Vingt-quatre[It's a long way down to the bottom of the river.]
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Six people couldn't fit into one boat. Thankfully, there were two boats.
Henry quirked a brow at the boats. "Okay. Who's riding with who?"
Allison patted Tom's good arm. "Who would you pick?"
The wolf searched the floor with a scowl, deeper than his usual one, and pointed at Buddy.
Buddy pointed to himself in confusion, then looked up at Norman.
The Projectionist slumped and patted Buddy's head. Throwing a fit wouldn't get them anywhere, and the amalgam was wise to how much the horned woman and one-armed wolf didn't trust him.
"Well, that was easy! Thought there would be a tug-o-war over the wolf." Sammy made his way over to the boats, a hand lifted in a flippant display of 'done with this crap,'. "Well… the friendly wolf, anyway."
Henry sighed out of his nose. "Sammy, don't antagonize the guy with a pipe."
"And I have an axe, my little sheep." He powered the first boat with a tug of the lever and it made a slow path down to the river. The ink barely splashed as it landed. "Who's first?"
Tom lumbered forward, a mechanical hand grasping Allison's arm tenderly. He was ready to swing on the closest person with his real arm, glaring at Sammy as he went past.
Buddy's ears drooped as he, too, headed for the boat.
Allison's smile was weak and a little forced as she waved. "We'll see you there, okay?"
Henry waved back. "See you there."
The second party climbed into the boat and were slowly on their way.
Sammy held the throttle, free hand to his hip and grasping the axe. "Mm. This part is never fun. Not even for me."
The cartoonist stood between Norman and Sammy, arms crossed over his chest. "Why would it be fun for you?"
"Correction; less fun than ever before… but easier with more than myself."
Henry squinted his way. "Couldn't you use the portals?"
"I could, but those take energy. The further space between A and B the more tired I become. So, if B is The Lost Harbor and A is, oh… the music room?" Sammy smirked and steered the vessel. "Well, I'd arrive knocked out. Can't have the flock fearing too much for their shepherd."
The Projectionist moaned in alarm as the boat slowed to a crawl. It stalled out completely, the paddle wheel grinding to a halt.
"Norman?" Henry asked as the light hit his face a little too brightly. "Check the wheel. If it's blocked by ink, try to clear it."
The amalgam raised a hand to the wheel and gripped a writhing chunk of ink, tossing it into the depths.
The boat churned once more… but something to the right and down a tunnel lurched.
"Ah. There we go."
The man pulled his seeing tool free and aimed for the ink. Once the hand emerged, he could get a better look. "It might be like the butcher clones Allison mentioned."
"... maybe." But the ink man's anxiety was creeping higher in his chest. The boat halted once more, and Norman was already on it, slapping at the paddle wheel like it owed him money.
Henry glowered at the seeing tool, waiting for the hand and turning every which way. "C'mon, pop up. I know you're out there."
"Don't antagonize the-" A massive hand rose up some yards away- "giant hand."
"Hold still you son of a- oh! Sammy, there's something on the palm! A-an outline! Allison!" He lowered the tool with a shout.
"What!" She called from her spot on the other boat.
"There's a marking on the hand! I-it looks like a-"
Dirtied, white fingers thicker than Henry's torso hooked the side of the boat and pushed upwards. The trio fell back, Norman hissing and Sammy grasping the sides in terror.
The hand unhooked its fingers, wiggling them slowly before bringing them down again so hard the boat tipped on one side! Ink sloshed into the vessel and left gallons of it in the bottom when it set down and-
Henry went sailing through the air. He had nothing to grab onto and landed with a deep, oily splash some feet away. The hand sank down after him, fingers curled to make a fist...
The situation didn't hit in one blow. It… took Sammy a minute to realize what happened…
But when he did?
