Car Haunt

(August 27, 2018)

16

The worst part was waiting. The sun went down. The light faded in the west. Tripper became anxious, tracking the almost invisible disturbances around the inside of the perimeter. "At least they're not multiplying," Ford said. "Still the same number. That may make it easier for us—if we can succeed in dispatching the—call it the flock, I suppose."

"We better," Wendy said grimly.

Stan drank a cup of black coffee. "Gold dust, huh," he muttered.

"I think I'll have to get into the Manitou," Dipper told Mabel and Wendy. "Or stand right beside it, at least. They seem to be connected to the car somehow."

"Soon as this is over," Mabel said, "you trade it in!"

"Well—"

"No wells, no buts, no maybes!" Mabel snapped.

Wendy touched his arm. "I think Mabel's right, Dipper. Even if we chase off the—things, we'll never feel good about the car."

"We'll see," Dipper said.

At 9:58 that night, a text came through from Billy Sheaffer's number: Let's do it. Good luck.

"You scared?" whispered Mabel.

"Yeah, I am," Dipper said.

"Me too."

"OK," Stan said. "Here's the plan, and I know it's a little different from your plan, but it's what we're gonna do. Listen up. Fiddleford and Ford are armed with destabilizer rifles. I got spook-vision goggles, plus one of the pistols, and here's one for you, Dip. Wendy, you want—no, huh?"

She held her axe. Even in the light of the gift shop, the blade shimmered a ghostly blue. "Got this, Stan. Thanks, though."

"OK, soon as the little flickery things pass the Manitou, I'm firing up the engine—no, no arguing, this is how it's going down—Dip will ride shotgun, but hold the door a little open. I'm gonna race 'er back to the Bottomless Pit. If we're lucky, we'll beat the pack. I'll brake hard and Dip, you jump out and go to the far side of the Pit. The three of us with the quantum weapons are gonna take 'em out, we already figured where we'll stand to avoid crossfire. If we get 'em, fine. If not, Dip, you jump into the Pit. Ford figures they'll hesitate to go in there, so they should cluster over it, and that's when we finish them. Any of 'em follow you, blast 'em."

"No," Dipper said. "I can't leave you and Wendy and Mabel with them."

Stan scowled "No argument from you, I said."

"Better do it, Dipper," Wendy said. "If you go in the Pit, I'll jump right after you."

"Me, too," Mabel said.

"See, this is why I don't want to do it," Dipper objected.

"Overruled, Dipdop," Mabel said. "Luck hug!"

They group-hugged, Dipper hanging onto Wendy a little longer than the others.

Then Fiddleford and Ford went out to take their stations, both wearing the paranormal vision goggles. The whirling cloud of small triangles ignored them, and after an incredibly long minute, Ford spoke to the others over the earpieces they all wore: "QD 1 and QD 2 in position. We'll report when we spot the disturbance coming toward you."

"I'm goin' to the Pit," said Wendy. "We'll get through this, Dip. Mabes, you wait thirty seconds and then come along if you gotta."

Mabel counted down the seconds in the one-Mississippi-two-Mississippi way, then said, "Here I go."

Ford's voice came over the earphones: "They've just passed the car."

"Let's go, Dip," Stan said. "Remember, just for this time, no seatbelt, and don't slam that door shut."

They hurried out and to the car. With a sigh, Stan said, "This hurts me more than it does them." And he dumped the special gold dust over the roof of the car. "Let's roll."

He started the engine, backed out, and roared down past the Shack and toward the Mystery Trail.

"They're coming!" Dipper yelled.

"Ford ain't—"

"Floor it, Fez!" It was Bill Cipher's voice, coming from Dipper.

Stan jammed on the brakes. "Out you go!" He shoved Dipper out the door, the whole world spun, and Dipper hit and rolled. He had lost the pistol.

"Move, kid, move!" Cipher again?

"Stay down!" yelled Ford. Beams from three quantum destabilizers sizzled only a yard over his head. Dipper hadn't realized that Mabel had one. The Manitou engine fired up again.

