"ATTENTION. ATTENTION," bellowed the boat's built in alarm system. The two brothers snapped out of their collective state of petrification and turned their heads to the loudspeaker. "ARRIVAL ESTIMATED IN 2.0 HOURS." Ford straightened his back and sighed.
"Looks like we have more urgent matters to attend to at the moment," Ford stated as he glanced around at the mess of things spread throughout the room. "Are you okay to help me pack, Stan?" His brother groaned.
"Ford, I'm being haunted by a brain demon, I'm not an invalid," he mumbled. He felt himself shudder just at the mention of it. Ford fell still too.
"Don't… don't worry, Stanley, we're going to find a solution to this. I just don't know how much I can say around you… he might be listening…" he trailed off, looking towards his brother sitting on the bed who, despite looking incredibly tired, appeared as normal as ever. "Can you pack up in here? And don't touch my desk - you have to promise me, Stanley."
"Yeesh, okay, I won't go near it…" Stan answered gruffly. "Do you really think…"
"We have to assume he's aware of everything we're doing and have done," Ford said forebodingly, heading towards the door. "I'll see you in a couple hours, Stanley." He briskly went to leave, when Stan stopped him.
"Wait, wait - Ford, I need to know… if Bill really is in my head, and I really don't wanna think about that possibility…" Stan trailed off, "...what can I do when I'm asleep?" Ford seemed to stiffen at the thought.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it at the inn, okay Stan?" Ford asked, giving his brother a small smile of reassurance. "We'll figure this out, everything's going to be okay." Stanley gave a small nod in response. He tried not to notice the way Ford's smile faded as he walked out the door.
The brothers intermittently poked their heads in and out of now empty rooms, making sure they really did have everything together for the trip home. Ford had run in and out of the bedroom at least four times, double checking that he'd emptied all the contents of the desk drawers. He comfortingly patted the pocket on the inside of his jacket where he could feel Journal Number 4 safely stowed.
Stan smiled as he glanced over at the two overpacked suitcases near the door, damn near bursting from the amount of sweaters Mabel had made for them for the journey. He watched as Ford walked back into the main room below-deck, where Stan was now comfortably seated on the small couch, his red beanie scrunched up in one hand.
"Fourth time proved to be the charm!" Ford proclaimed as he pocketed the chewed up pen he'd left on the bedroom floor. "I assume everything else is ready to go? You have the passports I gave to you?"
"I think they're in the outside pocket of the… uh, black suitcase… I think," Stan replied, absentmindedly pulling out a loose string on his hat before slipping it over his gray hair. Ford groaned as he went to check on the passports. They were there. Stan chuckled a bit as Ford begrudgingly zipped up the compartment again.
"You know it's bad enough that I had to get you un-blacklisted from every major airline, Stanley - you could at least try to remember where our legal documents are," Ford said. Stan groaned.
"One little week-long protest chained to the Statue of Liberty and the U.S. Government assumes I'm some kind of wackjob… I tell ya, people are so serious these days…" Stan ranted. Ford rolled his eyes and smirked.
"SHORE AHEAD IN ESTIMATED TIME OF 10 MINUTES. PREPARE TO DOCK."
Stanley's hearing aid crackled loudly at the loud noise, and he winced a bit as Ford offered a hand to help him up. Together they made their way to the deck where, indeed, the shore was getting closer by the moment. That characteristic black sand shoreline, bowled in by towering, moss covered cliffs, was a sight for sore eyes.
"I can't believe it's already been three months. Not enough time after all those years apart…" Ford sighed. Stan playfully punched his brother in the arm, childhood nostalgia flooding through them both. The two of them laughed together, just like back in the old days.
"Aw, don't get all sappy on me, Sixer," Stan chuckled, rocking a bit as the boat started to slow. "We've had some pretty crazy adventures, you and me." Ford smiled as he thought back on their time spent together out at sea, while also squashing the need to correct the grammar of his brother's statement.
"I still can't believe that pod of mermaids knew about Mabel," Ford remarked, remembering how strange that whole encounter was. "Remember the folk song they sang about her? What was it called again?"
"The Pure-Hearted, Head-Banded Maiden," Stan recalled. "Accurate, but creepy."
"I still can't believe you punched a baby Kraken in the face!" Ford exclaimed. "As the kids say, it was pretty awesome." Stan laughed heartily, looking to his brother with his hands on his hips.
"Hey, that was nothin' compared to when we went down in those old scuba suits to find the momma Kraken's treasure," Stan remembered. "If only we hadn't had to bail - just imagine all the rubies and gold!" Ford chuckled.
"It was a good thing we bailed when we did or we might have become the Kraken baby's dinner," Stanford remarked. "At least we got some good pictures, though!"
