The Haunting of the Holy Mackerel

(August 14, 2016)

22: Last Stand

Dipper had seen it once before, yet he gasped at the sight of a giant rising from the grass and knee-high brush—a giant composed of a hundred Gnomes, locked together, standing on each other's shoulders, acting as a unit controlled by—was that Shmebulock way up there as the giant's head?

The monster heard or sensed the rumble and turned, but in three strides the composite giant was on it, and it raised—something Dipper had not seen before—a gigantic mallet, made from a heavy redwood stump the size of a 55-gallon drum and, as handle, a sturdy iron or steel pipe—maybe even, Dipper realized, a recycled lamp post.

The giant swung, and the hammer crashed down on the monster.

It squelched and splattered, but immediately it rose as a sluggish, nearly liquid mist—and flowed up the handle, toward the Gnomes.

Jeff shouted, "Retreat! Gnomes, don't let it touch you!"

The giant fell apart, and the individual Gnomes vanished in the undergrowth like mist before a strong breeze. At the far end of the handle, the entity started to reform itself—as a distinct group of skeletal dead bodies at first, two men, a Gnome, rats, and smaller things, including a jackrabbit.

Ford yelled, "Stan! Dipper! It's in range! Hit it with the ray!" He fell to a kneeling position, while Stan and Dipper fired over his shoulders. The red rays lanced out, striking the monster. It writhed, nearly lost its solidity again, and ran, or shambled, backward, beyond the reach of the weapons. "Cease fire!" Stan said. "Save your power. It will be back. Where's Jeff?"

"Right here," Jeff said, popping up beside him. "Sorry. I really hoped that would work."

Ford put his hand on Jeff's small shoulder. "It was a brave attempt. From this day forth, let no human call a Gnome small. Your courage is like—like a mountain!" He sighed. "But you'd better go now and join your friends. It doesn't look hopeful, and this is our fight."

"Yeah," Jeff said. "What you said is right. It's our fight. Humans and Gnomes. One of our own was killed by that thing. If it's all the same to you—I'll stay."

"We'd be honored," Ford said. "Everyone, form up! Keep an eye out! There's no telling where that thing will come from next!"

"Here comes something!" Mabel yelled. Tripper squirmed, but she held tight to his leash.

They looked, dreading that misshapen horror, but what emerged from the rustling undergrowth was . . . a badger.

"My Queen!" Jeff said.

She came waddling up, gazed at him with sleepy affection, and then stood, her pudgy body low to the ground, gazing into the darkness. Jeff felt and said, "I see. Her leash broke. Shmebulock had to control the assembled Gnomes, so he probably left her tied to a tree. She shouldn't be here."

The badger made a kind of crackling growl. Her head went forward intently, the white stripe pointing like an arrow into the darkness.

"She's sensing something to the west," Jeff said. "She's in threat mode. That's where it is!"

"That way!" Ford said, pointing. "Teek, what are you doing?"

"Protective circle!" Teek, who had walked around the edge of the group, shook a vial, sprinkling the last drops of the anointed water and said a quick prayer, then hurried back into position.

The monstrous thing emerged from the gloom in a slow kind of plodding run, its body re-formed and apparently solid again. Its weird blend of voices wailed words that Dipper did not know.

Ford said, "Ready to fire. Wait . . . wait . . . a little closer . . . now!"

The three pistols shot their red beams, striking the creature, which seemed nearly to lose cohesion. It bulged and bubbled, its skin steamed, and then with a furious howl, it retreated. "Cease fire!" Ford said again.

"Sixer, it's gonna make us use up our batteries and then come for us," Stan said. "Think of something else!"

"I don't know of anything else!" Ford said. "If we could just get a kill shot—somewhere in the center of that mass is the essence of the rogue priest, the spark that is his soul. If we could—peel away the layers, somehow, we could at least contain it!"

"Wait, your Majesty!" Jeff yelled.

Too late. The monster was shambling around the periphery again. The badger Queen streaked toward it.

It saw her coming and—stamped on her. She screamed, gurgled, and died.

Jeff fell to his knees. "No! My Queen!"

"Hang on," Mabel said, grabbing the straps of Jeff's overalls. "She wouldn't want you to die, too."

