Chapter Eighteen
Vanellope's Dilemma
As she exited the website, Vanellope had no clear sense of where she was going. If it hadn't been for Ralph and Gene standing outside the door, she would likely have kept running. As it was, she was brought to a halt by Gene, whom she crashed into before tumbling onto her rear.
Oh dear, that's the…how many times have I run into someone?
Gene repositioned his flower, which had been bent out of place by the impact. This done, he extended his hand to Vanellope. She didn't take it. Instead, she just sat, breathing hard.
"Come on," said Gene. "We've delayed long enough."
"You want me to carry you?" Ralph asked.
"Come on, Vanellope," Gene said again. "We've done our doodie. Let's go."
Vanellope just stared at him blankly.
"I cannot believe I just said that," she heard Gene mutter. "I mean, come on," he continued in a more audible voice. "You love that joke."
"I'm not in a joking mood," Vanellope said quietly.
Gene blinked. "Right…er…of course."
"Are you sure you don't want me to carry you?" Ralph asked again. "You look worn out."
"I can walk," Vanellope said, climbing to her feet.
"Alright, let's go," said Ralph. "Felix and the Sarge are waiting up ahead."
They walked, for the most part, in silence. Occasionally, Gene would confer with Calhoun and Felix about the path back to the modem, but otherwise, they said nothing. A gloom seemed to have settled over the entire party.
They were entering the stretch of hallway where they had been attacked by the iron wolves for the second time when Calhoun called a halt.
"I'm guessing we could all use a little rest," she said. "That website we slept in is just ahead. We'll camp there for a few hours before making the rest of the trip home."
Once inside Sacred Diamond, Vanellope began to walk slowly toward a corner. Ralph, noticing this, came up beside her.
"Need to talk?" he asked.
Vanellope shook her head. "I need to be alone right now."
"Okay," said Ralph. "But we're here if you need us."
Vanellope arrived at the corner and sat down, facing the wall. Chin resting in her hands, she stared at a patch of white cloud that adorned the bottom right of the large Moonstone Empire poster.
"Vanellope?" a voice said behind her. She turned to see Sergeant Calhoun.
"Hey Sarge."
Calhoun knelt down beside her. "Ralph says you don't want to talk," she said. "But I'm not buying it. I think you've got something on your mind."
"After you guys left the room," Vanellope admitted, "he asked my forgiveness. I didn't give it."
"He didn't earn it."
"Did Taffyta? Did Rancis? Did Candlehead? Gloyd? Swizzle? Did any of my fellow racers earn my forgiveness?"
"None of them murdered anybody," Calhoun replied. "What they did was awful, but Gale's crimes are way beyond anything they ever did."
"But…what if Gale really was sorry?"
"What do you mean?"
"When we were here, in this website before, he told me a bit about himself."
She explained her conversation with Gale from the previous night. Calhoun listened quietly. When Vanellope had finished, the sergeant nodded.
"I can understand why you'd think that," she said. "But I don't know if he was sorry. You heard Mr. Morton- he can tell a pretty good lie."
"Do you really believe that?"
Calhoun paused for several moments. Noticing her hesitation, Vanellope pressed her again.
"Do you really think he was lying?"
Calhoun laid a hand on her shoulder. "You've been through a lot, Vanellope. You're one tough cookie. I think you'll make it through this as well."
Vanellope offered Calhoun a slight smile. The sergeant stood up and headed back towards the others.
She didn't answer the question Vanellope realized.
Her mind replayed the scene in Pickles.
'Anyone can change.' That's what he said.
The world around her seemed to melt away. She was in the grip of the two aliens once again. Dr. Despair was walking calmly towards Portia. His masked face turned towards her; his gaze met hers. He tipped his hat, imparted his last farewell. She saw the sword pierce his chest once more.
Vanellope shook her head, blinked, and looked about. The others were in a circle at the opposite end of the room, deeply engaged in a conversation she couldn't hear.
Probably just talking about Christmas plans. It'll be nice to have Christmas again. I wonder if Rancis'll get another handkerchief…wait.
Vanellope's hand strayed to her pocket. Slowly, she withdrew the handkerchief that Gale had given her. She held it before her face, staring at it.
'Just one word, one gesture- any sign you wish.'
Gale's words flitted through her mind once again.
'Please, I'm begging you.'
Her fingers clenched around the handkerchief.
I didn't forgive him.
Carefully, she folded the handkerchief and slid it back into her pocket. From her other pocket, she drew the crayons she had used to draw the picture for Ralph, along with several leftover scraps of paper. Sifting through the scraps, she selected the largest one. Choosing one of the crayons, she scrawled a note on the paper, which she then deposited on the ground.
Plain enough words. They should understand it.
Stuffing the crayons and leftover paper scraps back into her pocket, Vanellope stood up. Quietly, she crept towards the door of the website. As silently as she could, she opened it. Slipping outside, she closed the door. Then, she set off down the passageways, retracing the path they had taken.
She hurried, periodically glitching forward to speed up her journey. She hurried, any fatigue she had felt dissipating at the thought that she had to keep going at all costs. She hurried, until she came once more to the door that led to the website Internet Archive. She entered, and then passed into the room within. She ran across the floor, opening the door they had passed through earlier. The Wayback Machine was directly ahead of her.
No turning back. I have to do this!
Steeling herself, Vanellope leaped into the portal.