Zero Regrets

(October 9, 2017)


28: Winding Down, Winding Up

"So go already, Poindexter!" Stan exclaimed. "Go do what you gotta do, I'll be fine here. Mabel will stay with me until the cockamamie doctor decides to let me go."

"If you're sure," Ford said. "I do need to consult with Dr. Canova and arrange to help with repairs."

"Go, go. Remind Carla that I'm gonna call her so me and Sheila can make a date to have dinner with her and her old man."

"Will do. I'll be back, probably in a couple of hours."

"I'll wait," Stan said sarcastically.

He and Mabel waited in the same step-down room. Stan had received his pants and now wore them, plus socks and shoes and undershirt. The rest of his clothing was draped over one of the two chairs in the room. Mabel sat in the other and Stanley perched on the hospital bed.

"Thanks, kid," Stan said. "I appreciate you and Dip comin' to get me like that. I think I would have been a goner if you hadn't showed up."

"What happened, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked. "I don't understand how that thing knocked you out."

"It ain't too clear to me, either. Something hit me hard in the chest, I yelled, and that gummy thing zoomed into my mouth and I guess I swallowed it," Stan said, frowning. "Next thing I knew, I was in the Mindscape feelin' lower than a lobster. Like I was worthless. In everybody's way. People would be glad if I died. And I guess 'cause I was alone, I couldn't pull myself out of it. That's why you could save me, Sweetie. You and Dip just gave me hope. And the best way you did that was to get me playin' craps and cards with old Grim. And best two out of three—genius!"

"Whatever the sluggy thing was," Mabel said, "I bet it was what made the girls, you know—"

"Off themselves, yeah," Stan said. "Way I felt, I can understand that. I—Doc! About time. This is my niece Mabel."

"Hello, Doctor," Mabel said. "Hey, you're young for a doctor. Are you by any chance married?"

"Yes," he said.

"Oh, well, nothing ventured."

"I have to examine your uncle now," the doctor said. "If you'll go to the waiting room, I think I can probably discharge him in about half an hour—unless something shows up."

"Gotcha. Good luck, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel said, blowing him a kiss from the door.

Temperature, normal. Blood pressure, 122 over 75. Pulse 72. Heartbeat strong and steady. Lungs clear. Chest X-ray just in case. A few tests of mental acuity—"Remember this address: Edgar Field, 69 Sparrow Street, Melville. Now I want you to draw a clock face . . . . A quarter of an hour of that kind of crap, and then the doctor pounced: "What was the address?"

"Edgar Field, 69 Sparrow, Melville."

"Mr. Pines," the young doctor said, "you're in excellent health. I'd swear you were twenty years younger than your actual age. So I have one last question for you: What in the hell happened?"'

"Doc," Stan said, "I wish I could tell you, but I got no idea. You want, I'll have my genius brother give you a call."

"I'd like to know," the doctor said, "but on the other hand, the answer would probably keep me awake nights. OK, stand by and the nurse will bring in your discharge papers. Under diagnosis, I'm going to write 'Transient drop in blood pressure, cause undetermined.' And I'll direct you to consult your own physician. Good luck, sir."'


Ford, in Dr. Canova's office, said, "I can arrange for the Agency to cover the repairs. I fear they'll be extensive. From my survey, the floor of the attic must be replaced on that end of the building, and there is damage in room 439, the corridor, and the janitor's room. I seriously recommend that you abolish room 439. Permanently seal off the space. No student should ever sleep in there again."

"I agree," Carla said. "This morning when I woke up, I would never have believed in—ghosts or whatever this was. Now—I have to wrap my mind around a new reality."

"I know," Ford said. "I'm inured to such things now—I've dealt with them for many years. But an ordinary person can find comprehending them difficult. On the positive side, my scans of the attic show no lingering paranormal energies. My suggestion about closing Room 439 to occupation is just being exceptionally cautious."

"What if we opened the space up?" Carla asked. "We might make it a small meeting and study area."

"I think that would be acceptable," Ford said. "I would say the crucial thing is not to allow any student to sleep there overnight. The force took hold of sleeping minds. When Stanley was briefly unconscious, it affected him."

