Black & White Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  Unfortunately, the ghost witch sounded a tad bit snotty and…well…citified. That didn’t go over well with Deputy Fiff.

  “Don’t you backtalk me, Mister. I’m the law in these parts. And I got you under arrest.”

  “He wasn’t backtalking, Deputy,” Grym tried. “I was drowning.”

  Fiff frowned. “Why was you drowning?”

  “Because I can’t swim.”

  Fiff shook his head, his buggy eyes adding to the fish resemblance. “If you cain’t swim, what was you doin’ in that pond?” He mumbled something about dense city slickers and I fought a grin. He had us there. We couldn’t exactly tell him we’d fallen into Mayberry from another world.

  “I fell in,” Grym said.

  “Son, that water’s two feet deep where you was. You expect me ta believe you was drownin’ there?”

  I caught Grym’s gaze and gave my head a little shake. Trying to reason with Deputy Fiff was a lost cause. We’d try to speak to the Sheriff. Hopefully, he was like the Sheriff in the television show. If so, he’d not only let us out of jail, he might even help us find our friends.

  I frowned at the thought, wondering where Lea had ended up and praying she was okay. I had no idea how she’d gotten separated from us. Whatever we’d done wrong, at best, had made our task in the artifact even more difficult to accomplish. And at worst…

  Well, I was just hoping we’d all come out of that horrible place alive and intact.

  A possibility that seemed to be getting more unlikely by the moment.

  7

  In Frog Flippin’ Mayberry!

  Deputy Fiff pulled up to the curb in front of the building that contained the Sheriff’s Office and the Justice of the Peace. I was pretty sure they were the same thing, but there were two signs on the double doors, creating the illusion of multiple offices where there was only one.

  Okay, I was splitting hairs. But it was either that or pull them right out of my head.

  I was in frog flippin’ Mayberry!

  And so far, it was every bit as weird as I’d expected it to be.

  “Now get on out of the car, and through them doors,” Fiff barked in his high-pitched voice.

  We piled out and filed in as barked…instructed. The space was just as I’d anticipated, with a single, large jail cell filled with homey furniture and a desk where Sheriff Andrew or his high-strung deputy could sit when they were there. The front of the building had large windows, like a storefront, that looked out on a quiet street with few cars and even fewer people. The women I saw were dressed just like I was, which made me feel a bit better.

  None of the men were dressed like Grym or Rustin. However, I bit my tongue to keep from pointing it out.

  Wondering how Lea was getting along with her poodle-covered skirt, I fought a smile at the same time worry niggled. I hoped she was all right.

  “Just get on inside that jail cell,” the deputy shrieked, swinging his oversized gun all over the place. We all ducked as we moved past him, sure he was going to let one loose in the office and clip one of us by accident.

  Knowing we could just reach through the bars and grab the key on the giant ring hanging right next to the cell, we did as commanded, not overly worried.

  “How long are you planning on keeping us?” Grym asked. “We have the right to post bail.”

  Bail? I felt my eyebrows lifting. I didn’t have any Mayberry Money on me. Did Grym? I doubted it. I had no idea what kind of money they even used. Monopoly money?

  Yikes! Why hadn’t I thought about the money issue? Not that there was any reference material about how to survive in a fictitious television show. If we survived the current adventure, I made a mental note to ask Archibald Pudsnecker if he knew of such a thing. And if he didn’t, I’d encourage him to write it.

  Yes, he was a Sorcerer of the Voids. And, no, Mayberry wasn’t strictly a void. But it was close. So far, there was a definite void of common sense and brains in the place.

  “You just get on inside and pipe down,” Fiff barked. “Sheriff Andrew’ll tell ya yore rights.” The deputy grabbed the key on its giantnormous ring and locked the door, sliding the ring right back onto the hook inches away from the bars.

  I grinned at Sebille and she rolled her eyes.

  “Where is the Sheriff?” Grym asked.

  Fiff flapped a hand toward the door. “The Sheriff’s a busy man. He’ll be around when he’s ready.” Then Fiff seemed to think better of answering Grym, and his skinny face darkened to ash around the cheeks. I could only guess they would be pink if we weren’t living in a monochrome world. Either that or the man had a serious blood issue.

