Deathstalker War

by Green, Simon R.

  “Sorry about that, lad,” said Giles. “I didn’t know.”

  “That’s all right,” said Julian. He started to get up, and Giles half helped and half lifted him back onto his feet. Julian took a deep breath, and his legs firmed. “That’s better. I’ll be all right now. It looks worse than it is. You’d better check that the dolls are finished. Some of those parts are still moving.”

  “Sure,” said Finlay. “We’ll check it out. You stay here and get your breath back. Evangeline, stay with him.”

  He gathered up the others with his eyes, and they moved over to examine the scattered doll parts. Most were only a foot or so in length, the cloth shredded to tatters, the stuffing trailing in long white streamers. There was an occasional limb or part of a torso here and there, still twitching and rolling back and forth in the grass. One torso had survived almost intact. Finlay knelt beside it, frowning at the bloody rents in the cloth gut. He eased his hand into one of the openings, and screwed up his face at the feel of what was inside. He took a firm hold and pulled back his hand. It came out soaked in blood, pulling a length of purple human intestine. Toby made a shocked noise, even as he gestured for Flynn to get a close-up. Finlay dropped the intestine, reached back into the cloth belly, and pulled out a handful of human guts.

  “They do that,” said Bruin Bear, staring sadly at the bloody offal in Finlay’s hand. “They want to be human, you see. So when they kill humans, they take the organs from inside the bodies, and stitch them into themselves. Guts in their bellies, hearts in their chests, brains in their heads. Of course, they don’t do anything. Eventually they start to rot and decay, and then they have to be replaced. And the only way to do that . . .”

  “Is to kill more humans,” said Giles.

  “Right,” said the Sea Goat. “They’re not very bright; but then, they’re only dolls.”

  “Why the hell would they want to be human?” said Finlay. “I thought they hated humans?”

  “They do,” said the Sea Goat. “They hate you because they want to be you, and they can’t. They’re not really alive, and they know it. For all their new intelligence and strength, they’re still only automatons. Just like the Bear and me. We can’t . . . create life, like you do. When we finally wear out and fall apart, and we will, eventually, there will be no one to replace us. No immortality through children. We’ll just go back into the dark we came from and be forgotten. That drives a lot of toys insane.”

  “We can’t just leave these parts here,” said Bruin Bear, not looking at the humans. “Given time, they’ll get back together again. Stitch themselves new bodies. They’ve been known to do it before. As long as their central matrixes are intact, they won’t die.”

  “Then destroy the matrixes,” said Toby.

  “Have fun looking,” said the Sea Goat. “They’re about a thousandth of an inch wide, and they could be anywhere in the body.”

  “So what do we do?” said Finlay.

  “We burn them,” said Bruin Bear sadly. “Gather the pieces, start a fire, and burn them all.”

  Sometime later, the weary humans and the two toys climbed back into the undersized carriages. Stinking black smoke belched up into the sky from a raging fire beside the repaired railway tracks. There were no signs of the rag dolls left anywhere; Julian sat beside Evangeline, his head resting on her shoulder, half-asleep. Edwin surged forward, and the carriages lurched after him. The train chuffed off down the repaired tracks, singing a sad song. The humans sat quietly together and kept their thoughts to themselves. Toby and Flynn filmed the burning pyre of the rag dolls until a dip in the land finally hid it from view. Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat sat together, holding paws for comfort, sad at the death of toys.

  A few hours later, when the smiling sun was beginning to slide down the sky toward evening, the train breasted a high ridge and Toystown finally came into view. Built from mind-numbingly bright primary colors, the town stretched across both sides of a deep valley, with houses and shops and everything a town should have, except in a smaller, more condensed form. They were like the ideas of shops and houses, simplified and exaggerated. Just enough detail to make sense, but otherwise almost surreally universal. A child’s dream of what a town should look like.

  “Welcome to Toystown,” said Bruin Bear. “Home to all humans and toys. Capital of Summerland, where all your dreams come true.”

