Last Playground

by Geoff North

  Oscar looked down at the still form and remembered those fateful nine minutes, thirty-seven years before.

  He had pulled Neal Stauch from the pond. The boy’s skin was deathly pale, his lips already blue. Oscar had gone to work on his chest first, pressing down gently—mindful of his mechanical strength—and releasing. He had repeated the procedure over and over. The boy did not stir. Oscar tilted Neal’s head back and pinched his freckled nostrils. He breathed air into the lungs. There was a gurgle. Water trickled from the side of his mouth, but he remained still. Oscar tried again.

  Neal’s eyebrows twitched.

  A little air puffed back into the android.

  He placed the boy on his side and thumped softly between his shoulder blades a few times. He resumed mouth to mouth. So close. He thought he had him. Oscar repeated all three steps again. Another three minutes—chest, mouth, back—nothing. Another three minutes—chest, mouth, back—

  Neal was gone.

  Oscar looked at Brinn. “I saw…his eyebrows twitched...I thought he exhaled.”

  “That may have been his moment,” Reginald said.

  “What good does it do us?” Brinn whispered. “That was so long ago.”

  Oscar’s hand left Neal’s chest and tore into his own midsection, through the skin Reginald had repaired and up into his chest. The android staggered and fell to his knees but he continued to claw up towards his own heart.

  Brinn screamed and lunged at him, attempting to pull his arm free with both hands. It was impossible. The same strength that had stopped the steel door from closing was being put into effect.

  “Don’t, Oscar!” Marshal Lowe wrapped his arm around the android’s neck and pulled back with all his might. “You’re killing yourself…we need you!”

  “Neeeee—Neal needs me—this worrrrrrrrr—this world needs what I have.” His fingers had found the nuclear power cell. They wrapped around it and started to pull.

  Brinn pleaded with Pipes. “Stop him! You have the power! Don’t let him do this!”

  “Stop him? Why would I want to do that?” Instead, Pipes held his hand out, palm side up, and waited.

  A moment later Oscar’s hand tore free; in it was grasped the power cell that ran him. It was small and inconspicuous looking, Brinn thought. How could a little white box the same size as a deck of playing cards contain so much?

  Oscar dropped his heart into the hero’s waiting hand.

  Pipes placed it on top of Neal’s chest. His big hand covered it completely.

  And they waited.

  Brinn no longer wanted the miracle she had prayed for just minutes earlier. She knelt down beside Oscar. The android slumped down further. His eyes focused to a point on the floor. He was still alive, but Brinn knew he only had a moment or two left. There would be no recovery this time round. Reginald wouldn’t be able to replace and recharge the nuclear heart that was now being used to help Pipes revive her uncle. It was the most heroic and self-sacrificing act she had ever witnessed—that she would ever witness—and it had come from a man that wasn’t human.

  She stroked back a loose strand of hair hanging across his forehead. He squeezed her other hand weakly. “Why, Oscar? Couldn’t you have found another way?”

  “Douuu—Doubt it…. No time left….it was now orrrrrrrrrr—it was now or never.”

  Tears filled Brinn’s eyes and dripped down onto his cheek. “Don’t leave me, Oscar… Please don’t go.”

  The marshal squatted down and placed his hand on the android’s shoulder. “You did good, partner.” His gravelly voice wavered. “Have yerself a good rest now, you hear? You’ve earned it.”

  Reginald rolled back, his arms snaking silently through the air. His entire body was a pale shade of purplish gray. It was a color none of them had ever seen before—a helpless, sad color.

  “Tell Neeeeee—Tell Neal I’m sorry it took sooooooo—so long—took so, took so, took so—took so long to figure out.”

  The pressure released around Brinn’s hand. The synthetic skin began to cool.

  “It isn’t enough,” Pipes said from above. Brinn and Lowe stood back up and watched the hero’s hand. It began to shake. Beads of sweat lined his forehead and his powerful frame shuddered with effort. “I need…I need more.”

  Marshal Lowe placed his weathered hand over the hero’s. Reginald’s tendrils rested atop the marshal’s. Brinn looked at them in turn. Three imagined characters trying to bring their creator back to life—a fourth dead at their feet.

