"It is only in the deepest maws of madness that one is gifted the truth, that impossibilities become possible, that the fabrics of what is unknown gain their shining form. To seek the path of enlightenment is not to reject madness, but to embrace it like a dear, old friend; for it is only through this veil that the path is visible to you. Embrace everything you are, and nothing will ever hurt you again."
"Trivial" was a word Zuma loved repeating in his mind. The trivial little patrol with their trivial little meetings, dressing up in trivial outfits with trivial little logos. It was a fun word to him, a great sticker for all situations; handy and useful, just like he was supposed to be. It rolled off his tongue, felt silly to mutter under his breath, a go-to catchphrase that never ran dry of its use. A trivial meeting, Chase announcing that Rubble had vanished with such intensity in his voice one would think the world was ending. Zuma slouched behind disinterested, last to enter the elevator and sparing himself from Marshall's clumsy entrance. The nightmares had been violent, he shuddered to think back at them for even a moment, worse than anything he had ever faced in his slumber before. Among the torrent of screams and traumas, one pattern had become clear to him, a whisper he knew not the true meaning of, but full well the image it painted in his head.
That book he and Rubble uncovered, it had to be the answer. The answer to what exactly, Zuma questioned it himself the more he thought about it. His obsession with recovering the item had been abrupt, but it hit him with the force of a speeding truck and gripped its talons into his skin. Although he had no idea why, it was imperative he got it back.
The following events were like clockwork, a soulless repeat of every last mission in the PAW Patrol's mission. Step out of the elevator, stand in a trivial, pointless line while Chase said his idiotic catchphrase. What did it mean, what did any of it mean, nothing could possess his mind more than his endless slurry of questions. He couldn't listen to a single word Ryder was saying, the entire briefing flying straight over his head. If he could make an educated guess, Chase and Skye were probably taking center stage while Marshall was given some secondary tasks to screw up later. No one paid any attention to him, as usual, but for once his outcast nature could be to his advantage. If no one paid any heed to the unloved Labrador, no one would read the confusion and struggle to understand in his expression.
"There has to be a way," Zuma said to himself, gazing into the floor as reality passed him by. "It would have said so if there wasn't." Where would he even start, a library? Not a bad guess, Zuma considered it while the other pups sprang into action; a library could have an answer, but could such limited archives be trusted with knowledge such as this?
A grey paw tapped his shoulder, "uh, Zuma? We're going now," Rocky said, snapping the Lab out of his thoughts.
"Wha- oh," came Zuma's stutter, his vision quickly focusing back to the present. "Good luck finding Rubble out there."
"Did you listen to a word Ryder said?"
"Of course I did, that's why I said good luck." Every single word from the boy bounced off Zuma's deaf ears, but it was a more than educated guess to assume he wasn't going. He never went anywhere with them, for years the Labrador wasn't even considered for a mission, leaving him alone and cold within the depths of the Lookout. But just this once, his free time could be used proactively. Once every vehicle of the PAW Patrol had zoomed away in thick clouds of dust, vanishing away to be loved and adored in their pointless endeavors, Zuma slipped over to Rubble's den. No need to be discreet, every other dog had left, and it wasn't the first time he snooped around the other kennels when left behind.
Sneaking quick peeks around his surroundings, Zuma flipped up the door to the yellow kennel and slipped in. Entering the modernized dog cave, he was quickly met with a scene that halted the Lab in his tracks. The air of the den grew sinister, revealing through its crooked hands a vicious display of mangled artistry. On the entire far wall contained mindless carvings, a vomit of letters messily carved out in such scratching insanity the writer had ruined his own wall. It was like witnessing a supernatural sighting, a glowing scene of brutality that froze the Labrador where he stood. Bloody paw prints slapped and smeared in various places around the writing, tiny fragments of flesh and dog claws dropped to the floor below. It was a gruesome sight, yet Zuma stood before it not in petrified fear, but astonishment. This was by no means a small display, it nearly took up a whole far wall of the kennel, why hadn't Chase mentioned this?
"Uh, Chase?" Zuma said into his radio collar. "There's... there's an entire bloody wall in Rubble's kennel. You didn't say anything about that, did you... did you miss this when you walked in here?"
He couldn't have, Zuma felt idiotic even asking the question. The great Chase, police officer of Adventure Bay, missing such a massive clue to the disappearance. The thing wasn't even hidden, it was right at eye level the second he walked into the kennel. In what world could Chase have possibly overlooked such a glaring piece of evidence waving its hands right in his face?
