The high pitched whine of dirt bike engines broke through the city ambiance of late morning Echo Creek. Running up and down the hills of a large makeshift motocross circuit, several dirt bikes took to the air with dramatic leaps, their riders performing dizzying tricks atop their seats and handlebars before landing again. The circuit was nestled within a large scrapyard in the north of Echo Creek, not too far off from the winding road that led to Hillhurst. Atop one of the tall heaps of scrap overlooking the track, Dipper and Janna watched the leaping motorcyclists.
“So,” Janna said as she balanced on the hood of a 70s station wagon, “Thursday morning here at this scrap yard, someone saw a giant snake around here near the track.”
Dipper looked towards the direction indicated. “They couldn’t take a picture in time?”
“Just like everyone else,” Janna replied.
The buzzing of a dirt bike revving up even louder drew their attention to one of the bikers–wearing a blue and pink jersey splashed with neon green, in the middle of a huge air jump. Looking their way, the rider floated off their bike with one hand on the handlebars, pointed a finger gun at them and faked pulling the trigger at the top of their jump, and swung back on their bike to land in front of another similarly dressed rider filming the stunt with a camcorder.
Dipper whistled. “That was pretty cool.”
Janna tilted her head. “I guess. Those guys are tools, though.”
He looked over at her. “Huh?”
She hopped off the hood of the car, onto the belly of an overturned coupe. She then jumped and landed on the dirt path between the piles of wrecked cars. “That track was made for BMX kids years ago. Then like last year some dudes on actual motorbikes took it over and it started a huge beef.”
Dipper followed her down with a little more care. “BMX vs. Motocross, huh? Who won?”
Janna gestured out at the tracks. “You see any bikes down there?”
He frowned when he saw that indeed there were no regular bicycles to be seen. “That’s kind of messed up. They couldn’t share it?”
“They didn’t even try, but when you figure out who was in charge of the whole takeover? It makes sense.”
Dipper frowned. “One of the Vanderhoffs?”
“Got it in one, it was Van who did it. Even worse? When he finished taking over this place, he got bored with his motorbike and quit.”
Dipper grit his teeth. Asking what was wrong with those two would be rhetorical at this point, so he just opted to punch one of them if he saw them in person. “Slimy bastard.”
“Don’t besmirch sliminess. He’s a dry bastard, complete with chafing.”
It took a second for Dipper to process that, and he gave Janna a sidelong look. “Okay, that one was outside of the box. Also, ew.”
Janna glanced back at him and smirked, before she walked on ahead of him and the two fell out of sight of the track. The mountains of old and broken down cars were piled high, some several stories. Cars, trucks, other mechanical equipment, from the 1930s to the present, rusting under the hot Southern California sun in anticipation of some far off recycling.
The sheer size of the scrapyard stuck out to Dipper, as he looked down one lane between compacted coupes and convertibles. “This place is huge. Is this where all of South Cali’s cars go to die, or something?”
“Pretty much, but I think this place is weirder than you think. I’ve literally seen places here that aren’t the next time I visit.” When Dipper turned back to face her, interested, she continued. “Like the Monster Truck Graveyard.”
“Monster Truck Graveyard?” That sounded amazing.
“A whole corner of the scrap yard that’s just Monster Trucks. I’ve only been there twice, and if I didn’t pull pieces off them to add to my collection at home, I never would’ve believed it was real.”
If they weren’t already on the hunt for something else, Dipper would be begging Janna to take him there to see it for himself. “Give me a week and we’ll figure this out. This is my kind of mystery.”
“I’m here every Saturday. We can invite Marco next time, make a date of it.”
Dipper blushed and tugged his lumberjack hat down slightly over his eyes. Janna smirked in good-natured amusement.
He looked at her from under the edge of his hat. “So how long have you known him?”
“Since kindergarten. Though I can’t say we were on speaking terms until like Freshman Year, before that we were just background characters for each other.”
Dipper hummed. “So how well do you actually know him?”
“I know everything about him. Full name, address, social security number, account passwords, medical history-”
Okay, that was weird. “I mean as a person.”
