Tin could feel the rumble. The frozen ground shook like a stampede on the horizon. Pando took a few steps. Something dropped from the distant branches.
It was coming for them.
Small and quick, it was galloping on four legs, a long tail curled over it. Bleached in bluish moonlight, the creature’s color was distorted. But not the shape.
Monkeybrain was fast approaching.
Pando just stood there, arms folded across his torn belly. Tin didn’t know why he didn’t whip the wind into a vortex and throw the purple monkey deep into the forest. Maybe he was about to. It was moments later that something flooded out of the darkness.
It was a stampede.
They were different sizes and colors, hopping and bouncing, running and rolling. There were hundreds. Maybe a thousand. Aardvarks and anteaters, gorillas and cheetahs, lions and tigers and bears, spacemen and dolls, babies with wobbly heads and robots with square bodies and trucks with headlight eyes and smiling grilles.
A cavalcade of Christmas.
Pando didn’t budge. He watched them charge like mounted cavalry, spearheaded by a galloping purple monkey. The ground quaked as they neared, the padded footsteps pounding the frozen soil. They separated as if Pando were the keel, racing around him and between Tin and the giant panda, climbing over her legs, scrambling on top of each other, locking arms and legs, hooves and hands and tails.
A wall of fur and shiny eyes.
As the last of them took their place, one final toy climbed on top. Piggy pounced onto her chest, a curly tail wagging. The tingle of affection poured through her.
Pando towered over them. He surveyed the group of misfit toys, the large and small, and began to pace.
So, he said, this is what you want?
He waved an arm and scanned the glassy eyes, the button eyes, the stitched faces and carved scowls.
What do you think is going to happen? Huh? If we don’t get the wall turned back on, do you think a fat man and reindeer will find all of you then? That he will sweep you up and deliver you to children who care about you, is that it? No one cares about you more than me!
He pounded his chest. Stuffing puffed from rips.
I took from you so that I could save you. All of you! I was the one who made sure she found the hat. I was the one who allowed her to pour her life into you. You are nothing without me, all of you. I made you, don’t forget that. And now we are forgotten. We are abandoned. We are alone! You understand that, don’t you now? There is no Santa Claus coming to save us. Don’t forget, Annie didn’t leave me. She left all of us.
He aimed his stubby arm at Tin.
I won’t leave you. But she will. Her family will. They will leave you and forget you. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let anyone hurt you.
He looked at Zebra.
Not like Annie did.
He was talking about Awnty Awnie. He didn’t care about Wallace. It was Tin’s aunt who hurt them most.
The ground swirled around him. Was he stalling? Conserving his energy? He was capable of throwing them into the trees, but maybe he couldn’t do that with all the rips and tears. Why didn’t he just absorb their lives like he’d done already?
There are too many of them, she thought.
She’d given everything she had to bring them back, and he wasn’t ready. He was too weak. Or maybe, she thought, he’s telling the truth.
Pando looked up. There were no streaking stars, no sleighs pulled by reindeer. The wall had been down for hours. There was no Santa Claus.
Maybe he’s right, she thought.
He stood on his back legs and limped in front of the formation of stuffed toys.
Together, let’s carry her to the top and turn on the tower so that it will protect us from the world. Just as it was meant to do.
Tin pushed onto her elbows to peer over the line of bushy heads and furry tails. Pando had both arms over his belly, the toymaker’s hat wedged beneath one of them. An expression of pleading slowly turned to anger.
The toys didn’t move.
You don’t understand, he said, what you mean to me.
“They understand,” Tin said.
Far behind him, one last figure had emerged from the trees. It wobbled across the field, taking long uncertain leaps, bouncing side to side, falling and getting up. He was small and sturdy, dented and scratched. And missing his hat.
Pando raised his arms. Wind began to circle his feet. I don’t want to do this.
“Neither do they.”
Soldier covered the last distance in a single bound, hands raised, mouth opened in a silent scream. Pando hit the soldier with the full force of his magnetic might.