  “The Sheriff’s comin’s and goin’s ain’t none o’ yore concern. Now just take a seat in there and pipe down.”

  The outer door opened, and a well-padded woman with upswept hair entered, carrying a tray covered with a towel. Unlike the crotchety deputy, her eyes sparkled and she had a pleasant smile on her round face. “Lunchtime, Barney.”

  Fiff skimmed a bug-eyed look toward us. “Now Aint Bee, you know yore supposed ta call me Deputy Fiff during work hours.”

  She tittered happily. “Oh Barney, don’t be silly. I brought lunch for your prisoners.” She gave us a wide smile. “Homemade chicken and dumplin’s.”

  “Aint Bee makes the best chicken and dumplin’s in the whole county,” Fiff grumbled.

  “Awe, Barney,” she said, clearly pleased as she marched toward the cell.

  The delicious aroma of moist fried chicken and buttery mashed potatoes wafted toward us from the contents of the tray. “That smells delicious,” I said, giving the older woman a smile.

  She stopped, her eyes going wide. “How did you get some of Andrew’s mother’s good china?”

  I blinked, confused, and then followed her gaze to the plate filled with pie in my hand. The artifact I’d been instructed to bring along. “Oh, I…”

  “It was sitting over there on that table,” Sebille said, lying smoothly.

  Aunt Bee’s cheeks dimpled in a wide smile. “Oh, how careless of me. Well, you hand that on over to me. That pie’s probably stale. I’ve got fresh pie for you here.”

  I had no idea how she had full chicken and dumpling meals for four people, along with dessert, on that small tray, but I didn’t argue. I held it out and looked at Deputy Fiff.

  He stared back for a beat before his buggy eyes achieved new levels of bugginess. “Aint Bee! You cain’t go inta that cell. Them’s dangerous felons right there. You wouldn’t be safe.”

  “Pshaw!” Aunt Bee said succinctly. “You just unlock that door and let me inside, Barney Fiff. Andrew wouldn’t want prisoners in his jail to starve, now would he?”

  Fiff’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his scrawny hands wringing his oversized deputy hat to within an inch of its life. “Sheriff Andrew wouldn’t thank me for puttin’ you in danger, Aint Bee. More important, I wouldn’t thank myself.”

  The exterior door opened, and I found myself sending a plea to the goddess that it was Sheriff Andrew. Hopefully, he’d be the voice of reason in an unreasonable world.

  A girl could hope, right?

  Instead, it was another woman. A very familiar one. “Lea!”

  My friend jerked to a stop, her pretty gaze widening as she skimmed it over us.

  Barney Fiff hurried toward the door, his bent, spindly form nearly floating above the floor as he rushed over. “Thelma Lou! What are you doing here?”

  I frowned. Thelma Lou?

  Lea’s slight frown smoothed as he pecked her on the cheek. “I came to bring you this.” She held something up that was covered in cloth, grasping the edge of the cloth and whipping it aside.

  Deputy Fiff’s eyes lit up. “A slice of your chocolate, buttercream cake?” He shoved his hands onto his skinny hips and beamed at her. “Why Thelma Lou, you spoil me.”

  Lea, a.k.a. Thelma Lou beamed back as if she really cared what the strange little man thought. “It’s nothing. I had an extra slice and though
t you might like it.”

  Aunt Bee set the delicious-smelling tray down on the desk and hurried over to clasp Lea’s hands. “What a nice surprise, dear!”

  I rolled my gaze to my cellmates, finding them all staring at the little tableau beyond the bars with as much shock as I was.

  “Do I smell some of your delicious chicken and dumplings?” Lea asked.

  “You do. I have plenty. Would you like to stay for lunch?” Aunt Bee responded.

  “Oh, I wish I could,” Lea said. “I need to get home. I’m having my rose-patterned wallpaper torn down.”

  Aunt Bee clapped her pudgy hands. “You don’t say?”

  “I do! And I’m replacing it with a lovely lilac design.”

