Pining for Christmas
9: Perchance to Scream
Neither of them felt like hitting Greasy's, Yumberjacks, or even the fancy French restaurant, so they visited the market instead and bought simple sandwich fixings: turkey, tomato, lettuce, a baguette of crusty French bread. "Is this going to be enough for you?" Dipper asked. "You haven't had anything much to eat."
"Dude, neither have you," she said. They went back to the Corduroy house around sundown—"Place seems weird, so quiet and all," Wendy said, and each of them insisted on making the sandwiches . . . so they wound up side by side in the kitchen, Dipper making a sandwich for Wendy and vice-versa.
"Man," she said, "I'm training my brothers in helping around the house. Want to come over and be a role model, Dip?"
"Any time you ask me," he said. They knew each other's taste—Wendy put pepper jack cheese and lettuce but no tomato on his, he put tomato, lettuce, and he put the works, plus some horseradish mayo, on hers. They added raw veggies to their meal (little carrots, celery sticks, a few olives, and some crisp sweet pickles), as well as the last of a family-sized bag of potato chips ("Amazed my brothers left any," Wendy said). Wendy also chopped together some fruit for a salad that would serve as dessert, a banana, some apples, red grapes, some walnuts, and Mandarin orange slices from a small can, with a little mayo to moisten.
They took the food and a couple of Pitt's into the living room on trays, sat on the loveseat, and turned on the TV. "Getting cold," Wendy observed. "I'll adjust the thermostat after we eat. Right now, we can just sit close together."
That suited Dipper. As they ate, she switched on the TV, and they caught a weather report—overcast with some light rain forecast for the next day, high of 42, low of 34—and watched "Cash Wheel" right after the news and weather. Though it wasn't a favorite of theirs, they got pulled into guessing the hidden words as the contestants guessed letters. One four-word phrase, three letters, two, four, and four, turned out to be "NOT ON YOUR LIFE," which Wendy got when only the N's and F were showing.
Dipper tended to overthink the clues, and Wendy won their informal game, four correct answers to his two. She even got the single-word bonus, HELPFUL, with just the E and P showing.
"See," Dipper complained, "the contestant asked for B, C, D, P, and E! If she'd asked for S, H, R, D, and L plus E, I might have got it!"
"Yeah, yeah—tell you this, though, Stan's like a Ninja master at this game. The few times he and I watched together, I like never won against him!"
Dipper grinned. "You know, that time when Mabel took over the Shack, Grunkle Stan won a whole bunch of money on this show before losing it all."
"Yeah, I remember," Wendy said, laughing. "'Cuz he didn't know the meaning of the word 'please!'"
"Funny," Dipper said. "Stan always has trouble with please, Ford with thank you."
"Not so strange, dude," Wendy said. "You and Mabes are, like, all pre-planning versus all random, thoughtless action. Polar opposite twins. That's like a television trope. You can look it up!"
"Yeah, you're right about the two of us. Wendy, Mabel worries me," Dipper admitted.
Wendy finished the last of her cola and put her arm over his shoulder. "She still in the dumps?"
Dipper leaned against her. "Not so much. She's really excited about seeing Teek again next week. I think she's kinda getting over Russ. She thinks she was in love with him, but I really believe it's more a case of her not really knowing the guy all that well. It's easy to fantasize about falling in love with someone you don't really know—at least it is for her. And I don't have to tell you how quick on the draw she is—'Hi, I'm Mabel. Do you like my sweater? I made it myself! Want to get married?'"
Wendy chuckled. "Yeah, impulsive. But mostly harmless. Do I need to have another girl-to-girl talk with her, you think?"
Dipper squirmed. "I don't know. If you don't mind, though, yeah. See, it's hard for me to talk to her—well, OK, lately she's been teasing me a lot. She keeps talking about, I don't know, going without her clothes."
"You're kidding!" Wendy's face clouded. "Wait, wait, did that stupid body-paint picture make her think that I—that when you and I get together—'cuz I would never go around just in paint, man, not even if it was just you—crap!"
"I know what you mean, Lumberjack Girl," Dipper said. "Don't get all flustered."
"That damn picture! I shouldn't have done it to start with, but me and Tambry just got terminally bored that day and it just seemed like a big joke. Should've drawn the line when she wanted to take pictures, though! Sorry if that's turned Mabel all ga-ga."
"That was a little part of it," Dipper admitted. "But she got on this kick earlier. I don't know if it's just teasing me or if she's getting some kind of perverted thing going on in her head, or what."
"Hormones, Dip," Wendy said. "That's probably all it is. Girls get some strange notions when they're going through puberty."
"I thought just guys did," Dipper told her. "I, uh, this one time? I drew your face on a pillow case, so I could, you know, look at it while, uh, while going to sleep and all."
"That's sweet," Wendy said, surprising him. "But girls do goofy stuff, too, and with Mabes it might be real goofy. She's developing, Dip. Curious about whether guys find her attractive. Testing her limits. Probably just trying to get a rise out of you—teasing, you know." She paused and blushed. "Long as she doesn't do something dumb like send Teek a sexting photo, like that one of me—"
"You didn't send it," Dipper said.
