Zero Regrets

(October 9, 2017)


24: Allons, Enfants!

On Moneay, Columbus Day, everyone got up early. Stan and Ford were at the door at six A.M, but by then breakfast was cooking. As Mabel worked on hash-browns and Hazard stirred their last dozen eggs into a bowl, Dipper's phone rang. He stepped out onto the deck. The caller was Billy Sheaffer.

"Hi," Dipper said.

"Pine Tree! Good to squawk to you again, buddy. Understand you're heading for a show-down with Baffy the Kid."

"Billy?" Dipper asked.

"Kid's asleep. I took over the pilot duties just to make this call, Pine Tree. Listen: Wish I could show up and be Doc Holiday to your Wyatt Earp and Red's Calamity Jane, but you know—stuck in flesh and bone. But I wanted to wish you and Shooting Star luck, and I got maybe a few suggestions."

"Anything would help," Dipper said.

"Yeah, I figured. Listen, Fez has a grudge against me, and nothing I can ever do will make Sixer trust me again, so this is important: make like this dope comes from your own tiny brain, OK? I don't give advice often, I'd hate to see it wasted."

"Whatever, Bill," Dipper said. "What advice do you have?"

"OK, the vibes I get tell me this is a Class 8 autonomous destroyer. It's got no agenda except to mess with your minds until you can't stand it and kill each other or yourselves. Destroying it is like destroying a rock. No sympathy for it, OK? Not even from Shooting Star."

"Got it. Wipe it out. How?"

"It hangs onto something material. Find that."

"Could it be a medallion? Silver?

"That been around where it manifests?"

"Not for fifty years and more. It has an image of Baphomet on it, though."

"That's where I got the name! Picked it from your sub-basement consciousness. It ain't Baphomet, and the medallion won't be the focus if it hasn't constantly been where the thing first appeared. That's not to say the silver deal might not be infected with the evil, though, so be careful of it. The vital connection holding the destroyer to reality has to be something anchored in place, get it? A sketch, a figurine, something. You got somebody with you who's a sensitive?"

"Eloise Niedermeyer. She can see ghosts."

"Then she'll know it when she sees it, but guard her. Sensitives are real susceptible to these things. It may go for her first—easy pickings. Anywho, make sure she's protected. Now, once you find the anchor, whatever it is, destroy that. Is Fordsy packing?"

"We have three full-sized quantum destabilizers and six pistol versions."

"That'll do it. Listen: Make sure they're all set on the following, OK? Power gen, set at 175. Beam spread, 25%. Duration, 24 milliseconds. That's gonna cause material damage, but can't be helped. Don't shoot off somebody's foot or head. If you nick Sixer's hand, you might turn him into Fiver. Shoot those numbers back at me, kid."

"Power 175, spread 25, duration 24 ms," Dipper said.

"Gonna have to go. Billy's waking up a little. He's dreaming now. Last thing: Don't clump. Little distance, don't make a crowd for it to aim at. Luck!"

Then he was listening to dead air. Dipper hung up and went inside to breakfast. Afterward, as they spread out their equipment, Dipper began to adjust the settings. Ford noticed and picked up the first destabilizer. "Mason, I think we should begin with power at perhaps 100, spread 50%. If that's not—"

"This is what we need, Grunkle Ford," Dipper said. "Please trust me on this."

After a beat, Stanford said, "This will evaporate normal concrete and metal. We'll damage the dormitory."

"But we'll get the thing," Dipper said. "We have to identify its anchor, right?"

"The thing that ties it to our reality, yes," Ford agreed.

"The instant we do, we have to disintegrate it," Dipper said. "We can't shoot the thing itself."

"No," agreed Ford. "It has no physical component in itself, and no ethereal body. Yes, you're right. We have to cut it loose. Think of the anchor as its link, its umbilical, the power cord that keeps it running. Eliminate that and the thing is destroyed. Let's get everyone out onto the lawn."

"Is it safe?"

"I've scanned it. Without the medallion, there's no link."

"After we destroy the entity, promise me we'll destroy the medallion, too."

"I think we should begin with the medallion, but in the vicinity of the attic. That may weaken it—or if not, it will at least provoke it. If it acts against us, we may be able to triangulate on it."

All of them except for Sheila, Lorena, Brandi, and Allie went outside. Ford distributed the weapons and instructed everyone on how to operate them. "Make sure that no one is in your line of fire," he warned. "Neither in front of, close to, or behind your target. These destabilizers are effective but destructive. We don't want to wound any of our own."

"Let's keep about a three-foot distance from each other," Dipper said. "We don't clump together in a crowd."

"Excellent advice," Ford told them all. "Now, the entity that we are seeking won't appear on any detector, and it's invisible. Don't try to shoot it. What we're looking for—and something I think I can set the anomaly detectors to identify—is some physical manifestation that gives the entity a foothold in our world Destroy that, and we eject the entity from reality. We in effect kill it."

"Whoa, Poindexter," Stan said. "You mean my brass knucks can't hit it?"

"I'm afraid not," Stanford told his twin. "But the pistol can."

"I don't like the Flash Gordon stuff so much," Stan grumbled. "But if that's the only way I can stomp it, just stay outa my way when I shoot."

With the disruptors set on training level, they practiced aiming and firing. Hazard was by far the best shot, not even pausing to aim and yet hitting the target on the lawn—a paper plate, staked into place by a nail—every time, just jerking her rifle up and firing from the hip.

