[AUTHOR'S NOTE: While I missed my Halloween deadline, I'm at least happy to say I've hit the start of the third act. With any luck, this story will be done by the end of the year. Until next time, Happy Thanksgiving everyone.]
Laying in bed feigning sleep only reminded Fear that even if he hadn't made an appointment to meet with Anger tonight, he'd still be denied a good night's rest by his stress. The weight of Halloween's imminence held him tightly and worse still was the guilt of how he had treated Sadness and how it gnawed at the back of his mind. In the darkness he heard Joy giggle in her sleep, no doubt in the midst of a good dream. A kind of dream he'd never know the likes of.
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Anger sliding out of bed and stalking across the room to the door. The red emotion beckoned him with a silent finger. Fear gulped, carefully rising to follow. He was led down into headquarters where the only light was from the dream playing on the view screen.
Rainbow Unicorn was frolicking through a field of glittery flowers as candy rained down on her from above. She lifted up a hallowed out pumpkin to catch the bounty as she whinnied gleefully, tossing her hair about like a supermodel. And for whatever reason, this was all happening in slow motion.
Fear would have made some snarky criticism about the dream's directorial choices if he hadn't noticed Sadness at the console. A part of him longed to go over to her and make another attempt at apologizing, but stopping him was his awkward lack of anything resembling a convincing argument for her to forgive him, the fact that Anger was standing there to witness any doomed attempt at said apology, and the most obvious fact that Sadness was asleep in her chair.
"Ha, just like clockwork." Anger eagerly noted. "She always falls asleep during her dream duty shift. Which means she won't rat us out for doing this." He maneuvered around her and stealthily as possible programmed something into the console.
The recall tube descended half way and he gestured for Fear to climb into it.
"Babies first." He offered.
Fear flinched, then glared distrustfully, "You want me to go in there? You never said anything about us leaving Headquarters!"
"If I had, would you have still agreed to go along with this plan?" Anger asked.
"Well, I, uh…"
Taking Fear's hesitation as a good enough answer, Anger resumed; "Right. Besides, what I got planned can't be done here. So get in."
He started to shove the taller emotion, but Fear shrugged him off and entered the tube of his own volition. Through the transparent glass he saw Anger stomp the engage button and a whoosh of air pulled him upwards into the inky black tube system.
Fear screamed with unbridled terror as he was pushed along blindly through the claustrophobic tunnels at rapid speeds until it dumped him out roughly onto a pile of memories. Five second later Anger dropped out and would have landed on the disoriented Fear if not for a last second roll out of the way.
Fear had barely recovered from his tumble when Anger pulled him up by the collar and ordered him to "Come on."
He found himself dragged past the collection bin at the entrance to Long Term towards one of the towering islands suspended over the Memory Dump drop off.
"Hockey Island?" Fear asked with confusion. "What are we doing here?"
"Oh, you'll see." Anger said too eagerly for Fear's comfort.
They traversed the bridge and entered the open area. The chilly island was dark while Riley slept, save for the huge scoreboard suspended over the massive skating arena in the middle of the island, each of its four Jumbotron screens playing a different hockey related memory or fantasy. Anger searched around a moment and found a power switch that lit up spotlights surrounding the rink. Illuminating the arena, they could see it was an amalgamation of elements from the various places Riley had skated at over her life: the stadium the Foghorns currently practiced at, the Groundhogs' home rink back in Minnesota, along with bits and pieces of various stadiums Riley had seen on TV or read about in Hockey magazines, there was even a grassy patch near the south end that resembled the one next to the frozen pond Riley skated on with her family every Minnesota winter.
Anger marched to the equipment shed and rummaged through it while Fear distractedly looked around. The lights being on helped put the purple emotion at ease, but he didn't feel comfortable being there at night when it was dormant and empty, Mind Workers and imaginary beings having gone home for the night. He still felt some nervous jitter that being there would get them into trouble. His mind preoccupied, he didn't notice Anger throwing goalie pads at him until they hit him.
"Here, put these on." The red one ordered.
"Why?" Fear asked, eyeing the safety equipment with trepidation. Anger sighed, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, we're going to a costume party…" He said sarcastically before shouting, "We're playing hockey, dummy! Why do you think I brought you here?! Now put these on, unless you want me to shoot pucks at you without padding."
Fear fell out of his defensive stance and began pulling on the pads and protective mask. Anger grabbed a hockey stick and a duffle bag stuffed with every puck he could find.
Anger skated out to the center of the rink. The ice being imaginary, there was no need for skates, one less thing for Fear to worry about as he approached the edge of the rink. He hesitated, trying to ensure he had a stable footing. He had observed Riley skating her whole life, but he personally had never done it before.
