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“Mabel, get behind me.”
“But, Grunkle Ford–”
“Get. Behind me.”
Ford’s focus narrows, blaster aimed at the creature in front of him.
They’ve only been in this dimension a few earth-hours, but, so far, anything living they’ve encountered has been hostile. Thankfully, there’s not much living here, or, at least, not much sentient life. There’s a multitude of plant life that he wanted to study to discern if it’s safe for consumption, but his first priority, his only priority, is getting Mabel safe. This cave was empty when they arrived. But they were quickly greeted by… this. He has no idea what thing is. But it’s large, with at least 16 legs. It looks a bit like a spider and a dragon had a baby– if that baby was also the size of a full grown man.
Ford fires a blast, and it hits one of the creature’s legs. It lets out a horrifying screech, starting to scuttle forward, legs clacking against the hard cave floor.
It lunges at Ford’s chest, one leg pushing him to the ground. He wheezes, air knocked out of him momentarily, and fires three shots, hitting three legs. The thing stumbles, its leg coming off of Ford’s chest. He takes the opportunity to squirm out from under it, scrambling to get on its back. It’s boney and pulsating under him, the skin stretched tight.
“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel calls out. Ford’s head immediately snaps to her, grip loosening. “I can help, I can–”
“NO!!” Ford screams. “STAY AWAY!!” She can’t get hurt. “Stay there and do not move!” He can’t even see her, not from his vantage point, but she doesn’t approach. Good. She needs to listen.
He searched quickly and desperately for some sort of core. Creatures like this tend to have them– a center that, if hit, can essentially ensure you win the fight. There are similar spots on humans, he thinks. It’s somewhere on the scalp. Probably. It’s been a while since he’s seen a human. Besides Mabel, that is.
It’s weird, having a human around. Particularly one that requires being taken care of. It’s never been a strength of Ford’s.
He finds what he thinks could be the point of weakness, shoves his blaster in, and fires as much as it will let him. It doesn’t let him get many in. It screeches and throws him off of its back, and he hits the ground hard, pain exploding in his back. He cries out before he’s able to stifle it.
“Grunkle Ford!?” Mabel’s voice is panicked. “Grunkle Ford, are you okay?!”
“I’m–” He coughs, then takes in a deep, shaking inhale. “I’m fine, dear. Stay put!”
She doesn’t. She runs up to him while he’s tossed aside, the monster, for a brief moment, more focused on its own injuries. She grabs his arm and tugs at it weakly.
“But you’re bleeding!” Her voice breaks. “Your hands!”
He glances down at them. Just scratches, is all. Nothing serious. Ford supposes he should be grateful that she’s still thrown by the sight of blood.
It won’t be that way for long. But it’s nice that it is now.
Ford brushes some stray hair out of her face, tucking the overgrown bangs behind her ear. “I’m alright. Just minor scratches. You can help me bandage them when I’m done here, alright?”
She sniffles back tears and nods, putting on a brave face. Her smile is just like–
Someone he used to know.
“Good. Now go hide. I can’t–” I can’t lose you, I can’t let you get hurt. “I can’t risk you getting in the way.”
She nods, sniffling again. “O-Okay.” He pats her head, and she gives him sort of a weird look before running to hide in the large, opaque crystal walls.
Then the creature sinks its teeth into his arm.
He screams.
He fires instantly, crazed, as pain shoots through his arm and to the rest of his body. It’s sharp, like millions of tiny scorpions nipping at him all at once. His feet are frozen in place, and he can’t see anything, he’s just shooting.
He can’t breathe. His ears are ringing.
Hey, don’t worry bro. Wherever we go, we go together.
He gasps.
Someone is tugging at his legs.
“Grunkle Ford, it’s dead! It’s dead, you got it!! We have to go, we have to go now, together!”
The creature is dead and smoking in front of him.
He puts the gun back in its holster, and his legs give out from under him. With a gasp, he crumples into a heap, breaths coming quick. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Mabel needs you. S’ about her. Not you. Not you.