Dipper yelled "No, don't!" as he saw what was happening.

Stan drove the Manitou through the protective railing—and it nosed over and plummeted into the Pit.

Mabel screamed, tossed her pistol aside, and leaped after him a moment later.

"Go, Dip!" Wendy yelled. "Dozen of 'em still coming!"

Dipper made the hardest sprint he had ever made and dived headfirst into the Bottomless Pit, hearing the electrical hiss as the destabilizers fired again.

In the darkness below, he saw the silhouette of Mabel and beyond her the taillights of the Manitou. He pressed his arms to his sides and his fall accelerated.

"Dipper!" Mabel yelled. She was falling head-down, feet up, but had rolled onto her back to spot him. He saw she had one of those green light sticks on a lanyard around her neck. "Gotta get Grunkle Stan out of the car!"

"Let's go. Like this!" He showed her how to speed-fall.

And they plummeted after the car.

"How many left?" Fiddleford shouted.

"Between five and ten," Ford said. "And they . . .all . . . dived into the Pit."

"I'm going in," Wendy said, but Ford caught her around the waist. "Too late. You couldn't catch them now! We have to wait!"

"Hell with that!" Wendy yelled, struggling to break his hold.

"Wendy!" Ford's voice lashed at her attention. "If anything happens to Dipper—he wants you safe!"

And though she was perhaps the strongest of them all, she broke down, clung to Ford, and cried.

"What now?" asked Fiddleford.

"Now we wait," Ford said grimly.

Cliffhanger time.

As far as anyone knows, anyone who falls or jumps into the Bottomless Pit falls for about twenty-two minutes before re-emerging. As far as we know. It's happened before.

Let's check the time—you put everything away and go for a walk for, oh, twenty minutes should do it.

But don't worry. Tripper was locked inside the attic of the Shack, and smart though he was, he couldn't handle a key. The little dog is safe.

And what of the others?

What, indeed.

Cliffhangers, how everyone hates them.

Back already? You must have walked at a fast clip! Good for you. Nothing beats that old cardio workout to get that blood pumping! Feels good, right?

Uh, yeah, OK.

"Hey!" yelled Fiddleford, lying on his belly and gazing down into the Pit. "Something's a-coming!"

"Stand back!" Ford yelled.

A disheveled-looking Stanley popped out of the dark hold, landed, and yelped. "Oy, my tuchus!" With a grunt, he pushed himself to his knees and then stood. "Hiya, Poindexter. Sorry, I lost your gun."

"Whee!" A somersaulting Mabel emerged, flipped over in the air, and landed in a superheroine pose, crouching, feet spread one fist on the grass. "That was fun!"

And last of all . . .

Uh.

Well, I thought there was someone else. And so did they

They gazed down into the Pit.

"Come on, Brobro!" Mabel yelled.

"Dipper?" Wendy. She balled her fists, leaned over, and screamed, "You better not be dead!"

"There he is!" Mabel said. A yellow glow showed the black silhouette of Dipper coming on fast.

"Look out!" Dipper yelled as he shot out of the Pit.

Wendy caught him, even though they both collapsed to the ground. "You OK?" they simultaneously asked each other. And then they were kissing. And laughing. And crying. All at once.

"Are you uninjured? What happened down there?" Ford asked.

"Did we get rid of all of them?" Stanley asked at the same time.

"Wendy—our car's gone," Dipper said.

"Shut up, I love you," she told him, and then kissed him again.

It was about 10:25 PM.

They staggered back to the Shack.

Dipper's phone chimed to signal an incoming text:

Did it, Pine Tree. Call the kid tomorrow morning. Early. Nice working with you, and hey, we'll meet aga

The message ended in the middle of the word.

Tripper was barking frantically. Mabel freed them, and he joined them all downstairs, where everyone more or less collapsed into chairs or even onto the floor.

They were worn out.

Nobody wanted to go to bed.

In fact, none of them slept for the rest of that night. But they talked and talked and talked.

To be continued