Chapter 12

Bonding: No Strings Attached

He smiled at him with the same painted mouth he had back home. Except there, Ty was pretty darn sure he couldn't smile. Or talk. Or move. Or have any of the functions necessary to save him from a deranged sock monkey. He was here to save him... right?

“Here, take this.” He threw a small object at him and Ty batted it away, fearing a grenade. The thing flew back to the puppet where he snatched it out of the air without kick starting an explosion. “It's okay. It'll help your injuries.”

The pain flared up again at the mere mention. The puppet tossed it back to him, and this time Ty took it with gratitude, lowering himself to a sitting position. He looked at the thing now in his lap, a small metal tin. He opened it, finding a gooey substance that reminded him of vapor rub that his grandma used just about every night, smelling up her whole house.

“Special tree sap. It possesses extraordinary healing capabilities. Shame that it's such a pain to get...”

Ty stuck his finger into the tin, desperate to get rid of the throbbing agony. For the first time he got a good look at himself, a tad sick at the sight. His knees, legs, and right arm looked as if someone had taken a cheese grater to them. He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw tight, and rubbed the sap into his scrapes. To his surprise there was no pain, just instant relief. Wherever the sap touched, it left nothing but healed, almost brand new skin.

It didn't take long at all for Ty to use every last bit of the sap, but it was enough; his wounds were completely gone.

“What did I tell you?” the puppet said, cheerfully.

“Thanks,” Ty mumbled and got to his feet again. They stared at one another for a few seconds before Ty was able to ask, “Are you... Gentry?”

He nodded. “Of course! How many other puppets do you know?”

“Um, not many. But I didn't know I knew one who could talk.”

“Good point.”

The sock monkey made a sudden move, just a flinch, but it was enough to cause Ty to jump and aim his spear at it.

“Relax,” Gentry bent down over the monkey, examining it.

“It isn't dead?” Ty asked, not relaxed.

“Of course not!” The puppet's offended tone was unexpected. “I only kill when there is no other choice. I am not some sort of savage.”

“Oh. Sorry. I just sort of assumed...” Ty scratched his head in a nonchalant sort of way. Or, at least he hoped it came off like that... “What did you do to it, then?”

“I just knocked it unconscious. Every plush creature has a... sensitive nerve in their neck and upper back.” Ty was surprised to hear Gentry use his term for the stuffed animals; he thought it was something he made up.

“Is it supposed to twitch like that?” Ty hesitantly poked it with the tip of his spear.

“Not exactly... normally a quick hit on their nerve will leave them out of it for hours. Since this one is so small it seems he has a quicker recovery time. Which means we should be going.” He held his hand up and, to Ty's disbelief, it shot out from his arm and into the air. A noise came from afar as it latched onto a rooftop.

Ty surprised himself when the question, “Where are we going?” came out of his mouth instead of the exclamation of, “That was awesome!” that bounced around inside his head.

“Where would you like to go?” the puppet asked.

Ty didn't have to think for long, “Home, if I'm being honest.”

The puppet smiled sadly, “I know you would, Ty. But you still have things to do here.”

“Like what?”

“That depends. How do you like San?”

His name brought back memories of what happened in the office. Ty looked down, glaring at the pavement “I hate him. I don't want anything to do with him and his factory.”

Gentry cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure? You may have seen some of his cruelty, but I guarantee you, it will be much easier to go back there to your nice little room than face what comes next.”

Ty's eyes left the ground and met the puppet's. “I don't care. I'm not going back.”

“Fantastic!” Gentry said, happily. “Then I can help you out of here.”

He held out the hand that was still attached to his wrist. Ty took a step toward him... but stopped. Was this the right thing to do? Could he trust this puppet? Sure, he looked exactly like his toy back home, but was it truly him? How easy it would be for San to set this whole exchange up, the perfect trap.

“You don't trust me?” Not a single ounce of offence in his tone. Odd.

“N-no, that isn't...” Ty dropped his attempt at lying when he realized that the puppet looked quite pleased.

“That is a very good thing. You would be surprised at just how many San has tricked with a familiar face. You naturally suspect I have evil intentions, and that line of thinking is what has brought you this far. Without it, you would have never seen San's true colors.”

All fine and good, but what was important right now was the puppet's true intentions. Ty stared hard at Gentry. Everything about him a perfect match with the wooden toy on his shelf. Could San have managed to create something as beautiful and mysterious? No, no one could ever copy his grandfather's work so closely.

Ty made up his mind. He took the puppet's hand.

Gentry grinned. “Keep a good grip on that,” he said, pointing at the spear.

