Chapter Eight
The Mayor and the Citizen
It had not been a minute since the departure of the iron wolves before Gene could feel the fear eating away at him inside.
No weapons, separated from them, no way to rejoin them that I can see- how much worse can this get?
Beside him, Vanellope was staring at the wall of energy cutting them off from the room, her arms hanging slackly at her sides.
I've got to watch her? I think matters just got worse.
"They're gone," Vanellope said quietly, breathing quickly. "Just like that…they're gone."
Better reassure her.
"Stay calm," said Gene. "Just stay calm. I'll find a way through this passage and I'll get us back to them."
"They're gone," Vanellope said once more, seemingly ignoring him. "I couldn't do anything. They're gone. And who knows if I'll see them again?"
"Enough!" Gene snapped. "Man up…er, I mean…" He frowned. "That doesn't make sense because you're girl, but-"
Vanellope clutched her arms tightly about her body, gritting her teeth together.
"Snap out of it!" Gene cried. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her vigorously. Instinctively, Vanellope triggered her glitching ability, moving quickly out of Gene's grip. She crashed into the force field, yelping as she came into the contact with it. She hit the ground hard, and Gene was upon her in moments.
"Stay calm," he said. "You're not going to solve anything by freaking out." And then he saw the look on her face. Slowly, awkwardly, not looking her in the eye, Gene drew Vanellope into a sitting position. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he said. "So don't worry about that."
Vanellope gave a small nod.
"So get up and follow me," Gene continued. "We'll forge a path ahead together."
"Quality time with the mayor," said Vanellope, standing up. "I guess I can enjoy that."
Gene sighed. Here we go.
"But," Vanellope continued, "I'm…"
"Chin up," said Gene. "Turnabout, face the passage."
Vanellope did as she had been instructed.
"That's it," said Gene. "You're doing just fine. Now, stay at my side. We'll find a path."
Gene scraped the dust from his jacket, straightened his tie once more, and set off down the passage. Vanellope glanced back towards the room they had left one last time, before trotting after him.
I guess I do encouragement pretty well after all, Gene thought to himself. She's calmed down a bit.
"I gotta go," Vanellope said in an exaggerated, whiny voice.
"Vanellope," Gene said curtly, "that's the fifth time you've used that joke."
"The seventh, actually"
"Whatever," said Gene. "It's still getting old."
They had been walking for at least an hour, by Gene's reckoning. During the latter half of that time, he'd had to put up with Vanellope's sense of humor almost constantly.
It's just so annoying it's ridiculous. I know she's trying to calm herself down, but isn't there a less irritating way she could do it?
"Hey, come on, Mr. Mayor," said Vanellope. "Have you been reading the signs above the doors in this place? Who ever heard of a place like KnowYourMeme?"
"Whoever made the sign," said Gene.
"And what's Instagram?"
"I couldn't say."
"And have you ever heard of Wikipedia?"
"I can't say that I have."
"And what about-"
"Vanellope," said Gene, "please shut up."
"Fine, fine, Mr. Bossy," said Vanellope. She went silent for a few moments, before piping up again.
"What's Snowball?"
Gene sighed. "Of all the people I came with on this trip, why did I have to get stuck with you?"
"Hey!" Vanellope protested, sounding hurt. "I saved your life."
"For which I'll always be grateful," said Gene. "But that doesn't give you license to annoy me constantly."
"I'm not trying to," Vanellope said in a small voice.
"But you are," said Gene. "Maybe you just can't help yourself, I don't know, but please try anyway. Right now you're just getting on my nerves!"
His frustration boiling over, Gene slammed a fist into the nearest door. Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing an expanse of tundra beyond.
Gene and Vanellope both stared at the environment within.
"I guess that'll be Snowball," said Vanellope.
Gene read the sign above the door. "I believe you're right."
"Well," said Vanellope, "I always wanted to make a snow-angel."
"Wait!" Gene cried. "We don't know if it's safe!"
It was too late; Vanellope had already run inside. Fuming, Gene ran in after her. Moments later, a snowball struck him on the side of the head and sent him tumbling into the snow.
"Sorry!" a voice cried from across the tundra. "You're in the middle of a war-zone, so you might want to get out."
Gene sat up and shook his head. Glancing at the area to the left of the door, he saw a snow fort with a boy in red winter garb behind it. "What-?"
Another snowball hit Gene from behind. Crawling away, he stood up and looked behind him. There was another snow fort there, with a boy in blue winter garb behind it.
"Vanellope, where are you?" Gene shouted.
"Here," said Vanellope, glitching towards him from a grove of trees not far beyond. "This place is cold, let's get out of here."
"You didn't come with winter clothes," said Gene, "And I didn't come to get my suit ruined like this." He dusted snow from his jacket and headed towards the door with Vanellope at his side.
"Bye old fella!" one of the boys called as Gene stepped out into the passage and closed the door behind him.
"Did you make your snow-angel?" Gene asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Yeah, I did," Vanellope replied. "That's how I found out it was too cold in there. By the way, your moustache is all white."
Gene frantically clawed the snow from his moustache.
"Much better," said Vanellope.
"Now," said Gene, "no more rushing into strange places like that."
"I know, I know," Vanellope said. "I got carried away. It's just…I'm antsy."
"I know that," said Gene. "But I'm responsible for you right now, and I don't want you getting hurt."
"That's noble of you."
Gene started. It wasn't Vanellope who had spoken.