"Then there are the students," Carla said with a sigh. "From what your wife told me, Dr. Pines—"

"Ford, please."

"Ford, I'm sorry. Lorena thinks that Allie had better drop out for this term. I can arrange for a no-fault withdrawal so she won't take a grade penalty. If she could get some counseling—"

"If you'll allow me," Ford said, "I'd like to supply some funds. You may take care of making it available to Miss Therrol under the guise of student insurance. My people have a dummy insurance company already set up for such occasions. We can find a therapist and arrange for her treatment at no cost to her parents. I have a feeling counseling can help her with a few other issues as well."

"That's very kind of you. Thank—"

The office phone rang. She looked puzzled. "I shouldn't even be in the office today—one moment, Ford. Hello, Dean Canova here. Who?" She pulled a pad over and scribbled something on it. "Oh. Yes, I'll tell her. In fact, she's on campus now. Certainly. Mail it in care of me and I'll be sure she gets it. Wait, could you also fax it to me? I'll certainly see she gets both that and the original. This is my mailing address, and I'll give you the fax number."

She hung up. "Strange. A woman in a nursing home in the town of Willows passed away today and left a note or something for Wendy."

"I know who that was," Ford said.

"The fax machine's next door in the workroom."

"Let's finish the arrangements for the building and medical insurance, and then we'll check."


"I'm OK now, really," Eloise said. She, Wendy, and Dipper were in the Student Center, eating a late (and skimpy) lunch. "I'm sorry I freaked out."

"It would be hard not to, with that thing bumping up your emotions," Wendy said. "I felt it, too. So—you're gonna be able to deal with it?"

"Yeah. Could I call you guys if I have any, you know, flashbacks or anything?"

"Absolutely!" Wendy said. "Or even Dip's Grunkle Ford."

"He's quite a guy," Eloise said. "I think I see where Dipper gets his smarts."

"Yep," Wendy said. "Of course, I've taught him a lot, too."

"I can identify pretty much any tree in the Pacific Northwest because of Wen," Dipper confirmed.

"And the need to do that comes up all the time," Wendy said with a grin. "In fact—here comes Ford now."

Ford had just stepped into the dining area—it was mid-afternoon, and on a Sunday during a school break, the place was not crowded. He saw them and came over. "May I join you?"

"Sure," Dipper said. "Have you heard from Grunkle Stan yet?"

"No, but I spoke to Mabel just now. He's being discharged, so one of us should drive over to the hospital. But first—Wendy, this is for you." He handed her the paper on which Myrtle had drawn the circle and symbols.

"What is this?"

Dipper looked. "A magic circle. Where did it come from?"

Ford said gently, "From Mrs. Myrtle Bordein. She passed away about the time we were up in the attic. I'm sorry, Wendy."

"Oh," Wendy said. "I—I'm sorry, too."

"She apparently sketched this just before she passed," Ford said. "I recognize it."

"What is it?" Dipper asked. "It's kind of like the Zodiac, kind of like the Dee Cone of Power circle. I don't know these symbols."

"They're not expertly drawn," Ford said. "But they're the symbols associated with the curse spell of Giles de Rais. He was a notorious character from the fifteenth century who reportedly was a master at summoning vengeful demonic powers to assault his enemies. He also was, well, a serial murderer of children. The circle of summoning is attributed to him. Unfortunately, a copy of the ancient woodcut of it appeared in a shoddy popular book on demonology published in the late 1940s and presented as a means of controlling supernatural forces."

"Demons?"

Ford shook his head. "Just supernatural forces, according to the book. Deplorably lax research. I daresay that in the hands of ninety per cent of naïve young readers, drawing the circle and performing the accompanying ritual—it's frankly gibberish—would have no effect. Unfortunately if one of the girls who performed the ritual back in 1952 had a touch of real paranormal power—well. Let's say the rite obviously opened the way for that abhorrent entity to manifest in the attic. And whenever a young woman of a susceptible nature happened to sleep in the room beneath it, night after night, it entered her mind and struck at all of her mental and emotional weak points. And that lasted as long as the original circle remained intact in the attic."