Wendy sighed. "Yeah, I was so mad at Tambry! But then all this junk came along and kinda put it in proportion, so I'm just gonna let it drop. I am tempted to send her a copy of her picture though—'cept she'd probably just forward it to Robbie!" She blushed an even rosier shade and muttered, "So, uh, Dip? What did you think of, uh, you know?"
"I've kind of seen you before," he reminded her. "At Moon Trap Pond, remember. Before that, when we used the electron carpet, though I swear I didn't look, you know, under your clothes even when I was in your body. And—well—it's so hard for me to talk about this!" He took her hand and thought to her, What did I think of the picture? You're so beautiful!
Thank you, man. One day.
—But not tonight.
Nope. Tonight, we're gonna be good. OK, man, I sleep in boxer shorts and a tee. You?
—Just gonna keep my clothes on. Except I'm changing to my old jeans—these new ones are stiff!
I'll toss 'em in the wash before we turn in and dry them tomorrow with a softener sheet. That will make them more comfortable. Go change now if you want. I promise not to peek!
They kissed, and Dipper went into Wendy's room, where he'd left his old jeans folded over her chair. He took off the new ones—they could practically stand unaided—and slipped his softer, more comfortable ones on, but he kept the soft black flannel shirt. As she had promised, Wendy popped the jeans into the washer, together with a couple of pairs of her own. They watched a TV show about two brothers investigating the supernatural—when one of them got surprised by a demon, Wendy said, "Boo! Me an' Dip would've seen that coming!"—and then she transferred the jeans to the dryer.
By then it was close to nine. Wendy called her dad's hospital room and talked first to her aunt Sallie—who was going to stay right up until the end of visiting hours and who insisted Wendy tell her exactly what had happened to Dan "because he's so Corduroy stubborn he won't say anything much to me about it." Wendy explained it was a freak accident, a tall pine that must have been leaning already and after the storms the soil around its roots had loosened enough to let it collapse all at once. "Dad scrambled, and it didn't hit him square," she finished, "but it got his leg."
Only then did her aunt let Wendy talk to Dan, who was sharper than he had been, the anesthetics finally wearing off, and who seemed cheered at her report that she and Dipper had, between them, finished the McCree job. "Yeah," Dipper heard her say, "he paid us in full. I dropped the check in the bank and returned the equipment to RentThemTools. They said you'd prepaid, and we were on time, so no balance due."
Dan had more detailed instructions for her that went on for three or four minutes, but finally Wendy said, "Dad, between now and New Year's it's gonna be slack. It always is."
A pause, and then she said, "No way. We'll call off Apocalypse Training for this year. . .. 'Cuz you can't go, and I'm not gonna freeze my butt off with the boys, that's why! You know they won't mind me! You have to keep 'em in line. Maybe you can double up and do one next summer with them and then one next Christmas!"
More silence as Dan talked. Then Wendy said, "Don't worry about all of that. I talked to Junior, and he'll get leave from his job to come down and take over in January. You can make the appointments and keep the books and all and he'll take care of the logging and the carpentry, and maybe when you're up and around, you can go on the jobs with him and supervise. Don't worry about the business, it'll be OK."
Then Dan said something that went on for a long time. "Junior can take over my room," Wendy said, "and I'll sleep over in the Shack. Melody can use help with the baby, and I can drive over every day after school to keep the house running. Yeah, I'll cook on the afternoons when I don't have night school, but you gotta make Junior help, too. How's that? OK, we'll talk about it."
When she was off the phone, Wendy rolled her eyes. "Dad. For every solution, there's four more problems! But if Soos and Melody are cool with it, I'll bunk in at the Shack until Dad's well enough for Junior to leave again. I mean, Junior's too old and too big to share the boys' room now, so he can take mine until June or whatever."
"Uh, where would you, uh, in the Shack—" Dipper began.
She shoved his shoulder playfully. "In the attic, dude! You wouldn't mind having me in your bed, would you?"
It was his turn to blush, but he managed to smile and shake his head. "Never," he whispered hoarsely.
They decided to turn in early—Wendy was exhausted after everything that had happened, and Dipper felt tired, too. Wendy prepared for bed and then called him in. She was wearing flannel boxers—plaid, of course, red and black—and a black tee shirt. "I'll sit beside your bed," Dipper offered, his hand on her chair.
She made a face, got into bed and threw back the covers. "Get in here with me! You gonna wear your jeans for real?"
"Uh, yeah. Let me change into a tee shirt, though."
He did and then slipped in next to her. "It's getting cool."
"Snuggle up," she said. "Listen, Dip: I don't think you ought to sit up in the chair because the—I dunno, the Dreamsnake, I call it, the thing I think I see or hallucinate or something—it flows around on the floor. Don't want your feet down there in its range. Mainly, now, I want you to hold my arm or some deal, because if it comes, I want to make sure I'm really seeing it, and it's not just in my head."
