The fact that 6 follows 5 so nicely is mostly a coincidence. You may have noticed that the scenes don't exactly go in chronological order, and I meant for that to happen. It's really just been a matter of when inspiration struck.
Slight twists are rampant in the action scenes, expressly for the sake of story-telling. But it's not like you care, because you're not reading The Other Eyes Saga and watching 9 at the same time and going, "Hey, that's not how it happened!" I also wrote a good bit of this while waiting in line at the opening of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pt. II, which may have contributed to all the twists that have been twisted up in this chapter... Do I know how to multi-task or what? 8D
Also, heavy on Christian symbolism, 'cause, well... It's 6. I've said it before to other people, but the fact that God doesn't appear to be present in 9 only serves to highlight how present He is. It's just the way I roll. :P
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Red Day
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6 had been puzzling over everything for the past hour-and-a-half, and he still didn't entirely understand what was going on. 7 and 8 were in danger, and that was why they were traveling through the ruins in the dark. But it had nothing to do with the Source, as far as he could see. The Source was the important thing, after all; he thought he had made this pretty clear before.
Oh, how happy he had been when 9, the one of promise, had finally arrived. It was obvious who he was; 6 had been plagued by strange dreams and cryptic whispers in the night about him coming for several years. He had hoped, being the one of promise, that 9 would be able to understand him better than the others seemed to—even though he seemed to speak just as clearly as the rest of them. But, alas, 9 seemed to understand even less of what he was trying to say, and it was maddening.
6 had no clue at all of how mentally unhinged he was; in his head, he was the only sane member of their group, and everyone else around him was nuts. Why else could they be unable to understand him? He made his points as simple as he could for them, and it still seemed beyond their comprehension.
But, at least, 9 was making an honest effort to figure it all out, in spite of how pathetically uninformed he was. No one had ever asked 6 for his opinion or advise on anything before, and he was glad that this was changing. 9 was quick enough to see that the Source was important, but he was so easily distracted; irrelevant things kept clouding his focus, making him forget what he was here to do. Surely he knew why he was here, didn't he?
Well, maybe he didn't. But 6 knew. He had come to get the Source back. Where it had gone was a mystery, but 9 was here to find it and return its power to them, the Stitchpunks, to whom it belonged—literally—by birthright. What they would do with it afterward was also uncertain; but their shiny new leader with the shiny brass zipper on his front would surely figure that out in time, as well.
But he was never going to do any this if he didn't stay focused for more than a few minutes. Every time he remembered to ask 6 about it, very little information was exchanged before something—usually 1—broke in and distracted everyone. Then it could be hours before anyone remembered him again. He was never going to be able to explain it well enough for it to matter at this rate.
At this particular moment, as their remaining company traveled quickly and quietly through the ruins, 9 was distracted by their missing members, snatched by a monster mere hours ago, and likely still alive somewhere. Feh, who was he kidding? It was nicer to think that he cared about 7 and 8 both, but it was obvious that 7 was a bigger priority. 9 had a soft spot for her that was clear, but hard for 6 to understand, especially when there was such important work to be done. As long as she was on his mind, there was no time to think about the Source.
Once again, maddening.
So, as he walked, making sure to stay close to the scatterbrained but fearless leader, he considered what he did know for the fifth time since they started off.7 and 8 were in trouble. The company was on a mission to save them. They had no idea where the Source was, and no one else particularly cared. It was simple, he knew, but it boggled his mind. Hadn't he been saying that the Source was important? Why one earth didn't they care? Were they all that retarded? Really?
But there was nothing he could do but follow them and hope that something would eventually come of it.
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At the rate they were going, in the fairly large group they were in, it took them until dawn to reach the property that the Machine reigned supreme over. The factory that was its fortress was huge and terrifying. Apparently, 9 and 5 had been here earlier—6 remembered 1 being furious about it yesterday afternoon, and the two heroes had spent the better part of the journey quietly making plans to infiltrate the building. 6 stayed out of their business, but he heard them discuss more than once where they would enter from, how much time they could afford to spend inside, and how to combat any mechanical monsters they might encounter. He had also heard 5 insist several times that they should go in together, but 9 didn't seem to like this idea much. He needed someone to stay and look after the rest of them while he was inside, and he certainly didn't trust 1 to do it.
So… 6 took this to mean that 9 was leaving 5 in charge while he did whatever he was planning to do. He wasn't sure how to feel about this; he had sort of forgotten that 5 even existed until a few hours ago. The last really clear memory he had of his brother was actually his back, his name scripted in black ink between his shoulders, as he stood in a doorway, blocking the view of something unpleasant. What he had been blocking, 6 couldn't remember; but it had been something that 2—rest his soul—hadn't wanted him or the twins to see, so 5 had stood guard.
He decided to take this as being good. If 9 had to be away from them, 5 would guard them well, he supposed. Not that he had the sense to feel particularly vulnerable in the first place, but knowing they had a right-hand who wouldn't hit him made him feel safe.
They didn't even waste any time looking at the factory. 5 and 9 marched right into the property, prompting the others to follow them. Indeed, they seemed to know where they were going; they headed in a steady direction, without hesitation. That is, until a loud droning noise echoes through the sky above them. They all looked up to see a new monster, composed of a paper balloon, a candle, a fire bellows and a search light sailing in the sky, headed right towards them.
