Chapter Thirty-Four
Aftermath
By the time Ralph, Vanellope, and Rancis had exited Lifeguard, the battle for the arcade was over. Every single SANG agent had gone down fighting, and every game and wire -not to mention Game Central Station itself- was strewn with their corpses. Though many were wounded, the arcade characters had, to their utter amazement, not lost a single life. Had the bulk of the fighting not taken place within the games themselves, where SANG's members were the only foreign avatars, this might not have been the case. As it was, by the time the combat had shifted to the power strip, most of the invaders had already been killed. Those who remained were too demoralized by the unexpected intelligence of these supposed degenerates, as well as too weakened by their already high casualties, to fight as effectively as they might otherwise have done. On top of this, the attacks of the Surge Protector, combined with the arcade characters' acquisition of SANG weaponry, helped to tilt the balance in favor of SANG's foes almost from the beginning. The grueling four hours that had passed since noon had, in the end, proven a mere countdown to victory for the arcade.
With Vanellope allowing the still woozy Rancis to lean on her arm, Ralph and the two racers proceeded towards the center of the power strip, where the Surge Protector was observing the fallen bodies.
"Ah, Ralph," said Surge, when he had seen the wrecker. "We've won out here."
"And Portia's gone," said Ralph. "So that's taken care of. It was a near thing though."
"With Dr. Despair's death and all." Surge nodded. "Felix just finished telling me."
"I wouldn't have trusted him at all if you hadn't said to," said Ralph.
Surge raised an eyebrow. "You value my word?"
"I…uh…" The words stuck in Ralph's throat.
"It's great to have you back," Vanellope piped in.
"We couldn't have done it without you," Rancis added.
"What I mean to say is-" Ralph began once more, and then stopped.
The Surge Protector looked at him curiously.
"I…uh…missed you," Ralph said at last.
A slight smile crept over Surge's face. Slender as it was, once noticed, no observer could mistake it for anything but a sign of pleasure.
"I missed you too," he replied. "Now, we'd probably better get something done about all these bodies."
Night found Vanellope unable to sleep. The events of the past week had been so overwhelming in their impact and intensity that she was still hardwired to fear even the slightest abrupt noise. Throughout the evening, she'd done little talking, and much flinching at sounds. When the other arcade characters had begun to cremate the bodies of the SANG agents, she had been unable to watch the flames for longer than three seconds before she began to feel overwhelmed by bitter memories of every humiliation, every agony. She lay in bed with her eyes wide open, staring blankly into space.
Who knew winning could be so…painful?
She tried to close her eyes again, but the fire filled her mind once more. Again, she saw the kart melting into sludge, felt all the shame of betraying her friends, all the revulsion towards that sadistic Mr. Ainsworth, re-lived all the humiliation and torment. All of these experiences were encapsulated by that sight of the kart burning to ash, the coup de grace of Mr. Ainsworth's plot to make her life a living hell.
And he did it. He died, yes, and SANG was stopped. But he beat me. He won. Won at a game I could never play. That I would never play.
"Can I forgive myself?" she said aloud.
"That dependth."
Vanellope sat upright. King Candy was sitting on the corner of the railing at the foot of her bed, his short legs dangling over the edge.
"You again?" said Vanellope.
"You're the one who keepth imagining I'm here," King Candy sputtered. "Don't blame me for your own imagination." He paused, as though considering his own words.
"Okay, maybe you can blame me a little. I think I thcarred you for life."
Vanellope climbed out of bed and strode toward her mirror. King Candy hopped down from the bed and followed after her. Ignoring him, Vanellope stared at her haggard face in the mirror.
"Now that'th not fair," said King Candy. "I can't thtand being give the cold thhoulder."
Vanellope did not reply.
"Or," said King Candy, "Are you thtill feeling all broken-karted over what happened?"
"Shut up!" Vanellope snapped.
"Okay, that one wath tathteleth, I'll admit," said King Candy. "But thtill, the point thtandth- Mr. Ainthworth thucceeded where I never could."
"Shut up!" Vanellope said again. She looked away from the mirror towards the bedroom window and started to cry.
"Oh, none of that pleathe," said King Candy. "No, none of that. Thingth were alwayth tho much more fun when you were tharcathtic, and we could trade inthultth."
Vanellope ignored his words and continued crying.
"Oh fine," said King Candy. He pulled a packet of M&Ms from his pocket and held it out to Vanellope. "Have thom candy."
Vanellope turned back toward him and took the proffered packet with a dubious look. Nevertheless, she ripped it open and began eating. King Candy, for his part, stared at his hand as though he had just handled a worm.
"I'm being nice to the glitch," he said to himself. "Thath the trouble with being a product of thomeon'th imagination. You aren't in control of your own actionth."
"Hmm?" Vanellope turned toward him with her mouth full of M&Ms.
"Nothing, nothing," said King Candy. "You thhould really get thom thleep now, hoo hoo!"
Vanellope swallowed the last of the M&Ms.
"I can't sleep," she said. "I'm too busy hallucinating and thinking you're here."
"I've got to go," said King Candy. "But you can alwayth find me in your memorieth."
He took his cane from the foot of bed, where he had left it, and swung it at Vanellope's head. "Time to thleep, glitch," he said as the cane struck its target…
Vanellope sat up, blinking. She felt as though her head had been struck by something hard. She raised one hand to feel her head, only to see an empty M&Ms wrapper in it.
"What in the name of Willy Wonka-?"
She looked around to see that she was on the floor beside her bed. Tossing the wrapper aside, she felt her head. There was a small bump along one side, but nothing she wouldn't survive.
I fell out of bed, I guess…no wait, that doesn't explain the wrapper…
"So, you're finally up."
Vanellope jumped to her feet. Ralph was sitting on the floor on the far side of the room, with his back to the bookshelf.
"When did you get in here?" Vanellope asked.
"An hour ago," Ralph replied. "It's eleven-thirty in the morning."
"I couldn't sleep last night…"
"You were pretty well asleep when I first stopped by, at seven-thirty," said Ralph. "But you were looking kind of peaceful...I didn't have the heart to wake you."
"I don't feel too well," said Vanellope. "Too much…"
"Any more nightmares?"
"No. Just thoughts, memories, feelings…"
"If you'll come with me," said Ralph, "There's something I want you to see."
Vanellope opened her wardrobe and took out her racer's garb, selecting a fresh turquoise hoodie to replace the one that had been ruined by Mr. Ainsworth. Moving behind a tall wooden screen, she got dressed, and then re-joined Ralph. The wrecker led her through the hallways, down several flights of steps, and to the door to the main garage.
At the sight of the door, Vanellope hesitated.
"It's okay," said Ralph, holding the door open. "Go on in."
Vanellope stepped over the threshold and into the garage. Her eyes widened in surprise. She stepped forward slowly, taking in the sight that greeted her ten feet from the open door.
A freshly baked kart, of vanilla-based batter, with pink and white icing.
"A different coloring from what the recipe wanted," said Ralph, entering the garage behind her. "The racers and I, and Otis and Floyd- we went down to the bakery earlier this morning and…"
Arriving beside the kart, Vanellope reached out her hand to touch it.
"Look, I know it's not the old kart. Nothing can ever replace the old kart. But…we don't want you to stop racing."
Vanellope turned back to face Ralph. Slowly, she walked towards him. She climbed into his arms, laying her chin on his shoulder. Tears rolled down her cheeks once more.
But this time, they were tears of happiness.