Zero Regrets

(October 9, 2017)


27: On the Shore of Eternity

Getting Stanley down the ladder was an exhausting effort—Hazard and Wendy dragged him to the trap door and lowered him, Ford stood below to ease him down, and Mabel and Dipper stood by, feeling useless. Eloise kept murmuring, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Part of the ceiling of the janitor's room had been disintegrated. Ford opened the circuit breaker cabinet and turned all the breakers off—wires hung from the broken walls and ceiling. He knelt over Stan while Dipper held the flashlight for him. "He's gonna be OK, right?"

"I don't like the way he's breathing," Ford said. "Call 911. We'll try to get him down to the lobby—I think the elevators run on a separate circuit. If we're lucky."

Dipper punched in the number and told the operator they had an unconscious man and asked for an ambulance—"Colby Hall on the Western Alliance campus, use the loading zone, hurry!"

The ceiling in the hall gaped open, and part of the wall had been destroyed as well. The door of room 439 had been blasted off two of its three hinges. Wendy pulled the remaining hinge pin, and they used the door as an improvised stretcher. Ford and Hazard carried it, head and foot, down the hallway, debris crunching underfoot until they were a third of the way to the elevators. Mabel ran ahead and summoned the elevator—they were both still on the fourth floor, and she stood holding the doors open as Ford and Hazard lumbered down the hallway. They got Stan into the elevator—barely room, but enough—and Ford yelled, "The rest of you take the other elevator. Meet us downstairs!"

As soon as Ford's elevator had descended, Dipper pressed the button and the other door opened. Eloise said, "Mabel—"

"Not your fault," Mabel said. Then she put her head on her brother's shoulder. "Oh, Dipper, what will we do if—"

"It'll be all right," Dipper said. "Grunkle Ford's in charge."

They got in and Wendy pressed the button for the ground floor. Their elevator arrived only moments after the first, but Ford and Hazard already had carried Stan down the back hallway to the rear door and had put him down.

Stan knelt beside his brother, first holding his fingers against Stan's throat, taking his pulse, then holding his eyelids open. "I'm not sure what's wrong with him," he said. "Did you call—"

The wail of a siren cut him off. The ambulance stopped at the curb, Hazard opened the door and waved the EMTs in. Ford stood and said, "I'm an M.D. Get this man to an emergency room. I'm riding with him."

The driver said, "We can't—"

"Do as I say," Ford snapped, and his tone was so imperious that the EMT gulped and nodded.

Ford turned to Hazard. "You join us at the hospital. Dipper, Wendy, I'm counting on you to take care of your aunts and the ladies. Call Dean Canova." He reeled off the dean's cell phone number, and Dipper keyed it in. "I'll call Lorena once I have some idea of what we're facing here."

Mabel said, "I'm going with Grunkle Stan."

Ford said "It would be better if you—"

"Grunkle Ford, excuse me, but the hell with that! I'll ride with Amy!"

"Come on," Hazard said. They headed for the Agency car.

The ambulance screamed away, Stan and Ford inside. "This is my fault," Eloise sobbed.

"No," Dipper said firmly. "It's the fault of whatever was haunting the attic. Hello, Dr. Canova? This is Dipper Pines. Mason, I mean."

Carla Canova said she would take care of Eloise. "I'll have to make arrangements for housing all these students."

"Eloise can stay with us for the time being," Dipper said. "I'll give you our address. I have to go to the hospital where they've taken Grunkle Stan—"

"Stan's hurt?" she asked. "Oh, my God! What happened?"

"We're not sure," Dipper said. "I'll let you know as soon as I can."

"Do. I'm on my way."

As soon as she had come and led Eloise away, Dipper called Mabel. "Where—"

"They took him to the St. Joseph's emergency room," she said. "You and Wendy better hurry."

"I'll drive," Wendy said.

"Thanks," Dipper told her. He found the hospital address on his phone GPS. It wasn't too far from campus, and they were there within ten minutes. Dipper called Mabel again, and she told him how to locate the emergency waiting area.

They found her and Hazard sitting together, Mabel hunched in her chair, Hazard holding her hand. It was the first time that Dipper had seen Hazard with an expression of deep anxiety on her face, and his heart plunged. "Is it bad?"

"No word yet," Hazard told him. Mabel jumped up and ran to Wendy and Dipper, and they stood hugging her.

An hour passed like a week. Ford, looking haggard, came in. He had donned scrubs and a paper cap, and a surgical mask dangled round his neck. "How is he?" Dipper asked.

