Chapter 23

The Great Escape

Ty awoke on what remained of the shore: a small section of the screen barely connected to the wall. The sea could pull it apart at any minute. There was no grass on the display or sky on the wall and ceiling.

The brick door was right behind him. He tried to go for it, but found that he could not move. He was stuck underneath...

“Forty-Four,” Ty's voice came out weak and crackly. But his friend heard him.

The robot's eyes opened, the corner of his loading bar mouth raising in a small smile.

The touching moment was interrupted as two pairs of hands breached the surface of the bricks a little farther out at sea. The Elves' masks appeared from the depths as they clawed their way toward them.

“Do you trust me?”

Ty did not hesitate. “Of course.”

Forty-Four's eyes returned to their evil, red slits and his arms curled around Ty, binding his limbs and hoisting him into the air.

“What are you doing!?”

The robot turned to face the Elves on top of the screen beside him.

“I have retrieved the boy,” he said in a creepy, distorted voice. “Is he to be taken to San?”

One Elf nodded. The other beckoned for him to follow, which Forty-Four did, hovering along behind him with Ty firmly in tow.

He did not like this. Not one bit... but he trusted his friend.

The Elves stopped before the brick wall. They each touched it and the bricks leapt aside, revealing a small army of sock monkeys. The Elves called for backup somehow.

They each took one large step out the door. The heels of their shoes touched the floor in the hall... then they were yanked back inside.

Forty-Four dropped Ty and grabbed them in a split second. In another, he tossed them into the ocean and dashed forward, turned sideways, and used his bulky frame to hold the bricks in place. They pressed against him, desperate to reseal the doorway. In the hall, the plush creatures rammed themselves against his back, trying to break their way into the room.

Forty-Four's face returned to normal, if a little bit strained from the effort of keeping the door open.

“Step onto the screen.” An arrow appeared beside his face, pointing at the broken flooring. “When I tell you, cut that piece holding it to the wall and hang on.”

“Why? What are you going to do?” No answer. The Elves were already swimming back in their direction. “Tell me!”

“I'm going to break you out of here,” he said, a sort of sadness on his pixelated face.

The sea rose and a new wave formed, sweeping the Elves up inside, devouring them like they were nothing. It didn't stop there. It got bigger, came closer.

“Stop!” Ty pounded his fists on Forty-Four's screen in desperation. “You can't do that again! It might kill you!”

“It's the only way. Did you see how many creatures were out there? And San is sure to be here soon...”

“I won't let you die for me! Everyone I care about always leaves me behind... I'm sick of it!” Tears welled up, no matter how hard he wished them to stop.

“I'm... sorry.” Forty-Four's screen flickered on and off, a sad smile painted across it. “Keep... going. Live. Like you... taught me. Live.”

The screen below his feet bobbed up from the force of bricks below it, the small sliver that still held it in place strained to keep it together.

Forty-Four didn't have the energy to speak, so instead he used a loud buzzing noise and the words “NOW TY, NOW!” flashed onto his screen.

Still crying, Ty honored his friend's wish and brought his sword down, cutting the screen free. Forty-Four fell, clearing the doorway. A few sock monkeys stumbled in... until they saw the wave and scrambled back out again, screeching.

Ty slammed his sword into the piece keeping everything together, and held on for dear life. Just in time, too, the chunk of screen he stood on turned into a makeshift raft and caught the wave, riding it out into the hallway. He looked back and caught a glance of Forty-Four's figure before the wave blocked him from view and carried Ty away.

Plush creatures were everywhere. And not just the guards. All sorts of creatures swept into the bricks as they spilled out of the LEGO room and into the hallways. Ty's raft knocked against walls with every turn, each a struggle to stay on board.

His careful memorization of the path to the front door wasn't needed after all—the wave took all the correct turns as it flooded the factory. He wondered how it could move. Did it act out Forty-Four's last programmed actions, or could he still be...?

A skinny hand latched onto his raft. He was really getting tired of hands popping out from everywhere. He wished he didn't recognize this one, but he did. One of the Elves pulled his torso onto the raft, its mask hanging at an angle, knocked loose inside the wave. Ty heard a sploosh! from behind and he knew that the Elf's twin had arrived.