“GRUNKLE FORD!!” Mabel kneels in front of him, fretful.
“You–” he’s cut off by a fit of coughing, and he buries his face in his arm, gasping heavily once it’s over. “Y-You’re right. We should…” a shallow inhale. “We should be safer… deeper in the cave.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He nods firmly, “We s-surveyed it when we first came in, remember?” He reaches out and squeezes her hand. “We’re safe.”
She nods, beginning to pull him up. His legs are shaking, but he’s able to stand and walk. Slowly. Slow is dangerous. Slow opens them up to predators, slow isn’t safe. Slow means Mabel is in danger. Mabel can’t be in danger, she can’t get hurt, he can’t let anyone be hurt on his account–
“Can you walk?” Mabel asks.
“Of course, dear.” Ford holds back a pained groan. “I’m just– a bit shaken. I’ll be quite fine after a good night’s sleep.”
“I can carry you?” Mabel offers, giggling quietly. “You don’t know how many muscles I’ve got since I met you.”
“I’m sure you’re more than capable of doing so,” Ford acquiesces, stifling a cough. “However, I won’t make you.”
They walk for a while. Ford holds back any moan, any cough, any whimper, anything that would make them more prey than they surely already are. A child and an injured old man. A creature like the one they just killed couldn’t ask for an easier meal. His arm is throbbing where the creature bit it. It’s like a living thing, this wound. He can feel it bleeding steadily under his jacket, leaking onto his six-fingered hand, which he shoves in his jacket pocket. No need for Mabel to see it and get worried. He’ll be fine after he sleeps. He just needs to sleep it off. That’s all.
It’s hot in this cave.
Mabel’s shivering.
That can’t be right, it’s hot.
“Mabel, dear, are you cold?”
She pauses and nods, pulling her jacket a bit tighter. “Aren’t you?”
“Er–” He spares a glance at the pad on his wrist. The temperature reads as -6*u12 degrees (the multiversal temperature system), equaling about 34 degrees fahrenheit. Shit.
He begins to peel his jacket off and wrap it around her shoulders, silently gathering up the bottoms and handing them to her.
“Better?”
She nods, then gasps. “Grunkle Ford, your arm!”
Fuck.
The jacket was the only thing hiding the blood. It’s stained his dark-grey sweater and coated his hand. He doesn’t even bother shoving it behind his back.
“It’s fine. I promise.”
“It’s not!” She pulls him to the ground until he’s sitting, scooting him back until he’s leaning against the blessedly cool wall of the cave. “Where did it get you?”
“It just bit me, is all. I’ve been bitten by far worse.”
“Where?” She demands. Her face is scrunched up and worried, reminding him a bit of–
Of–
Don’t worry about what Crampelter says about you, Six. We’ll get you cleaned up, get all this blood off of you! You’ll look cooler with a black eye, I promise!
“Grunkle Ford!!”
Ford blinks. “What? Did you- I-I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“You’re sweating.” She puts a hand on his forehead. “You feel warm.”
“Just from– increased… blood flow.” The excuse doesn’t make a wink of sense.
She scowls at him. “I feel like that’s not true, but I don’t know enough about any of that to say you’re wrong.” She sighs worriedly. “You’re hardly ever wrong. You’re so smart.”
You’re so smart, Sixer!
“Heh. Not as smart as people seem to think.”
“People like Grunkle Stan?”
Ford pauses. Glances away. Clears his throat.
“Sure. Like your Grunkle Stan.”
She rifles through the backpack–when did Ford take it off?– and produces gauze and bandages, along with their small remainder of water. Without words, she pulls his arm out of its sleeve, leaving the sweater awkwardly hung over his chest.
“Wait, Mabel, you need that water–”
“You need it more.” She pours what little they have–had–left over the wound. This time, he can’t hold back the cry that escapes. It burns.
“I’m sorry!” Mabel pulls back immediately. “I’m so sorry!”