"Get behind something, quick!" 9 directed them, pointing at a jumble of metal nearby. The six of them scrambled under it into the tiny space, just barely in time for the probe to miss them. It was a tight fit and a tense wait as the probe loomed closer, and none of them dared to breathe… Except for 1, who could never seem to help himself.
"And after all that grand talk about no more hiding," he said petulantly. He sounded like he was going to say more, but 9 stopped him by clapping his hand over 1's mouth, almost involuntarily but thankfully.
"Shh! Be quiet!" 9 hissed back, keeping his voice down. Overhead, through a gap in their metal shelter, they could see the probe as it passed overhead, casting a shadow over the ground as it passed. If its sight had been sharper, it might have even seen them. It passed by quickly, though to the company it seemed like a lot longer. At last it had gone by, and it was as safe as it could get.
That danger out of the way, 5 and 9 worked together to push the metal wall that hid them back, and they took a good look at where they were. They had gotten almost all the way to the entrance they had been looking for. The factory towered high above them and everything else, one of the few buildings in the entire city that had not been destroyed; in fact, it didn't seem to have been damaged or even touched at all. On either side of it, four enormous legs stuck out of the walls, pumping up and down into the ground as they extracted oil for the Machine to feed off of—but it looked like some kind of evil spider-like monster. All over the ground around them, oil had been leached out of the earth to form pools of black opalescent goo.
And the factory hummed with the frightening sound of gears and roaring fires, the sounds of the Machine, which most of them were just hearing for the first time. 6 was beyond frightened, and he wanted to run away from the horrible place as fast as he could. On either side of him, the twins were trying not to shake too badly from fear.
"Mama's here somewhere," 4 flickered miserably. "What if we can't get her back…?"
6 wasn't too concerned about that. 7 was alive, and they were going to get her back, for sure. If 9 willed it to be so, it would probably be so. It seemed he could do anything… Except take the Source seriously for more than a minute.
After assessing the area briefly, 9 took a deep breath.
"I'm going in," he announced, and stepped out of their shelter. 5 started after him and caught him by the arm.
"I'm going with you," he insisted again.
"No, I need you here," 9 answered gently, trying to ease his friend's disappointment. "If I don't make it back… Destroy it."
His instruction given, he dashed off toward the exit without another word.
"Wait! How?" 5 called after him, but 9 didn't answer. Whatever the plan was now, it was all in 5's capable steel hands. Of course they were capable; they were the hands their leader had left in charge. Duh.
Well, he didn't seem to have a plan just yet. 5 looked around the immediate area again, sizing up his resources. But an idea came to him quickly; 6 could tell just by looking at the back of his head, something genius had occurred to him.
"So, let's hear it," 1 demanded. "What's your brilliant scheme?"
Under other circumstances, the challenge would have made 5 very nervous. How could he have been expected to come up with any plan of any kind so fast? But that had been before. Today, he turned to face them all with a self-confident smile and pulled a red-tipped match from his pack.
"We're going to need a full barrel."
"…What?"
"Of oil. We're going to light it on fire, and use it for a weapon."
6 was moved to feel proud of his quick-thinking and clever brother, but 1 looked startled.
"…This is madness! This plan is too dangerous," he countered.
"It's the best we've got," 5 insisted, not losing his ground for a moment. "That thing has already used something of ours against us, and now we're going to use something of its own against it. The plan will work. Who's with me?"
"We are!" the twins flickered in unison, skittering over by him and prompting 6 to follow them.
"Me too," he said quietly, suddenly moved to speak. He didn't like to speak much anymore, but he felt like he should manage some words for his brother. Indeed, 5 seemed very cheered by the two simple, barely audible words.
Maybe they did understand him a little, after all.
1 held back, though, unsure whether he wanted to be part of a team he had little influence over. He stood there and scowled at them all, annoyed that 5 had been left in charge and that he was actually doing well. 5 allowed the older man to try and stare him down, hoping he might soften and change his mind. But, of course, he refused.
"Fine," 5 growled. "Then go back and don't get in our way."
Even though he didn't remember 5 very well, it was difficult for 6 to imagine him angry—especially with a quarter of his face substituted with stiff leather that didn't move with the rest of his facial expressions. For some reason, he also had trouble thinking of his brother as a strong leader. Yet here he was, leading them and refusing to let 1 trample on him. In fact, he got the impression that 5 was enjoying being in charge. No one was going to take that from him now.
His sudden change in mood had caught the twins off guard as well. They seemed to approve and be just as proud as 6, but something about it unnerved them. He guessed that, all this time he had forgotten he had a brother, 5 had been very different than he was in this moment. What had he been like, then? A fearful, spineless blob of jello, with no self-confidence and no clue what was going on? 6 hated to think of his brother this way, and he suddenly wondered what all he had missed while he had cloistered himself away.
Without waiting any longer for 1 to make up his mind, 5 turned and walked away to find the things he needed for his plan. Those with him followed after. 4 came up beside him and took his hand in hers.