He gulped to settle his nerves, let go of the sideboards and pushed off, gliding until he ran out of momentum. Awkwardly, he shuffled his feet in a feeble attempt to keep going only to nearly loose his balance, pinwheeling his arms to keep upright.
"Will you stop dilly-dallying?" Anger snarled, "I don't want to be standing here all night long!"
Remembering how Riley always did it, he pushed off on one foot and found himself moving forward effortlessly. He smiled, seeing as how he wasn't going to fall flat on his face and allowed the muscle memory to take him across the rink to the goal zone Anger was facing. Grabbing the side of the goal to come to a safe stop, he took his position inside of it.
"Heh, that was actually kinda fun." He admitted.
"Well, playtime's over Boitono." Anger huffed. "Now it's time for business." He dumped out his duffle bag, creating a pile of pucks as tall as he was. Scooping a puck in front of him with the stick's blade, he readied himself for a shot. "Here's the plan: I shoot pucks at you, and you block them."
Fear raised an eyebrow. "And this prepares me for the haunted house, how?"
Anger drew back his arms and whacked the puck as hard as he could. It flew through the air at a frightening speed, frightening enough that Fear squealed in terror and ducked to avoid getting struck right between the eyes. The puck hit the net with a swish and a loud buzzer sounded from the scoreboard, signaling that a goal had been made.
Leaning on his stick, Anger looked at Fear smugly as the latter trembled, recovering from the close encounter.
"Scary, right?" He asked assumptively. Fear could only nod meekly. "The way I see it, if you can get over the fear of a puck flying at your head, you can get up the nerve to handle anything that might pop out at Riley during our visit to the haunted house." He pulled over another puck and lined up his next shot. "So, let's get crackin'."
"Okay, I just need a minute to get mentally prepared for…AHHH!" Fear tried to say before the puck came at him. He dodged it, only for another to come speeding in his direction. A constant barrage of hard rubber projectiles continued to bear down on him, with him avoiding every shot with a speed that was surprising considering all the bulky padding he had on.
"Stay still, dip-stick!" Anger snarled, becoming more frustrated with every scream from Fear and every buzz from the scoreboard. He lined up his next shot and smacked it with all the force in his rage, his head igniting as he let out a roar.
The puck soaring squarely at him, Fear dove to the ice. He huddled there, gloved hands covering his head and face as he shivered with fright.
Anger growled and skated over to the goal. He tapped Fear's helmet with the butt of his stick and glared down at him.
"What is wrong with you?" He demanded. "I give you one little instruction and you foul it up! Do you think Riley should be acting like this during a game?!"
Fear peeked up through his facemask and stammered. "But, Riley doesn't play goalie."
Anger looked like he was using every last ounce of self control to not throttle Fear right then and there.
"It doesn't matter that Riley doesn't play goalie! What matters is that she keeps it together on the ice so she can play the game! What you need is to get your priorities straight!"
"My priorities are perfectly fine." Fear insisted, sliding a bit before getting to his feet. "My intentions are to ensure Riley doesn't get hurt. It's my nature to avoid danger. So sorry if having slap shots lobbed at me and a billion miles per hour takes me out of my comfort zone." He crossed his arms, confident that his argument was sound.
Anger, however was not persuaded.
"Your comfort zone?" The red one threw his arms in disbelief. "Oh, heaven forbid I violate your comfort zone!" he rubbed the space between his eyes and let out an irritated sigh. "Let me tell you something: Life isn't always going to be 'comfy'. Sometimes, life can be a real jerk!" He poked Fear in the chest with his stick for emphasis. "And when life starts to jerk you around, you can't hide; you have to fight back! And fighting back means you have to be able to take a hit!" He skated back to the blue line and queued up another puck. "If you keep avoiding the hard things in life, Riley's going to miss out on all the fun. But you're too selfish to care. All you're concerned about is your precious comfort zone."
"T, That isn't true!" Fear stuttered in protest.
"Then prove it!" Challenged Anger, drawing back his stick. "Are you gonna keep ducking pucks, or are you gonna start protecting that goal?"
Anger's accusation had stung, mostly because Fear worried that he was right. He had been acting selfish lately, aiming for avoiding an uncomfortable confrontation with Joy rather than being honest. A choice that had cost him Sadness's friendship. Now Anger's words were digging in deep alongside the guilt was already feeling. He had come here to learn to be brave only to waste Anger's time with his cowardice. And worst of all, he wasn't doing Riley any good like this.