Ford coughs, stomach clenched in pain. “It’s– it’s alright. Keep going. You’re doing wonderfully.” He forces a smile, but he’s not sure if it actually shows.
With shaking hands, Mabel applies the gauze to the wound and wraps it securely in bandages, then bandages the minor cuts on his hands that she insists are more serious than they are. The work is efficient, expert. She’s gotten quite good at this.
“Done?” Ford asks, barely aware of how desperate it sounds.
Mabel notices. “Yep. Done.” She tucks the supplies away. “Do you need anything else?” She sounds worried.
“Well, I would really like it if my great niece would let me give her a hug.” He opens his arms in invitation.
She beams and curls up next to him, letting herself be enveloped in his arms.
It’s something he’s had to re-learn, contact. Before Mabel, he hadn’t touched another human being in 30 years. But that was the first thing Mabel did– hug him. She thought he was Stanley at the time, granted, but it had been so shocking he couldn’t move. A threat, he’d assumed, some sort of trick from Cipher.
But Mabel is real. And very, very fragile.
“Grunkle Ford?” She whispers, squirming. They shift a bit, leaned up against the cave, preparing for sleep, “Are you gonna be okay?”
“I’ll be fine, dear. Just need to sleep it off.”
“You’re sure?”
“Very.”
A pause. Her head rests heavily on Ford’s chest. “You’re a lot like Grunkle Stan.”
Ford coughs weakly. “How– how so?”
“You–” She pauses, yawning. “Nevermind. S’ dumb.”
Nevermind, Sixer, you know Pa’s right. S’ a dumb idea.
“Not dumb,” Ford says immediately.
Mabel just chuckles softly, barely clinging to wakefulness. “Get better… okay…?”
“I will.” Ford coughs again. When he can breathe, he glances down. Mabel is asleep. “I promise, dear.”
When Ford wakes up, he feels like he’s on fire.
“Grunkle Ford, please wake up!!”
A hand is shaking his shoulder violently, sending shockwaves of pain through him. He grits his teeth, hissing quietly, and tries to wrench his body away from whatever is grabbing it.
“Mmfgh…” Ford yanks his arm away and cries out. “Where…?”
“Grunkle Ford, it’s me!!”
Ford blinks. His vision is cloudy.
There’s a young, worried face in front of him. Braces. Brown hair.
“…Lee?”
The face is frowning. “What? It’s me, it’s Mabel!”
Mabel…
Mabel.
“Mabel,” he breathes. The word immediately catches on a fit of coughs. God, it’s hot. “Wha’ happened?”
Mabel grips his arms tightly, seated directly on his lap. “You’re burning up!! A-And your arm is all swollen! You were asleep for so long, Grunkle Ford– you–”
“I’m alright,” Ford says softly.
“You’re not!” Mabel’s crying, now. Ford can’t have that. “The thing must’ve poisoned you!! How do we get it out? We don’t–” Her breathing grows quicker. “We don’t even have water!!”
“Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay, dear, I’ll be fine. I’ll be just fine, I’ve been through worse.”
“I’m scared,” Mabel whispers, voice trembling. A few tears slip down her face. Ford quickly, but with much effort, raises a hand and wipes them from under her eyes.
“It’s going to be fine.” He feels so fuzzy. He’s hot, and everything hurts, but… he feels fine, really. Could be worse. He’s tired, more than anything. “I’m fine.”
The girl’s expression drops. “But–”
He coughs again, and his body jerks. Fuck, he can’t breathe. His chest burns. But he can’t… he has to be fine… he has to… to protect…
There’s a soft, spherical pressure on his back, moving in a gentle rhythm. He coughs some more. Is that blood? Is that his blood?
“Do we… h-have wa’er?” He slurs, once he can breathe. Heh. Sounds funny. “Wah– water…”
“O-Okay, yeah, I– I–” A small sob. “We don’t have any. We don’t–” He feels pressure on his chest, around his arms. A hug. Someone’s hugging him. “I’ll get some, okay? I’ll find some, I bet there’s some sort of lake, o-or something…” The pressure leaves. He whines for it to come back.