"5, are you alright?" she asked, her flickering sounding worried.
"I feel great, actually," he answered with a calm smile.
"Where are we gonna find a barrel of oil?" 3 asked. "And how will we move it?"
"There's got to be one somewhere around here; there's so much oil, it's got to be stored somewhere. And they're round. We can roll it."
"What if it's too heavy?"
"The four of us can do it, if we work together. Don't worry, 3."
Both the children seemed comforted by this and didn't question him anymore. 6 had nothing to say and just followed them, waiting to see where he would be needed.
Then came the Voice again. That odd little whisper that struck in the back of his head every now and again, offering strange information and advice, and sometimes company. 6 didn't know who the Voice belonged to, but he liked it. Whoever owned the Voice understood him perfectly, speaking just as clearly and bluntly as he did. In fact, most of what he knew had come from the Voice, whispered in dreams through the years.
Listen carefully. What you seek is nearby. Follow me.
There was no one around to follow, but 6 knew that didn't matter. Something inside him guided him away from the others, and he allowed it to lead him.
"6, where are you going?" 5 asked when he started to drift away.
"It's here," 6 answered, still walking away.
"What's here? What are you looking for?"
6 couldn't believe how thick his brother was being. Wasn't it obvious? What they were looking for was somewhere nearby. He had said so clear as a bell, hadn't he? This was nothing new, he supposed, but it was aggravating.
Stop here. Look around. What you need is here.
For a gleaming, hopeful moment, he thought the Voice might be talking about the Source. Perhaps it was buried in the rubble at his feet, or hidden in the large shadow that stretched before him. As he looked around on the ground for the tiny thing, 5 came up beside him and gasped suddenly.
"Oh, you found one! Good eyes, 6; I never would have seen it here," he exclaimed and ran forward into the shadow. Happy to be so useful but not sure how he had done it, he looked up and saw what was casting the shadow: a big, round, metal barrel, laying on its side, black oil slowly oozing out of a crack in the top.
What they had been seeking was here, indeed; but it wasn't what 6 had been hoping for. He was still glad that he had found the barrel for his brother, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed.
"It's smaller than I had expected to find. But…" 5 mused, circling the barrel. He put his hands against its side, held his ear against it and banged on the grimy metal with his fist, trying to gauge how much was inside it from the sound.
"Is it enough? Will it work?" 4 asked hopefully.
"It doesn't sound quite full, but it sounds like plenty," he answered. "And it's small—it will be easier for us to move it by ourselves. And it's close to where we need it to be already, so we won't have to move it very far, anyway. It's perfect."
3 skittered over and gave 6 a friendly punch in the arm. "Way to go, 6! We wouldn't have found this without you. I guess we'll never lose anything again, with you around."
Disappointment melted away as he sheepishly rubbed his arm. He wanted to say that it wasn't his own doing, that the Voice had guided him, but he chose not to bother. The Voice was so good and honorable to him, he couldn't bear the thought of his friends not understanding if he tried to explain it.
"Is that really all we need?" 4 asked. "A barrel of oil and a match?"
5 gave her a wry smile. "You should have seen what little we got by with when the church burned down last night."
6 had to admit that he was proud of that, as well. It was the most action he had been a part of in a very long time, and it had forced him out of his dark corner to be a part of it. Ever since last night, he had been out in the open and unable to hide well, and he found he didn't mind as much as he thought he did. 5 had thought on his feet last night, too; 6 had only assisted with hotwiring the airplane propeller that dragged the monster to its doom, but he was honored to have been a part of it.
Maybe 5 didn't mind some of this as much as he had thought, either.
"All of you, come with me; I need to do something, and I want you nearby, in case another probe comes," he said after a pause, and started back the way they had come. The rest of them followed him, but he held up his hand for them to stop short.
"Stay here for a minute, and stay in the shadow," he instructed. "I'll be right back."
5 disappeared around the corner, where they had hidden from the probe. The twins both sat down and waited patiently for him to return, discussing something with each other in their flicker-speak. 6 decided to take this time to listen to what was going on around the bend. Sure enough, he could hear 5 and 1 arguing.
5 would never have dared question 1 before, let alone argue with him; but he wasn't sure why he remembered that.
"We need your help. There are already so few of us, we need every hand we can get!"
"This is folly! I'm not going to be led by you, of all people—to be led by that incompetent fool is bad enough, but by you is insulting!"
"No one asked you, and there's a reason."
"Stop pretending to know what you're doing, boy. You are no more able to keep these people safe than you were able to—"
"Don't!"
"You couldn't help him, and you can't help them. Who do you presume to be?"
"Who do you presume to be? What would you do?"
"If I was still in charge, we wouldn't even be here. If I was still in charge, we would all be safe, and alive. I was in charge, none of this would have happened in the first place!"
"Well, it has happened. What are you going to do about it?"
"Get out of here, of course! They're lost. There's no point in staying here, waiting to be picked off by another monster."
"They are not lost. They are coming back, and we are going to be ready when they do, and that is why 9 left me in charge. You would have abandoned him as soon as he was out of sight—you've abandoned all of us! He has never abandoned us, and we will not abandon him, either. So what are you going to do, 1? Are you going to run away on your own and leave your only friend to die without a fight, or are you going to be a part of something bigger than yourself, for once in your life?"