He made up his mind. Clenching his teeth, he took a wide, stable stance in front of the goal and shouted,
"Bring it on!"
The puck was hit with all of Anger's pent up frustration and it soared towards Fear at an alarming speed. He gasped and resisted every instinct to dodge the oncoming object. He did however give into the reflex to cover his face with his huge goalie mitts. In doing so the puck hit the blockers and bounced off harmlessly to the ice.
It took a few seconds of cowering to realize that he was no longer in harms way. He peeked between his gloves and saw the puck sitting before him and Anger's surprised smile.
"I…I did it?" He asked, bewildered. He looked to the puck again to be sure. "I did it!" he shouted gleefully.
"Yeah, you did it…" Anger conceded. He pulled another puck over with his stick, ready to strike. "Now, let's make sure it wasn't a fluke."
He let the puck fly and watched eagerly for Fear's response. The purple emotion squealed but held his ground, blocking the shot to his solar plexus.
Fear was ecstatic: He was really doing it. And with the pads on it didn't hurt as much as he had thought it would. Anger continued shooting at him one after the other like a machine gun, and with every blocked shot Fear's confidence rose. Soon he was swatting away pucks without flinching, laughing the whole time.
The next puck went high and wide to his left, hardly anywhere near him. Normally he'd be all too happy to let a rapidly flying object miss hitting him completely, but he reminded himself that it wasn't his well being he needed to be looking out for. He reached out a gloved hand and snatched the puck out of the air before it could hit the net for the goal.
Anger threw his hands up in celebration.
"Now that's what I'm talking about!"
Fear stared at the puck in his hand, gawking at how easy it had been to catch it. His reflexes had always been good, but the fact that he used them to protect something other than himself filled him with a new and satisfying feeling, even if the thing he protected was only a hockey goal. It still gave him hope he could be brave.
"Did you see that?" He inquired, barely able to contain his excitement. "I caught it." An exuberant giggle escaped him. "I stopped the puck. How's that for bravery?" he smiled, looking quite cocky with his chest puffed out and his hands on his hips.
"It's a start." Anger shrugged nonchalantly.
"You bet it is." Fear grinned back, unaffected. "Tonight; hockey. Tomorrow; the haunted house. After that, who knows? But right now I feel like I can handle anyth… What was that?!" He interrupted himself to point to something in the distance. Anger followed his bug-eyed gaze to catch the glint of light off someone ducking behind a set of bleachers.
The red brick frowned with a grumble. "It's probably just a Mind Worker investigating why the lights are on." He shouted to the shadow lingering just outside the illumination of the spotlights. "Hey, nothing to see here! We're from Headquarters on official business!"
"We didn't mean to cause trouble!" Fear hastily added, pleading, "Please don't throw us in the subconscious!"
"So much for being ready for anything." Anger chided under his breath.
The figure stepped forward and entered the light. To both emotions' surprise, it was Sadness.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." She apologized meekly.
"Sadness?" Anger asked, waving his hockey stick in the air. "What the H. E. double these are you doing here?"
She twiddled her fingers, looking like a child who got caught sneaking sweets before dinner.
"I woke up when I heard you two leaving through the recall tubes. And I know that I'm not supposed to sleep during dream duty…or leave…but Riley's dream was making me sad, and you guys were gone for a long time and I started getting worried something happened to you. So when I saw the lights on here and I decided to see if everything was okay. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important. I can go." She turned to leave.
"Don't go!"
The words came out without Fear thinking about it, surprising himself. But he felt relief when Sadness stopped and turned back to him. "I mean, it's okay if you stay. If you still want to."
She looked up at him and his awkwardly grinning face with a frown, which made him frown.
"Really? I wouldn't want to be a bother." She sighed.
"You won't be a bother, honest!" he quickly told her. "Right Anger?"
"Eh, as long as she doesn't get in my way she can set up a hot dog stand for all I care." Anger shrugged, skating back to his pile of pucks.
Fear looked to Sadness hopefully. He wanted his invitation to make her feel welcome, because he wanted her there more than he could have imagined he ever would. He had no idea how he'd handle it if she rejected him, aside from being utterly crushed.
"I guess I can stay for a little bit." She said after a long, nerve-wracking pause.
Fear smiled with evident relief. "Good, that's good." He stood there uncomfortably a moment, wanting to continue the conversation, but not sure what to say next. "So… you were worried about us?"
"It isn't like you to leave Headquarters willingly. So I figured you must have been desperate to let Anger take you out here."
This confused Fear. It sounded like she was primarily concerned about him. Did this mean she forgave him?