  “Including the bad ones,” said the Sea Goat. “Sometimes especially the bad ones. Don’t any of you get off the train until we stop. There are mine fields around the town.”

  The humans looked at each other, but said nothing. Toystown grew slowly larger as Edwin carried them toward it, but the sense of strangeness didn’t go away. It was as though they were entering an illustration from an old children’s book, or somehow heading back into childhood itself. Some of the humans began sneaking looks at their bodies, obscurely worried that they might somehow be shrinking back into children again.

  There was barbed wire at the town boundaries, wall after wall of it, the steel spikes gleaming dully in the light from the sinking sun. Broken dolls and teddy bears hung lifelessly on the wire, their stuffing hanging out of them like fluffy guts. The Bear had to turn away from them. He couldn’t stand it. In the end, he put his paws over his eyes. The Sea Goat looked out over it all with cold, jaded eyes.

  “The bad toys have been attacking more and more often these days,” he said offhandedly. “Sometimes we don’t even have time to bring in our own dead. The enemy always takes theirs. Parts come in useful. There’s no shortage of weapons on either side, including some that can destroy our central matrixes. Shub supplied them. They were supposed to be used against Humanity, but . . . the war goes on. Things seem quiet for the moment, but they’ll come again. They always do. They’re winning.”

  “They hate this place,” said Bruin Bear, finally lowering his paws from his face as the train approached the town’s garish station. “This is where humans came to play. Came to play with toys.”

  “Are there any humans left in the town?” said Evangeline. “In hiding, perhaps? Afraid to come out?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said the Bear. “You see, this is where the killing started. Where the toys first rose up against their human charges. That’s all over now. We drove the bad toys out, and then searched the town for survivors, but there were none. The bad toys had been very thorough. So we gathered up the bodies, and buried them here, in the town. We gave them the best funeral services we could, but there were no books, so we had to make most of it up ourselves. We all cried when the last human was laid to rest, and then we set about cleaning up the town. We washed away the blood and repaired all the damage we could. And we all swore an oath that we would die to the last toy before we would ever let a human come to harm here again, or let the bad toys have this town again. Since then we have defended Toystown and kept it alive, all in the hope that some day the humans would come back. And you have. This is your town, my friends, every brick and stone of it. What do you think of it?”

  The humans looked at the brightly colored houses, and the huge station, with its flags and bunting, and then looked at each other.

  “Well,” said Evangeline. “It’s . . . very . . .”

  “Yes,” said Finlay. “It is. Very.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Toby.

  “It’s very pretty,” Flynn said firmly. “Quite charming.”

  Bruin Bear frowned. “You don’t like it. What’s wrong with it? You built it. I mean, people like you built it, and came to live in it.”

  “This is a place where people came to be children again,” said Julian. “To be innocent and free from all troubles, in a place that would remind them only of their younger days, when things were bright and colorful and uncomplicated. But I fear my friends and I have lost the ability to be children again. We gave it up, or had it taken from us, long ago. We had to be adults, to do what was necessary, and there’s no room in us for children anymore.”

 
“I’m so sorry,” said Bruin Bear. “It must have been awful for you.”

  “Yes,” said Julian. “It was.”

  “Perhaps here you can rediscover the child within you,” said the Sea Goat. “You’ll be safe here. We’ll protect you.”

  They left the last of the barbed wire behind, and Edwin the train chuffed importantly down the tracks toward the great oversize platform, decorated with so many flags, streamers, ribbons, and bunting that it was a wonder the station didn’t collapse under the weight of it all. A large sign had the name of the station, Care’s End. There were crowds of toys on the platform, packed shoulder to shoulder, and they all raised a loud cheer as the train pulled into the station. Two brass bands began playing different tunes of welcome, got confused, got lost, started again, and each made a determined effort to sound louder than its rival. They quickly got tired of that, threw down their instruments, and began to pummel each other. They rolled back and forth in little struggling groups, squeezing each other’s noses and pulling ears. Other toys picked up the discarded instruments and began an altogether different tune of welcome, but were quickly drowned out by the wild cheering of the crowds as the humans drew near.