Janna stopped to think about it. “Well, we started hanging out in High School, but we weren’t friends then. I was mostly there for the exchange student his family was hosting then. After Akil left, we just kinda drifted together and we’ve been cool since.”
Dipper raised an eyebrow. “Cool enough for you to know all of his personal information?”
“Well,” she said as she shrugged her shoulders, “A guy like him needs to stay humble.”
“That’s not ominous.”
Janna was a mystery unto herself, from which many more mysteries sprang.
“Don’t worry your handsome face, I’m not out to get him.” She clicked her teeth. “He’s not my type.”
“What is your type? Mysterious? Dark? Dangerous? Dead?”
Janna barked a laugh. “Careful with that sass Lumberjack, or I’ll add tall and charming to that list.”
Both laughed, and walked only a little further forward before they stopped and realized they were standing amidst tall mounds of scrapped vehicles, equipment, and other metal materials. It was quiet too, the nearby sounds from the motocross track absent, leaving just a still and off-putting ambience of metal creaking and straining under its own weight.
Dipper felt a sense that things weren’t right. “Huh, that’s weird.”
“You noticed it too, huh?” Janna asked as she turned to look up the path they came down. “We’re in one of the weird parts. You can’t hear the machinery, the road, or anything.”
Dipper reached into his book bag and pulled out his journal. Opening it, he reached a blank page and began writing. “That’s a good way to know if we’re in an anomaly.”
He looked back at Janna. “Check your phone, is it working?”
Janna pulled it out and looked. “Looks like it.”
“Send a text to make sure.”
Janna did so, sending out a message to the group chat that she and Dipper were at the scrap yard. To her surprise, it was sent without issue. “Yep, we’re still connected.”
“Maybe it’s because we’re still close to where we entered… is there anything else that happens when you go into an anomaly?”
Janna gestured over to their left. “The scrap looks different.”
He looked up one of the piles at Janna’s indication. Unlike the neater, more organized mounds in the main part of the scrap yard, the jagged and twisted piles looked too dangerous to climb. “I wish I had a drone or something. We could fly it up there and get a view of the surrounding area.”
Stolen story; please report.
He looked down the path ahead. The sheer volume of scrap and metal was so much that it was impossible to tell how far it actually went, or if it ever stopped. With a small grimace, he imagined how easy it’d be to get lost here–or worse, to hide.
“The Magnavores would love this place.”
Janna had a worrying thought. “If the Snake is a Magnavore, it might have found its way here.”
“So it’s going to be like finding a snake in a haystack, great.” Dipper looked up the path. “We may as well go back up and wait for the others, then. That’s how we get out of here, right?”
Janna nodded. “Oh yeah, I’ve never had a problem finding my way back. It doesn’t even take that long.”
“Really?”
“Yep, no matter how far you go in, you can just turn around and take a few steps back…”
Dipper followed her lead, taking only a few steps, and suddenly the sound of the nearby machinery and dirt bikes returned.
“… And you’ll be back in the real world.”
Dipper looked around, surprised. Everything indeed looked normal again. “What other secrets does this town have…?” He asked before the dirt bike sounds grew louder and closer. “Huh?”
From around a corner of compacted cars, a dirt bike emerged. The same bike and rider that had pointed at Dipper when they were watching from atop the piles.
Janna lifted an eyebrow and looked at Dipper.
He shared her confusion as he looked back, putting his journal away. “Uh, hey? Are you lost?”
The biker didn’t answer, he revved his bike, as two more riders pulled up. One held a metal bar in his left hand and was slapping it against the side of his bike. The other pulled out the camcorder they’d seen before and pointed it at Dipper and Janna.
“Oh crap…” Janna she said through her teeth. “… We need to go…”
Soon as she said that the lead rider charged, riding up into a wheelie at Dipper. Shoving Janna clear, he jumped back the other way, and into the path of the second rider swinging the metal bar he carried for his head.
Grabbing his hat, Dipper ducked down and under the swing and looked back to see both dirt bikes spin out to face him again, the riders looking straight at him. He glanced at Janna, who was climbing up one of the normal looking stacks of scrap, then back at the riders.
Wait, they’re after me! He realized as they charged him again.