"But how did it attack—"

"My brother," Ford said. "From what he says, when he inhaled sharply, he sucked that nasty blob into his lungs. He lost consciousness, and in that state, he was susceptible to the entity's eroding his self-esteem. If it had managed to kill him—to make him give in to despair, give up, and die—then it might have started all over again. Now it's gone."

His cell phone rang. "Mabel," he said, glancing at the screen. "Stanley is eager to leave the hospital."

"I'll go pick him up," Dipper said. "Where's Hazard?"

"She's driven back to your house. She's making sure that Brandi and Allie are apprised of the situation."

"Wendy, could you clean up the table?"

"Go get Stan," she said. "Eloise and I will have some girl talk."


When the guys had left, Wendy said, "Seriously now, Eloise, are you gonna be OK?"

"Yeah, I think so," Eloise said with a smile. "I've been through stuff like this before. You?"

"I grew up in Gravity Falls," Wendy said. "Crap like this happens about once a month up there. You ought to come up and visit."

"I've heard a lot about it. Maybe I can get there one of these days. Mabel's, uh—she's special, isn't she?"

Wendy laughed. "She's something else. I wish I had half her energy and maybe a third of her optimism! Great sense of humor, too, even if it is sort of off-kilter a lot of the time."

"She's kind, too," Eloise said. She gazed at Wendy and then said, "The woman that drew the magic circle—it hit you hard when you heard she'd passed away. I could tell. Are you OK?"

"Gonna be," Wendy said. "Yeah, it was hard. I didn't know her at all, just met her that one time. When Amy and I flew down to visit her and she gave us that medal thing that nearly blistered my leg, Myrtle told us she was ready to go. I think maybe when we took care of that thing in the attic, she somehow got the news. She'd been hanging on until it was gone—and then when it was, she was ready to go, too. I kinda hope she got to see her sister. That's what she most wanted—to see her big sister again and let her know that the thing that drove her to suicide was defeated. I hope she got to do that."

Eloise let Wendy sniffle a little. Then, shyly, she said, "You're pretty fierce with an axe."

That got her a grin. "Yeah, well, I'm a lumberjack's daughter. And that's an axe I inherited from an ancestor. It's a hell of an axe. It could literally chop a ghost in half."

"Whoops," Eloise said as her phone chimed. "Just a second. Hi. Oh, hello, Dr. Canova. Yes, that's right, I'm on the second floor. No, opposite side of the building. No, I'm not afraid at all! Really. Uh, sure. I'll be glad to. Thank you!"

When she hung up, she said, "Dean Canova. She wanted to know if I was afraid to sleep in my dorm room tonight. I'm . . I'm not. That surprises even me! But it's true."

Wendy nodded and mused, "I remember the first time I ever saw a ghost. Two ghosts, actually. I kinda had to go home and sit staring at a wall and rethinking everything. But you've dealt with ghosts yourself. You get used to it. Key is to keep your mind on what's gotta be done. If you get scared, you can tuck the fear off to the side somewhere and deal with it later. But, hey, if you have nightmares or anything, just call. I mean it. You can call on us 24/7."

"I don't think I'll have to. But it helps to know I could."

"Let's dump the wrappers and get out of here. How about a walk around the campus boundary? I still got tension I need to deal with."

"Let's go," Eloise said.


"It wasn't such a big deal," Stan muttered. "You get a little woozy, some doctor sees a chance to get rich quick!"

"It sounds a little more serious to me," Sheila told him.

They were back at the Mystery Twins' house—that was what Stan usually called it—and when Stanley refused to lie down because "I ain't sleepy," they had gone out into the back yard to toss a ball for Tripper. Stan stretched, arching his back. "You know what these guys need out here? Nice picnic table. Maybe one of those giant-sized umbrellas, heavy wood table that wouldn't blow over in a wind, nice smooth benches so's the kids don't get splinters, good place on clear days to have a little picnic—what?"

"Nothing, Stan," Sheila said. "Except I love you, you lug."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, don't spread it around, but I love you too, Sheila. Hey, there's a little creek back behind the fence. Wanna go for a walk? Wendy tells me she and Dipper built themselves a bridge back there. I'd like to see it."

"Let's go."

