Chapter Twenty-Eight
Heartache
Inside the Fungeon, Vanellope opened her eyes. She'd been lying on her side, face toward the wall, for she had no idea how long. Her nightmares had returned several times, and had been too horrible for words. Her stomach felt empty, as though she hadn't eaten in days.
Days?
She stood up, but a woozy feeling overcame her, and she stumbled. It's not the cut- that's closed. I haven't eaten in…how long?
She remembered the hallucination, remembered crying herself into a nightmare-ridden sleep afterwards. The rest felt hazy, as though everything were one horrible nightmare from which she couldn't wake up, with the actual nightmares being dreams within dreams.
A noise to her left caught her attention. Turning her head, Vanellope saw one of the stones of the floor crumble and break apart. A six-legged, dome-shaped robot crawled out, scuttling across the stone floor towards the spot where she was kneeling.
Curious, Vanellope turned fully, allowing the robot to come to a stop before her. "What are you?"
A slot opened at the base of the robot's body, revealing a message scrawled on a sheet of paper. Vanellope took the paper and silently read the following words:
Vanellope,
We overheard talk among members of SANG that you'd been thrown in a cell, so we borrowed this robot from Dr. Despair to send you a message.
I can't reveal what, when, how, or with whom, but Ralph, Felix, and I are helping with a plan to free the arcade. Keep the news to yourself, but don't lose heart. We haven't forgotten you.
I can't tell you any more other than that when the plan begins, you should be able to tell it's started before too long.
Send this message back with the robot. We wouldn't want it found on your person.
Stay tough,
Sergeant Calhoun
Vanellope set the message back into the slot, which then closed. The robot scuttled back towards the hole.
"Wait."
At the sound of Vanellope's voice, the robot paused, and turned around.
"You're Dr. Despair's robot?"
The robot's red eye flickered.
"What am I saying? You must be."
The robot's eye flickered again.
"I…I…tell him thanks, for lending you. And tell my friends…thank you."
The robot scuttled back into the hole, pulling the bits of broken stone down around the opening as it went. Within moments, the hole was plugged once more. Vanellope smoothed the bits of rubble over until it was flat once again, and then returned to the spot where she had formerly been lying. She allowed a slight smile to creep over her features.
Five minutes later, she heard the door being unlocked. The smile vanished instantly as it swung open, revealing Mr. Ainsworth.
"Play time's up," he said, entering the cell. "Time to come along."
Vanellope remained silent.
"Ah, it's hard work, having to dart from game to game, shutting down game screens all over again every time someone tries to fix them. Fortunately, Hero's Duty has hoverboards to speed things up."
"You're quiet," he added, standing over Vanellope and gazing down at her curiously.
Vanellope rose to her feet.
"Defiant?"
"Yeah!" Vanellope snapped. "When they've…we've…I've…settled your hash…"
She stopped. Don't let the secret out!
"You won't be settling anyone's hash, little lady," said Mr. Ainsworth. His eyes seemed to roam about the cell for several moments. Their gaze passed over the spot where the hole had recently been resealed, before returning to Vanellope.
"Play time's up," he said. He grabbed her by the throat and hauled her bodily from the cell.
"Let go!" Vanellope gasped as the mercenary carried her up the stairs and then down the hallway. "You're hurting me!"
"You think I care?" said Mr. Ainsworth. "I've got something else on my mind. Something else I'd better ask you about."
He reached the end of the hallway and opened the door, revealing the interior of the castle's main garage.
"There're a whole lot of karts in here," said Mr. Ainsworth, passing the rows of vehicles. "But there's one in particular I found amusing. Funniest thing I've seen yet in this place."
He came to a stop beside a kart that was resting some distance from the others, in a slot all its own.
My kart Vanellope realized. The one Ralph and I made. Please don't let him break it, please don't let him break it…
Mr. Ainsworth set her down on her feet a short distance from the kart. "I saw a label on the side," he continued. "Made by Vanellope and Ralph." He snickered. "You're friends with Wreck-It Ralph?"