The first rider barreled for Dipper, then spun out again, kicking up the dirt and gravel on the path at him.
As Dipper shielded his face with his arms, he felt a hard, sharp impact across his stomach, just across his lower ribs from the second rider’s metal bar. The pain made him stumble, before he felt the first rider’s boot slam into the side of his head, the kick knocking him to the ground.
Prone, Dipper ignored the pain and scrambled up to his feet, running ahead blindly. Just behind him, the bar-armed rider rode up against the side of the scrap pile behind him. Brushing his face, he looked at the three riders, the two revving their bikes again and looking at him–their helmets and goggles obscuring their faces, hiding their intentions. The third held the camcorder pointed right at him, to catch every moment.
Before they could attack again, a broken rear view mirror bounced off the shoulder of the lead rider, and both looked up to see Janna hoisting a car bumper to throw it down at them. “Hey! Up here!”
She threw it down and the riders scattered from being struck. In their moment of distraction, Dipper reached into his bag and pulled out something he didn’t think he’d need but was glad Mabel packed it–her trusty grappling hook gun.
“Thank you, Mabel…!” He said under his breath before he aimed and fired it, the hook shooting up past Janna to catch on the top of her scrap pile. The rope grew taut, and Dipper was yanked off the ground and out of the reach of the riders. Slamming his feet into the side of the pile, he ran up it, pulled all the way to the top where he joined Janna.
“Dude, are you okay?” Janna asked as she helped him up over the edge.
Dipper reclaimed the hook. “I’m fine… I just… what the heck?”
Janna pointed down. “I don’t know, but we should be running.”
He saw why, the pile of scrap they stood on wasn’t a perfect tower, just to his right he could see where shorter piles next to it created a staircase of sorts, perfect for a determined pursuer to get up. This didn’t escape their two attackers, who already circled around and began climbing their way up towards them, while the third watched at the bottom with the camera.
“Why are they filming it?” Dipper asked aloud before Janna tugged on his sleeve.
“This way!” She bolted the other way, running across the tops of the piles. Dipper didn’t hesitate to follow, the long climb the dirt bikers needed gave them a head start.
The two clumsily fled over the uneven and warped terrain of compacted vehicles, jumping over the narrow gaps between the stacks in their flight back towards the entrance of the scrapyard. Dipper looked back, in time to see the first rider come up over the top and begin slowly gaining on them, the second close behind.
“Crap…!” Janna shouted.
He stopped with her and saw the wide gap between them and the next stack. Looking up, he saw the arm of the scrap yard’s crane overhead, then looked back at the riders. He aimed the grappling hook. “Grab onto me, Janna!”
Janna didn’t hesitate, clinging to him as he fired the hook, catching the crane and jumping to swing across the wide gap between the stacks. At the end of the swing, Dipper dropped onto the top of the stack and set Janna down.
Looking up at the grappling line, the gap they crossed, and their pursuers across it, she let out a laugh. “That was so cool.”
Dippers shook out his arm after he recalled the grappling hook. “How does Mabel do that without hurting herself…?”
The two riders stopped and stared at both of them, but neither Dipper nor Janna spared them a second look as they headed down towards the mound of scrap to the ground level.
Hopping down the scrap piles, Dipper shook his head. “Are the Motocross guys that messed up?”
“I know, right?” Janna asked.
Both heard the bikes moving, fast, and set aside their questions for later. Running hard, they reached the main row of the scrap yard and kept going towards the entrance, Dipper lagging behind Janna. “Go! Go! Go!”
Just behind them, the camera wielding rider came around a corner, followed by the other two, who quickly shot past him and closed in with the metal bar-armed one taking the lead and brandishing it to swing for Dipper’s back.
At the last second Dipper snapped around with the Grappling Hook gun and fired it. “You got too close!”
The hook smashed into the rider’s helmet faceplate and knocked him off his bike. The sudden violence of the counterattack caused the other two riders to stop in their tracks.
Yanking his arm back, Dipper retracted the hook and it locked into the barrel of the gun. The first rider who attacked rolled up to his fallen partner, who was clutching their face plate and letting out muffled screams.