"But she didn't understand what she was against!" Jeff moaned, heaving with sobs. "She didn't know!"

"It didn't stop to absorb her body," Ford said. "I can still see her lying there."

"Ya know," Stan said softly, "I'll bet her spirit was so pure that it would've killed that bastard to try to take it over."

Dipper gave his Grunkle a surprised glance, but Stan shook his head. Better to say nothing to Jeff right now. But Stanley had just given him something to hang onto.

"The Gnomes will avenge her!" Jeff said. "Uh—was that too melodramatic? Too much?"

"Under the circumstances," Teek said, "just right."

A moment later, everything around Jeff receded and he felt as if he were alone. No, there was someone else. He could not see her, but he recognized her none the less.

"Granny," he groaned, "it killed our Queen."

She was a brave Queen, Granny replied. She died in defense of our people, and she shall be honored. May her spirit travel beyond the sunrise to the land of joy. But tell the others to be ready now. The hare's sacrifice is about to fulfill its purpose.

Then Jeff found himself back with the others, and the lurching, malevolent thing was coming slowly nearer and nearer.

"It's testing the firing limit of our ray guns," Ford said. "Hold your fire. Let it be drawn in."

"Guys!" Jeff said, "something's about to happen!"

"What?" barked Stan.

"I don't know. Be ready for anything!

Then the monster stopped and reeled. It swelled like a balloon being over-filled; it staggered. Its horrible vertical mouth opened wide in a rattling scream—and white light poured out.

"Fire into the mouth!" Ford shouted, and the three defenders armed with the guns did.

The staggering monstrosity reeled and stamped. It seemed to be shrinking. Steam poured from it as the three red rays streamed into its interior.

It hunched away, as if trying to shield itself from the attack.

Mabel suddenly handed Tripper's leash to Dipper. "Hold this!" She smacked the lignum vitae croquet mallet into her hand. "This ends now!"

"Sis, no! Hold her, Teek!" Dipper yelled. "Guys, stop shooting, don't hit her!"

Stan and Ford ceased fire. Mabel ran right up to the thing, now sprawled face-down and wallowing, and whacked it with the mallet approximately where its head should be. It jerked, apparently injured.

But it wasn't as stunned as it had seemed. Before Mabel could hit it a second time, one of its human arms slashed at her, hitting her hard, knocking her rolling. The mallet went flying, fell to earth, and Dipper nearly tripped over it.

Wendy was there—she had run at Dipper's heels. Dipper pulled Mabel up. She seemed loose, unconscious. "Get her back!" he yelled to Wendy. "Tripper, keep Mabel safe! Go with her! Go! Keep her safe!"

Wendy picked up Mabel and ran back with her, Tripper loping beside her, growling and barking back over his shoulder. At point-blank range, Dipper fired his ray into the creature. Where the ray touched, the flesh, the fake flesh, the dead flesh, whatever, bubbled and steamed away. He backed up step by step, back toward safety—

The creature sprang up, much diminished—now not much taller than Dipper, and more rat-like, though its horrible vertical mouth kept opening and closing. It fell forward, now on four legs, and bounded toward him.

"Hit the dirt!" Stan yelled, and Dipper did, allowing Stan and Ford to open fire.

For an instant the thing paused, and Dipper leaped up to run to the others.

But then, with infernal purpose, the entity lunged forward and seized Dipper's ankle. He fell on his face hard, the wind huffing out of him. "Hang on!" he heard Wendy shout.

He'd dropped his gun, but he fumbled at his belt and found the lignum vitae croquet stake that he had thrust in, like a sword.

Half-dazed, he thought, Maybe I can jam its mouth open—

It stood on two legs, pulling him up, hugging him. It stank of rot, filth, and death. Now the distorted human face, smaller on the shrunken body, glared at him with popping, insane eyes. It screamed, "Peccator! Et te perduint!"

Swinging upside down, hanging by his ankle, Dipper couldn't focus on the mouth, open now, seven or eight rows of teeth clashing.

Instead of trying to wedge the stake, he drove its point hard against the hateful face. It sank in maybe an inch and stuck. Dipper wouldn't let go, but he couldn't force it deeper.

And then the monster began to drag him into the hellish maw.