"PREPARE TO DOCK," the system blared again. The boat was fast approaching the small marina now, where they could make out the tall innkeeper standing there on the dock, waiting for them. He smiled and waved, the brothers waving back as they brought the Stan O' War in. Stan and Ford, on either side of the boat, tied up the boat to the posts, old pros at this by now. The innkeeper extended a hand to help Stan, and then Ford, off the boat.
"Kvöldið, Arthur! It's good to see you again!" Ford said as as he and the innkeeper shook hands, pulling him in for a brief, one armed hug. Arthur laughed, his rust coloured moustache bouncing a bit.
"Your accent has gotten better!" he pointed out in his own very thick Icelandic accent. Ford chuckled. "Come along, my car is in the back. Helga's expecting you!"
The brothers were ushered away to the familiar little car while Arthur told them all about what had been going on at the inn since the last time they had stayed there. While Arthur went on about a local stray cat having a litter of kittens in their living room, Stan's mind was racing. It didn't feel like anyone else was in his thoughts though - just Stan and his own mounting fears. Ford looked over at his anxious brother in the car seat next to him and shot him a sympathetic smile - a small act of consolation until they were alone and could talk about it over a hot cup of coffee at the inn.
"Helga! The Pines twins are here!" Arthur announced as the door to the inn slammed shut, to the instant sound of dog barking. No sooner did Stan set his suitcase down when the innkeepers' giant, shaggy sheepdog gave them a welcome for ages, practically tackling Stan. Ford laughed as his brother tried to get the happy dog off of him for a second so he could take off his coat.
"Brossi! Ah! Jeez, I missed you too, buddy!" Stan chuckled as he patted the dog's head. Soon Brossi was all over Ford, who laughed as he bent over to rub the happy dog's belly. Helga slowly made her way over to the three of them, the light reflecting off her short silver hair as she leaned up on her tiptoes to give Arthur a small kiss on the cheek before greeting the twins.
"Stans!" she chirped, pulling them both in for a warm hug. "You two always seem to come when nobody's around to eat my cooking! Come to the kitchen, come, I've just made dinner and a pot of tea!" Ford's stomach grumbled loudly, much to his surprise.
"Ha, well, I suppose I am a bit hungrier than I thought," he mused, looking over to his brother to make sure it was okay if they waited just a little longer to talk.
"I just made a fresh pot of Kjötsúpa…" Helga teased with a twinkle in her eye. Stan's eyes widened, his stomach rumbling like his brother's in firm agreement. He shrugged nonchalantly.
"I could eat," he said, grinning at the thought of a steaming bowl of the Icelandic meaty soup with his name on it.
The four of them sat at the wooden dining room table slurping Kjötsúpa and drinking ale, while Helga retold the story of the kitten litter incident. As far as the kindly old couple knew, the two brothers were travelling scientific researchers, documenting marine ecosystems in the North Atlantic, which was sort of true. Arthur also ran the local marina, and had offered to take care of the Stan O' War while the brothers were away. Winter would strike hard while Stan and Ford were back home in America, but luckily for them, Arthur was a boat enthusiast who, very kindly, insisted that he wouldn't charge to watch over the twins' boat for a couple months. The two Icelandics were almost like adoptive parents in the way they fussed over the Stans when they came back every two or three weeks or so for a much deserved rest. Whenever they came back to the inn, freshly baked breads and friendly dog tackles were always at the ready.
Helga got up from the table to offer them each a bowl of locally made skyr, but both Stan's politely declined, talking of getting ample rest for tomorrow when they'd be off to take water samples from the waterfall near the site. In reality, Ford had been planning to go searching for the rumoured Huldufolk, fabled Icelandic elves, that supposedly frequented the valley. Stan would do what he usually did on Ford's weird journeys - carry his brother's science junk and continue on his own journey - to try every weird type of Icelandic candy he could find. The next day they would catch an evening flight home to Oregon, with a stopover in Seattle. In the meantime, they had to deal with their uninvited guest.
Or at least that's what Stanley thought as he walked up the winding, wooden staircase to his bedroom. He yawned a bit as he pushed open the door to see the familiar room he always stayed in at the inn - the one at the end of the hall with the gabled roof. Stan gulped a bit at the triangular ceiling, something that had never bothered him before. Now the room seemed practically condemned, the wooden beams that lined the peaking walls of the room forming ominous triangular shadows that cascaded across the room. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and jumped as a hand suddenly fell on his shoulder. He spun around, only to find Ford standing there beside him.
"Stanley, if you want, we can switch rooms…" Ford started, when Stan started laughing a bit, overcompensating.