Ty held his sword tighter. Should he pull it out? He would risk falling off the screen, but how else could he fight? The wave rounded another corner and entered the main hall—the final leg of its journey. The Elves were all the way on the raft, lumbering toward Ty as he debated what to do.

#

Gentry hadn't been successful in his attempts to rescue Ty. San pulled out all the stops this time, leaving no holes for him to slip through. The smokestacks were closed, the windows were reinforced with bars of a metal that would not break, the front door locked around the clock while sock monkeys guarded the perimeter. Well, there had been guards—Gentry knocked them all out in no time, hopefully annoying San at least a little.

After two days (in Ty's measure of time), Gentry accepted that he was just not going to get in. Had he given up on Ty? Not a chance. But he felt that this challenge was one that Ty must overcome on his own. So, he chose a rooftop, sat, and waited out the remainder of the week.

His patience was rewarded.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Before seeing anything out of the ordinary, he heard it. A loud roaring noise came from the factory, sounding like distorted, rushing water. He hopped to his feet. This was it. The front door flew open, the plush creatures disobeying San's orders for fear of the wave that hounded them. Gentry shot his hand at the frame of the giant door and jumped, swinging over the creatures' heads and facing the source of their terror straight on.

#

Gentry came out of nowhere. He fell from the sky and pounded onto the screen, pushing one side of it under the water and the other side up, catapulting one of the Elves into the bricks. The remaining Elf made a grab for Gentry and he back-flipped into the air, over to the opposite side of the raft and slammed his body weight against it again. The Elf joined its twin in the ocean.

Ty still sat with his feet wrapped around the sword for extra security.

“Sorry about the rocky entrance,” Gentry chuckled at the sight of the boy. Ty had missed his laugh so much.

“Are you kidding? I don't care—you're alive!” Ty made to get up and hug his friend but a jostle of the raft returned him to his weapon.

“Let's save the reunion for later, once we're on solid ground again. Sound good?”

Ty nodded in agreement.

The raft rose higher as it approached its destination. They shot out the front door and down onto the pavement, where the wave conveniently lost steam and stopped in the center of the square.

Gentry stepped off the screen, went to the door, and cursed under his breath.

“What's wrong?” Ty pulled his sword free and joined his friend on the cement.

“I don't suppose you have a key, do you?” He moved aside so Ty could see the lock under the door-knob.

Ty couldn't believe it. After all this, it was locked?

“It wasn't like this before,” said Gentry. “He must have changed it after he captured you again. Although, it is possible that we didn't notice it before those bats attacked us...”

“Well, this is just great! So we have to go back inside there?” Ty was so frustrated he could scream.

“No, no, I doubt the key is anywhere inside. It's most likely on San himself. And he will be coming to us.”

As if on cue, San appeared in the doorway with the Elves flanking him.

He leaned down and picked up a handful of bricks. “Impressive! Turning my own creation against me and riding to freedom. In all my long years, I have never seen anything quite like that.” He crushed the bricks in his hand, turning them into plastic dust.

He walked out of the factory, his every step somehow burning the bricks he touched, melting them away and clearing a path through the mess.

“And Gentry, look at you! Battle scarred. That look suits you—very stylish.”

“I'm glad you think so,” said the puppet. “I'll be giving you a few scars of your own.”

San's horrible smile dominated his face. “Kill him.”

The Elves were a blur as they charged, their new found speed fueled by anger and frustration at the beatings they'd received. Ty was as sick of them as they were of being bested.

“Get behind me!” Gentry said, stepping in front of Ty. “I'm going to finish them.”

He held his hands out to the sides, putting his finger tips together as they spun, becoming two deadly drills.

Something didn't feel right. “Wait. What are you going to—”

The Elves appeared in the air, looming down on Gentry. With an eerie calmness, Gentry held his hand up and dug his drills through the Elves' chests. One of each of their hands grasped at Gentry's drills, trying to pull them out. Their other hands reached past Gentry to get a hold of Ty who fell back out of the way, more from shock at what his friend had done than fear of being grabbed.

The puppet pressed his drills deeper. Terrible noises filled the air as bones were drilled to shreds. They did not bleed, they did not scream. The only way Ty knew they were dying was from the fight draining out of them. Their attempts at freeing the drill became weaker, their lunges for Ty more like flops... until they stopped altogether. Their arms fell limp to the ground.