"A what?" Chase's garbled voice came through on the radio.
"A bloody wall with weird words on it, on the far end of the place. Chase, there's no possible way you overlooked this, I'm looking right at the thing, it's impossible to miss!"
"I-" came the shepherd's audible puzzlement. "Zuma, what are you talking about?"
"There's an entire wall covered with blood in here, and it has these strange letters on it."
"No there isn't," Chase said. "I looked that place up and down, every single drawer and wall. I never saw anything like that."
"Are... are you sure? Cause it's right here."
"Yes, I'm there. I think I would've noticed if there was a wall covered in blood in there."
Bewildered at what he was hearing, Zuma felt agitation climbing him; blind idiocy had never been one of Chase's traits. "What do you want me to say? I'm looking straight at-" He was sharply cut off as a hail of screeching static emitted from his collar, slicing the conversation dead with its jarring noise.
"Oh, great," the Lab grumbled. "Stupid signal towers... of all the times to go out."
Guess he was in this alone, like always, of course. A tiny little Labrador all by himself, staring into an unknown inscription made in the very blood of their friend, and Chase somehow overlooked the entire thing. Approaching the wall closer, the stench of dried metal radiated from the crusted blood prints, the only traces of Rubble left in here. He leaned into the unusual typography, scanning the hieroglyphics for patterns he could make sense of. The whole thing was written in English letters yet built a sentence unlike anything Zuma had ever seen before, seemingly a desperate reach to translate indescribable screaming in one's head.
"Bi otemieh," he squinted his eyes, reading out the strange words. "Shehehan oeholol... teaniss bi," his voice strained just sounding them up, beating the Labrador senselessly with every syllable he brought to the air. "Uncishja laoleheh... Frtean vueh sheheh zheeh laanr... the hell does that mean?" he said, unsure he was even saying them properly. "Teoheh vueh vuaczheri ala teanri... zheehri otemieh nrbilajazon... cish?" Wow, he gawked in his wondrous mind, understanding absolutely nothing of the mindless slop he just read out.
Like a surge of singing memories out of nowhere, everything synchronized in his mind. Great visions came before him like wise men bearing gifts, and for a moment he could see unimaginable things, shapes and images that rewrote all it meant to be something. It was gone in an instant, leaving Zuma with the knowledge of a bulldog's final moments.
He saw Rubble pacing in circles around the very kennel he stood in, dripping with sweat and whimpering mindless nonsense under his breath. Great distress clouded the walls of his home, feverishly he held his own head, as if straining to keep himself together. He jumped to his desk, pulling a paper and pencil and attempting to write something, but the utensil completely failed to produce anything legible. Teetering on a violent breaking point, Rubble released an agonized scream into the air, crying out blinding chaos that cackled with madness. Flying into a feral rage, Rubble brandished his dull claws and attacked the wall of his kennel, scratching into it with such force his claws snapped and bled. He carved out each and every letter, unintelligible in language, leaving bloody prints on the wall from his mangled fingers. Once the entire phrase had been written, Rubble stepped back, looking over his work with a desperate pleading expression. That was all Zuma could see, the vision ended just as it started, quick and like a dream.
A bright feeling of belonging flowered in his heart, yet great confusion it brought with it. Zuma gawked with awe at the inscribed words, reading them over and over again for any possible language it imitated. Was it Spanish? No, couldn't be, Spanish used accented letters, that certainly wasn't it. German, perhaps; Zuma read it over again with narrowed eyes, but it didn't sound like any German he'd ever heard.
"Greek?" He said to himself, unsure of his own voice at that point. Maybe Rubble had something, he looked over searchingly at the empty shelves, if the bulldog somehow wrote this, surely he had the way to translate it as well.
Without thinking, he uttered quiet words under his breath. "Croavu riacioh oteaniss..."
Wait, what? Zuma put a paw to his mouth, where had that come from? This strange dialect, bringing a baffling question that made him stop and ponder the impossible; had he heard it before? A faint tickle tapped its fingers along his spine, skipping his heart in a moment of uncertainty. The Lab blinked, tensing his body in alarm while his memory threatened to evade him. Then it appeared, manifested like an angel had gifted it straight to him.
