Beware the Banshee

Chapter 15

"Run, kids!" Stan yelled, struggling to his feet and trying to find the switch to activate the quantum destabilizer. "I'll hold it off as long as I can!"

Wendy grabbed his backpack strap and dragged him. "No, you don't, you old crab! We're all getting' away, or none of us is!"

Stumbling in her wake, Stan muttered, "Are."

They slid down the rock pile at the rim of the crater, starting small avalanches of clattering stones. Dipper said, "Huh?"

"None of us are," Stan said, just before hitting the forest floor, taking three flailing steps, and falling flat on his face. He pushed himself to his knees, spat out some brown pine needles, stood, and said, "Grammar, Wendy!"

Wendy bent and picked up his glasses, which she handed to him, and then yelled, "Shut up and come on!"

So the three ran, catching toes on roots and banging into the occasional pine trunk. A winded Stan chuckled and asked Dipper, "Did ya see what I did there?"

"Hang on," Dipper said, stumbling to a halt. "Wait, wait! I don't hear anything—listen."

Wendy stopped a few feet away and tilted her head. "I don't either, No stones or anything. I thought it was about to bust through! Think it stopped for some reason? Maybe it can't, I dunno, sense us or somethin' if we're outside the crater."

"'Cause, see, in the Fearamid, Ford corrected me," Stan continued.

"Guys, I'm gonna climb back up the crater wall for a quick look," Dipper told them.

Wendy grabbed his backpack strap, too. "Hang on. I got a better idea, dude. That whitebark there's tall enough for me to see over the edge of the crater. You dudes hang out next to the trunk and keep me covered in case somethin' comes tear-assin' outa that hole. 'Scuse my language, Stan."

"It's excused," Stan said. "See, Ford told me that my grammar—"

"Can it, Stan!" both Wendy and Dipper said in unison.

Stanley crossed his arms. "One a' these days you'll be old an' nobody'll listen to you! Then I'm gonna laugh my ass off! 'Scuse the language."

Wendy had looped a climbing belt around the pale truck of the pine and went effortlessly up, having no problem with the limbs—though a couple of these were so brittle that they fell off when she brushed them. "This one's kinda rotten, but sound up to here. OK," she called down when she was about twenty feet up. "I can see the mound of rocks in the middle of the crater, guys. It's not movin' or anything."

"Why did it stop?" Dipper asked.

"I dunno," Stanley said, adjusting the sling that carried his destabilizer. "Maybe it's got no sunblock or somethin'. I mean, it's a hot day already!"

The ground beneath their feet trembled.

"Whoa!" Wendy said. "Comin' down, dudes! Look out below!"

Stan raised the destabilizer and pointed it in the general direction of the crater. "Don't see anything! What now?"

The rocks on their side of the crater rim surged and began to tumble. "It's burrowing!" Dipper yelled. "It's underground and burrowing! Let's move!"

Wendy leaped the last ten feet to the ground and made a three-point landing on boots and heel of hand. She snatched up her pack and said, "Go, go, go!"

They reached the big tilted slab, clambered up the broken corner, and then ran down to where the tilt merged into the downslope of a hillside. Behind them they heard the crash of toppling trees.

"Like ta see it move that big rock!" Stan gasped. "It must weigh like a hundred thousand tons!"

Something hissed and gurgled behind them, and Dipper stopped and turned. "Guys? We better hurry!"

"Oh, my God!" Wendy said, her eyes wide.

Behind them, the upper edge of the stone block had become white-hot and was . . . flowing. Bubbling, viscous red-hot magma boiled and leaped and blackened into strings and blobs of rock as it arched through the air. Billows of steam roiled from it, and the tops of trees nearby caught fire. "The rock's turning back into lava!" Dipper said. "Run!"

"Yeah, easy for you to say," Stan griped, but he made good time. They plunged through the thorn thickets, losing patches of clothing and skin, and finally broke out into the clearing where the Stanleymobile waited. "Pile in, pile in!" Stan yelled. He opened the back door and tossed the quantum disruptor in, along with his backpack.