The army of toys pounced.
Tin’s ears popped as the atmospheric pressure skyrocketed. The calm of Christmas night vanished in a flurry of stuffing filling the sky like puffs of enormous snowflakes. The wind howled; specks of grit stung her cheeks. Stuffed lions and colorful unicorns stood next to Piggy, keeping Pando from nearing her.
Their last stand.
Above the tearing of fabric, she heard his cries. Pando begged for mercy, not from what they were doing to him.
Please, he was saying, don’t make me do this.
Toys were flung into the distance. Some were torn apart, missing an ear or eyes, a leg; some were left lifeless, as if Pando had pulled the life from them. But others came back to join the fray, buoyed by the life Tin had given them. They fought for her. For themselves.
And Pando had to make a choice.
Perhaps in the end, he really was protecting them. He was their only hope. He didn’t know how to love, not like they did. But he felt something when he harmed them, took the spark that filled them. Perhaps he would’ve taken them all in one fell swoop. If he could’ve. Instead, he was draining them one at a time, hoping, perhaps, for something different.
That they would change their mind.
The toys were going to be a field of scattered fabric and stuffing when this was over. Zebra suddenly leaped off her chest. Tin tried to grab her. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to see her like the others. She was Awnty Awnie’s favorite.
Piggy backed her wiggly-tail rump into Tin’s face.
She pushed her aside enough to see Zebra come flying out of the rumble. Tumbling like a barrel, she bounced onto Tin’s lap. And something came with her. Tin reached for it.
She could barely feel the hat.
Her hands had grown so cold and weak. She didn’t have much to give. She’d already filled them up once. But if she didn’t do something, she would be alone with Pando. They were giving everything to protect her.
She could do the same.
22
The workshop.
Tin was standing at the ladder that led to the loft. The workshop was cleaner than she’d ever seen it before. Across the room, standing at the workbench, was the life-sized panda bear.
The Pando schematics were still posted on the wall.
He wasn’t inanimate, not a regular stuffed toy. His back was to her. She couldn’t see what he was doing. The other toys were helping him. Piggy and Clyde and Baby Doll were fetching tools, trundling over with screwdrivers and hammers and jars full of rivets. The hollow sounds of wood and tinkering metal was in full operation.
They worked seamlessly, like a network. One mind, different bodies. Tin didn’t hear thoughts. There were no words. Complete focus on the task in front of them.
They were building a toy.
It took all four of them with their fingerless hands and stumpy arms to manipulate the parts. It must have taken a long time. They were almost finished.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Fear jabbed Tin in the stomach. Her thighs turned cold. The figure stood in the crooked doorway. He was short and round, one suspender loop hanging at his side. Wild whiskers and wide bare feet.
The toymaker’s hat flopped on his head.
His feet scuffed the floor. His hard eyes the icy blue of the North Pole. The entire workshop
shuffled, a scattering of toys hiding on the shelves, moving to dark corners and behind boxes, under sheets. Piggy, Clyde and Baby Doll backed away.
Pando didn’t move.
He remained in front of the schematic that outlined his design, a poster of detailed pride. Wallace stared holes through him and used his weight to shove him aside. Pando stumbled a few steps. His stitching did not smile; the green button eyes weren’t angry.
“So you’re a toymaker now?”
Wallace studied the project with a sneer and incredulous laugh. He worked the arms.
“Wood?” He chuckled crudely. “That’s not a toy.”
When the rivets didn’t pop off, he batted it with the back of his hand. It crumpled into a pile of bent limbs. Piggy and Clyde dragged it away and straightened it out. Wallace stood toe-to-toe with Pando, their bellies touching, neither one backing down, staring eye to button eye.
Wallace began laughing.
It was the kind of laugh that buckled knees and sent little things scurrying for cover. He continued down the bench, cruelly chuckling as he went. The toys on the shelf pushed against each other.
A gray fabric elephant was too big and slow.
Wallace snatched him with one hand. Elephant curled his trunk around his wrist but couldn’t pry off the grubby fingers.