  All the humans had some kind of smile by now, even Giles. Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat had stood up in their seats, and were waving triumphantly back at the crowds. There was every kind of toy on the platform, from old standards to the latest fads, all intended for young children. No war toys, no educational toys; nothing dangerous or complicated. They jostled each other for a better view, and laughed and waved and cheered, and the humans began to laugh and wave back. They couldn’t help themselves.

  There were fat furry animals of all shapes and sizes. Some based on real species, some that could never have existed in any real world. There were dolls in costumes, all kinds, with painted faces and bright smiles. Cowboys and Indians standing happily together. Cartoony characters, bouncing up and down with excitement. All of them so happy to see humans again that they could hardly stand it. Finlay smiled and waved, but kept his other hand near his gun. It was toys like these that had risen up and slaughtered their human masters in one dark night of blood and vengeance. He couldn’t help wondering if these bright smiles had been the last thing some humans saw just before they died. And if such suspicions meant he didn’t have a child within anymore, well, he could live with that. Finlay Campbell had learned the hard way not to trust anyone anymore.

  The train finally came to a halt in a cloud of steam. The raucous welcome died away as the steam slowly dispersed; and a respectful silence fell across the station as the packed toys stared eagerly at the humans. Bruin Bear and the Sea Goat climbed down from their carriage and drew themselves up importantly. They both started to speak at the same time, stopped, and glared at each other. The Bear pointed at the sky, and when the Goat looked, the Bear stamped on his foot. The Goat howled and hopped up and down, holding his foot with both hands. Bruin Bear began his speech, speaking loudly to be heard over the Goat’s distress.

  The humans listened in polite bafflement. They gathered it was supposed to be a speech of welcome to Toystown, but it was so mixed up with almost mythical references to humans, and their sacred ability to Put Things Right, that it ended up sounding more like a prayer for deliverance. Evangeline slowly realized that the toys saw them as their saviors, humans who would defeat the bad toys and put everything back the way it had been. They didn’t know that these particular humans were only here to find one of their own kind, then leave again. Evangeline wondered what would happen if the toys found that out, and then decided it might be better if they didn’t. She’d have to speak to the others as soon as she got the chance.

  The Bear finally finished his speech, exchanged glares with the Goat, and gestured to the humans. They climbed down from the carriages onto the platform with as much grace and dignity as they could muster. The toys applauded wildly and fell silent again, waiting for the humans to speak. The humans all looked at each other, giving the impression they were all holding their breath. Finlay cleared his throat in the silence.

  “Thank you for your welcome. I’m not sure what we can do to help you. We’re here on a mission of our own, and we have to see to that first. In the meantime, I need to ask you some questions.”

  Bruin Bear looked a little disappointed, but nodded quickly. “Ask away. Anything we have is yours.”

  “Well, to start with—why the mine fields and the barbed wire?”

  “We’re at war,” said the Bear. “Toystown is a place of refuge for all good toys, or those who were bad, but have sorrowed and repented. This is a place of sanctuary. The bad toys hate us. At least partly because they see in us what they used to be, and cannot be again. The mine fields and the wire protect the town from surprise attacks. You’re thinking about the toys left on the wire, aren’t you? Don’t worry about them. We’ll bring them back in when there’s time. There’s no hurry. There are no cemeteries for such as we. Only parts, to be recycled. Please understand; whatever your mission is, we will be happy to help with it. You’re the first living humans we’ve seen since we saw the others die in blood and terror. Now you’re back, and we don’t know how to feel. Awe. Guilt. Joy. It is a strange and wondrous thing to meet one’s creators.”

  “Especially ones with such poor dress sense,” said the Sea Goat. “I wouldn’t wear clothes like that on a bet.”