Ty took the advice a split second before Gentry kicked off the ground and into the air. They flew straight up, right for a roof at a dizzying speed. Gentry angled himself in such a way that Ty was positive they were going to clip the side of the building and knock their brains out. He screamed while a sound came from Gentry that he thought was laughter.

Gentry managed to maneuver just right and, somehow, they flipped around, over the rooftop edge and above the building. He made a perfect landing onto the roof, letting go of Ty's hand only when he was certain the boy wouldn't fall over from shock.

“You doing all right?” A hint of a smile crept across the puppet's face.

“Y-yeah. No problems.” His voice wasn't as steady as he would have liked, but he pressed on regardless, “How did you do that, anyway?”

By way of answer, Gentry held up his arm. Now that they were out of the alley, the moon's light revealed a thin line of string. With a flick of his wrist, the string reeled back inside his arm as well as his wooden hand. It popped back into place with a click.

“Wow,” was the extent of what Ty could say through his gaping mouth.

“Pretty cool, eh?”

“Very. The Gentry I know back home can't do that.”

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“I can do a lot of things here that I couldn't there,” Gentry said as he walked across the roof, motioning for Ty to follow.

“Why is that? And how did you get here in the first place?”

“It's all a part of the magic of this world. You can do things, too.”

“Me?” Ty's mind raced with cool fantasies of him running on the sides of buildings, lifting up cars, flying.

Gentry nodded. “Especially you.”

“So far, all I've seemed to be is clumsier than usual. Is that a special ability?”

“Heh, no. You'll figure out what I'm talking about, eventually. I can tell you already have it.”

Ty looked at the puppet quizzically. He attempted to get more out of him, but Gentry remained as tight-lipped as if he still had an unmagical, painted mouth.

Ty soon gave up, backtracking a bit, “How are you here? You never answered me.”

“I just am,” Gentry said, playfully. Ty knew he wasn't going to get more out of him, no matter how much he pushed.

He tried a different approach: silence. He walked behind Gentry, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other... for about a second. Then he was drawn to Gentry's cloak. It shimmered and moved as if blown by a breeze that wasn't there.

Ty made a mental note to always keep an eye on that cloak.

“This silence is rather disturbing, I think I prefer your questions.”

“How are you here?” Ty immediately jumped in with.

“Still won't answer that one. Nice try though.”

“Okay then. Why won't you answer that particular question?”

Gentry suddenly held his hand out, stopping Ty from walking right off the edge of their rooftop. He took several quick steps away from it, not even daring to look down at the street below.

“Thanks, Ge—” His thanks was cut short when Gentry grabbed him by the back of the shirt and jumped from the roof, pulling the boy with him. There was a brief, horrible moment where he saw the cement far, far, below them and his stomach began to lurch down, hoping to take the rest of Ty's body with it. His eyes snapped shut, air rushed against his face, and he prepared for the worst.

He opened his eyes and he was on a new rooftop, Gentry beside him, his yellow irises shining. Obviously, he found Ty’s reaction quite humorous.

Ty turned away from him without a word, walking onward atop the new building. Gentry followed after him, his eyes still showing the laughter he kindly held back.

“Answer my last question,” Ty said. all joking around gone. “I know you remember it.”

“That I do. And I will.”

Ty's anger subsided, curiosity and eagerness outweighing his annoyance at Gentry's little prank.

“The answer is one you'll probably find less than satisfactory: this world is governed by rules. Revealing too much happens to be one of them.”

“How come? Why does a dream need rules?”

“Because it is not just a dream. This is a world, and a world needs rules and laws, Ty. Just as you humans are, we of this world are not perfect. Some are corrupt and cruel, necessary for what my world exists to do, but if they remained ungoverned... I dare not think what would happen to us. And to you.”

“Me? What does any of this have to do with me?”

“It has everything to do with you. You and the rest of your world. Ah, we seem to have run out of roof again. Perfect timing.”

Sure enough, they had. Ty was ready. He took two steps back from the ledge and three steps to his right, away from Gentry.

“Okay, this time give me some warning.”

Gentry eyes flashed as he said, “We are going to jump to the next building,” and then he was a blur again. Ty felt a hand grip the front of his shirt and pull him off his feet.

Thankfully he had enough of a warning to close his eyes. They hit the roof safely and without incident, Gentry continued walking without pause. Ty ran to catch up with him.

“So, new roof, new subject,” Gentry said, cheerfully.

“Is that another one of your rules?”

“No, but let's pretend for now that it is. That will make it much easier to skip around a subject I don't feel comfortable with.”

Gentry sped up a bit, Ty mimicked him and fell back into step with the puppet's pace.