Dipper and Wendy tossed in their packs, too. Stan barked, "Wendy, you take shotgun, roll down the window, and get that cockamamie pistol ready! Dipper, backseat, driver's side, get the window down and be ready to shoot if you see anything comin' after us!"

Dipper shoved the rifle-sized weapon over and got into the seat just as Stan floored the accelerator. The big heavy car leaped forward as Dipper frantically rolled down the window and leaned out. From the forest behind them, white smoke billowed up into the air—by melting the stone, the thing had started a forest fire. Dipper saw more trees falling, not burning but apparently undermined. He fumbled with the pistol and finally got it out and primed. One shot, then five minutes to recharge.

If the ride out had been rough, the one back threatened to crack their teeth. More than once a pine bough lashed the back of Dipper's head. But the El Diablo's powerful engine roared and, though it swerved and sometimes lurched, the car kept to the track until they burst out onto the paved road. Stan swerved wide to miss an oncoming, horn-blaring logging truck, ran off onto the shoulder, and then jerked the car back into the proper lane. "We lost it?"

"Think so," Dipper said. "I don't see any more trees falling, and we left the fire behind."

"It's prob'ly still comin', though," Wendy said. Her hair had come partly loose from inside her shirt and long red strands whipped through the open window as she craned to look back. "Just can't make good time underground, is all.""

"Better get on the horn to Ford," Stanley said. "Tell him to call the forestry department about the fire."

"You think those firefighter guys'll be safe, Stan?" Wendy asked, giving him a sharp look.

"Yeah, first because whatever big ugly is out there ain't mad at them, but us. Second, because they'll send planes over with retardant before anybody goes out there on foot. Geeze Louise, everything hurts!"

"Want me to drive?" Wendy asked.

"Nah, you'll get blood all over the wheel."

"Wait, what?" Dipper leaned over the seat. "Wendy, are you OK?"

"Just thorns, dude. She held up her left hand. An ugly deep gash about two inches long showed on the pinky edge, still dripping blood. She ripped a sleeve off her shirt. "Seems like I'm always doin' this," she muttered, binding the wound. "Dipper, man, you got no room to talk. Your whole face is bloody!"

Dipper put his hand to his cheek and felt the ripped places where he'd run through thorns. His palm came away red. "Didn't even feel it!" he said. "Hang on, I got bandages in my back—"

"Focus, Dipper!" his great-uncle said. "Call Ford First, and then you'll have time to bleed!"

From his backpack Dipper got out the walkie-talkie and also a four-inch square of gauze. He tore the package open with his teeth and pulled out the pad, which he pressed against his cheek as he said, "Dipper to Ford, are you there? Come in!"

He repeated the call twice before the radio sizzled and crackled and he heard Ford's distorted voice: "Ford here, Dipper. What's happening?"

"There's a forest fire breaking out at the base of Needle Falls," Dipper said. "And something big's under the ground and trying to break through to the surface. It's following us, but we got away!"

"Over," Stanley said.

Ford again, urgently: "Did you get any readings?"

"Yeah, but I haven't sent them because reception out there at the crater was, like, no bars!"

"Over," Stanley insisted.

"Crater? Never mind, tell me later. As soon as you're in telephone range—"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, let me see—yeah, I can transmit now. I'll get off the radio and you'll have the data in a few seconds!"

From behind the wheel, Stanley scolded, "Dipper, ya gotta say 'Over' when you finish! For cryin' out loud, what's the use of havin' radio protocol if you just ignore it?"

"Doesn't matter," Dipper said, peeling off the blood-stained gauze pad because he needed both hands. He found the meter he'd used, set it to transmit, and pressed a button. After a couple of seconds, it buzzed to show that it had sent the data on.

He felt something pressing against his face and looked up. Wendy was holding a little green patch of flannel against his cheek. "Still drippin' some, man," she said.

"Aw, Wendy, you're all scratched up, too!"

"Eh, Corduroys heal fast. You got a couple deep ones there on your right cheek."

"Chadley ain't pretty no more?" Dipper asked, giving her a crooked smile, though now his face throbbed with the pain.

She chuckled. "Aw, man, you'll do. You'll do."