That had to have been the most incredible thing 6 had ever heard, perhaps as moving as the Voice. How long had 5 wanted to say all of that out loud? How long had everyone wanted to scream all of this in 1's ungrateful face? He could only imagine that his brother felt impossibly impressive, no matter what 1 had been moved to do.
A pause settled; if anymore words were exchanged, 6 couldn't hear them, and the twins obviously hadn't been paying attention. A moment later, 5 came back around the corner… And 1 trudged furiously behind him.
"Alright, everyone," 5 announced, "we've got to move that barrel back over here, as close as we can to where 9 went in. And then we wait."
"Wait for what?" asked 3.
"I don't' know yet. We just have to wait, and we'll know it when it comes."
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Working together, it didn't take the five of them long to move the barrel in place. Because of the crack in the otherwise sealed top, oil oozed out in a trail as they rolled it, which 5 said was also good; they could light the oil trail from a distance, gaining them more time to get out of the way of the explosion that was sure to come. 6 wasn't sure if the barrel itself was lighter than it looked, or if they were stronger than they looked. He wondered at his own strength, unsure how much effort had actually been his. And he thought of 3 and 4, the smallest of them all and probably the weakest, physically, and marveled at how much help they had been. Even the five of them alone were a formidable team, when 1 stopped fighting with everyone and started working with them. Imagine what they would be able to do, when 9 returned with 7 and 8. They would be unstoppable!
But he hadn't returned yet.
"It's been almost half an hour," 3 commented. "What do you think is going on in there?"
"I don't want to know," 4 answered fretfully. "I hope they're all okay…"
6 wondered if he should be concerned too, but the Voice stopped him.
All is well. Be still, and wait.
The others clearly felt no such thing; especially not 5, who was becoming antsy and impatient. At last he peered around the side of the barrel, into the gaping tunnel where 9 had gone. But it was still dark and empty, and no one was coming.
"Where are they?" he wondered nervously, gripping a match at the ready. Surely, they would be coming any moment now…
"It's been too long," 1 insisted. "We have to do it now!" He reached out and snatched the match out of 5's hand, intent on lighting the oil.
"No!" 5 exclaimed, grabbing the match and trying to wrench it back. "They need more time!"
They jerked the match back and forth until 6 thoughts they might break it. Then all of a sudden, a blaring light burst down from the red dawn sky over them. It was a probe, snuck up behind them and seen them at last. 1 let go of the match in a panic; 5 replaced the match in his pack and pulled out his handy crossbow. He aimed and fired it at the probe, sending an arrow with a long rope attached to it flying into the thing's balloon body. The probe knew at once that it had been attacked, and sounded a wailing warning signal to all other monsters around.
"Come on, help me pull it down," 5 said to them, and picked up the rope to haul it in. 6 and the twins fell in behind him to help, but the probe was stronger than them. It pulled back, dragging them along the ground with it.
6 glanced over his shoulder to look for 1, who was definitely not helping them with the rope. However, it turned out that he was. He had picked up the other end and lashed it to the barrel, by a piece of metal that had come away from it. The probe continued to fly off, only to stop abruptly when the rope ran out. It pulled the rope so hard that the rest of them were hauled into the air and then shaken violently to the ground. 6 nearly hit his head, and was so jarred that he nearly missed the Voice whispering again.
All is well. 9 is coming.
6 sat up at once, thrilled with the news. And it sounded like 1 knew it as well.
"They're coming!" the older man exclaimed, and came running to them. 5 held out his hand, thinking that 1 would help him up. 1 held his hand as well—but instead of taking 5's hand, he snatched the match out of his pack and ran off. 5 jumped to his feet on his own and ran after him.
"No!" he all but screamed this time, nearly tackling 1 to the ground as he grabbed hold of the match again. "Not yet!"
"Let go, you fool!"
Then, from out of the tunnel, there came a voice—not the Voice that only spoke in 6's head, but a voice that everyone could hear.
"5! We're coming!"
At last, 9 was coming back—hopefully with at least one of their lost comrades. That must have been the signal that 5 had been looking for. He yanked the match away from 1 and raked the red tip against the ground. The flame caught at once, and he touched the flame to the trail of oil. The flame spread over it, like a snake of glowing yellow fire. One end stopped short, with nowhere to continue to; but the other end hurried up to the barrel.
"Come on, everyone," 5 commanded, and they all pushed the barrel forward once more. Only a little further, and it would go rolling down into the tunnel… Where 9 was, 6 realized with a start. He didn't know the plan, brilliant as it was. How was he going to know to get out of the way?
Be still and do what you can. All will be well.
The barrel gave way and rolled down into the tunnel, and they all watched on the edge of their nerves as it clattered down and away. From around one side, 9 appeared—just barely missing getting crushed. Another figure appeared over the top of the barrel, leaping over and landing perfectly—7, of course. But no great hulking figure came after them.
Do not worry about 8. You will see him, in time.