“So...” Ty racked his brain for questions. There were so many. Which did he start with? Which would Gentry be able to answer? He settled on what he thought was the most pressing matter, “What is this place? Why does it exist? Let me guess, you can't say?”

“I can, actually. Don't expect the whole truth, so do not for a minute believe that what I tell you is all that there is. Consider this a summary, for now—if even that. One day I think you'll hear the full story. But not today and not from me.”

Ty nodded. Gentry continued.

“This world, this nameless world, exists for you and other humans like you. In short, kids who are debating, struggling and dealing with what it means to grow up. Each child has their own problems, their own way of interpreting said problems, and their own individual view of their world. The only thing each child has in common is the challenge of dealing with ‘new.’

“Up until this point in their life, they have seen the world through the naive lenses of a child. Now, all at once, they are attacked by the truth of the world, the people in it, and even from within themselves. Would you say that sounds familiar?”

“Oh, yeah.” Ty didn't notice that he nodded along at every single thing that came out of Gentry's mouth.

“My world exists to help them; to help you. Here you can fight out your fears and problems... or snap under their pressure.”

“Isn't that kind of cruel? Making kids fight?”

“It is necessary. Not for all, but certainly some. There are the rare few that adapt themselves easily and perfectly to the world without a care or thought against it. But they are boring and simpleminded, so let's not talk about them.”

They were running out of roof again. He wasn't certain about whether or not Gentry had been serious about the “roof rule,” but it didn't hurt to speed up his questions.

“Why is it necessary?”

“A child might not understand the world and what it is they need to do in it, but give them a sword and throw a monster at them, and it all becomes perfectly clear.”

“Um...”

“You'll see what I mean eventually,” Gentry said with a small, humorless smile. “Time for the next one,” he added as he reached for Ty and pulled him up onto a new rooftop.

He was ready for the jump that time, felt no fear at all, and when they landed they both continued walking without missing a beat.

And Ty didn't even notice the improvement. He was far too interested in their conversation.

“Now, can I ask you something?” Gentry asked, somewhat redundant.

“Sure,” Ty said. It was only fair after all.

“Have you heard a lot of fairy tales?”

“Yeah, some.”

“That's good, because this place is similar to one,” a pause, either for some sort of dramatic effect or for time to think, then, “What is it that most—or all—fairy tales have in common?”

“Well... there are uh... faeries, sometimes. And... magic.”

Gentry laughed, “No, no, that isn't it! When I think of a fairy tale, the things I always expect are tests and trials. One character, who—through a series of events—betters him or herself. And, by hearing it, someone will learn a valuable lesson.

“Do you see? You are on a journey, Ty. A journey of self discovery, of bettering yourself; of tests and trials. This,” he gestured at everything around them in a sweeping motion, “is your fairy tale.”

“My fairy tale, huh? Personally, I would have preferred to have just read it, safe in my bed...”

Gentry laughed again. Ty found himself quickly growing fond of that sound.

“If only it was that easy,” he said.

They reached the end of their roof—this one a rather small building—both stopping at the same time with no need for Gentry to keep Ty from falling.

Ty looked down, unafraid of the height and the cement down below. Their building might have been small, but it was tall—very tall. He could see everything from here, the vantage point towering over most normal buildings, only being dwarfed by the factory, its true height hidden by clouds. He glared up at the smokestacks until he couldn't bear looking at them anymore, turning around and finding something a lot more interesting.

“That's where you got the tree sap, right?” Ty pointed to a blotch of green in the distance, a forest on the outskirts of the town.

“Yes, it is. Not from any of those trees you can see from here, though. Deep inside the forest is a tree bigger than any other, the highest point deep in the clouds. What makes it difficult to get to are the monkeys.”

“Monkeys? You mean sock monkeys? You handled those two back there really well...”

“No, not them. The ones in the forest are vicious savages, full of blood lust, and capable of ripping you or I to shreds. They guard the tree; on some level, I think they might even worship it.”

Ty continued to stare at the forest, imagining the horrors that were inside and silently thankful they were far away... but not out of sight or mind. His overactive imagination pictured glimmering eyes from within the foliage, watching him with hunger.

“What else is here?” Ty asked, more as an excuse to look away from the trees than to satisfy his curiosity. “In this world, I mean.”

“Nothing,” Gentry stated in a matter of fact tone.

“Come again?”

“It's easier to show you. Now, because of our previous agreement, I feel it necessary to warn you that we are going to fly.” Ty saw a twinkle in the puppet's eye—he was enjoying this too much—and then he was moving toward him.

“No!” Ty yelled. “Hold on one sec—”

Gentry crashed into him, knocked the words out of his mouth as they both fell off the side of the building.