"Henry!" Sammy leaped from where he'd fallen and gripped the edge of the boat, staring over the side into the ebony depths. He trembled in every limb, eyes aglow and desperate to find a sign that the man wasn't lost. He'd known Henry had fallen in before, but not here. Not with the giant hand that slammed into anything it could get a hold of! "Henry!"
But there was only the slosh and ripples of ink. Henry was lost.
.
.
.
Lost?
Maybe.
It was… not good; he assumed.
Dark.
Too dark.
Wet and sticky and thick like tar.
Gross.
Henry didn't open his eyes. He wouldn't see anything down here. Okay. Now what? He… he got a breath before the fall. He'd… gasped in shock. That bought him time.
How much?
Enough? Enough. It had to be enough.
Okay. Which way was up? He floated in the black, not sure if he'd be better off sinking to the floor and kicking off, or just kicking his legs to rise.
His lungs were aching.
oh
The cartoonist paused. What… who was… that wasn't quite a voice.
sorry
Sorry? Who was-
hello
His heart hammered against his ribs.
shh
That didn't calm him down at all. His lungs were burning.
henry
No. Who were they? Why did they know him?
ink
Ink. Okay, then what did-
look
He couldn't. It wouldn't do him any good.
henry you need to look
The urge to breathe wrapped clawed fingers in his ribs and pushed panic up his breastbone.
HENRY OPEN YOUR EYES
No!
OPEN THEM
Why?
OPEN YOUR EYES NOW
He couldn't.
CREATOR YOU WILL LOOK
Too dark.
YOU WILL LOOK IF YOU WANT TO
SET
US
FREE
I can't breathe!
LOOK AND WE WILL LET YOU BREATHE
He opened his eyes.
It made complete and no sense all at the same time.
It was… himself. A rough sketch of himself, eyes wide and aglow. The line work was shoddy and scruffy, but it was a complete copy of him, with every marking the seeing tool had shown. It watched, face blank but totally focused on him. Slowly, mechanical as the ink machine's own pumping motions, the gold copy raised its hands to Henry to reveal dripping palms of molten gold.
Henry raised his own hands, slow and tugged by the weight of ink, and found thin, dripping strands of gold leading from his fingertips to the copy's own hands.
The copy turned without moving, as if on a turntable… and the cartoonist felt his stomach drop out at who he saw next. Attached to his copy's back was another person, all too familiar.
Joey. A golden sketch of the man, looking just like the one from the kitchen in the apartment. But that smile… that smile was so straight and perfect, teeth too large, too square, too… fake.
It was growing, splitting seams he couldn't see. The golden glow was fading from Joey as his mouth opened wider and wider until…
The mouth spread so wide as to take up Henry's field of vision, but what lay beyond the gaping mouth was stranger still.
The Ink Machine. The very thing he could never avoid, no matter how much he tried to. Always starting it, always watching it sink lower and lower and-
The teeth clamped shut and shattered the machine, and Henry forgot where he was for only half a second, inhaling the ink.
Something soft and massive enveloped Henry, and he drifted out of the golden-traced vision he'd seen.
... but what did it mean?
.
.
.
In their boat, Norman was frantically sweeping the ink with his cables, a hand holding Sammy by a strap in a death grip. The ink man had stopped screaming a while ago and was merely clinging to the side of the boat. He'd shut down, the fear and worry so strong he couldn't even shut his mouth.
"Any luck?" Allison's voice rang out over the ink. She had a hand to Buddy's back, rubbing gentle circles into it. Buddy was covering his eyes in terror, shaking so hard his movements shook the boat.
"... none." Sammy uttered back. "None." God, what was he supposed to do? Norman was trying to help, but… What now? What if Henry didn't come up? Would he float to the top, lifeless, and come back to life like before? "Henry. Please." He pushed down the lump rising in his throat and blinked his eyes that threatened to spill over.
Something moved some feet away. A smooth, rolling mass like windblown silk drew close. Sammy watched with wide eyes as the giant hand lifted from the depths and dropped someone into the boat. It ignored Norman's shrieking and sunk back under the waves.