A blurry figure in front of him, growing smaller. Footsteps. Quick, light.
“I’ll be right back! I’m gonna get you water, okay?!”
Ford coughs. “Lee… c’m back…”
Everything fades to black.
Ford is burning. He’s burning. His ears are ringing, and he can’t– he can’t breathe. He coughs. It feels like he can’t stop. It’s so hard to breathe. But he has to breathe, he has to… why? He has to stay alive…
Why?
Wouldn’t it be easier to die? He feels close to it. So close. A warm light. He can go to it anytime he wants.
The light gets warmer. Warmer, warmer, warmer. White, getting warmer, into…
HIYA, FORDSY!!
“NO!!” Ford reaches out into nothing, searching, but there’s nothing, only darkness and yellow and nothing and heat.
Someone is holding him. He doesn't mind it. It’s nice. Cool, against the inferno. He holds on, clinging.
“–drink this, ple–”
Something cool is running down his throat. Water. He gulps it desperately. Water. Water, water, water.
The water disappears after a moment. He whines softly, and it catches again on a violent coughing fit.
When he can breathe again, there’s pressure against his chest. A nice, soft, comforting pressure. It shakes slightly, and a familiar sound comes into his ears. Crying. Who’s crying?
“P-Please get better…”
With effort, Ford glances down.
A child.
Brown hair.
Wide eyes.
Braces.
“Stan– S-Stanley?” Ford chokes out.
“What– what are you talking about?!”
Ford coughs. “Stanley… m-missed you…”
Stan’s face morphs before his eyes. Young, child-like, into harsher, more rough with age. He’s surrounded by red, red, red. When did he get a mullet?
“Missed you…” Ford says. His voice breaks, he thinks. Is he crying? God, he hasn’t cried in ages. “Didn’t mean for… everything to happen l-like…”
He would give anything to just go to sleep.
“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford, please–”
“Can I sleep…?” He coughs again. His throat hurts.
“No, no, no, don’t sleep!!” Stanley is shaking his arms. “Don’t, please! Stay awake! I don’t want you to– y-you might not wake up, you need to–”
“G’night, Lee…”
“WAIT!! Grunkle Ford, I-I’ll find a cure, I’ll figure it out, I’m sorry–”
“We’ll… s-sail the world together… soon…”
Everything goes dark again.
Ford’s chest burns. He wakes coughing violently, bringing his arm up to his mouth to muffle it. His throat is on fire. The coughing gets worse. He can feel his stomach turn, a familiar bile in the back of his throat. He lurches forward, vomiting onto the floor of…
The floor. Dark, earthy.
But not earth. Not earth, never earth again.
“Oh, shoot, Grunkle Ford, you’re awake!!”
Two hands are suddenly grabbing his shoulders as he finishes dry heaving, leaning him back up against the wall of the cave. Right, the cave. They’re in a cave.
“Mabel…?”
“YES!” Mabel’s voice is loud, emotional. “It’s me!” She suddenly lunges forward and wraps him in a hug. The burning in his chest grows, and he tries, god he tries, to stifle it, but a horrible, violent fit of coughing escapes him before he can even hug her back. “Oh–!”
Mabel jumps off of him and hovers awkwardly as Ford hacks his lungs out.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
“S’ fine–” Another nasty cough. “It’s– it’s a-alright, dear.” He sucks in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. It would be nice if the world would stop spinning for just a minute. “Wha’ happened?”
“You got bit, remember? By the, uh, spider…ish… thing?”
Ford does remember that.
“Anyways, you got really sick. It’s been… about three days.”
“Three days?!” He rockets up, but immediately regrets it, overcome with dizziness.
“You need to stay laying down! You’re still recovering!”
“Mabel–”
“Shh, shh, sh. Drink.”