Stop.
Tin flinched. She heard Pando’s voice in her head. It frightened her at first, but the tone was pained and pleading. Wallace looked at the panda, a grin spreading through whiskers like a stain. He pulled the toymaker’s hat over his bushy eyebrows and closed his eyes. Elephant began squirming. Panicked. Desperate.
And then it stopped.
Wallace let out a satisfied gasp. He licked his sick grin with dead blue eyes on Pando then put the elephant back on the shelf.
It was stiff. Inanimate.
“I made them,” Wallace said. “I take them.”
Will you do the same to me? Pando said.
“Oh, please. You’re a bear, not a drama queen.” Wallace thumped Pando’s schematic with his fist. “I created you, all of you. I gave you life. If I want it back, I’ll take it.”
He wasn’t shuffling anymore. He pulled the suspender loop over his shoulder up. His blue eyes were clearer than when he first arrived.
Before he took Elephant.
You didn’t create us, Pando said. The toymaker’s hat did.
“That’s right.” The little bell rang on his head. “And who wears the hat?”
It wasn’t meant for this. Not what you’re doing.
“What I’m doing?” Wallace bumped him. “Making the world happy? Sending love to the little boys and girls, that’s wrong? I made you to give to the world. All of you!” He swept his arm. “If I want to take some love for myself, I earned that.”
They’re frightened, Wallace.
The toys had found places to hide. The ones left out in the open were quivering. Piggy, Clyde and Baby Doll, too. But not Pando.
“You wouldn’t exist without me.” The toymaker’s hat was crooked on his head. “Do you think he cares what I’m doing? Because if he did, he would come down from the North Pole and stop me.”
He can’t see us! Pando glared with green buttons. You made sure of that.
“For you,” Wallace responded calmly. “I built the tower to protect all of you.”
Wallace surveyed the room. Dust floated from quivering shelves. He licked his lips, nodding. Wild blue eyes searched from beneath bushy eyebrows.
“I did it so you can live.”
He slid his hand down the bench, brushing random pieces onto the floor. Piggy, Clyde and Baby Doll dragged the wooden soldier they had built. Wallace walked his fingers toward them.
The hat belongs to the toymaker. Pando stepped in front of him. You are not the toymaker.
“I beg to differ.”
Wallace’s quickness was deceiving. He snatched the soldier by the leg. Piggy and Clyde tumbled toward him. Wallace shook them off and backed away with his prize, the greedy smile once again spreading through his whiskers. A monster clutching its prey, he held it like a fish on a hook, straightening the toymaker’s hat with a little ring of the bell.
And closed his eyes.
Pando approached stealthily. He didn’t try to stop Wallace from doing what he’d done to Elephant. Something about Soldier was different.
Euphoria did not melt Wallace’s expression.
His eyebrows kneaded tightly. The corners of his smile turned down. Pleasure turned to anger suddenly morphed into confusion. He squeezed harder, gritting his teeth, grunting. But it wasn’t working. Not like the other toys. He opened his eyes.
Pando was in front of him.
“What are you—”
Pando threw his arms around him. Wallace struggled to break free. His cheeks were flush and his nose cherry red. The scuffle suddenly stopped. He went catatonic. Eyes wide open but not seeing, his teeth began to chatter. Drool oozed from the corner of his mouth. Strange noises gurgled out.
And then the wind started.
It swirled around them at first then widened out, sweeping parts off the bench, scraps of paper fluttering. Things crashed from the shelves. Toys hunkered down to avoid being tossed across the room. The violent eddy stirred the workshop.
Pando and Wallace were in the eye of it.
Tin backed into the corner. Debris, small and large, rattled the shelves and bounced off the walls. She covered her face. The little bell rang, the toymaker’s hat still tightly on her head. The storm dragged toys from their hiding places. Wood splintered and metal twisted.
And then it stopped.