"Henry!" Sammy hit the deck of the boat and ignored the pain in his knees as he did. The man lay still, blackened but very much intact.
The cartoonist slowly, painfully, rolled onto knees and elbows. His head snapped up as his lungs pulled in air, and Sammy pulled back from shock.
Henry's body lit with gold, like the embers of lit paper gone as it burned away the ink and revealed the human underneath. The marks that the seeing tool would show lit for all to see, the gold light fading away as the man vomited his own river of ink. The last gold to fade were Henry's eyes, staring up at Sammy in a mix of fear and confusion.
"... Henry?" The ink man raised a hand to him cautiously, brows furrowed.
The cartoonist turned and grabbed Sammy in a bear hug, panting and shaking but so far from wanting to let go. "Shit." He swallowed and coughed at the burning of his throat. "Sammy. Holy shit."
"I've got you." The ink man hugged back. He glanced over at Allison and gave a thumbs-up her way. He could feel her relief even so far away.
Henry pulled back and let his forehead fall forward to rest on Sammy's collarbone. "I… I saw something. It looked like me, but… drawn. A gold sketch. It… when it turned around, Joey was behind it, and he… I don't know. He opened his mouth and the ink machine was… in there… I…" He gagged, taking a deep breath. "I'll be spitting ink for a week."
Norman's light scanned the depths, and a cable reached for the throttle of the boat. The Projectionist realized two things then; the men on the floor needed space, and he could totally handle the boat on his own.
The six of them pulled into the Lost Harbor. Sammy didn't let Henry go just yet, still stroking the back of his neck with fingers paused in auburn hair. "We've landed. My little sheep, I need you to stay back for a moment."
"M'kay. Why?" He… didn't want to let go, but they had work to do.
"I need to make what we're here for known to the flock. I must clarify that you-" he stood slowly, facing the Lost Harbor with a determined frown- "are here to help."
Henry nodded and swallowed. "Will they believe you?"
Sammy hopped out of the boat and onto the dock, turning to offer a hand to Henry. "They have so far. And with how different I look today from yesterday, they'd be foolish not to believe." He looked at the other three. "Did you catch any of that?"
Allison made a face. "Stay out of the way while you talk to them. That it?"
A nod. A squeeze to Henry's hand. "That's it." He managed a soft smile at Henry. "Ready to see me work a little magic?"
The man managed a tired huff of a laugh. "You're plenty magical."
Neither of them caught the silent conversation between Tom, Allison, and Norman. Tom gave them a disapproving glower, while Allison's gaze grew uneasy… but Norman shook a cable at them and made laced-fingers over his speaker. He pointed at the two of them and held a single finger to where his mouth would have been.
Seemed they got the message, considering the wide-eyed look of discomfort Buddy gave the two of them. But the friendly wolf didn't care what they thought as he raced to Henry and gave him a soft hug. A tight one didn't feel right after what he'd seen happen.
Henry hugged back. "Yeah. I'm okay." His hazel gaze fell on Allison. Beside her, Tom focused his attention on his pipe.
The horned woman climbed out of the boat and made her way over. "Well, this is a change."
Norman hefted himself out of the boat and climbed onto the dock. His light fell on Allison and held, before he headed further into the tiny village, staying to the side and away from the center. Buddy gave Henry a pat and followed.
In the village, in front of the building Sammy used to burst from, Sammy stood at the steps and called out. His mask was down, but his voice was bright in the dark. "My flock, I have come bearing splendid news. Come forth and see. Come out of your homes, your puddles, your corners, and listen! Your shepherd has been changed for the better!"
He'd only had to speak for a moment, before the lost ones and searchers alike came out in droves. The village wasn't huge, but there had to be fifty to emerge. Searchers crawled across the ground, lost ones limped and waddled from their houses, puddles burbled with life.