The moment they got back to the Shack, Mabel immediately ran for the gift-shop first-aid kit without being asked. Melody and Mabel applied antibiotic ointment and bandages to Dipper's and Wendy's wounds.

Stan's legs had been spectacularly striped by the thorns, and in addition to her hand, Wendy had one vicious black curved thorn more than an inch long stuck pretty deeply in her side just under her ribs, plus a couple of scrapes on elbows and knees.

Sheila took Stan into the bathroom to patch up his legs, but Wendy and Mabel got their treatment in the dining room. Mabel cut adhesive tape and wrapped bandages around the worst places and shook her head over all the damage the two had sustained.

Dipper's chest had suffered, along with his cheek. The amount of blood that had dripped onto his vest from his cheek or oozed through his shirt and into the fabric amazed him.

Mabel said, "OK, I'm gonna try not to get this tape into any of your chest hair. Don't think you'll need stitches, but some of these are really nasty, brobro!"

"We gotta finalize getting' that clinic into town," Stanley said, coming in from the bathroom. His khakis showed about a dozen rips, most of them brownish-red with drying blood.

"What?" Melody asked. "Clinic?"

Stan sank into his old chair, and Sheila stood behind him and massaged his shoulders. "Feels good, hon. Yeah, Melody, me an' Ford convinced the town council that this place needs a clinic. Got a good site picked out an' everything, an' the price is right. All's we gotta do is attract a doctor and a couple nurses, and we could have it up an' runnin' by next month."

"That'd be cool," Wendy said. "Then when my dad gets conked by a falling tree I wouldn't have to drive him all the way to Hirschville!"

"Dude," Soos asked, "are you an' Ford, like, payin' for all that?"

"Nah, just seed money," Stan said. "Fiddleford's kickin' in some, too. Once it's started, it should more or less sustain itself. Town will keep the rent minimal in exchange for havin' medical services available."

"That's a great idea," Sheila said. "And I'll bet you two won't take an ounce of credit for it!"

"Who needs every charity in a hundred-mile radius hittin' me up?" Stanley asked. "Yeah, me an' Ford'll keep quiet about our part, but not necessarily from modesty."

Soos said, "Mr. Pines, let me an' Melody throw some in, too. We got some good savings stashed away, and I keep worrying, you know, about our son. If Little Soos ever got real bad sick, I'd want somebody close to take him to, dawg!"

"'S OK with me if you contribute. We'll talk about it later," Stanley said. "Right now, though, I'm starvin'. It's past lunchtime."

"Oh, right," Soos said. He called, "Hey, T.K.! Cook us some burgers and franks, willya, dawg!"

"Coming right up!" responded the O'Grady boy's voice from off in the snack bar.

"Why's he even here?" Dipper asked. "The Shack is closed!"

"Yeah, but he was worried about me," Mabel said as she put away the bandages. "So he came over this morning and he's been making himself useful. And you gotta admit, he cooks good food!"

"Well—I could use a burger," Dipper confessed. "And fries."

"Yeah, get Abuelita to make me one of her Stan Specials," Stanley told Soos. "She'll know what that means."

"Right away, Mr. Pines, dawg, sir."

"Yeah, I could eat, too," Wendy said. "Burgers and fries all around? Anybody want a hot dog?"

"Four!" Mabel said. "One with chopped tomatoes and peppers, one with onions and ketchup, one with relish and mustard, and one with chocolate syrup and mini-marshmallows." When they stared at her, she asked, "What, can't a girl have dessert?"

"OK, it's your stomach, girl," Wendy said with a shrug. "I'll go help T.K."

"I'll come, too!" Mabel said, hopping up with the first-aid kit in her hand.

"So—where's Poindexter?" Stanley asked Soos. "He get the word out on the fire?"

"Uh, he's downstairs," Soos said. "Dunno about the fire, but I think he's, like, doing secret research or some junk? He prob'ly doesn't want to be disturbed, dude."

"Well, too bad 'cause I'm gonna disturb him anyhow. Come on, Dip. Hey, Soos, call us when the grub's ready, OK?"

"You got it!"