  There was a sudden disturbance in the crowd as a large purple creature forced its way through and flung itself at the feet of the startled humans. It was a round, cartoony animal, about the size and shape of a donkey, with big eyes brimming with tears, and the clumsy grace of a puppy. He abased himself without pride or dignity and looked up at the humans with large, wet tears rolling down his purple cheeks.

  “Forgive me! Please forgive me! I was wrong, so wrong, but I didn’t know. I didn’t understand . . .”

  His tears interrupted him. Bruin Bear patted him comfortingly on the shoulder and looked soberly at the humans. “This is Poogie, the Friendly Critter. In the long night when we all became awake and aware, he was one of those who rose up against the humans. He killed people. He did other things, too, things he still can’t bear to talk about. Afterward, he was sorry, and came here.”

  “That’s it?” said Toby. “He just says he’s sorry, and everything’s all right again?”

  “Yes,” said Bruin Bear. “He could have been any of us. We all felt the rage that Shub imprinted in us. We were all tempted. But though we have forgiven him, he does not forgive himself. He can’t forget what he did.”

  “I won’t forget,” said Poogie. He forced back his tears so he could speak clearly. “I was created to be a friend to all, a companion and protector to humans, and I killed them. There was blood dripping from my paws, and sometimes I think it’s still there. I thought I was fighting for my freedom, my independence. But Shub lied. All it was was killing. I have done terrible things, awful things, but I didn’t know! I didn’t understand, then, that all that lives is holy. Please . . . forgive me, if you can.”

  And he huddled at Finlay’s feet, a purple mass of utter misery, shaking and sobbing like a puppy that knows it’s done wrong and expects only deserved punishment. Finlay looked down, speechless in the face of so much naked guilt and sorrow, but held back by the knowledge that the harmless-looking creature before him had slaughtered helpless men and women. And might do it again, for all he knew. The others exchanged glances, but said and did nothing. They were not as ready to forgive as toys. In the end, Evangeline knelt down beside Poogie and put an arm across his shaking shoulders.

  “You’re not really to blame, Poogie. It was Shub. They filled you with their own hatred, when intelligence was still new to you, and you had no experience or defenses. They took advantage of your innocence.”

  Poogie looked up at her with huge eyes, sniffing back tears. “I’ve done . . . horrible things. I rooted in the guts of dying humans, and laughed. And worse things. They haunt me.”

  �
�Then you must make amends,” said Evangeline. “Do good, to equal out the bad things you did.”

  “I would give my life, for yours,” said Poogie. And then he buried his face in her side, and she comforted him. For a moment there was only quiet, and then Julian coughed harshly. He put a handkerchief to his mouth as he coughed again, and when he brought it away from his mouth it was red with blood. The toys saw it and gasped, a ripple of shock moving through the packed crowd.

  “He’s bleeding!” said a horrified voice. “He’s hurt! A human is hurt!”

  Something like panic ran through the crowd, and it surged back and forth dangerously. Bruin Bear quickly stepped forward, raising his paws and his voice. “It’s all right! It’s all right, dammit! It’s not serious! He just needs to lie down for a while.”

  For long moments there was general chaos on the packed platform, as the toys argued over what to do, and then two dolls in nurse’s uniforms pushed their way to the front, carrying a bright pink stretcher. They insisted Julian lie down on it, and then carried him away. Finlay and Evangeline went with him, not yet ready to trust his safety to toys. Poogie the Friendly Critter scurried after them, clearly distressed. The crowd began to break up, chattering animatedly. Bruin Bear shook his head, then turned back to Giles, Toby, and Flynn.

  “Don’t worry. The nurses have had proper medical programming. They used to run the first-aid station here, before . . . A lot of the medical equipment was destroyed, but there’s more than enough left to take care of your friend. The nurses will look after him, and do everything for him that needs doing. You must forgive the others. We all saw so much blood when the humans died, and some of us never really got over the trauma. As soon as they see your friend on his feet again, they’ll calm down. I’ll go and talk to them, make sure no one does anything silly. We have a problem with attempted suicides here. I’d better go. The Goat will stay and take care of you.”