Henry felt himself smile. Sammy definitely had his own brand of magic… but he'd be lying if he said the mask being down didn't twang a nervous vein in his gut.
Once the village gathered, the ink man took the mask off to the gasps of the ink people watching him. "Look upon me!" Sammy grinned at them with bright eyes. "I am growing whole. We have him to thank, but be aware, listen!" He had pointed Henry's way, but drew back when a few of the flock turned to look. "He is tired from his journey. His tireless work exhausts him. All those with me this day need rest. Peace. Quiet." His voice lowered back to something closer to gentle. "You may ask me questions if you so wish, but they are to be left alone."
A lost one in the group was still watching Henry. They waved slowly.
The cartoonist waved back.
The lost one ducked their head a tad, but turned fully back to Sammy.
Henry sighed. "Allison."
She smiled next to him. "Henry, I'm glad you're okay."
"I… saw two things in the river. One was a marking on the giant hand."
Her eyes widened. "What was it?"
"It kinda looked like a cup? Like… a coffee mug."
A squint. "Coffee mug?"
He nodded. "Yeah. And the other thing." He told her what he'd told Sammy, just better worded and not out of breath.
By the end, the horned woman set a curled fist to her dark mouth, brows knit in thought. "I don't know what that could mean. But I'll keep it in mind. It must be important if the ink itself wanted you to see it." Her free hand fidgeted at her side, brows pinched. "Henry?"
"Yes?"
"Are… uh… never mind."
"Go ahead."
"Are you and Sammy…" Her mouth shrank into a tight bunch of wrinkles. "Together?"
Henry blinked. "Are you and Tom?"
"I…" She looked over to where the wolf stood. He'd crossed his arms over his chest and was now having a wordless conversation with Norman and Buddy. Buddy was gesturing here and there, retelling the tale of how the creature known before only as The Projectionist had joined their side. Tom was… skeptical, but listening. "I don't know."
"Have you told Tom yet?"
She shook her head, eyes to the ink falling from the massive pipe up above. "What can I tell him? That we were both human and were once married?"
"Still are. Married, I mean." The cartoonist shrugged.
The horned woman frowned. "I… it doesn't bother me. You and him. It doesn't."
"Good." Henry peered over his glasses with a deadpan stare. "Because I don't care if it does or not."
She drew away, but nodded in firm understanding.
The ink man made his way over, still smiling. "That went wonderfully, my little sheep."
"I saw. You have a way with them."
"Of course. I am their shepherd, after all."
The horned woman narrowed her eyes at Sammy in question. "You said we needed to rest? Where do we do that?"
"There are cots. I'll take you to them." Sammy smirked. He tapped index and thumb in thought. "But, you are safe here so long as I still stand."
"Any idea why Bendy never comes here?" she asked.
"Too much noise."
"Mm. Makes sense."
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Henry settled onto the cot in Sammy's room easily enough, but nothing he said could get the ink man to take the cot instead of him. "You sure you don't want to-"
"I'm sure."
The cartoonist propped himself onto an elbow. "Then why the long face?"
Right. He had a face now. "There are things I don't… know how to ask for." The ink man clamped his mouth shut and let out an unhappy grumble.
Henry smiled sleepily. "We've only been at this for… a day? One loop?"
The ink man sighed. "Yes. Yet I worry I ask too much of you, my little sheep."
Henry sighed softly in the dark. "Don't worry. Or try not to. I'll let you know if you-"
A gentle series of knocks at the door.
Sammy squinted at the door before humming and heading over. He pulled it open with a cool "Yes?"
A lost one held a folded cot under an arm. Their eyes turned up a bit at the corners in a shy smile. "We thought it best to give you another so you both could rest."
Sammy smiled calmly and took the cot. "Fantastic. You have my thanks, dear sheep." He waited for the lost one to turn away before he shut the door with his knee. He turned to Henry with a crooked frown. "Well. Look what we have here."
