Wanderers from the Weird Side

(August 15-16, 2017)

11: Uncanny Reunion

"Don't touch her!" Dipper and Stanford yelled at the same time.

Wendy spun, crouching, raising her axe.

About six feet from her, the Wendy-double construct stopped, her eyes wide. She stared at Wendy, then at Dipper, and then back at Wendy. "Is that me but older?" she asked, her voice like Wendy's but different, too, strangely thin and distorted.

She had spoken to Dipper before, back in the Mabel Land bubble, but now her voice had a strange, buzzing tone that he had never heard. And now that she was more . . . solid, Dipper could see that her body looked subtly different, not quite human, deformed in ways he couldn't quite name. She didn't threaten by word or movement, but just stood gazing at Wendy.

Then she said in a pathetic, begging voice, "I could look like her. I can. We can be together, dude." But her tone held no hope.

Wendy backed away from her as the construct twitched and shuddered. Dipper blinked. She was growing taller—by an inch or two—and her hair reshaped itself to be more like the way Wendy wore it now.

But—he nearly gagged—during the process, three or four times a slit in her skin opened and a bug frantically skittered out, only to be re-absorbed after a few steps. "You're too late," Dipper said. "Wendy and I are getting married."

"No, please," the construct said. "I want to be real."

"Hear that vibration? It's the voice of Legion," Stanford said quietly. "Thousands of those—smaller bodies, speaking as one."

"What's happening to you?" Dipper asked. "You can tell us. No, don't come forward! Stay where you are. Don't come close to Wendy, or you'll both—stop."

"Dreamed for so many years," she said, staggering a little. "Slept and dreamed. We, I, we made a colony. Lived in hollow tree. We, I remembered this form. Remembered Dipper. And then—memories fading. Don't want to stop! Please."

"She's afraid, Dipper," Wendy said.

Stanford said to the construct, "The entity that gives you your power is departing your realm. That's why you're fading. It isn't our fault—and we can't help you." To Dipper, he said quietly, "Be ready for anything."

Stanford stooped and switched off the energy device.

Wendy gagged.

The false Wendy instantly broke down into a hundred thousand bugs—brown, roach-like, frantic, scattering in all directions. Everything, her hair, her clothes, had been made up of the insects. "I saw this happen before!" Dipper said.

Stanford switched the generator on again. The bugs halted in their rush to escape, clustered together in a seething mass—and the Wendy construct reformed, at first becoming something like a living statue made of round buttons of chocolate candy stuck together. Then, starting from her head, color flowed down, reddening her hair, turning her shirt green, giving flesh tone to her skin.

"Please," she said again. "I we I all scared."

Stanford stepped forward and spoke to her in a regretful, calm tone: "You're not one person. You're a colony, as you said. You must become that and not dream of being human. That won't be possible. This device lets you hold your form temporarily, but it will last only a short time."

"Want him," the false Wendy said, staring at Dipper. "My our purpose is to please him. Must try."

"No," Dipper said. "You should—live the life you were born with. Not try to be Wendy. There's only one of her. All of you together can't be another Wendy."

"Don't want to forget!" The construct moved so fast that Wendy nearly swung at her, but she only threw herself to her knees a few steps from Dipper. "Help. Don't want to die!"

And though Ford did not switch the generator off, she scattered again, breaking into her components.

"That," Wendy said, "was beyond freaky."

Dipper said, "I wonder if we can summon the others? Xyler, Craz? Are you there?"

"You're gonna need Mabel for that," Wendy said. "They're her dream boys."

"How did you know we were coming out here?" Dipper asked.

"Mabel heard you leaving and saw you running down the driveway. She woke me up and asked what you were up to. I found your note and saw you'd left your phone on the stand. Called it and got your voicemail message. Here, by the way."' She handed Dipper his mobile phone.

"I don't think we ought to call Mabel in," Dipper said. "She's too much on edge already."

"She's tougher than you think, Dipper," Wendy said.

Ford picked up the energy device. "I'd say it would have to be your sister's call, Mason. I'm willing to try if you want."

Dipper looked around. The clearing seemed so familiar. This was where the effigy of Bill Cipher had fallen to earth—the stone from in which he had lived and which he had animated during Weirdmageddon ("Physical form? Don't mind if I do!"). When he had dived into Grunkle Stan's mind—mistaking him for Ford—Cipher had gone back to his spectral form, abandoning the body he had fashioned for himself. And when Grunkle Stan had defeated him, the Fearamid had fallen to pieces and Bill's body, now a statue composed of minerals and metals, had partly buried itself here, its right hand held out as if for a handshake deal.

Now all that remained of it lay inside the metal cage, crumbled to bits, shapeless, inert matter again. No more insane laughter or deadly pranks. Like an ancient mummy in a horror movie, it had utterly disintegrated since the previous summer.

The false Wendy was only a collection of tiny minds that wanted to be more but realized they would share the statue's fate very soon now. And Xyler, Craz, and—Dipper felt his fists bunching from anger—Dippy Fresh—what about them? They weren't Bill's creations, but Mabel's.

He said, "Wendy, I can't talk to Mabel about this. You call her. If she wants to come out, tell her where we are. But we'll go meet her on the Mystery Trail. I don't want her coming into the woods alone. Not with these—things around."

Dipper walked a little apart from the others. After a short phone call, Wendy came up and hugged him from behind. "Hold it together, man. She's coming."

Ford re-packed the energy device—"I'm not risking this falling into the wrong hands:"—and the three of them made the short walk back to the Mystery Trail.

"Good thing she's gonna have us to guide her," Wendy said. "There's hardly even a rough track now."