The rider looked from his friend to Dipper, who aimed the grappling hook at him. “Don’t try it!”
The rider revved his bike and charged Dipper. Lining up the shot, Dipper fired the grappling hook, but the rider yanked his bike into a wheelie, deflecting the hook upward.
“Damn it!” Dipper shouted before the rider swerved into a slide and kicked Dipper in the chest, knocking him onto his back.
Janna stopped and looked back. “Ah, Lumberjack!”
Doing a full donut as Dipper hit the ground, the rider reared his machine up again, and came up on Dipper to bring the front tire down on his stomach.
“Crap, crap, crap…!” Janna pulled out her phone to send a warning, when a much louder engine all but deafened her and a black and pink blur blew past her left.
The rider on the dirt bike looked up from his standing wheelie, then dropped it–barely missing Dipper as he rolled out of the way. Another motorcycle, a big heavy chopper, passed by Dipper–its rider snatching the motocrosser off his bike with a strong-armed lariat.
Turning sharply, the chopper rider threw the motocrosser onto the wounded one and came to a stop between Dipper and his attackers.
Dipper slowly got up and looked in surprise at the motorcycle. He recognized both it and it’s rider immediately. “Wait… huh?”
On the chopper, a red scarf trailing in the disturbed air behind her, Nano Williams glared at the two Motocrossers getting up, while the third lowered their camera in a panic.
“You must be out your goddamn minds! On everything I love, I swear to God, if I catch you messin’ with my babies again, YOU WILL CATCH THESE HANDS! ALL OF Y’ALL!”
The menace that the motocross riders enjoyed evaporated as their terror took hold. They fell over each other, hand over foot trying to get onto their feet. The one Dipper hit was struggling to get his bike, when the one Nano snatched off his bike helped him up and both hobbled away, the one filming it all had already turned and raced off. As they fled, Nano brought her hands to her mouth and shouted after them.
“AND DON’T THINK I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! I KNOW ALL YO’ MAMAS AND DADDIES! YOU BEST GET ON HOME BEFORE I BEAT Y’ALL THERE AND JOIN IN WHUPPIN’ YO BEHINDS!”
Under her verbal assault, the two remaining riders abandoned their bikes altogether and fled into the scrapyard, hobbling as fast as they could.
As soon as they were out of sight Dipper wiped his face and checked his palm–that first kick to the head had made him bleed. His eyes narrowed and he clenched his hand into a fist as Nano dismounted from her bike and joined him. Janna came back over to him, finishing her text to the group chat.
“Oh Dipper, baby, what did they do to you?” Nano asked as she took off her scarf and pressed it to the wound.
“Jumped us,” he replied.
Nano, all that anger replaced with matronly worry, shook her head. “Why, baby?”
“I don’t know… but it’s the second time in a week I’ve been attacked for no reason.” He had a good idea what was going on now, and it made his blood boil.
Nano saw the look in Dipper’s eyes, and she gave him a slow nod. “Call your grandpa to pick you up.”
Dipper looked back up the path. “What about those guys?”
“They need to learn them a painful lesson. I’m gonna have some words with the manager of this scrap yard about their little track out here. We’ll see if they’ll be actin’ like fools after today.”
As Nano went over to her bike, Dipper took her scarf in hand to press it against his wound and looked at Janna. “Can I use your phone?”
Janna handed it to him. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, dialing Shermie’s number. “You’d be surprised at the kind of abuse I’ve taken.”
“You dish it out as well as you can take it, too, and better than they can. Did you see that one kid you clocked with the Grappling Hook? He’s gonna be eating through a straw for the rest of the year.”
“Good,” Dipper snapped, making her eyebrows rise. “I hope he swallowed some of his teeth.”
Janna’s face relaxed to her usual laid back expression, then she bit the corner of her lower lip.
As Shermie picked up the phone and Dipper began to explain the situation, he, Janna, and Nano were being watched. From within the fresher heaps of scrap the very snake they had been looking for flicked its tongue.
Danger. Power. Incredible power. Not what it sought, but even more dangerous than what it tasted before. Nothing for it here, it would move elsewhere, closer to that vexing place of power that it could not approach.
Its prey was near.