Taking up a position beside Eshle, Willy watched the others go. When they had, Willy turned to begin signing, his hand glancing across Eshle's shoulder.

'Before they went, did you know the adventurers were going?'

Eshle shook his head. The touch had been as delicate as it was deliberate. It may have been meant as payback, but it wasn't the same. Tilting his head towards the ceiling, Willy closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he crouched down, restoring a sense of equality.

'I haven't time for this. Neither have you. We've a Factory to run. I've been out galavanting. How'd it go today?'

'Smoothly.'

'By which you smoothly mean to say it went smoothly overall, yes? You don't share with me every little hiccup, do you?'

Little hiccup? This was going to go in the 'little hiccup' bin? Like a hiccup, Eshle's eyes widened for a second.

'Not if I can solve it.'

Willy nodded.

'You betcha. If you told me about every little glitch, we'd never get anything done.'

'But I went behind your back.'

'They went behind your back.'

It was too much to think that something kept hidden for all these years would amount to so little. Eshle's signing was tentative, his face mirroring his disbelief.

'Two wrongs don't make a right?'

'It'd be a wrong we'd must needs right if they hadn't come back. They came back. Back then.' Willy folded his hands, only, not a minute later, to unfold them. 'So what happened to them? Anything fun? Do I know them? How many left?'

'Seven, in the first wave to come over, and no, you don't. I sent them back to Loompaland with you, when you were bringing the others.'

Willy pulled his head back and down, hunching his shoulders as if someone had thrown cold water on him. The giggles that erupted were bitten back stand-ins for gasps.

'Eshle! You didn't!'

Willy waited with wide eyes for Eshle to confess he hadn't. With nothing forthcoming, Willy managed to make his hands wheedle.

'Now's the time to say...'

The flat stare Willy got for his trouble never wavered.

'You did!' The fingers of Willy's left hand flew to his lower lip. That meant nothing in sign language, but it did express shock. Needing his hand to go on, Willy removed it from his lip. 'I thought they were helpers.' As slowly as he was signing, he may as well have been whispering. 'So sweet of them to volunteer! I remember them because they went to great lengths not to make eye-contact. The entire time. I thought they were being nice.' Willy's hands stilled, his face pensive. 'Did they want to go back?'

'They left the Factory without permission… Without telling anyone. They jeopardized us all. THAT told me they didn't want to stay. It didn't matter what they SAID after that.'

Willy's giggle was as sharp as it was free. It was almost a crow.

"Holy crap, Eshle, you're kidding!" There was no signing that! Willy was talking. "Remind me not to cross you. No wonder no one leaves through the gates, if that's what's got 'round as the fate that awaits."

Willy's eyes were sparkling as he climbed to his feet.

"If I leave through the gates, can I come back?"

Now Willy was having him on, but Eshle felt relief nonetheless.

"Of course you can. It's your Factory. You can do whatever you want."

Willy shook his head. He'd started down the corridor towards Elevator Maintenance, but now he turned back, and having turned back, he bowed, low, making the Oompa-Loompa salute he'd adopted across his chest.

"Oh, no, my dear Eshle, it's not. And no, I can't."

Holding the salute, and the bow, Willy raised his head, his amethyst eyes aglow. They were on a level. "This is our Factory, mine and yours, and everyone's who's made it what it is."

Willy straightened, the salute unchanged. "And now? Now I've brought in some Buckets. Empty Buckets, with little but strong staves going for them. And we are going to fill them up, you and I, yes indeedy, we are! With this Factory we'll fill them. And maybe, when we're done, they, like us, will take to it, or maybe, like those adventurers, they won't, and they'll leave. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Willy's shudder showed Eshle Willy didn't think it would be. His eyes were taking on that vacant look, but before the look took hold, the shudder became a shake, and Willy's smile was back. "Which will make it an adventure for us, to see which of those whiches it will be."

In the next liquid motion, the salute dissolved. Willy's arms and hands transformed themselves into pointers: Eshle indicated by the right; himself by the left. "But I? And you? I dare say? And everyone else here who we love who loves this wonder?" The point ended, and the curled fingers of Willy's hands nestled against each other at the level of his waist: a schoolboy, about to recite the lesson. "For we poor creatures, it's done. The end. Fini. Full stop. Period. We'll never leave. This creation of ours, this creature…" a rolling flip of the fingers, and back to the pose, "it captured us, years ago, and heart and soul we surrendered to it, and I… for one… shall happily die, a slave to this Factory."

The flow of words ended. For dripping seconds, there was nothing but the sound of breathing. In another second, with the words' meanings washing over him, Eshle, bowing his head, crossed his arms in the familiar salute. There was no other answer. What Willy said was true. It touched Eshle to hear it.

Seeing in Eshle's demeanor his same joy in their shared fate, Willy, in a mood, stepped forward, and before Eshle could fully drop the salute, Willy swept Eshle's descending arm into the crook of his own. He then led his right-hand man in a round, skipping turn, as if he were swinging his partner in a square dance. It had been a dance reflected Eshle. A long, intricate dance—over many years—and just as enjoyable. But the twirling over, a promenade was not to be. Starting them both down the corridor, Willy had dropped his arm and surged ahead, Eshle trotting to keep up.