They didn't have to wait long. They heard the hum of the golf cart motor, and then Mabel pulled into view. When she stopped it and scrambled out, she ran to Dipper and shook him. "Don't ever run off on your own like that! How many times has it taken both of us to get through some dumb crisis?"

"It's dangerous," Dipper said.

Mabel gave him a last, hard shake. "So's my driving, but I don't let that stop me! Hi, Grunkle Ford. Now what are we doing?"

"Trying to get rid of the fake me, Xyler and Craz, and, um, the duplicate Dipper," Wendy said. "We saw the Wendy thing. Made of bugs, like Dipper told us. Dr. P. thinks that she was created by Bill Cipher—"

"Maybe he made her real, but I made the wish," Mabel said. "I'm sorry."

"Who made the initial wish isn't the vital consideration," Stanford said. "How did you make the simulacrum of your brother?"

"Um, I just—you know, it was like I was making a life-sized rag doll, except I wasn't sewing or anything. I just kind of shaped him in the air, the way I imagined him, and he sort of filled in as I concentrated. And then he said, 'Flip a dip, Sis! You're looking far-out fine!' And, um—well, everybody just loved him. Sorry."

"Yeah," Dipper growled. "I remember Judge Kitty Kitty Meow Meow Face-Schwartstein saying that after the trial I was gonna be replaced by 'town darling Dippy Fresh.'"

Stanford cleared his throat. "This is hard for you, Mason. Why don't you come with us back to the clearing and hang onto your quantum destabilizer? We'll take care of—the one you don't like."

"But it's not his fault," Mabel said. "I'm the one who made him. He can't help what he is."

"Perhaps," Ford said softly, "If we work on the problem together, we might be able to discover a solution that will allow him to survive."

Dipper knew his grunkle well enough to know that Stanford wasn't saying everything he meant. If Dippy Fresh did somehow survive—and Dipper wasn't at all sure about the wisdom of that—he knew there was no way Dippy Fresh could exist on the earth. In the Mindscape, maybe, or the Nightmare Realm.

They returned to the clearing, Grunkle Ford took some time to explain in detail to Mabel what it was all about (she said, yeah, yeah, magic box, got it). Then he restarted the machine and, standing beside it, Mabel called out, "Xyler! Craz! Where are you, my dream boys?"

"Is that Mabel?"

This time the bodies formed out of thin air, like redshirts beaming down from the starship Enterprise, but with fewer sparklies or theremin effects.

"'Sup, girl!" Xyler, the blond one said. "You are looking, like, most bodacious, Mabel!"

"Dipper!" said Craz, who for some reason had blue-black hair. "Greetings! As an international attorney—"

"Whoa, dude!" interrupted Xyler. "Are we still international attorneys?"

"I don't know!" Craz said. "Up top!"

"Boys," Mabel said, "Listen—how are you even here? Mabel Land blew up!"

"So true," Xyler said. "But we were, like, catapulted into the real world!"

"Always before that we existed in dream time."

"Except for that time when we went into Mabel's Grunkle's mind!"

"Oh yeahhhh!"

Mabel interrupted them: "Why don't you go back there?"

The two boys still dressed as Dipper recalled them from what Stan called the Dreamscape: Xyler in a pastel-green tee shirt, white shorts, and beach sandals, Craz in pink shirt, red-and-white jacket, blue jeans, and white loafers. They looked at each other for a moment before Xyler said, "Tell her, bro!"

"No, you tell her!"

"No, you!"

"No, you!"

Then Xyler came up with the obvious compromise: "Let's both tell her!"

And then, with an air of triumph, they turned toward Mabel and said in unison, "We don't know!"

"There's not, like, a doorway between here and there," Craz explained.

"Not one we can find," Xyler added.

"Where have you dudes been since the bubble popped?" Wendy asked.

"Here!" Craz said. "We found out we were invisible, though!"

"Not to each other!"

"Noooo! We could see each other. And we could, like, see other people!"

"But nobody could see us, girl!"

"Or hear us!"

"You were basically ghosts," Dipper said.

"We weren't, like, spooky!" Xyler said.

"No, we were just as normal as ever!" agreed Craz.

"And we kept from going like insane in our brains because we love each other's company. High five!" Xyler said.

Mabel muttered, "Why did I ever think these guys were cool?"

"Wait," Dipper said. "Do you remember helping Mabel, Soos, and me when we went into Grunkle Stan's mind to find the combination to his safe?"

"We totally do!" said Craz.

"We opened all these doors!" Xyler added.

"I love opening doors!"

"Hey," Mabel said, "if we could open a door to get you home again to the Dreamscape, would you go there?"

"It would be nice to visit the high school again!" said both boys together. "Jinx!"

"Dude, we owe each other sodas!" said Craz.

"Dude, we totally do!"

"We could get them at Milt's Pop Shop!"

"It's around the corner from school!"

"But we need a door to get back there!"

"Aw."

They ran down. "What do they run on, Smile Dip?" Dipper muttered.

"Grunkle Ford," Mabel said, "can you build them a door to get them back where they belong?"

"That . . . " said Stanford slowly, "takes some thought."

To Xyler and Kraz, Mabel said, "We'll work on it. Meanwhile, can you help us find Dippy Fresh?"

"Oh, no," Dipper groaned.

"He's the town darling!" Xyler said.

"Hey, Dippy Fresh!" shouted Craz.

Then, impossibly, Dippy Fresh skateboarded in—across rough ground, fallen tree limbs, and stones—he hopped off, heel-kicked his skateboard so it flipped up high enough for him to catch it. He held up his right palm, his chubby face split by a wide grin. "Wiggity-wiggity! Way up top!"

"No!" Dipper yelled. "Nobody touch him!"