That sounded ominous, but 6 chose not to worry about it. As it was, they had a larger concern. The probe was still attached by the rope to the barrel, and was getting dragged down into the tunnel as well. It was speeding toward them, and would haul them along with it. None of them remembered this at first, until—
You must move! Now!
"Look out!"
9 and the Voice both screamed at exactly the same time, so that 6 didn't understand at first what was said. Then they all turned to see the probe rushing toward them. They all dropped to the ground, just in time to miss the probe as it was dragged away into the darkness.
The barrel had been a close call; could 7 and 9 manage to evade the probe as well?
Of course, they did. They burst through the probe's paper body, a knife held before them to slice through it, and finally came out of the tunnel—safe with them, at last.
"We have to get out of the way," 7 insisted, not bothering to stop running, and causing everyone to run after her at once.
"Why are we running?" 3 asked, his flickering barely audible as a groaning, agonized roar rumbled out of the factory. "I wanted to see what would happen!"
"You'll see it, trust me."
The rumbling grew louder behind them, desperate and defeated. Whatever was happening because of that oil barrel must have been substantial; it sounded like the Machine was in pain, as easily as the rest of them could be, had been all day and all night. The idea filled 6 with less pity and more guilty pleasure than he was comfortable with, but he felt like he deserved to indulge in a little vengeance after all that monstrosity had put them through. The rumbling grew louder still, and the entire factory quaked, wracked with explosions inside. The towering chimneys began to crack and break apart, falling in gigantic pieces to the ground.
That was why they had to get out of the way. If they had remained where they were, something surely would have fallen on and crushed them. 6 thought suddenly of 8 again, and realized with a start that, whatever had happened to him, there was no way he would be rejoining them now.
Do not worry about 8. You will see him, in time.
6 wanted to stop and entertain this frightening new thought, but there was no time—if he didn't keep running from the crumbling factory, he would probably be joining 8 in the afterlife much sooner than he liked to think.
Waves of heat started rolling out of the building as flames enveloped it, unquenchable and destructive. A wall of almost unbearable heat hit them all, sending sand flying around them as well. He stumbled, wondering suddenly if he was going to melt or spontaneously catch fire. But he remained whole and unharmed, as did his six remaining companions, as they crossed the property line to safety. They all scrambled under a barbed wire fence and up a small hill, out of danger but not quite out of the heat, where they could see what they had left in their wake.
Total devastation, was what they had left. The factory was destroyed, another rampaging fire eating it away to nothing—which was perfectly fitting, considering how It had robbed them of their home by fire the previous night. Nothing moved now but the dancing flames. A dull red sun had risen, still low in the sky; it would grow lighter as it climbed, no doubt—it would probably turn to blazing yellow or white before noon; but for now, it accentuated their victory perfectly.
They had done this. With a match, a barrel of oil, and the whole team working together, they had done all of this. They had already lost two of their number, but seven remained, and they were all together again. They would be unstoppable now.
For a moment, they all stood still, catching their breath and admiring what they had done. But the twins could never stay still for very long; they composed themselves faster than the rest of the group, and wandered off a little way. 6 decided to follow them, and it seemed that 7 had decided to do the same.
"What did you find?" she asked, genuinely interested, not peeved at all that they had wandered off, or annoyed that the twins were too focused to answer her.
6 realized it was good to hear 7's mellow voice again. It had never occurred to him before how much he had missed it. In a time impossibly long ago, whenever he'd had nightmares, it had usually been her voice that had charmed him awake again, out of the terrors of his sub-consciousness and back to reality. He would hear her calling his name, a whisper at first, growing louder and louder, as if she was coming closer. It hadn't been too long after she had run away that the Voice started whispering to him in her place; in the beginning, he had thought that 7 and the Voice were one and the same. Even after it dawned on him that the Voice was something much bigger than any one of them, it had given him hope that 7 was still alive somewhere.
But as time went by, he had forgotten about her as much as he had forgotten about 5. It seemed like his hazy memories of them had been half-baked prophetic dreams, finally come to pass in this hour of need. They had been his friends once—his big sister and brother, who had loved him and taken care of him—but now they were like strangers, and he didn't know them at all anymore. Even if he couldn't' remember what they had been like before, it was clear that they had changed quite a bit over the past few years, and even the past few hours.
Had he changed much? It was difficult to tell, exactly. He certainly seemed to be the only one with any understanding or answers, anymore.
But for right now, even he had to admit that the Source could wait a bit. They had destroyed the Machine all by themselves, most of them were still alive and unharmed, and they were all tired from a long night and an exciting morning. They had earned a few hours of rest, he supposed. And, without the danger of the Machine or any of its monstrous creations, there was no reason to hurry, find a shelter to fall back to, or be worried. For the first time in any of their lives, they could completely relax and enjoy themselves for a while.
And the twins had found a perfect way to celebrate their victory: a rusty old phonograph sat nearby, a record already in place, and a box of others next to it. 6 had no idea how the contraption was supposed to work, but 3 and 4 were geniuses who knew pretty much everything. They climbed up on top of it and placed the needle on the vinyl disk; bracing themselves against the needle, they began to walk the record like a treadmill, making it spin around, until it had enough momentum to spin on its own. The music finally echoed out of the megaphone, scratchy at first, but then clear and charming.