The rim of the canteen is shoved in his mouth, and his chin is tipped up. He closes his eyes as the water pours down his throat. It’s wonderful. He downs the entire canteen, and, embarrassingly, makes a small whine when Mabel takes the empty canteen away.
“I can go grab you more.”
“Wha– where from? Mabel, where do you find water? How…” How am I alive? “What happened? A-After I…?”
“Oh!” Mabel pauses, canteen in hand. “One sec.” She produces a small, shiny object. Almost as thin as a needle but twice as long, texture almost like a diamond. She runs it along the wall of the cave, then stabs it in. Somehow, to Ford’s amazement, it moves through like Jello. A clear liquid produces on the other side of the needle, pouring directly into the canteen. Once it’s full, she brings it back and pushes it into Ford’s hands.
“Drink it. It’s really good for you.”
He takes a sip. It just takes like water, really. Maybe a bit cleaner, a bit sparkling, but it’s… just water.
“How did you…?” he gestures vaguely to the needle and takes another sip.
“Right!” She shoves the needle back in her pocket and sits cross-legged on the ground. “So, the day after the thing bit you, I left and tried to find you water. And I was looking for a really long time, but I couldn’t find anything. And then I started to get lost, a-and I really just wanted to get back to you to make sure you were okay, so I tried to go back the way I came, but I couldn’t figure it out. Theeennnnn, I noticed these weird birds following me. They were sort of, like, clear. Like diamond birds. But they were also kind of like bats?” She pauses, thoughtful. “They were like if bats were hummingbirds.”
Ford nods tiredly and makes a mental reminder to note the creatures in his journal.
“But they were following me, and I thought they might be dangerous, because they kept nipping at me and circling around me, but then I realized they wanted me to follow them! And they led me back to you!” She scoots closer as she talks. “And then, they stuck their beaks–and they had really thin beaks, like hummingbirds–into the walls of the cave, and I just sort of watched while they filled up their beaks. Then they totally surrounded you, and I thought they were gonna hurt you, but they didn’t! One of them helped you drink, and one put this–” she re-produces the needle and shakes it off, a few drops falling on her pants, “on your bite. It looked like the others were just sort of there with extra stuff so that the main ones didn’t have to go all the way back to the wall. Oh! And some of them sort of pulled at your hair and your sweater like they were trying to… I don’t know, fix it, maybe?”
“Preening,” Ford mumbles. “Avaian species preen themselves and others to maintain health… n’ improve insulation. Sign of trust.”
“Sooooo… they liked you?”
“Sounds like it.” Ford clears his throat. “What happened after that?”
“You started getting better! Like… slowly. But your fever got lower right away. You’re still coughing a lot, though. Maybe the stuff couldn’t get to your lungs.”
Ford coughs, confirming her words. “So…” he shakes the canteen. “What… is it?”
Mabel shrugs. “I don’t really know. But you can drink it, and it helps with injuries, and they showed me how to tap it from the walls of the cave with this!” She holds up the needle proudly. After a moment, her smile fades. “They, uh… didn’t show me if they knew where any food was, though. And I still don’t know where we are… or how long it’ll take you to get better… I-I’m sorry.” She shoves the needle back in her pocket and turns slightly away, bringing her knees up to her chest.
Ford forces himself to sit up, ignoring the dizziness and pain. He forces down another cough. “Mabel, sweetheart, are you alright?”
She sniffs, continuing to face away. “M’ fine.”
“Are you sure?”
For a moment, she says nothing.
Then she turns around.
There are tears welling in her eyes, already leaking down her face.
“I thought you were gonna die.”
“Oh, Mabel…”
“Y-You almost did! A-And I didn’t– if the birds hadn’t helped me, you would’ve!” She scrubs at her eyes and sniffles. “N’ I would’ve been alone.”