"You bet I am!" Vanellope cried.
"With that clod?"
"He's better than you by a mile!"
"Hah, probably," said Mr. Ainsworth. He stopped laughing. "So, if you don't want me to kill him, why don't you tell me who 'we' are?"
Vanellope felt a chill run up her spine. "Wha…I don't…"
"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," said Mr. Ainsworth. "You think I'm stupid? You almost let something slip back there. Someone's plotting to stop my employer, and I think you just found out whom."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes you do," Mr. Ainsworth replied, drawing his bowie knife. "So unless you want me to kill Ralph, I reckon you'd better confess. And you know I'd kill him."
He lunged at her. Vanellope shrieked and glitched out of the way, only to bump into a stack of barrels and fall onto her back. Mr. Ainsworth was upon her in an instant.
"I'm not joking anymore," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Tell me everything you know, or I'm going to carve out your friend's innards!" He pressed the edge of the knife against Vanellope's throat.
"No, don't…don't do that…"
"Are you going to talk?"
"I shouldn't…"
"Talk, you brat!"
"Fine, fine!" Vanellope cried. "Ralph, Felix, Calhoun, and Dr. Despair."
"Are those the only names you know?"
"Please, I swear that's all I know!"
"Hah, you break too easily." Mr. Ainsworth pulled the knife away and stood up.
Vanellope stood up, rubbing her neck. And then the full impact of what she had said sank in. Tears filled her eyes. "Oh, what have I done?"
"You've made a bargain," said Mr. Ainsworth. "You have my word of honor that I will not kill Ralph."
"He'll kill me."
"I won't let him," said Mr. Ainsworth. He removed a small device from his satchel, consisting of a block box with a button. Before Vanellope could blink, he had pressed the button. The loud sound of an explosion filled the garage, and she covered her ears. There was the sound of crackling flames and the smell of smoke. She looked up to see her kart wreathed in fire.
"Oh…please…why…no!" she cried. "How could you?"
"I never said I'd spare the kart. It wasn't part of the bargain."
Vanellope dropped to her knees, sobbing brokenly.
"And just so you'll know," Mr. Ainsworth added, clearly enjoying the taste of every word he was saying, "I paid a little visit to the code room this morning, and a bit of an error occurred. So I'm afraid the kart won't be regenerating."
Vanellope continued crying.
"Hey, cheer up," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Remember, I'm going to keep my word. Ralph will not die at my hand."
Vanellope turned her tear-stained face towards the mercenary. "I hate you."
"Never hate a man for just being himself," said Mr. Ainsworth. "It isn't right."
The kart was already turning into a sugary sludge. Vanellope's eyes were rooted to the awful sight. "This isn't happening," she whispered. "I'm going to wake up and find this was all another nightmare…"
"It's no nightmare, dearie. It's reality."
Vanellope began to cry again. She lowered her head, unable to look any more.
"Already half ash," said Mr. Ainsworth. He whistled, and four vikings entered the garage through a side door.
"You," said Mr. Ainsworth, gesturing at two of the vikings. "Make sure this fire doesn't spread. When the kart's finished melting, take the ashes and let them sink to the bottom of the swamp." He turned to the other two vikings, tossing one of them a set of keys.
"You boys take my friend here back to her play-pen. I'll get the keys off of you when I'm back."
The latter pair of vikings seized Vanellope by the arms, lifting her into the air. Mr. Ainsworth raised her chin with one finger. "My word of honor," he said. "Ralph will not die at my hand." He withdrew his finger and backed away. "But I can't answer for what Portia will do."
As he headed for the nearest door, shaking with silent laughter, the vikings carried Vanellope in the opposite direction, back towards the door to the dungeons. She caught one last glimpse of the flames. The kart was already gone, gone forever. The fire had seared a hole in her heart that would never be totally filled again.