"I should have brought my night-vision goggles," Dipper told her. "Only I didn't know about all this."
"Your being here's enough. Give me a goodnight kiss and then let's try to get some sleep, OK?"
It was a chaste kiss, lips, no tongue. She lay on her side with her back to him, and he sort of spooned her—though he didn't dare press too close—and felt her hair between them and smelled its fragrance. He held onto her arm just above the crook of her elbow. She sent him a thought: Warm enough?
—Yeah, feels good.
Thanks for understanding, Dip. If I get a nightmare or some deal, wake me up, OK? 'Cuz I'm not really sure whether something's really going on or if I'm just having crazy dreams.
—I'm here for you, Wendy.
He felt her mood settle, and very soon he knew that she had fallen asleep. He felt her consciousness slide away, like someone relaxing into a warm pool.
Dipper determined to stay awake and be vigilant, though. But the warmth of the girl under the covers with him, the regular soft sound of her breathing, lulled him.
As she slept peacefully, he lay facing the wall with her bedroom window in it, and he could barely make it out, a gray rectangle barred where the four big panes joined, a heart-shaped hanging prism just faintly visible. No moon rode in the sky—it was close to a new moon, anyway—and the clouds might have slipped over Gravity Falls like the lid of a pot.
Everything was quiet—he could hear, very faintly, the ticking of the pendulum clock in the kitchen. Once a pine cone dropped onto the tin roof on the other side of the house and rattled down to fall off the eaves.
From the distance came a shrill, peculiar cry: "Whoop! Whoop! . . . Whoo! . . . Whoo!" It had an eerie, almost electronic sound, but immediately Dipper thought, Spotted owl, male. How did I even know that?
Of course. He was touching Wendy, and even though she slept, her knowledge of the ways and wildlife of the woods must have seeped into his mind. He sent her a silent message: I'm so in love with you.
He didn't get a mental response, but she murmured and sounded happy, though she did not wake up.
Comfortable, warm, and relaxed, and despite his resolution to stay alert, Dipper slipped into sleep.
They had gone to bed about ten. He woke sharply sometime around midnight, feeling cold inside. And certain that the two of them were no longer alone.
Something's happening!
Wendy still slept on, her arm warm and relaxed beneath his palm. Cautiously, Dipper raised his head from the pillow they shared.
His eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness, and he could make out the contours of the room, though the only light came from the little red power bulb on her phone charger and the one on the satellite box attached to her TV. He could see the door of her closet, to the side of the dresser that doubled as her TV stand.
Hadn't it been . . . closed?
He was almost sure it had been closed. Now a wedge of blackness made it look slightly ajar, cracked three inches or so.
No intruding sound, though. Just the faint, soft ticking of the clock. No creak of hinge, no whisper of belly scales across the hardwood floor. No hissing breaths.
Slowly, Dipper sat up in the bed, his palm still touching Wendy's arm. He could see the floor, but it was all darkness down there, nothing visible.
"Mmm, nooo," Wendy murmured, stirring. Dread radiated from her skin into Dipper's hand.
He felt her wake up and mentally reassured her: I'm here.
Dipper, it's started. It's happening again!
—Can't see anything.
Look through my eyes!
Wow. Wendy must have great night vision, Dipper thought.
She answered his thought: Yeah, I do. See it now?
—Where?
Comin' around to your side. It's under the bed!
Dipper shifted and stared downward. Now he could make out the floor—the individual boards, dim though they were. Oh, it was still murky, but he could see a lot more than he had earlier. Experimentally, he moved his hand, and when his contact with Wendy broke, everything went dark. He touched her again—and saw the sinister shadow form come pouring out, from beneath the bed, restlessly moving in swirls and arcs.
—It doesn't look real. Two-dimensional, more a shadow than a creature. Want to turn on the light?
Wendy's emotions fluctuated, alarm and then a strange kind of relief. She thought, No, then it just vanishes. So you can see it, too?
—I can see something.
How do we fight it?
—Wait, wait, it's doing something!
Though it was not like their telepathy, Dipper felt a radiating interest from the dark, crawling thing—or just an awareness of the two of them, maybe—and a sinister feeling of triumph.
Wendy rolled over and then sat next to him. "Dude," she said, "it's humping up!"
Dipper felt the prickle of fear—the kind of fear you have when a snake squirms across your path, when you feel a tickle on your neck and realize a spider has dropped down your collar.
The darkness had gathered in a pool, and now the pool was rising, bulging up, looking like a smooth, globe-topped cylinder of tar, a huge upside-down test-tube shape, but absolutely black.
"Dipper, what's it doing?"
He couldn't tell her. It flattened and flared, like a cobra spreading its hood. It leaned—
"Run!" Dipper yelled, but too late.
The living darkness collapsed on them, as the tree had on Dan—
It enveloped them—
And Dipper lost his hold. He felt himself falling, but he never hit anything solid. "Wendy! Where are you?"
He heard no answer. The darkness stopped his ears. It held him in a cold, slimy grip. He was drowning in it.
"Wendy! Wendy!"