It had been a long time since 6 had heard music. His last experience with music had been 7 singing him to sleep the night before she ran away, which he had happily forgotten until just now. In fact, now that he remembered her, and what music was like, he recalled that she used to sing him and the twins to sleep almost every night. He realized once again that he really liked music; it was like finding an old treasure, buried under years of other junk he never really cared about, and covered in a thick layer of dust—then blowing the dust away, and realizing what it was, being thrilled to see it again because he thought he had lost it forever. Several old, pleasant memories hit him upside the head. Mesmerized by the sweet, lilting melody from the record, and slightly dazed by his sudden sharpness of memory, he grinned.
While he wasn't paying attention, 5 came up behind him and hoisted him up onto his shoulders, spinning around in time to the music. What was this sound they were suddenly making? Could it be… laughter? 6 hadn't had a reason to laugh in a long time, either; he did so out of an instinct that had also been mostly forgotten. It felt so wonderfully good, he found he couldn't stop—and neither could 5.
"Remember when we used to do this, 6?" he asked. "You would get on my shoulders, and 3 would get on 7's, and we would all wrestle like this? You guys used to love that."
Oh yeah… He did remember, now that he thought of it. He wished that he had words to respond with, but he still couldn't stop laughing. But that was okay; his laughter seemed to be a good enough answer for 5, who kept spinning gently.
Somewhere around, though he couldn't see where, exactly, he heard 7 laughing too. She was happy. He vaguely remembered a few instances where she really had been so, most of those times also being associated with music and the still of the night; but there wasn't much there. Mostly, he remembered her—and everyone else, for that matter—being depressed, frightened, angry, and frustrated. All the time.
But today, she was alive, with her children and her brothers, and a very clever hero who had saved her life twice. Why shouldn't she be as happy as the rest of them?
Well, with the exception of 1, who had alienated himself from them again. His spirits obviously weren't as high as everyone else's. 6 supposed he must feel sad about 8, who had clearly been lost. No one else was going to stop to mourn the loss; 8 had been mean and bossy, quick to punch or trip people for no reason, for sheer amusement. Most of them—including 6—were happy that he was out of the way, even if it meant that they were short a warrior and down another member of their pathetic number.
But 1 was sad. He would mourn for 8, as surely as the rest of them had mourned for 2—even if it wasn't quite the same.
5 spun closer to the megaphone, and 6 suddenly heard his own goofy laughter echoing in the rusty metal cone. His interest snapped to and he stopped laughing for a moment.
"Want to get closer?" 5 asked. Without waiting for a response—perhaps knowing that he wouldn't really get one anyway—he walked up to the megaphone. The inside was hollow, wide at the front and very narrow at the back, and the music seemed to fly out of it and hit him in the face.
"Soooooound," he called into it. It was like the wailing of a ghost, and it completely contradicted the happy, cheery tone of the music. This was fun! He scrambled to stand up on his brother's shoulders, so that he could lean into the funnel.
"Soooooooooound!" he sang, a little louder this time. Now he tried to climb into the funnel itself, so he could sit there and make all the noise he wanted to without killing 5's shoulders. But it was tilted at a weird angle, and he slipped and fell out before he could find a foothold. He found himself on the record, revolving below the funnel, and it was pulling him toward the needle. Well aware of what needles could do—no matter where they were or function they served—he scrambled off the record. He would have fallen off the device and hit the ground, if 5 hadn't rushed up and caught him.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
6 nodded; he was perfectly fine. 5 smiled, satisfied, and patted him on the head, tousling his frayed hair. Then he walked away to look at the other records in the box.
6 looked around at what the others were doing. 1 was still sitting away from them, facing the burning factory and looking impossibly disheartened, in spite of everything. 5 had busied himself with the other records. 3 and 4 were taking turns riding the phonograph's hand-crank, which spun up and down like a Ferris wheel as the record turned. 7 and 9 were sitting together on top of the megaphone, talking. Curious, not considering that what they were saying was none of his business, he stopped to watch and listen.
"I've misjudged you," 7 was saying. "I haven't been very patient or nice to you, and… I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault," 9 insisted, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "A lot was going on; I don't know if I would have been patient or nice, myself. Anyway, you're very brave."
7 scoffed. "Me? Speak for yourself. The monster took us, you knew where it would bring us, and you came after us anyway. How, if you're not at least as brave as I am? And why?"
"…Why is harder to answer right now. I don't know if I have the right words yet."
"You did only get here yesterday… Has anyone told you how much like 2 you are?"
"At least three times. I guess it must be true."
"That's good. 2 was a good person to be like; we all tried to be more like him, but we all failed. But it's got to be better than being like me."
"How could you say that?" 9 demanded, suddenly sounding a little cross. "Never say things like that about yourself. There's nothing wrong with you; you're perfect."
She smiled an uncharacteristically humble smile. "…Again, thank you."
He took her hand in his free one and just held it for a moment. "When that thing took you… Of all the things I've done so far, it was the most terrifying thing I've felt. I thought I would never see you again."