  I tried to catch my friend’s eye. Clearly, she’d immersed herself into the whole Mayberry schtick when she found herself separated from us. I didn’t blame her at all for that. What was weird was how quickly they’d accepted her into their strange universe.

  Lea caught me making faces at her and blanched, rearing back. She slid a horrified glance over Sebille and clutched the pearls around her neck. Then she eyed Grym and Rustin, her attractive features softening with interest.

  Unfortunately, Barney Fiff noticed. He threw a glare toward us and then hurried Lea out the door before I could think of anything to say to keep her there.

  “I’ll just leave you to feed the prisoners,” Aunt Bee said, patting Deputy Fiff on the shoulder. “I expect Andrew will be here soon. He can smell my chicken and dumplings from clear across the county.”

  Fiff closed the door behind the older woman and glowered at us. “I see you tryin’ ta influence the good people of Mayberry with your evil ways.” Shoving his bony hands over his bony hips, he gave us his A-game glare. “You’ll need ta get through this lawman afore you do that. And that ain’t gonna happen.” He tugged the oversized gun from its holster with such force he lost his grip on it and the weapon flew into the air, hilt over barrel, smacking into the bars of the cell and clattering toward the floor.

  We all yelped and took cover behind the homey furniture.

  Fiff scurried over and retrieved the gun, shoving it into its holster with another flush of gray cheeks. He looked slightly sheepish. Opening the cell door, Fiff shoved the tray at Grym and then quickly closed and locked it again. He headed for the exterior door. “I’m off to lunch now. No funny business while I’m gone.”

  And then he just left.

  Silence pulsed between us for a beat. For my part, I was too shocked at…well…everything, to speak.

  My friends must have been suffering a similar emotion. Finally, Sebille muttered, “Holy dancing dumplings. What just happened here?”

  “I hate to say it,” Rustin responded. “But it appears that Lea’s been pulled in too deep.”

  We all looked at him. Sebille was frowning. Grym looked…well…grim.

  My stomach tightened painfully, even as my mind tried to deny what he’d said. “What does that mean, exactly?” I asked.

  Rustin looked devastated. “She’s become one of them.”

  My knees gave out, and I all but fell into the rocking chair behind me. Thank goodness for the comfortable, flowered chintz cushions in the chair, or it might have hurt. “We need to get out of here. Lea needs us as much as Hobs, Slimy, and Wicked do.”

  Rustin skimmed a worried gaze in my direction. “I don’t think you understand, Naida. We can’t help Lea. She’s part of the artifact now. She’s gone.”

  I shook my head and kept shaking it even after he’d finished speaking because I was terrified that, if I stopped denying it, his assertion that Lea was lost would be true. “I won’t accept that.”

  Rustin just stared at the floor. Grym gave me a sad look, which made me mad. So I looked at the sprite, daring her with my gaze to give up on Lea so easily.

  I was happy to see that Sebille was in my corner. She looked mad too.

  Really mad.

  Stomping over to the bars, she reached through and tugged the giant ring off the wall, quickly unlocking the cell.

  “What are you doing?” Grym asked.

  She glowered in his direction. “You can sit here and follow crazy people rules, or you can come with us. I don’t give a frog’s flipper what you do. I’m going after our friends.”

  Grym opened his mouth and closed it, expelling a frustrated breath.

  I looked at Rustin and he nodded. “We’re not accomplishing anything here.”

  “They’ll just find you again and put you back in here,” Grym argued. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest, staring angrily at me.

  I snorted. “You think Fiff is going to find us?”

  “Not the idiot deputy, no,” Rustin said. “But you forget he’s part of the artifact. His persona is just window dressing. The artifact is running this show, and it’s not stupid. It’s deadly and determined.”

  Sebille opened the door and stepped through, throwing the two men a look that dared them to stay. “We knew that when we came inside, ghost witch,” she said. “I’m not going to curl up into the fetal position now and give up. Are you?”

  He looked like he was thinking about it.

  “Look, Sebille, Naida,” Grym spoke in placating tones. “We’re not giving up. We’re just trying to take the path of least resistance. Sheriff Andrew is the reasonable one. We just need to talk to him, and he’ll let us go. Then we won’t have to look over our shoulders the whole time we’re here.”