  Now or never.

  She placed both hands on top of Reginald’s fingers. Something moved underneath.

  The boy’s eyes opened.

  Chapter 26

  Neal sat up and looked at his feet. He wiggled his toes and studied his shoes. “I was scared I’d lost one of my shoes in the mud. Mom woulda been pretty mad if I done that. And she woulda killed me if she knew I was playing near the water.”

  He looked from one stunned face to the next. “Any of you seen my hat?” His eyebrows drew together in puzzlement when he saw Brinn. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Brinn…your niece.” She found it hard to think of more to say. The joy at seeing the little boy alive and the grief she felt from losing Oscar was tearing her in half.

  “That’s silly. I’m too young to be an uncle, and my sister’s too young to be a mom.”

  Lowe removed his hat and winked at the boy. “It’s true, son. You’ve been asleep for a long time. Lots changed since Oscar brought you here.”

  “Oscar? Where is he? I remember him pulling me out of the water before…before things went all fuzzy.” He swung his legs from the bed and his foot hit the back of the android’s head. “What are you doing down there? We gotta get home… Get up, Oscar. Get up!”

  Pipes lifted the boy away from the bed and placed him gently on his feet. “Oscar’s broken, Neal. I’m afraid you won’t be able to play with him anymore.”

  Brinn wept silently and watched her uncle as he tried to shake the android back to life. “He gave his heart to you… He brought you back and said he was sorry it took so long.” Brinn hugged the boy. “I am your niece. You are my uncle. It’s all true.”

  Neal pulled away and went to the window. The sky was still a dark brown in the east. The sun had refused to rise. “This ain’t right. Everything’s all dirty and broken.” He looked back at them.

  “The city has deteriorated over the last thirty-seven years,” Reginald said. “The city—the world you made is dying.”

  “Thirty-seven…years?” Neal shook his head at the thought. It was difficult to comprehend. “Then I gotta make things right. I’ve been sleeping too long.” He headed for a ladder running up the wall placed between bookshelves. “And then I have to get home. Mom and Dad are gonna be so mad.”

  Pipes rushed after him. “Hold on a minute! That leads up onto the roof. How are you going to fix things from there?”

  “Who said anything about fixing things? I wanna better look at what’s happened. Then I’m going to start things all over.”

  Brinn gave the marshal a troubled look. Neither one of them liked the sound of that.

  Reginald followed the others and went up last. It was slow going—he was made to roll, not climb—but after a minute or two the robot made it to the top. Everyone watched as Neal slowly walked along the roof’s perimeter.

  Gleaming spires that once reached for the heavens now looked like skeletal fingers scratching the dead sky. Their frames were charred and rusted; windowless, twisted remains. Neal paused and looked to the east. The sun wasn’t going to rise again. Not without help.

  “This ain’t right.” He ran his fingers through his thick blond hair and shook his head. “Everything’s wrecked—and are those people down on the streets?” Five hundred stories below the wannasee appeared like a slow moving sea of gray and brown ants. The S.S.I.A. building was surrounded by them. Neal leaned against the three-foot-high cement wall at the roof’s edge. He wasn’t tall enough to topple over, but Brin
n pulled him away to a safe distance anyway. The boy staggered and she helped him down into a sitting position.

  “You okay?” she asked. She felt his forehead. It was cool and damp.

  “Just a little dizzy.”

  “You’ve been asleep for decades,” Lowe said. “I’m surprised you could even stand on yer own two feet.”

  Neal’s face had lost all color. He crawled back to the wall and pulled himself back up. “I never thought it could get this bad… Gotta fix things.”

  A rubber armed wrapped around the boy’s waist. Reginald rolled up after it, his body pulsing a steady dull blue. “You must rest first, Neal. We need to get some fluids and food into your system. We’ve waited years. We can wait a few more hours.”

  “No! It can’t wait!” He twisted and squirmed but the robot’s grip remained tight. Reginald began to roll away from the wall, gently dragging the struggling boy behind. “Let go of me, Reggie! Let go of me right now!” Another tremor began beneath their feet as he shouted the last two words.