Wendy was pretty good, but in the end, she took out her axe. "Dr. P, will this destroy whatever it is we gotta get rid of?"

"It's a remarkable weapon," Stanford admitted. "I'd say the chances are pretty good—maybe an eight-to-one probability that it will sever the tie, at the very least."

"Go for it," Stan advised. "Those are good odds."

"Do we have to kill it?" Mabel asked.

"Sis," Dipper told him, "we can't kill it. It's got no body, and it's not alive. On the other hand, it's killed four girls our age so far. Never gave them a chance."

"Not alive?" Mabel asked.

"No," Stanford assured her. "It's merely a focus of evil power, not a living thing. It's no more alive than, um, than—"

"Than a rock," Dipper supplied.

"Precisely."

Mabel said, "Then point me toward it. Pew!" She fired at the target and missed by only a few inches. With an annoyed grunt, she took two steps closer and from practically point-blank range, railed the target, yelling, "I am the god of destruction! Eat beaming death, sucka!"

They changed into what looked like hazmat suits—though they were really only movie versions, offering no real environmental protection. They left off the hooded headpieces for the time being and took two cars to the University—Mabel, Wendy, Dipper, and Agent Hazard in Dipper's Land Runner, with him at the wheel, followed by Ford and Stanley in the Agency automobile. Sheila and Lorena stood in the doorway, waving, and at their feet, Tripper sat and whimpered.

They had permission from Dean Canova to rendezvous in the small loading/unloading area behind the dorm. She was waiting for them, Eloise at her side. "The residents are all out now," she said. "Hello, Stan!"

"Hiya, Carla," Stan said with his wide grin. "We pull this thing off, let's you and me put Van McCoy on the boombox and show these squares how to do the Hustle!"

The dean laughed. "You're on, big boy! We won't tell my husband or your wife."

"Nuts to that," Mabel said. "I'm gonna video it! Never miss a blackmail-portunity!"

"Seriously, Carla," Stan said, "we live through this, let's you and your husband and Sheila and me get together for a meal. She's not the jealous type."

"Neither is Jeremiah," Dean Canova said. "It's a date." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Good luck, dear Stanley."

"Thanks, doll. Now, my brother here's got some warnings."

"I think it would be safer for you not to be in the building," Ford said. "This may be difficult. And I'm afraid that we may damage the structure. We'll try our best to minimize any physical destruction, but the nature of the infestation may make it impossible to avoid."

"If I thought that burning the building down would save the lives of our students," Carla said, "I'd light the match myself. If you'd like, I'll write and sign a waiver."

"We'll take your word," Stanford said. "Are all the entrances locked?"

"All secured."

"Then we'll go in."

Eloise fell in between Dipper and Wendy. "What do you want me to do?"

"You've got to lead us to it," Dipper said. "But be careful. If you start to feel weird, back off quickly."

They went in through the back way—a short hall led to the elevator niche—and in the lobby, Stanford said, "Eloise. I understand you're a sensitive. You can see ghosts?"

"Yes," she said. "It hasn't been a great gift. It mainly makes people think I'm crazy."

"We'll never think that," Ford said. "Deputy Director Hazard and I work with an agency that investigates things like hauntings. And we know what it's like to be thought crazy We all know that these things are real—and that the majority of the population doesn't want to know about them. Here. This may help." He handed her a necklace.

"A phylactery?" Eloise asked, fastening the chain.

"Technically, no. It's more of a ward. We all have them, and I hope this will either mitigate the entity's influence on our minds or else shield our minds so we're difficult for it to perceive. But listen, everyone! This force may attempt to warp your senses, to shake your confidence, or to give you hallucinations. Resist them! We have an advantage over its past victims—we know to be on the alert, and we know how it attacks. Let's use that. All right, half of you into the left elevator, the rest of us into the right. When the doors close, give a slow count of ten, then press the button for the fourth floor. Everyone assemble in the elevator foyer there."

In their elevator, Eloise asked, "Is everybody as scared as I am?"

"Shakin' in our boots," Wendy said, her grin showing that even now she wasn't fully serious.

"I'm feeling nervous," Mabel admitted. "Dip, are you getting these doubts?"

"Feeling I'm not good enough? That I'll let you down, that it may get Wendy or you? Little bit!" Dipper said.

"Me, too," Mabel said. "It's like something's telling me, 'You get a laugh out of everything, right? Laugh THIS off!'"

"May just be nerves," Hazard said. "Here we are."

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and a half-second later, the other elevator opened, too. Stan and Ford stepped out. "Now," Stanford said, "I have a passkey. Lead us to the affected room."

They walked down the hall to the end. Room 439 was on their left, 440 on the right, and just past them, on the right the fire stairs led down, while on the left the short side hall led to the janitor's storage room.

"We'll do readings in the room first," Stanford said. "Stanley, Hazard, cover me."

The dorm had not upgraded to card keys, and Ford held an old-fashioned metal passkey. He unlocked the deadbolt and cautiously grasped the doorknob. "Everyone ready? Dipper, Mabel, Wendy, Eloise, two of you to the left of the door, two to the right, and stand away about eight or ten feet. Stanley, flank me on the right, Hazard, on my left."

Eloise started to pass Ford, but Wendy stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "You stay with Dip," she said. "You and he have been ghost-hunting before. Come on, Mabes."

The four backed off. When they were in place, Ford turned the knob and yanked the dorm-room door open.

And for just a heartbeat, Dipper felt as though his great-uncle had unleashed all the devils in hell.