"I thought I would never see you again, 9. I kept wishing that… If I could see you, just one more time before I—"
"Never mind. It's over now. We're safe, and together. Everything is going to be fine."
6 smiled. He didn't doubt this, and 7 didn't seem to, either. Even if 9 was scatterbrained and a little too unwitting for his own good, he would certainly take care of them keep them safe, but not resort to locking them up like animals in order to do so. For the first time in his life, he felt safe.
He couldn't help but think of 2, though—the only one of them he remembered or knew anymore, because he was always around, keeping a watchful eye on him. But 2 was gone now. No one would have been happier to relax like this than 2; he had always had to be tense, and it had clearly been wearying. 6 wished that 2 could be with them... But he recalled what the twins said about a mystical place called Valhalla, where the souls of warriors went when they died. It was agreed that their father's soul must be there, and that he must be watching them, even if he couldn't be with them. That, at least was comforting.
Not so, not so. Not at this time. But there is hope. You will see it soon, and you will understand. You will understand, and so will 9. He will know what to do, but not if you don't tell him what you know.
The Voice had been silent for a bit, and it's unnerving message startled 6. That didn't sound very good, at all. What did It mean, "Not So"? They had lost track of 2's body before, sure, but they had gotten it back—they had laid him to rest and mourned for him properly, hadn't they? He was dead, his soul departed from his body. So… his soul had to be somewhere, didn't it? Where else would it be, but at rest in Valhalla, or wherever souls went when they left their bodies?
Not so, not so. Wait and see. Not much longer now. Keep your eyes open—
"Hey, 6! Come here and check this out!"
3's flickering voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and made the Voice vanish as suddenly as it had come. But it was a welcome disruption; the things the Voice was saying were becoming frightening, and unusually cryptic. He got up and inched closer to the other side of the phonograph.
"Yes?" he asked quietly, almost inaudible over the music. The twins were still taking turns on the hand-crank. It was 3's turn, and he flickered his sentence in parts as he rode past.
"This is really fun… We've been at it… For a while and… 4 and I are starting… To get dizzy… Wanna try it?"
"You'd love it!" 4 added from the ground. "Anyway, the record would make a neat merry-go-round, and we'd sure like to try it. It's like this whole thing is an amusement park, but our size!"
6 had noticed this before, and thought he would like to give it a try. Before he switched places with the twins, though, a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye got his attention. It was 5, who had lost one of the records out of the box. It rolled away down the slope, and he ran after it to try and retrieve it. Above them, 7 and 9 laughed at their friend's antics.
"I should probably go help him," 9 suggested, and reluctantly hopped down from the megaphone, being careful not to land on the twins as they climbed onto the spinning record.
Keep your eyes open.
6 decided to blatantly ignore the Voice this time; he was having too much fun right now to let it get him down, if it wasn't going to help him. Anyway, it was difficult to keep a sharp eye on anything as he sat on the hand-crank, going up and down, up and down, up and down, until the world sort of blurred together.
Keep your eyes open! It's not over yet!
Almost as soon as the Voice bellowed furiously in his head, he heard 5's voice, screaming in terror.
"Everybody run! It's the Machine!"
They all snapped to attention at once to see mechanical horror in it's terrible six-legged body looming up the hill, out of the dust and heat, charging after diminutive 5 as he tried to get away. The twins were stunned, losing their balance and being launched off the record, knocking 6 from the hand-crank to the ground, where they landed in a panicked tangle. 7 jumped to the ground in front of them, blocking them from the monster's sight, and blocking the sight from them.
In mere seconds, the monster had snapped 5 up in its huge claw. 9 and 1 were closest—surely they would help 5 get away. And 9 did try, running out to meet him and maybe draw the Machine's attention for a moment—but 1 caught him and hauled him back, not letting him get away.
6 wished he was bold enough to swear. What did 1 think he was doing? 9 could help 5, somehow, if only he could get away and do something! 5 was going to die, for sure, this way!
The Machine suddenly seemed to power down, and for one shining moment they all thought the thing had malfunctioned, that it had only been the equivalent of a death rattle or convulsive post-mortem twitching. But instead, all its energy went into something fixed to its chest; it seemed to glow green and crackle with lightening-like power.
Keep your eyes open this time! This is important! It is the Source—the Machine has the Source!
6 couldn't believe his ears, partially because he didn't have any. It suddenly made sense! The Source had the power to give life, as well as take it away; the Voice had explained this before. When the others were upset because the Machine had killed 2, It hadn't just crushed him and injured him, like he had thought. No, this was by far worse: the Machine had used the Source to suck out his soul! It had certainly done the same to 8; 7 had just barely missed the same fate, but 5 wasn't to be so lucky.
But… Where were the souls that had been taken? Where had they gone?
6 didn't get much time to think about this. He couldn't hear 5 anymore over the paralyzing crackling of energy, and he couldn't bring himself to look away from what little he could actually see. 7 might have guarded him better, but she appeared to be just as stunned as he was—and rightfully so.
It was like a spider, draining the life from a fly caught in its web. It was fascinating yet grotesque and demented to watch. Like any spider, supreme and uncaring in its little universe, the Machine finished its ghastly work and dropped 5's body on the ground, lifeless.