The leather book, the odd artifact excavated from Humdinger's wreckage, spontaneously appeared from nothing on the empty shelf, sitting quietly as if it were a child patiently waiting to be picked up. There it was, Zuma knew the second he spotted it, the answer to all his questions, or perhaps the guide to the answers themselves. Ignoring its impossible method of showing up, he stood on his hind legs, reaching up to the dusty shelf and plucking the book from its resting place.
Holding the smooth, aged piece of literature before him, a brand-new detail caught his eye. A new inscription, an image, a piece of art that adorned the cover of the book. Was that there before? Zuma squinted at it, trying to trace his memory if the book had maintained a consistent design, but only blank noise came in his response. The image was that of a jagged, sharpened rhombus, tall and powerful in its geometrical form. Four magnificent wings sprouted from it, spreading their feathers in beautiful elegance rivaling the very stars of the cosmos. A breathtaking piece of art, Zuma was stunned to bear witness to such a radiant picture; it was perfectly carved into the leather with flawless detail, down to each individual feather.
Carelessly lounging on Rubble's bed, Zuma couldn't wait another moment and opened the book, tracing his paw along the page. The sky had turned a brilliant orange by the time he had finished, although not by choice. The book's pages had blackened themselves, preventing Zuma from reading any further, no doubt a method of communication he had to decipher. He left Rubble's kennel wordlessly, standing outside as hundreds of revelations sang in his mind.
"Huh," was the only word able to leave his mouth, the only verbal response from the immeasurable ideas and design spiraling through his brain. There was much to be done and time was short, the Lab quickly raced off to his own kennel, shutting himself away from the false world he ran upon.
The PAW Patrol finally returned once the moon crowned her glistening sky, trudging their tired vehicles back into alignment. Ryder nearly fell off his AV dragging himself inside, barely saying anything though the darkened bags on his usually bright face. Chase nearly missed the landing jumping out of his vehicle, landing awkwardly on his feet with a slight sting in his legs.
"Awe... I hope we find him," Skye dragged herself up, a solemn expression on her furry face. "How can anyone disappear without a trace?"
"There's a trace, Skye," said Chase, his voice merely above a breath. "I just hope he's okay..."
"Can I stay with you tonight? I'm just... really scared for Rubble."
"Yeah, just hold on," Chase looked across the clearing, narrowing on a yellow kennel. "What the hell was Zuma on about...?"
"What?"
"Zuma mentioned a blood wall or something," he said, walking over to Rubble's abandoned home. "Apparently I missed an inscription or something."
"A blood wall? Ugh... it's too late for this," came Skye's exhausted whine. "I just wanna go to bed."
"Then go."
"Well I can't now," she raced up beside him, bringing forth what little initiative she had. "You can't just mention some crazy thing like that and expect me not to be interested."
Chase rolled his eyes at her tenacious spirit, unable to hide his forming grin. He advanced toward Rubble's kennel, and like a bullet passing through his body, all his curiosity died away. His paw hesitated at the door, shaking as frozen dread shot up his veins. Fur standing on end, Chase attempted to swallow his fear and press forward, but his body didn't move. Paranoia circled him and boiled his blood, striking terror far unlike anything he had ever felt in Adventure City.
Every last one of his senses flared with red alarm, screaming their signals to evacuate the area and burn everything behind him. Not even the worst villains had sparked such a reaction in his gut; out of everything he had ever seen, it was a humble pup house that truly succeeded in terrifying Adventure Bay's best police officer.
Skye caught on to his paralysis quickly, tilting her head in confusion. "Uh... Chase? You okay?"
"F-fine," he said, stammering over himself. "I'm just... looking inside."
"Then... open the door?"
"Right, right, the... door," Chase gulped, staring up at the terrifying structure that leered its eyes down at him.
The cockapoo beside him approached the door of her own accord, gazing into her own reflection in the sheet metal. Her advance tripped Chase's instincts like electric wire, "Skye, get away from that!"
"What, why? It's just Rubble's kennel," she said, looking at him weirdly.
Unable to resist the shaking in his legs, Chase started backing away with a flattened body. "Skye... get away from it. There's something... wrong, in there."
"That makes no sense," Skye scrunched her expression, puzzled at his fear. "It's just a pup house, look." She turned to the door, wedging underneath it."
Chase thrust out his paw, "no! Stop!"
Her defiance drowned him out, and she flung open the sheet metal door, fully exposing the darkened interior of the kennel. Moonlight burned into its walls, brightening a peaceful scene of absolutely nothing. No mess, no overturned tables, no littered tools, and certainly no blood wall. The kennel was as plain as it had been since Ryder first built it, yet Chase refused to shake his gut feeling.
