, deliberated on the decision in their heads. Do they call for help? Do they follow him? If your friends all jumped off a bridge, would you do it too? The phrase lingered and refused to fly away—but whereas Andy had the common sense to listen to the wise words of his elders, Cici, ever the adventurer, gave way to the intrusive thoughts.
Taking in a deep breath, she got a running start, and dove head first into the waters.
If your friends all jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?
Andy considered it, and considered it, and eventually, the boy went with yes. Yes he would.
Clenching his eyes and with a shout, the boy leapt into the center of the whirlpool, his body quickly enveloped in the flowing river waters, the dark waves crashing into his nose. He snorted, the water burning his nostrils and running down his throat. Though he hacked and coughed, no noise came out—he was deep below the water now, surrounded by blackness, no light, no sound. The boy wanted to gasp, he wanted to claw at the riverbed around him, he wanted to struggle against the waves, but there was no way he could. Andy was forcibly sucked down this seemingly endless hole, with no way to breathe, no way to scream for help. This was it. This was really the end.
Or, so he thought it was, until he suddenly found himself in free-fall, coughing and gasping for air in a great, hollow space. The sensation of wind flowing through his soaking wet hair did not last for too long. Splash, again, into a deep pool, the water of the river showering Andy from several large holes in the ceiling.
Panicking, he paddled at the waters, bringing himself to the surface as quickly as possible, his ears popping from the depth he found himself in.
Just as soon as he'd surfaced, Andy was pulled up by three pairs of arms, and laid out on his side atop a rocky bed. He coughed up some water, shaking, scrambling, curling up onto his knees to make the experience easier. The boy was unsure if he was really on solid land or not. He could hardly see anything. He could hardly think. His senses were firing off on all four cylinders. His heart was racing.
“Yo, kid?” Drew’s voice echoed. Andy heard it, but it didn't register. He continued to hyperventilate. It was all too much.
When Drew grabbed Andy by the shoulder, the boy suddenly lashed out, his claws tearing right through the man's dark denim jeans and slashing his thigh. The man cussed and stumbled back.
“D-don't touch me!” Andy shouted. “Don't…don't touch me...”
One. Two. Three. Four.
The boy counted in his head, breathing in tandem.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
His breathing came to a slow. The cold air finally registered. He could smell the baked-in tobacco of Drew's leather attire, he could hear Cici’s soft breaths. It all came back to him. He was okay. He was safe...for the time being. Andy blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. In the dim light of his glowing eyes, he could make out the blurry figures of Drew and Cici huddled over him—it was still much too dark to see anywhere past the two. Drew let out a deep sigh, and leaned with his back against the wall of the cavern they were in. He rubbed at his slashed thigh.
Yeah. Andy balled up his quaking fists, feeling his wet claws against his palms, Drew's ichor growing sticky on his hands as they dried.
“Whew, tiger,” Drew groaned. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I’m sorry,” Andy replied. “I don’t—I don’t know what came over me.”
“Hey, it’s cool, I get it. You okay?”
“…Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Anybody got a light?” Cici asked.
“Nah, I uh, usually just feel my way around down here.” Drew said.
“Where is ‘here?’” Andy said.
“I’d call it my man cave, but it could probably use some renovation.”
“Har, har. How do we get out?”
“Just—follow my voice.”
Drew’s fingers traced the jagged edges of stone as Andy and Cici huddled closer, straining their eyes in the dark. The man led them forward through darkness so thick that it felt tangible, pressing against their faces like clammy hands. The air was heavy with moisture and charged with an aliveness that only the bats and the mice had truly experienced. The cavern twisted and turned. Jagged stalagmites rose from the cave floor like a dinosaur’s fangs, while their brother stalactites hung precariously overhead. They glistened, organically, with the moisture of the cave, reflecting what little light had entered the abyss.
Without the benefit of sight, the boy’s other senses really pulled their weight. In fact, they were a bit intense—he felt as if he was hearing everything in overdrive, picking up on scents that weren’t normally there. The sound of dripping water echoed in the black expanse as the trio made their way through carefully. The droplets surged from unseen heights above, pattering onto the rocky floor below. The waters beneath them ebbed and flowed like the veins of the Earth itself.
Andy could pick up faint traces of moss and lichen clinging desperately to the wet walls. Their damp scent was a comforting, familiar aroma in the dark. His ears picked up on small scurries and flutterings, signs of unseen inhabitants flitting about in the darkness ahead and behind him. He also felt subtle vibrations in the ground beneath his feet—Drew's steps ahead of him, Cici's behind—giving him a vague sense of direction.
The air pressure around the group slowly began to change—before Andy could really get acquainted with these new senses, suddenly, light at the end of the tunnel. They were getting close, only needing to trail behind Drew and his steady stream of soft curses for just a little longer.
But, this wasn’t sunlight, no, it was something else—blueish, almost violet, bouncing around the inner walls of the cavern like waves dancing on an ocean shoreline. The stalagmites began to dither away, progressively replaced with one mushroom after another—far too large for anything Andy had seen back home. A scant few had milky white, bulbous growths—the boy swore for a moment that one of them had blinked.
The eerie azure glow of the titanic fungi enveloped the cavern walls, banishing the wet darkness and bathing everything in cool light. Weirdly enough, it felt inviting.
Drew stopped suddenly, causing Andy to bump into him—the boy fell backward with a squawk. Rubbing his nose, he was about to ask what gives, until he realized what was immediately in front of the group. Grotesque, malformed creatures began to approach them—some humanoid, some totally unrecognizable. Their unintuitive structure was as though a mad scientist had fused flesh and assorted bones together, though this flesh was fungal, stringy. Many of the things had rows of teeth, or large, cutting claws—all were covered from head to toe in eyes. So many eyes. Like pretty little pustules primed to pop. The things rasped as they approached, growling like wild animals, grabbing for the person in front, for Drew…!
“Hey, hey, hey!” Quickly, he was taken into their claws, the man seemingly devoured whole once more before the teens’ eyes...but not quite. From within the mound of bustling bodies, a gruff laughter could be heard. The crowd dissipated some, allowing Drew some space to breathe. A few of the creatures were latched onto him as if embracing an old friend. As one might expect, Andy and Cici continued to gawk with their jaws wide open. Drew turned to them and threw his arms out.
“Alright you guys — welcome to Mycopolis!”