"Come on, bro, don't be ridiculous! You think I'm scared of the room I've stayed in every time we've come here? Please," Stan tried to brush off. Ford didn't look convinced, but sighed briefly and let it go, thankfully. "So, Ford, did you wanna come in and talk about…"
"I can't Stan, I'm sorry," Ford interrupted him sternly. "And please don't ask me why. I'm sorry, but I can't tell… you." Ford shifted the rim of his glasses uncomfortably. Stan looked taken aback.
"But I thought you said we were gonna…"
"I've was thinking about it a lot during dinner, Stan, and believe me, it's for a good reason. I know it's been a long day and you're scared but please trust me when I tell you it's for the best," Ford said, his eyes pleading for his brother to understand. Stan slumped a bit as he nodded. If his brother was cooking up something secretive, he wasn't going to stand in the way, especially if Ford thought something good could come of it. Suddenly Ford stuck his hand out, opening it to reveal two white pills. Stan took them hesitantly, trying to figure out what they were. It wasn't like his goodie-two-shoes brother to mysteriously give him drugs...
"They're sleeping pills," Stanford answered for his brother. "I thought… maybe they could help." Stan smiled, relieved and so, so thankful. "They should help you rest a little easier tonight, and keep you asleep. I can't make any promises about the nightmares, but…"
"Thanks, Sixer," Stan said as he pulled his brother into a hug. "I really appreciate it. And don't worry," he smirked as he pulled away a bit. "Whatever plan you're cooking up, I won't stand in your way." Ford smiled back gratefully.
"Goodnight, Stan," Ford said, patting his twin on the back as they let go of each other. Stan watched as his brother walked down the hall to his room on the other side, and Ford waved goodbye as he shut his door quietly. Stan pulled his nerve together as he shut his own door and walked over to the small vanity in the corner of the bedroom, with an old wooden mirror and sink with fresh glasses on the wood top. Turning on the tap, he popped the sleeping pills in his mouth and rinsed them down with a glass of water. He yawned a bit longer and louder than the last time as he sank down onto the bed, the familiar mattress springs creaking loudly under his weight. He took another sip of water to get the powdery taste of the pills out of his mouth, trying to recall the flavour of the soup from earlier instead.
As he clicked off the lamp by the bedside table, he set down his cup of water and nuzzled into the soft pillows, which smelled faintly of wildflowers. He pulled up the thick blanket, making himself totally comfortable as the sleeping pills began to work their magic. No voice disturbed his thoughts as he drifted off peacefully into the darkness.
The wind rustled through the trees, lightly tapping against the window, as Ford slowly and quietly opened his brother's bedroom door. In his hands was a small box, which he set down on the floor as he gingerly shut the door and turned towards the bed. The ghostly green vapours of the aurora borealis swept through the moonlight, which shone brightly through the window over Stan's bed, lighting his brother's peaceful, sleeping figure in curtains of shimmering, emerald green. Stan was fast asleep, just as planned.
Ford quickly got to work setting up the candles around the bed, nine of them in total. Wasting no time, Ford pulled out a photocopied page from journal number three from his pocket - the page that contained an incantation to follow Bill into a person's mind.
"Not exactly the normal protocol, seeing as he's been in there for several months, but eh," Ford quietly shrugged to himself. As the northern lights danced across the journal page, Ford prepared himself for the mission at hand: find Bill, and destroy him once and for all… somehow. Bill was no doubt weakened, so it probably wouldn't be too hard to rid him from Stan's mindscape. Ford silently begged the powers-that-be that Bill hadn't merged with Stanley's subconscious - if that had occurred, Ford had no idea how he would even go about separating them. He stopped himself, the hypothetical thoughts only adding to his mounting anxiety. Regardless of what was going on in his brother's mind, tonight was the night Ford was going to get some answers, one way or another. He steadily laid his left hand on his brother's forehead, resolving his nerve as he raised the photocopy of the journal page in his other hand and began to recite the incantation scrawled upon the paper.
"Videntus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus. Habeas corpus. Inceptus Nolanus overratus!" Ford's eyes squinted shut as the coloured moonlight swelled behind him, reciting the rest from heart as he psyched himself up for the standoff about to take place in Stanley's mindscape, breathlessly continuing. "Magister mentium, magister mentium, magister mentium!"
Author's Note:
And that's all she wrote for another week-ish! Sorry for the inconsistent wait between chapters lately - I've been crazy busy, and I also had to do a whole lot of planning for chapters coming up so I can make sure I'm setting everything up properly for you guys ;) As always, comments are hugely appreciated!
P.S. As an added bonus, the bed and breakfast that I based Arthur and Helga's inn off of is called the Grand Guesthouse Gardakot - look it up!
*additional edit* did a quick fix on the last section of this chapter to add in the presence of the northern lights! So cool and mysterious - couldn't afford to not have them light that final scene!