"Before we get to The Great Glass, dear Eshle, finish telling me what you know about dear Terence's bugaboo-limo."


Like a shadow caught moving out of the corner of your eye, Dr. Wonka's limo glided to a stop at the corner of Hovel and Hill. Dr. Wonka alighted, and the impression of a black stain only grew. Nora and Noah were standing at their side-by-side trucks, waiting for the last of the next load of crates to find their places. Nora's gentle voice broke the companionable silence that had grown up between them.

"Who do you suppose that is, dear?"

"Hard to know, dear," answered Noah, swinging round to discover what she was talking about. When he saw, his breath caught in his throat.

His wife looked sharply at him, but putting his cupped hand to his mouth, Noah coughed, and that seemed to satisfy her. If she didn't recognize it, there was no need to tell her this wasn't the first time he'd seen that car today. She'd seen it, too. The trunk of it anyway, as it drove away, if she'd noticed that, but perhaps it hadn't registered. She'd been otherwise occupied. But Noah could swear it was the same one. The same one that had stopped to enjoy the show earlier. The one that, when Noah had pointed it out, Terence, returning from fetching Charlie from school with Nora, had chased off. No, that wasn't right. The same limo that had taken off, when Terence approached it. Curious. Things had gotten kinda cloak and dagger after that, though Noah couldn't guess why. That was for Terence to worry about.

This time was different. Before, no one had gotten out of the limo. Now, someone had. Who? Noah was wondering himself. Terence had been pretty interested in finding out the first time. Was he still? Where was Terence, anyway? With no way to tell, Noah put that musing aside. The fellow across the way looked at least as old as were his and Nora's parents, but in finer form. Much finer. He looked fine all around: clothes; car; the way he carried himself. He should have been someone you wanted to meet, but Noah felt the opposite. His normally curious wife was hanging back herself. She'd normally be off across the way to the corner, to introduce herself, and find out who he was, but it wasn't happening.

"Do you think it's someone from the city?"

Maybe that was the issue. This fellow looked used to getting his way. The way he stood tall, surveying the scene as if his permission were needed to proceed, made that a possibility. But the hunch to his shoulders, as if, in spite of his imperiousness he was peremptorily ducking a blow he feared was coming, was out of place.

"I don't think so, dear. It's late in the day for those types."

"Umm… I guess so." Nora paused. She should go see, but her feet wouldn't move. The person of interest hadn't noticed them yet; he had stopped, to get his bearings, or perhaps he was looking for someone. He was looking in every direction but one, never allowing his body to turn in any way towards it.

"Dear?"

"Yes, dear?" Noah answered, smiling to himself at his wife's use of Willy's favorite get-the-conversation-started construction.

"Is that the car that Terence…" Nora didn't finish the question. It wasn't the question she wanted answered. "Do you think that man is afraid of the Chocolate Factory?"

"Hard to know, dear, but he sure is being odd about it."

The newcomer was being odd about it. So odd, Noah glanced up the hill, to reassure himself. The way this fellow was acting, you'd think he thought the Factory was alive. That it would leap off its foundations, and attack him. That it would crush him, flat and bloody, like a bug, splatting on a windscreen. The image made Noah shiver. But nope, the Factory was as solid and indifferent as ever. The normal up the hill didn't help. The oddity was here. Anxiousness joined Noah's feeling of cold. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, dancing in place on the balls of his feet.

"Thinking of running, dear?"

Nora was only half laughing at him. He looked down at the marks his shoes were putting in the chilling earth.

"Huh. I think I might be."

The movement caught the gentleman's attention. Noah felt Nora's hand on his arm; her fingers felt like talons, digging into his coat. Turning to her, Noah found her eyes pinned by the eyes of the mystery man. He was looking directly at her, staring, and the look Noah saw in those eyes was one he never wanted to see again. The light in a reptile's eyes outshone the warmth Noah saw in that baleful look, by a thousand-fold.

"Mr. Bucket, Mrs. Bucket! The trucks are ready!"

"Praise be," muttered Noah. Taking his wife's elbow, Noah steered her to her waiting vehicle. "Get to the Factory, sweetheart. Don't stop for anything. I'm right behind you, and we're not coming back until that guy is gone. I don't care who he is, he doesn't belong here."

Nora didn't try to speak. She nodded her agreement, the color returning to her cheeks now that the stare was broken. She gulped a little as she climbed into the truck, but with the doors locked, she felt safe in its cocooning space. Thank God for Willy Wonka and his trucks! And his Factory! As she pulled away, Nora tried not to look, but in her peripheral vision she could see the raised arm, the quickened pace; the attempt to get her to stop. With tears stinging her eyes, that made no sense to her at all, she knew she'd die before she'd do that.


I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in any of its many forms, and there is no copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading. If you care to, fav, follow, review. I'll be thrilled if you do. Writing of reviewing, thank you, thank you Squirrela and dionne dance for your lovely comments. I appreciate them no end. Cheers!