"Hoo boy, yeah. I'm pretty desperate. You know, about Halloween and all." He answered, hoping that agreeing with her would further mend things between them.
"But it looks like it worked out okay." She said. "You did a good job defending that goal."
"Um, thanks. Didn't know I had it in me."
He saw her smile, but only for an instant before it got lost in a frown. It seemed something was still bothering her and it filled him with consternation, knowing deep down that the something was still him.
"Hey! Are you two gonna chit-chat all night? Or do I have to slap pucks at the both of you to see any action?" Anger yelled from the ice.
"Oh, sorry. I knew I'd cause some problem…" Sadness moaned.
"No! It was my fault." Fear claimed with compunction, trying to remedy her darkening mood by shifting the blame to himself. He wracked his mind for a way to salvage the moment, but he became distracted by something moving in the distance towards them.
"Uh, Sadness, did anyone else come with you when you came here?" He asked, trying to keep his rattled composure.
To his dismay, she shook her head and told him, "No. I came alone."
He prickled. "Oh…Okay…Then who is that?!"
She turned to where he was pointing and saw a figure plodding slowly in their direction. There was something off about the stranger's gait; the way they dragged their left leg as they lurched unsteadily forward.
"Are you going to flip out every time you see somebody out there?" Anger asked with annoyance as he marched over. He looked out towards the edge of the arena as the figure approached. He seemed unfazed by the disturbing way they stiffly swayed with each uneven step. The stranger wandered under a spotlight, revealing their form.
"ZOMBIE!" Fear screamed, ducking behind Anger who didn't react in the slightest.
"Looks like an extra from Dream Productions strayed from the set." He huffed, reminded of the studio's aggravating fixation on zombie dreams that past week.
"Are you sure?" Fear quivered, poking his eyes over the square one's shoulder.
"He's moving awfully strange." Sadness noted. "Maybe he's hurt."
Anger snorted, "He's probably one of those artsy-fartsy method actors." He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the still approaching figure. "Hey, moron! Dream Productions' that a-way!" He pointed inland where the faint glow of spotlight beams cut through the skyline.
The stranger paused to look where Anger was pointing, then let out a ghastly moan and continued to advance on them; arms outstretched towards the trio as they neared.
"Anger, I'm not so sure this guy's an actor." Sadness backed away slightly.
Fear shrank into his goalie uniform, trembling within its bulk.
The creature was nearly on top of them and they could get a good look at its decaying face. An eye had detached from its right socket and was dangling freely by the optic nerve. Its skin was deep green and carried the odor of fresh dirt and old meat. It reached out a hand that was missing the flesh off its index finger and grabbed Anger's shoulder.
"Hands off the merchandise, buddy!" he barked, slapping the offending hand away. Said hand broke off its wrist, flew through the air and landed several feet away.
Anger stared at it, dumbstruck.
Sadness gasped and covered her mouth with an expression of shock.
Fear let out a loud shriek, popping out of his goalie pads and tried to scramble away, only to trip over the equipment and land in a clumsy heap.
The previously slothful zombie suddenly lurched forward with toothy maw open and ready to chomp.
Anger hefted his hockey stick up over his head and shoved it into the zombie's mouth, blocking its attack. The zombie gnawed the wood, still trying to grab at Anger with its good hand and stump.
"Not an actor, not an actor!" Fear shouted, scrambling to his feet and trying not to pass out in the presence of a flesh-eating monster.
"I've come to that conclusion!" Anger retorted with a snarl. He pushed back on the zombie, managing to keep it at bay. The zombie was stubborn however, and continued shuffling forward despite making no headway. It reached outwards again, this time getting a fistful of Anger's sleeve.
Anger steamed, his head lighting up like embers. "I said, 'HANDS OFF'!" he shoved into the zombie and twisted the stick, pushing the zombie off what little balance it had causing it to topple to the ground.
The zombie flopped around, bending at disturbing angles before getting back on its feet. The trio drew back from it as it stood, Fear squeaking out a long whimper. It let out a strenuous moan and lunged at them with an unexpected ardor.
Its attack surprisingly halted as it jerked back with violent convulsions, then froze and fell forward landing flat on the floor.
Imbedded in its back were two small metal prongs, attached to which were a pair of wires leading back to the stun gun in the hands of Officer Frank standing just behind the fallen zombie.
The Subconscious security guard carefully nudged the prone body with the toe of his boot, and it let out a dazed moan but didn't move. Satisfied with his work, he looked up at the three emotions with a tip of his hat.
"Evening folks," He greeted. "This fellow didn't cause you any distress, did he?"
Fear timidly raised his hand.
"I'm distressed." He confessed, then fainted.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