Everything fell at once. Stuffed animals and plastic dolls stopped rolling. Paper and fluffy stuffing fluttered. Pando and Wallace were still locked together. When all was still, they separated. Pando stumbled back. He swung his arms but couldn’t catch his balance, his stumpy legs caught up in debris. He crashed into a pile of boxes.
Wallace watched him.
The toys scattered into hiding. They peeked out to see what would happen. Wallace kept his attention on Pando as he struggled to crawl out of the wreckage. Clumsily, he climbed on all fours but lost his balance when he tried to stand up.
What have you done to me? Pando’s voice had changed.
There was panic. Confusion. But he sounded… different.
He looked up with green button eyes. Wallace returned his questioning stare with calm openness.
A roar filled Tin’s head. Pando leaped out of the chaos. The stitched mouth twisted and contorted, button eyes pinched in fury. The padded legs outstretched.
Wallace didn’t move.
Something darted off the workbench. It happened in a flash, an object suddenly come to life. It hit Pando like a missile and threw him into a pile of tools. Pando dug his way out of cascading boxes and looked down. Stuffing was blooming from a long tear.
Soldier was in front of him.
Spear at his side, mouth open, he remained vigilant. Tin watched from her corner. Wallace slid the toymaker’s hat off his head and stared at it thoughtfully.
Calmly and patiently, he made his way across the workshop, carefully stepping over debris. He moved several items to find a silver footlocker. Pulling loose the latches, he folded the hat and placed it inside.
He looked up at the entrance to the loft then followed the ladder down to where she was hiding. Briefly, their eyes met. They were softer than when he first walked into the workshop. Kinder. The two moles were still above his right eyebrow, but his eyes had changed.
They were green.
Pando was still looking over his body. Wallace went over and examined the tear. He searched the workbench and brought back a needle and thread and began sewing together the damage.
How did you… Pando’s voice trailed off.
“You made me special,” Wallace said. “More than you realized.”
Wallace’s voice had changed, too. It was patient and calm, matching the look in his green eyes.
&nb
sp; Soldier moved between them. Little by little, the toys began peeking out from their hiding places. Piggy, Clyde and Baby Doll trundled by Wallace’s side. He finished stitching the tear on Pando’s leg.
“Gather the toys,” he called. “All of them. Meet me in the toy room.”
Toys began hopping off the shelves. They crawled out of dark corners, more than Tin realized could fit in the room. Slowly, they made their way into the hall, guided by Piggy, Clyde and Baby Doll.
What are you doing? Pando said.
Wallace squatted down one more time. He took Pando’s arms and looked him in the button eyes. There was no anger, no malice. Sadness, perhaps.
“I can’t fix what you’ve done,” he said, “but perhaps I can find someone who can.”
When the last of the toys waddled out, Wallace stood up. He nodded without a smile. Pando scrambled onto all fours. He pulled himself onto his back legs and leaned on a rake.
You can’t do this to us. Not like Annie.
Wallace stopped in the doorway and paused. He took the oddly shaped doors and began closing them.
“She didn’t do this to us, Wallace.”
In the dim light of the stuffy workshop, the panda bear hobbled after him. He swayed on his back legs and couldn’t keep the doors from closing. Footsteps receded until there was silence. Tin watched from the corner.
This wasn’t what she expected.
She wanted to fill the toys with life. Instead, she wasn’t sure what she’d just seen. Was this true? All the questions and answers were as chaotic as the workshop. But one thing was clear. The panda bear was lost. He was slumped and alone, more than ever.
Because that’s not Pando.
She didn’t know how it happened, but she stood in front of him, looked closely at the button eyes and stitched mouth. Once so angry and threatening, now he was gutted. The panda bear slumped in the corner. He stared with big green buttons.
“Wallace.”
She wanted to stop him. This was just the beginning. Eventually he would keep the tower from getting turned off. He would chop down the stairs and bring back the balloon and open the toy room.
He’d already done all those things. But there, in that moment, she was moved by where he was. Once he was lost on the North Pole. Now he was lost in the trappings of his own making.
Toyland- the Legacy of Wallace Noel Page 19