  “If he shows up,” I argued. “And if he lets us go. Like Rustin said, there’s no guarantee they’re the same in here as they are on the television show. Andrew might be a jerk. A blood-thirsty killer. We have no way of knowing.”

  “Fiff seems pretty harmless,” Grym said.

  Rustin sighed. “He does, but they’re right. Like I said, the artifact is running things, not the characters from the show.” He nodded at me. “I’m in. But we’ll need to move fast. In TV time, Fiff should be returning any minute from his lunch.”

  8

  It Weren’tNothin’, Sugar

  Grym did a quick search of the desk, just in case Fiff or Andrew documented the arrival of the cat, the frog, Hobs, or Lea. He didn’t find anything, but we didn’t give him much time to look.

  I grabbed the never-ending pie artifact, which had mysteriously returned to the cell after Aunt Bee left. I had no idea what good it was going to do me, but I trusted Adolfo’s advice to bring it and figured it must have a purpose.

  Sebille was watching the street so we’d have warning when Fiff came back. As Grym closed the last desk drawer, she turned back to us. “He’s coming.”

  We ran to the door and looked out as Fiff stopped an old woman with a cane who’d waddled across the middle of the street. He seemed to be yelling at her for jaywalking and she was looking befuddled by his waving arms and bugged-out eyes. When Fiff dug into his pocket and came up with a pair of handcuffs, that was our cue to go.

  “It’s going to be really crowded in that cell if we don’t get out of here,” Grym said.

  I nodded. “Let’s head left as soon as we hit the sidewalk and enter the alleyway between this building and the next.”

  “Walk slowly until we turn the corner,” Grym advised. “Nothing catches a cop’s attention faster than people running away from him.”

  Grym led the way out the door and we fell in behind him. It was good that he was in front because I’d have run, despite what he said. I was sure I could feel Fiff’s bulgy gaze between my shoulder blades, and I ran up on Grym’s heels a few times trying to get away from it.

  We managed to reach the alley before the deputy started shrieking at us. As we turned the corner I was relieved to start running. We ran for a few minutes, finding the monochromatic town a maze with few clues about where we were at any given moment.

  We finally stopped running when we reached a small park with a cute little white lattice gazebo at its center. We collapsed onto the benches of a gray wood picnic table, panting.

>   After a moment, Sebille asked. “Where do we start?”

  “Hex,” I said, without hesitation.

  They all looked at me.

  “We need to find Hex,” I explained. “If the cat hasn’t been co-opted by the artifact, she’s our best hope of waking Lea up.”

  Though Rustin didn’t look convinced, he nodded. “Why don’t you and Grym look for Hex and Sebille and I will see if we can find Hobs, Mr. Slimy, and Mr. Wicked.”

  “I’m actually hoping Hex will still be herself and she can find Mr. Wicked for us,” I told him.

  Sebille started walking along the path surrounding the park.

  Rustin nodded. “Meet back here in an hour?”

  We all agreed and went our separate ways. The last I saw of the sprite and the ghost witch, they were heading toward the edge of town. I could see the pond where we’d landed in the near distance and realized it would have been the logical spot to look for Slimy. The little green guy always seemed to find his way to a pond, wherever he was.

  “Horned hippopotamus hats,” I grumbled under my breath. If Fiff hadn’t come along and pulled us in, we might have found the frog immediately.

  I sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” Grym asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Any idea where we’ll find Hex?” he asked, his gaze skimming the area around us.

  I pointed to a street of tidy houses just outside of town. “That looks like as good a place as any to start. Unless she got separated from Hex, which seems unlikely since she was holding her when she landed, we should find them together.”

  Grym nodded. “Let’s hope those people don’t mind a couple of strangers skulking around.” He gave me a crooked grin. “Maybe we should act like we’re a couple, just strolling down the street.”

  I knew he was right, but I couldn’t help narrowing my eyes suspiciously. “A couple, huh?”

  He shrugged. “It’s just a suggestion.”