Gentry's drilling stopped and he pulled his hands free of their chests, letting their bodies fall to the side; dead.

Even in death, the Elves kept on smiling.

#

Ty's curiosity spread like a disease. He crept closer to one of the Elves and with a shaking hand, touched the mask. Gentry stopped him.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” he said. “Some things are better left unknown.”

Fear won out over his curiosity and Ty's hand retreated to his pocket.

“Why did you kill them?”

“They would not stop otherwise. We have to get the key, remember? To do that we must fight San—that alone will be difficult. Do you think we could manage it while having to fight the Elves as well?”

“He is very good at making excuses, don't you think, boy?”

San still smiled as he stepped into the town square.

Ty chose not to think about what San said. He didn't necessarily agree with Gentry's decision to kill the Elves, but if he were to dwell on it, it would cause a rift—exactly what San wanted. Divided, they would surely lose.

“Hmm...” San rubbed his chin with one long finger. “How did you survive anyway, puppet? I was told you were dead—blade through the heart, wasn't it?”

Gentry's cloak moved aside, revealing the hole in his chest. “A heart does not give me life.”

“Well then, old friend,” San snarled. “I am eager to find out what does when I rip you open.”

“Enough talking!” Ty drew his sword and pointed it at his enemy. Following his lead, Gentry held his hands at the ready and his cloak fluttered about with excitement. “Give us the key.”

“Oh! You mean this?” San tapped a glass orb in his eye socket, hard to see at first from the dark. Movement came from within, a strange mist dissipating to reveal the key inside. “It's all yours. If you can take it from me. But, I warn you, if you choose to fight, things will get ugly. Would it not be easier to give all this up and come back with me?”

“I'm not going with you.”

“A whole factory of everything you could ever want. How can you give that up? What could possibly be worth throwing all of that away for?”

Forty-Four's last words ran through Ty's head, giving him his answer.

“Life,” he said.

San laughed. “Pain and unhappiness await you, then.”

“I prefer that to being your mindless prisoner.”

San's smile hung in the air, disembodied. Ty turned and Gentry was no longer at his side, knocked away by a punch he hadn't seen. San took the puppet's spot beside Ty.

“Now,” San said, staring down at Ty from his abnormal height. “Put that toy away and come with me.”

He held his hand out for the sword. Ty happily obliged.

He thrust the blade into San's palm causing him to shriek in surprise. He snatched his hand back to yank the sword loose.

“It... it cut me,” he said, unbelieving as he surveyed his wound. “How—”

San's sentence was interrupted by a blow to the back of his head. He fell, and Ty dove out of the way. San made a grab for the boy, bested by Gentry who'd pulled him out of harm's way.

San stopped his fall by grabbing hold of the door frame. He furiously spun around. “You will not get another hit like that on me.” He crouched low and spread his massive hands apart, ready for a fight.

“Listen,” Gentry whispered to Ty. “We have to attack together. We don't need to beat him, just overwhelm him for a few seconds—that will be enough to get the key. Also, remember: San will not kill you. You can use that to your advantage.”

Ty nodded, though he didn't see that last part as much of an advantage when San could still beat him to a pulp and lock him up in his factory. And yet... he wasn't afraid. How could he be? All of the death he'd experienced here was burned into his mind, shining anew with the killer before him.

Ty ran, Gentry joining him at his side. The boy delivered a running kick, the puppet throwing a simultaneous punch.

San caught them both and tossed them aside nonchalantly.

As soon as Ty's feet touched the ground he lunged back at him with his blade. San caught it with the tips of his fingers and flashed Ty a taunting grin. Gentry saw a momentary opening and went for it, diving for the key, two of his fingers brushing against the glass orb.

Ty thought they had it for sure but, defying all ways a leg should be able to move, San's foot bolted up and struck Gentry's arm out of range. Then he pushed Ty aside like a troublesome child undeserving of attention, stepped forward, and head-butted Gentry's wooden skull.

The puppet was knocked into the air, but turned it into a backflip with a graceful landing onto his feet. As he went, he shot a hand to Ty and pulled the boy closer.

“Okay,” Gentry said as Ty landed. “New plan. I think I've got one, willing to hear it?”

“Fire away.”

And he did. Ty liked it very much.