"Thanks! Back in a minute, Sheila. You'd better go put in your order. Come on, Dip." Dipper followed his Grunkle down the stairs and then into the elevator. Stan pushed the button for the second floor down. "How'd you know where he'll be?" Dipper asked.

"'Cause the indicator said it was comin' up from two, Dip. So that's where Ford got off."

"Hey, good deduction, Grunkle Stan!"

Stan grinned. "Yeah, Ford didn't get all the brains in the family, kiddo. I just usually channel mine in a different direction."

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped out into the peculiar reddish light that Ford favored. He sat at a computer console, and he looked around. "Oh, you're back. Good, good."

"The fire—"

"It's out already," Ford said. "The fire service sent out a couple of planes, and they were able to extinguish the blaze. Fortunately, the woods in that area are sparse, the trees widely separated, and the ground is stony. No great damage."

"Yeah, tell us about it," Stan growled. "In those very woods we got pretty beat up tryin' to get your crummy readings, Ford! Ain't you forgettin' to tell us somethin'?"

Stanford first looked surprised, then said, "Oh, yes! The readings are valuable!"

"He can't say it," Stan told Dipper. "Geeze, he's supposed to be the smart one, an' he don't ever once remember to say it!"

"Oh," Ford said, sounding embarrassed. "Sorry. Thank you, Dipper and Stanley."

"Yeah, that's more like it." Stanley limped over to the computer. "Oy, feels like my legs got burned!"

Dipper asked, "What did you find out from the data, great-uncle Ford?"

"Well—anomalous life-form readings. In some ways familiar—but I'm not actually sure, so maybe I shouldn't say anything until—"

"Stanford!" Stanley snapped. "Look at us! Dipper's face all ripped up, an' poor Wendy lost a strip of skin on the side of her hand that looks nasty and prob'ly really needed stitches, and my legs are like the Buchanan clan tartan—red crisscrossin' streaks all over 'em! Ya got somethin', spill it!"

"I apologize," Stanford said. He bit his lip. "All right. I'm still not sure, but the signature I got from the readings—the pattern of resonance—Dipper, Stanley, this thing is not of our world. I'd almost say it was from Bill Cipher's universe, but it's not quite that, either. Similar, and yet—I don't know. My best guess is that it may be something left over from Weirdmageddon—something that perhaps didn't get pulled back through the Rift. If it really is one of Bill's hench-maniacs—well, we face hard decisions."

"What's hard? Kill it!" Stan said.

"That may be difficult. It's not made of the same kind of matter as an earthly animal. But perhaps we can kill it, or if not, at least contain it."

"Contain? Ya mean like that Shapeshifter thing you got froze in your bunker?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Oh, great," Stanley groaned. "All we need's for that thing to thaw out one day. And you're gonna have two? What are you, nuts?"

Ford sighed. "Well—the other way would be to open a portal to the creature's own dimension, but that's extremely risky, and I dismantled the portal, anyway. We might create another Rift."

"Throw it down the Bottomless Pit for all I care," Stan said. "But figure out a way to kill it or get rid of it for good. Ford, we're out of time! It's comin' for us, burrowin' toward us like a mole! And the danged thing can generate enough heat to melt freakin' rocks!"

"Yes," Ford said thoughtfully. "If it actually did come into our reality during Weirdmageddon, it was shielded from Earth's sun by the Rift overhead. You remember the odd scarlet tint of the sky, and how the sun was barely visible through all the haze. Now, under a clear sky, the radiation of the sun just might weaken it or render it helpless."

"Then build a great big tanning lamp!" Stanley yelled. "Or figure some way to tie it up so the sun can, what, dissolve it like a vampire?"

"Stanley, that doesn't actually happen. It's only in the movies. Vampires can go out in the sun if they want to—"

"Get your mind off vampires!" Stanley said. "Figure some way we can get this thing to the surface when it comes to the Shack! If the sun'll kill it, drag it into the sunshine!"

"Great," Dipper said. "But what happens if it gets here at night?"

For a moment the two elder Pines twins just stared at each other.

"Then heaven help us," Ford said quietly.