"He's . . . sinking," Ford said heavily. "I don't know. No one can diagnose his problem, but . . . he's sinking."

"We gotta see him!" Mabel said. "We can help. I know we can help!"

"I don't think they'll permit—"

"Dr. P, no offense, but I got my axe in the car," Wendy said.

"I'll see what I can arrange," Ford said.

Fifteen minutes later, they stood around Stan, who lay in bed in what they called a step-down room. His breathing was shallow, with intervals between breaths. "Shut the door," Mabel said. She stepped up and took Stan's big hand in hers. "Grunkle Stan! Wake up! If you can hear me, squeeze my hand!" After a moment, with tears pouring, she looked at Dipper, shaking her head.

"Grunkle Ford," he said, "there must be something we—"

"We gotta go in," Mabel said. "Do you remember the spell?"

"What?" Dipper asked.

"Remember when Bill Cipher went into Grunkle Stan's mind? We followed him! We gotta go in and get him!"

"Wait," Ford said. "You used the Magister Mentium incantation? That's incredibly dangerous in this sit—"

"I remember it," Dipper said. "Do we really need the candles, Grunkle Ford?"

"The—no, that's just setting the stage. Unnecessary if you've used this before—"

"Wendy, put your hand on Grunkle Stan's forehead. No time to lose!"

"Wait!" Ford said. "This is—listen, if Stanley should pass while you're—you can't find your way back!"

"Wendy," Dipper said, "you stay behind. Take my left hand and don't let go. If the worst happens, you're the anchor for Mabel and me."

"Oh," Ford said. "That . . . might actually work."

Dipper and Mabel put their right hands on their grunkle's head. "Here we go," Dipper said. He took a deep breath, hoped he really had all the words clear in memory, and then intoned the incantation: "Videntus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus. Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus! Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!"


The Dreamscape of Stan's mind was the familiar grayscale world of the greater Mindscape, foggy, blurred, but recognizable—the land around Gravity Falls. "Where is he?" Mabel asked.

She and her brother were the only signs of color in the black-and-white world. "Grunkle Stan!" Dipper yelled. "We're here!"

They walked toward the distorted Mystery Shack. "This isn't right," Mabel said. "There's no big drop-off behind the Shack."

"That may be where we'll find him," Dipper said.

Behind the dream form of the Shack, the hillside fell away steeply. And a lonely figure sat on the ground at the bottom of the slope. "Grunkle Stan!" Mabel yelled. "Come on!"

She and Dipper ran the rest of the way.

Dipper felt a deep chill. Stanley sat, knees raised, elbows bent, head drooping. In front of him lay a black stretch of water—a river that, in the real world, did not exist.

They arrived, Dipper on his left, Mabel on his right. Stan, disturbingly pale, glanced at them and gave them the ghost of a grin. "Knuckleheads," he said gently. "Come to see me off, huh?"

"You're not going," Mabel said, sitting next to him and holding his hand.

Stan sighed. "Ah I'm no use to anybody. Tried to help Ford, and it all blew up. You guys better get back. My ride's comin' soon."

Not necessarily.

Dipper gasped and looked behind them. A tall, emaciated figure in a black hooded robe had just . . . appeared.

"That's the ticket guy, I guess," Stan said. "I think I see the boat."

Dipper, his heart hammering, looked back. Far out on the black river, a boat slowly inched toward the shore, a stooped old man doggedly poling it through the water.

"Tell him he can't go!" Mabel cried.

The gaunt figure gestured. In mid-air a flat square, about eighteen inches on a side, appeared. There is always . . . the game.

"Chess?" Dipper asked.

Stanley stood up slowly, like a very old man. "What? I don't know how to play that game!"

Your nephew may coach you. There is no time like the present to learn.

"Come on, Grunkle Ford!" Dipper said. "We gotta try!"

You may have the white men.

The chessmen appeared, ranked on either side of the board.

"Huh. I don't even know what these things are!"

"Teach him, Dipper!"

Dipper pointed. "These little ones are pawns. They only move straight ahead. The first time you can move one of them either one or two squares, after that, just one square at a time. Start with that one. Move it two squares . . . ."


You lose.

"I'm so sorry!" Dipper said. "He's too good for me! There must be—"

"Best two out of three!" Mabel yelled. The ferryman was so close now that they could see his eyes, burning like two red coals.

I am amenable to that. Here there is always time for a game. I shall set up the board—

"No!" Mabel yelled. "You gotta play a game that Grunkle Stan knows, not chess!"

"Craps!" Stan said, perking up for the first time.

I do not know this game.