Somewhere behind them, sounding distant and surreal, the insensitive phonograph continued to play.
I know how hard it is, but you must pay attention in this moment. Look at its eye now, and all will become clear.
All that 6 wanted to do was look away, run away, get away from this thing that had just killed his brother in front of him and would surely come for the rest of them… When it pulled itself together, anyway. It seemed to be dazed, dizzy from the use of such power. Its monstrous eye had gone from evil red to sickly green as it ripped 5's soul away, but now it was turning orange. Even from the distance, he could see a strange, misty figure in the blank orange void. It looked like…
It was 5. Everything was clear now. When the Machine used the Source to take their souls, those souls weren't being released—they were being locked inside the Machine itself, making it stronger and stronger, giving it something to feed off of. 2 really wasn't in Valhalla, and neither were 8 or 5: they were being held prisoner!
"They're trapped…" he mumbled, moved to words where his friends had been moved to silence. "They're trapped!"
No one was terribly moved by his sudden speech, though. There was only one thing left that they could do—run. When he didn't make any move to follow the rest of them, 9 grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him away with the others.
They will make plans to destroy it. To destroy it seems best; to destroy it seems right. But they must not do so yet! If the Machine is destroyed now, the Source will be taken with it, and the Lost will remain so, un released and without rest.
You must not let them destroy it yet. Give this to 9; no matter what happens, he must know this! Tell him what you know. Send him back to the First Room; there are answers for him there that we cannot give him. But He has them. He holds the final answer. All these things, you must tell him.
The Voice told him all of this as they continued to run toward a nearby bridge of rusting metal and decaying, splintering wood. It might have borne the weight of the Machine once upon a time, but there was no way it would now. As the Voice faded and 6 snapped back to what was going on, he realized what would happen when the Machine followed them over the rickety bridge. The bridge would break under it, sending it plummeting down into the ravine below—destroying it!
"No!" he shrieked, jerking away from 9 and running back the way they had come. "We mustn't destroy it!"
"Come on, 6," 9 insisted, running after him. He all but picked him up off his feet and dragged him away as the Machine loomed closer. Even 6 had to agree that, perhaps, running might be a little more pertinent. So he let 9 put him back down and they ran to join the others. They were more than half-way across the bridge, almost to the other side; behind them, the bridge broke apart under the Machine's terrible weight. Only a few beams of rusted metal held the thing together, and the Machine began to pull itself back up.
Seeing it climbing up, 7 jumped to action, taking her spear and trying to pry up the rails that still supported the bridge. If they fell away, they would take the Machine with them.
"No! You mustn't destroy it!" 6 yelled again, dashing back to try and stop her. "They're trapped inside!"
"Get away, 6," she yelled back. Oh, why did he bother with her? She thought he was just a lunatic, babbling nonsense and putting them all in danger. It wasn't 7 he was supposed to be warning, after all. 9 was right behind him, trying to drag him off with the others again.
Tell him! This is your only chance!
Before 9 could even touch him, he whirled around and grabbed him—the hero, the one of promise who was supposed to save them—by the shoulders, and forced him to look him in the eye.
"You mustn't destroy it!" he babbled. "Don't destroy it, don't destroy it! They're trapped inside—they're inside!"
He hadn't even finished yet, but something between them suddenly seemed to click. 6 could only imagine that he must look just as crazy as everyone thought he was—a raving lunatic, babbling nonsensically about leaving the monster that was after them alive. But something flashed across 9's face, and he stopped still for a minute as the something sank in.
He believed him! 9 really believed him! Maybe he still didn't understand completely, but who cared? The message had been given, and it had been accepted. His mission was done.
And just in time. A final attempt to claw its way back onto the bridge failed, and the Machine went crashing down—but it reached out its claw and snatched 6 out of the air, dragging him with it. They swung down and back, crashing violently against the ravine wall. They were alone, he and the Machine. He knew what would happen next…. Surprisingly, he wasn't as bothered by this as he should have been.
The Voice had warned him that he would see 8 again soon.
The last message! Give him the last message!
6 had partially forgotten about the last part of his mission. Safe on the other side of the ravine, he could see 7 and 9 watching him helplessly, unable to do anything to save him. They could see that he was lost now, and there was nothing they could do about it. Even from the distance, he could see that they were devastated and afraid for him.
But he was only worried that 9 wouldn't get the message he needed. The Machine was about to kill him, and there would be no more help from him.
"Go back to the first room!" he hollered, hoping 9 would hear him. "He'll show you the Source!"
He turned to face the monster, and tried not to shake. Would dying in this way hurt? What would it be like, to be trapped inside the Machine, making it stronger and stronger against his own friends?
Be not afraid, 6. No matter where you go, I will always be with you, even trapped in the heart of the Machine. This thing may take you now, but I will not abandon you. You are too precious in my sight; all of you are. Be still, and know that I will take care of they who remain. All will be well.
He stared the Machine in the eye, knowing it could see him perfectly, knowing it could understand him.
"I'm not afraid," he informed it quietly.
The Machine didn't care. It powered down, powered back up, and killed him without a second thought, thinking it had been victorious, not knowing how utterly it had just been foiled.