Henry nodded and sat up. "Did you want your cot back?"
"I… yes. Yes, I do."
"Okay." Henry got up with a grunt and took the cot from the ink man. He paused, brows knit before smoothing with his smile. "Get on. I got an idea."
Amber eyes blinked slowly. "As you wish." Sammy sat and watched, legs up on the cot that creaked a little with his weight.
Henry grunted as he undid the legs of the cot and set it down not an inch away from Sammy's. "Too close?"
"No. Perfect."
Henry sighed and climbed onto the freshly done cot. "Good." He lay down with a series of pops and the bone-deep desire to sleep the loop away. He turned to lie on his side to face Sammy, who was… still sitting up. "Not tired?"
"Mm… I am."
"Then lay down."
Inked fingers drummed out a staccato thump, amber eyes dancing around. "It's… silly."
"I already said I'd tell you if-"
"I know. I just…"
"Sammy." Henry's voice was laced with concern and coated in a dull, tired ache. "Do it."
The ink man blinked, and lay on one side, facing Henry. He shimmied a little to be perfectly face to face, brow furrowed over bright, amber eyes. The ink man lay his right hand to Henry's cheek, thumb grazing cheekbone. "I have a secret, my little sheep. About the words on my back."
Henry nodded softly.
"The Lighter Side of Hell was all me. For one intense, five-minute burst, I wrote some of my best work." He blinked, hand stilled. "And I made it for you. It was after the roof. Even then, you were kind to me."
"No reason not to be."
"I respectfully disagree, but that song was for… well. A finale. Possibly, a sad love song for your newly made Alice Angel to sing." He huffed, eyes closed, leaving only slits of amber. "But Mister Drew took it and turned it into something peppy and bright. A love song for Bendy to sing to Alice. And before you ask." Amber eyes opened. "I could hear them making the movie while I struggled through the ink. They replaced me quickly and pumped out an hour of tripe, capped with my music." He smirked. "You say you saw the movie?"
"Well… my kids loved Bendy, and I couldn't say no to them. It was, uh, maybe an hour long. Kinda boring plot. Bendy had to team up with everyone he'd ever met to save the town they lived in from a greedy fat cat." He smiled, eyes shut. "A literal fat cat. Had a hat and monocle and everything."
"Ew."
"And it ended on a musical number that just…" The cartoonist shook his head, before laying a hand over the one on his face. "Well… Bendy wasn't supposed to talk. Ever. But I have to say, they picked the best voice for him."
Sammy smiled, and his teeth glowed. "Well, they did one thing right."
"Yeah… but Bendy and Alice as a couple? You're kidding me. I meant her to be like a big sister!"
Sammy's shoulders shook with quiet laughter. "That's where they put my song?"
"Yeah." He felt warmth spread in his cheeks and he yawned. "I like the original better."
Sammy withdrew his hand and rolled onto his stomach. "I'd hope so, my little sheep. I wrote it for you."
Henry's cheeks darkened. "... Sammy?"
"Mm?"
"Is little sheep just for me now?"
"Absolutely."
"Heh. Cute."
"Glad you think so. I'll see you in the music room next loop?"
Next loop. Right. "Right."
"Alright… Henry?"
"Mm?"
"May I, uh…" He paused, unsure how to phrase in a way other than bluntly. "May I try something?"
"Uh… sure."
Sammy slid an arm over Henry's middle, palm pressed to his back. Not tight, not clinging… he just needed to do this simple thing.
Henry chuckled. "I like that. Good idea." But suddenly that inch gap between the cots suddenly felt too much. But he had an idea. Slipping his arm under one on his waist, Henry returned the half-hug gesture, smiling in the dark.
A blink from Sammy. "Liked it so much you copied me?"
"You bet."
"Heh. Goodnight, little sheep."
"Goodnight, Sammy."
And even though the hell of the studio was ever looming, at least this night was good.
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