"It's easy!" Stan said. "You just gotta roll the bones!"

That sounds . . . intriguing.

Dipper concentrated, and two dice appeared in the air in front of him. He grabbed them and handed them over to Stan. "Here you go!"

"Honest dice?" Stan asked.

"Completely!" Dipper said. "You can't cheat—you-know-who!"

"OK," Stan said, handing the dice over. "Here ya go. We'll make this simple Seven or eleven win, nothing else. We roll until one of us wins on one of those numbers."

What do I do?

"Clear these cockamamie men off the board. There they go. OK, now you hold the dice loose in your fist. Shake 'em up good, then roll 'em on the board. Add up the number of dots that show on top."

The figure's bony hand held the dice as if they were caged birds. They rattled, they rolled.

Twelve.

"My turn." Stan picked up the dice. "Sweetie, blow me some luck on these."

"Gladly!" Mabel bent over, puffed on the dice, and Stan closed his fist on them. Mabel kissed the back of his hand. "For extra luck!"

"Come on, babies!" Stan said, shaking the dice. "Papa needs a new lease on life!" He let them go.

The first hit and came to rest—a six. The second bounced off the top of the first and landed. Three.

"Next time for sure!" Mabel said.

The gaunt figure rolled again. A five and a five.

Stan rolled: a four and . . . a three!

"I win!" Stan said.

Then we are tied. This game is too random. Name another.

This time Stan conjured a deck of cards from thin air. "We got time for poker? Casino? Hearts?"

The ferry was so close that the ferryman's pole only went in about a foot deep.

Sadly, no.

"OK, then make it simple Cut for high card."

Cut?

Stan shuffled and re-shuffled the deck. "Lemme show ya. Here, I put the deck down. I pick up some of the cards, like this. The card on the bottom is my card. This ain't for real this time, it's just a demo. See? Six of clubs. When we cut for realsies, I try to get a higher card than you do, and vice-versa. First ten cards of each suit are numbered, then face cards are ranked up, Jack, Queen, King, got it?"

Yes.

Stan reshuffled the card. "Your turn to go first. Cut and take the bottom card, don't show it to us, but hang on to it, and then it's my turn."

I have my card. Your cut.

Stan, grinning, shuffled and cut. "OK, I got the King of Spades, not too shabby. You?"

I lose. I have only a one of the red Valentines.

Dipper said, "But that's . . . uh, I mean wonderful! Congratulations, Grunkle Stan!"

Stan took a deep breath and blinked. "Huh. I feel kinda . . ."

The ferryman and the gaunt figure had vanished, and now Mabel faded out.

Dipper! Come back!

Wendy?

Come back to me, Dip. I love you. Come to me. Now!

Dipper went.


Don't fall down, man!

Dipper staggered, hanging onto Wendy's hand. —Wendy! We—

I know, Dip, I was with you, but you couldn't see or hear me—

"Stanley! Do you know me?"

"Yeah, you're my dipshit brother—gack!"

Stan sat up in bed. Mabel yelled, "Yes!" She did a wild little fist-thrusting dance. "In your face, Reaper Guy! Don't mess with a Pines, Charon!"

Stan gagged. "I think I'm gonna hurl—"

Ford hastily held up a basin. "Here—"

With a loud retching gag, Stan coughed. Out from his mouth flew something like a black slug. It lay in the basin, pulsing, sending out waves of fear.

In his normal level tone, Ford said, "Dipper, your destabilizer."

He took the weapon, calmly adjusted it, narrowing the beam to only an inch, carefully aimed—

The black blob vanished in a puff of noxious smoke. A hole appeared in the basin, three inches across. A floor tile bubbled and then smoked a little.

The door to the room opened, and a man in scrubs and with a stethoscope dangling from his neck like a necklace stepped in. "Has he—whoa! Are you—"

"What's up, Doc?" Stan asked. "How come my ass is so cold? Where's my freakin' clothes?"

"What did you do?" the doctor asked Ford. "He was—he was—how did you do this?"

Ford clapped his back. "Well, Doctor," he said, "it wasn't brain science or rocket surgery!"

Stan laughed. "Sixer, that sounds like when we were kids. You oughta do that more. I like it!"

"This is amazing," the doctor said.

"Get me my clothes!" Stanley repeated. "Hey, I hope you knuckleheads didn't worry Sheila—"

"You can call her yourself," Dipper said. "We didn't because we didn't know what was going to happen with—we love you, Grunkle Stan!"

"Glad to have you back," Wendy said.

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm wearin' nothin' but this stupid gown. For the last time—get me my clothes!"