  Pipes grabbed Brinn, who was still precariously close to the wall’s edge. Reginald released Neal and helped Lowe keep his balance instead. “Take it easy there, pal,” the marshal warned. “Just watch that temper of yours, okay?”

  The shaking subsided but Brinn could sense fear in the lawman’s voice. Even Pipes—the mightiest hero this world had to offer—had a worried look on his face. They knew what Neal was capable was. This entire universe had been his to play with a long time ago, and now that he was awake again, it was his to do with as he pleased. Even Reginald appeared distraught. His arms slunk slowly back into his body.

  “Listen to them, Uncle Neal,” Brinn offered. “We have to talk about how we’re going to fix things.”

  He gave her a confused, scared stare. “I’m not your uncle.” He looked at the others. “And I haven’t played with you guys in so long…even before the accident. What would any of you know about this stuff?” He singled Lowe out first. “You’re just a cowboy. What would you know about fixin’ things?” He turned to Reginald next. “Look at you. Your lights don’t even work so good anymore.” The robot remained quiet. Finally Neal settled on Pipes. “Maybe you. Yeah…maybe you could help me.”

  Pipes offered up his gloved hands. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  Neal slowly sunk down into a sitting position, his back against the wall. “Oscar was smart with this kinda stuff... He could’ve helped me.” The boy closed his eyes tightly and pursed his lips. He drew his knees up into his chest and locked his arms around them.

  He’s trying to bring Oscar back, Brinn thought. He’s imagining the android back into reality. Neal’s eyes opened a half minute later and his gaze settled on the ceiling door they’d all climbed through. Oscar didn’t appear. He closed them again and concentrated harder. His body shook with effort. The tremors started again. A full minute passed this time before his eyes opened and looked hopefully to the door.

  Nothing.

  Brinn sat down next to him. “I don’t think bringing Oscar back will be that easy. He became more than just an imaginary friend. He was much more than mechanical parts…so much more.”

  “Maybe Commander Gunnarson can bring him back,” Neal said hopefully. “He used to fix my toys all the time.”

  Brinn recalled the commander’s final moments before they were transported away from the asteroid. “The commander’s gone too.”

  “It ain’t fair,” Neal whimpered, slumping even further against the cement.

  “You can’t fix everything.”

  The boy lifted an arm up above his head. He made a fist and wriggled his thumb back and forth at a point high up in the dark brown sky. “Nope, I can’t fix everything—but check this out.”

  The sky began to lighten and the air grew warmer. Brinn shielded her eyes against the sudden glare. The sun had risen above the wall behind them. It was no longer a dull orange blob. It continued to move high in the sky, drawn by the boy’s wagging thumb.

  Marshal Lowe adjusted the brim of his hat to block out the bright light.

  Pipes, oblivious to its effects, stared in awe as the powerful star settled directly above them, casting an almost intolerable heat over everything and everyone. “Now that’s a kick-ass imagination.”

  The light intensified.

  Brinn’s skin started to hurt. She grabbed her uncle’s arm and pulled it down. The sun remained where it was. “What have you done?” she screamed.

  It was almost impossible to make his features out in the brightness. Neal’s face glowed white in the brilliance, his eyes had become indistinguishable black sockets, and when he spoke his mouth was a dull gray slit. “If I can’t fix everything…at least I can clean up after myself.”

  Brinn closed her eyes. There was one final blast of heat—a tsunami of burning air that punched over them—and then a blessed normalcy of cool. Brinn opened her eyes carefully and peered between the fingers she’d covered her face with. It was still bright but no longer unbearable to behold. The yellow sun still shone directly above. The air all around was orange and choking gray. She got shakily to her feet and joined Lowe, Reginald, and Pipes a few feet away. She coughed on smoke and the costumed hero held up a part of his cape for her to breathe through. They stood together and watched as a ring of fire, ten thousand feet high, surrounded the S.S.I.A. building. The circle of flame spread out at a rapid rate, consuming everything in its path. It reminded Brinn of dropping a marble into a still pond. The fire rippled out evenly in a perfect circle, leaving them—the marble—unscathed at the center of it all.