“But I’m here,” Ford says softly. “I’m alive. You’re not alone.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I-It’s not even about me, and I’m– I was just so scared…” She buries her head in her knees. “I know you didn’t ask me to be here, a-and now you have to keep me safe, and I couldn’t even help you! You almost died, Grunkle Ford!!” She breaks into louder, more unrestrained sobbing, one hand tugging at the ends of her newly short hair. “M’ so sorry…”
Shit. Shit shit shit. Mabel’s only cried twice since she arrived. Once, when she realized what was happening, where she was. The other was when she made her first kill. Ford hates that this time is his fault. His fault alone.
“Mabel, I–” Ford scooches forward awkwardly, pain flaring in his arm. He ignores it. “You have nothing to apologize for, I promise. I’m alive, I’m right here. You did everything right, I swear.”
She only cries harder. She glances up, eyes glassy with tears, and suddenly clings onto Ford, crawling up into his lap and burying her head in his stomach. When she seems sure that the position won’t trigger another coughing fit for her grunkle, she clings tighter, sobbing miserably.
“Shh, shh, it’s alright.” Ford lifts one arm to pet her hair in what he hopes is a soothing motion. “We’re alright. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobs again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so glad you’re okay…”
“I’m okay thanks to you. If you hadn’t led those birds here I wouldn’t have been. Thank you, Mabel.”
She sniffles and smiles up at him, wobbly and exhausted. But sincere. The same smile he’d get from–
It’s okay, Lee. Pa’s wrong, you know. You’re super smart, no matter what he says.
“Grunkle Ford?”
Ford shakes the thought away. “Yes, dear?”
She lets her head drop back to Ford’s stomach, body slumping in exhaustion. She must’ve worked herself to the bone these past few days.
“I’m never getting back to my dimension, am I?”
“I…” Ford clears his throat. He can’t lie. Not to her. “It’s not… likely.
She sniffles. “Yeah. I figured.”
“I’m sorry.” He tightens his hold.
There’s a pause before she speaks again.
“I miss my brother.”
Ford feels his throat tighten. “I… I understand.” He clears his throat. “I’m sure he misses you too.”
“I think… he might hate me now.”
“Why’s that?”
She pauses, slumping further against his chest, shivering slightly. He notices his jacket off to the side and pulls it over her like a blanket.
“I didn’t press the button, even though he told me to,” she whispers, broken. “I didn’t listen.” She wipes at her face.
Ford pets her hair, gentle as he’s ever been in his life. “I don’t think…” he coughs, and feels her grip tighten. “I don’t think he hates you, my dear. Perhaps he’s angry, but… having a brother is a very special thing. No wrongdoing, no mistake, no harsh word could make him hate you, I promise. He misses you. He misses you as much as you miss him, and he certainly doesn’t hate you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Completely sure.” Ford boops her nose gently. She yawns. “You look exhausted. I’m assuming you haven’t slept much these past few days?”
She yawns again. “M’ not tired. You sleep, I’ll make sure… you get better…”
“No, no, no,” Ford scolds lightly. “None of that. I’ll be keeping watch tonight. You, young lady, will be getting some sleep.”
“Don’ need to keep watch,” she says, words slurring slightly. “Birds put up some weird… shield… thing. We’re good. Safe.”
“A shield?”
“Mhm… All the way outside the cave… went there to try and ask them where we could find food… They don’ like us to come near it…”
“You’re sure of this?”
“Mhm… m’ sure…” She tugs weakly at his sweater. “Please sleep… get better… please…”
How can Ford say no to that?
“Of course, dear. Only if you do, too.”
She’s not awake to respond. Poor thing. The past few days have tuckered her out. She seems quite exhausted. But in sleep, she looks peaceful. Or at least, at rest. Her curly brown hair is tucked behind her, and the rest of her is securely under Ford’s jacket. Her lips are slightly parted in sleep, and she lets out soft little snores. She really looks like…
Hey, chin up, buddy. Look. One of these days, you and me are gonna sail away from this dumb town.
She looks like someone Ford used to know. And someone he hopes that he might get to see again, someday.
But for now, he holds his great niece tight, and gives into the tempting pull of sleep.