The afternoon was wearing on. It was still a clear, fine day, warm for October, but they strolled, enjoying the quiet and the soft mutter of the water off to their left. Tripper zoomed around, ranging far ahead and then galloping back, sometimes proudly offering them a trophy: a pine cone once, and then a stick, and finally a live and indignant turtle, uninjured except for his dignity. Stan thanked the pup gravely, took the little turtle, no larger than a poker chip, and gently dropped it into the stream.

When they got to the bridge, Tripper ran to the center and sat down, waiting for them and looking as if he'd personally set down every timber and driven every bolt. He lay on his belly, head out over the stream, nose twitching, and half-closed his eyes.

"Dogs have the right idea," Stan said. "Everybody needs to have some time to take it easy."

"How about you?" Sheila asked. They stopped near Tripper, leaning on the rail and gazing upstream. The creek rippled and looked silvery in the afternoon light.

"Yeah, I was considering that too," Stan said. "You think I work too hard?"

"I think you're doing what you like to do and sometimes making money at the same time," Sheila said. "But—now and then I'd like for us to take a trip that doesn't wind up in a casino. I know you love that, and I'd never tell you to stop."

"Yeah, it's selfish of me. And, heck, I gotta admit we don't really need the money so much, but it's a hard habit to break. How's about this? Three casino trips a year, no more. And for every casino trip, one week-long vacation to anywhere you want to go. And we'll do stuff together. Go lay in the sun on a beach, though I never got what's so great about that myself, or go watch the whales, go to Hawaii, or France, or wherever. Just you and me."

"I'd love that."

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna go into details yet, but this little stunt with Ford—it kinda made me think of what I need to do, things I gotta straighten out. So, yeah, let's do it. Now you're gonna laugh at me."

"Never in a million years."

Stan kissed her cheek. "OK. So here's the joke. Once I came close to bein' elected mayor of Gravity Falls. The laws have changed since old Mayor Befufflefumpter's time, so it's no longer a what-do-you call it, word that begins with 'S,' Ford would know it, means a lifetime job. Anyhow, now it's a four-year term, and Tyler's told me he wants to step down in a couple years. What would you say if I wanted to run for Mayor? I mean, God, I hate politicians, they're always so crooked! So I figure there's room for me."

"I think I would love being First Lady of Gravity Falls," Sheila said.

"Damn, I think I'm gonna do it," Stanley said.

"Are you going to tell me what landed you in the hospital?"

He said, "One day soon, babe. Let me what do you call it, process it all first. But soon. 'Cause I love you, in case you didn't know."

"Then kiss me."

"Anything for you, Sheila. Anything for you."


Sheila drove Mabel's car down to pick up her husband and Mabel for the drive back to the house. Hazard drove Brandi and Allie in—though Allie still felt a little groggy. Dean Canova told them their room had been damaged and invited them to pass the night in her guest room. Ford accompanied them to their room to retrieve clothes—fortunately, the closets had not been damaged—and necessities, and they went with Carla after that.

Ford, Wendy, and Dipper drove back in Dipper's car.

Stanley seemed to be his old self, though he was a lot more huggy with Sheila than usual. That evening, Ford treated everyone to dinner at one of the upscale restaurants in town—a seafood place, but with a varied menu. He and Lorena, Stan and Sheila, would spend another night in the motel and then next morning would drive back to Gravity Falls in the Stanleymobile. Deputy Director Hazard was driving the company car back to Oregon.

"Well," Dipper said to Wendy as they got ready for bed, "tomorrow's the last day of our little fall break. Run?"

"Of course!" Wendy said. "We gotta try out that bridge."

"All right," he said. He set the alarm for six.

As they lay in bed, he said, "You're sad."

Wendy whispered, "Kind of. Miss Myrtle was a special old lady. If I make it to eighty, I want to be like her."

"I wish I'd met her."

"Yeah. At least she . . . well, she was ready. She went when we busted that horrible thing."

"Thanks to you and your axe."

"Not me, man. Thanks mostly to Stan. Ford's great, don't get me wrong. But Stan, man—that song from the Don Quixote musical? What's the line about marching into hell?"

"To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause," Dipper said. "Yeah. Stan has that. I know what you mean. He'd make fun of me for saying it, but God bless Stanley Pines."

"Amen to that. Hold me, Dipper. Just . . . let's hold each other."