  “He’s wiping the slate,” Lowe muttered.

  Brinn looked at him uncomprehendingly. The air was easier to breathe through the hero’s cape but the smoke still stung her eyes. “Pardon me?”

  The marshal wiped tears away from his cheeks. “Neal’s wiping the slate clean. He plans on starting everything all over again.”

  Reginald shook Neal’s slumped-over form with a rubber arm. The boy fell to his side.

  Brinn tried to revive him. “Uncle Neal! Wake up! You have to stop this!” His forehead felt colder than it had before, even with the fire raging around them and the sun beating down from above. “Oh no…I think it was too much for him.” She shook him by the shoulder, but the boy remained still.

  Lowe squatted down and checked for a pulse. “He’s okay, Brinn. Just tuckered out, I’m guessing. But I got a feeling he ain’t gonna be wakin’ up anytime soon.” He scooped the boy up in his lanky arms and held him gently against his chest. “Looks like this world is officially fucked, folks. Anyone got any idea how to get out of it?”

  They stared at each other for a few moments, considering. The roar of the receding flames was soon replaced with another distressing noise. Brinn went to the side of the building and looked down. It sounded like a distant siren, stuck at its highest possible level. Tiny spots of charred gray were moving about in the burnt ruins of the streets. Wannasee survivors, she realized with sickening horror. Most had already been consumed, but an unfortunate few had found shelter beneath hulks of vehicles and chunks of fallen buildings. Some had taken cover beneath the streets, down in the sewage tunnels Brinn and her friends had been wandering through not so long ago. Their pained, high-pitched whistles echoed throughout the charred city. These tortured, dead souls had survived into a new world—a burned, lifeless husk. They wouldn’t last in it for long. She thought of Oscar again and how the android had been so reluctant to kill them. She was grateful he wouldn’t have to witness this.

  She watched as the circle of fire spread to the outer edges of New Hamden. Nothing was being spared. And she instinctively knew this fire would continue to rage in places where there was nothing left to burn. It would envelop the surrounding countryside, torching the sand and the dirt and the rocks. It would consume the remains of great forests, and it would extinguish the remaining water in whatever diseased rivers and lakes were left on Neal’s imaginary world.

  It would engulf
the old farmhouse—the only way back to her reality—and Brinn would be trapped here with the others forever. When Neal woke again—if he woke again—would he have the capability to take any of them back? She looked at his sleeping form in the marshal’s arms. So much power in such a small, frail body. Had he extinguished it all in this final act of cleaning up after himself?

  There was a loud groan and the building lurched. Suddenly Brinn was on her knees. She tried to regain her balance but the building shifted again, throwing her onto her back. She was staring up into the bright sun. It moved. No, she thought. Not the sun this time. The building. She felt the rumble through the roof’s cement tarmac. It vibrated through her feet and hands. Her stomach floated for half a second, like it would in a fast elevator going down, and the building moved again.

  Reginald was on his side, flailing one arm helplessly. “The structural integrity of the skyscraper has been compromised! The creature’s onslaught coupled with the intense heat at ground level must have weakened the base support system and columns.”

  “In English, robot,” Marshal Lowe shouted. He had fallen to one knee with Neal tucked into his chest. The boy’s legs flopped down. He looked as lifeless as a ventriloquist’s dummy.

  “The building is falling,” Reginald answered. “It’s collapsing down in on itself…one floor at a time.”

  Pipes took Brinn up in one arm and reached out for Neal with the other. “Give him to me, Angus. I can save them at least.”

  “Don’t call me Angus.” Lowe handed the boy to him.

  They were swallowed up beneath his giant biceps. Brinn wrapped her arms around his thick neck and yelled in his ear, “Don’t leave them!”

  Her stomach flopped again. This time it dropped down. Pipes was hovering ten feet off the roof. She closed her eyes and tightened her grip. “Oh, shit.”

  “I’ll come back for you,” he called down to Lowe.

  The marshal was helping Reginald back up onto his treads. “No time! You have to get them to the farmhouse!” There was an explosive rumble and the building dropped another twelve feet. Reginald toppled over again and the marshal fell on top of him.