Skye crossed under the door, entering the dark tomb of eerie silence. Chase watched in petrified anticipation as she roamed in circles, stopping to sniff the air or nudge something. A piece of him wanted to sprint in there and yank her out, rescuing his dear friend from a haunting unknown plaguing the inner walls, and valiantly he battled his own instinct to run inside.
"Chase, there's nothing in here," Skye said, giving him an odd look. "Nothing new, at least. What are you so afraid of?"
"No... blood wall?"
Rolling her eyes, the avian dog made a dramatic show of individual checking each of the four walls, corners and all. "Nope, absolutely no blood wall. Can we go to bed now?"
No danger? He watched her roam directly into the teeth of the worst gut feeling he had in years, and there was simply nothing. Chase's breathing picked up, making the shepherd stumble with disbelief, what had Zuma been on about, what was anything on about?
"You... go ahead. I'll meet you there," said the shepherd, eager to escape the prying eyes of Rubble's kennel. "I gotta go find Zuma."
"Alright, don't kill yourself in the process," Skye said, disguising her genuine concern as a joke.
Finding Zuma was considerably easier than a missing Rubble, mostly because the Labrador actually had a smell trailing behind him, just as all dogs were supposed to have. Another fact that left Chase scratching his head as he walked, the notion that Rubble had vanished completely with no trace or scent left behind, something usually impossible for an animal. There were plenty of choice words for Zuma he was rehearsing, anger flaring his nostrils at the idea of some wild goose chase over a blood wall, yet he kicked himself more for how easily he believed it. Something about Rubble's kennel had tripped him the wrong way, a way that his instincts refused to calm against.
He caught Zuma sitting at the low cliffside, looking out at the ocean surrounding Adventure Bay.
"God, there you are," Chase said, pushing through the bushes. "Why weren't you picking up your radio?"
The Lab barely looked his way, contemplating aimless noise over the blue waves. "My collar isn't working."
"Give it to Rocky, he'll fix it. Anyway, what the hell was that about a wall with blood and carvings? I- uh, Skye went in there, and she didn't see anything at all."
Zuma picked up his attention, turning toward the shepherd. "She didn't?"
"No, not a single thing out of the ordinary."
"Well, that's fascinating," came Zuma's awe-filled reply, amazed at the information. "Does it choose who to make itself known to?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Honestly, I'm not too sure," the Lab said with a shrug, a disturbed twinge running down his fur. "Chase I think... I think something might be wrong with me." He hated the words leaving him, his vulnerability had been expressed before, and it always ended terribly. "I'm... seeing things, hearing things I'm not supposed to hear."
"How many nightmares have you had?" Chase said, coming to sit by him.
"Just one, but it was bad," the Lab flinched at the close contact, discreetly scooting a few inches away. "Bad enough that I'm scared to fall asleep again, I don't want to take another chance."
"Oh... I'm sorry," came the shepherd's remorseful apology, unsure of what to say.
Zuma gritted his teeth slightly, digging his claws into the dirt. "Something happened to me as a puppy, something I tried so hard to forget. I enslaved myself to medications, talked to Ryder for hours, and eventually I did move on from what happened. Everything was peaceful for me, and I thought that maybe, just maybe," his voice began to trail off. "I could be normal again."
"But then... out of fucking nowhere," he spat the words, venom bleeding from the Labrador. "It all just... comes back! Comes back full force, even worse than last time! Now the memories don't stop, now they all play on repeat, every last detail and even in my sleep I can't escape it!"
"Zuma, wait-" Chase reached out to touch his friend's shoulder, only for him to sharply flinch and scoot away. Hesitant to cross anymore lines, the shepherd scrambled for anything he could possibly say. "You- you aren't going insane, don't worry. I'm sure there's some psychological reasons for this, we can-"
"Insane?" came Zuma's echo. "Of course I'm not insane, matter of fact, I think it might be the opposite," he let a small laugh slip through. "How could I be crazy; I've never felt so aware. Whatever I need to fix this, I won't find it here. I need to understand this, the... noise, the voices, the images. I know there's sense to be made, but it evades me."
"Well, how can I help?" Chase said, hoping his optimistic tone would rescue his friend from the darkness. "After all, no job is too big, no pup is too small... right?"
Staring out across the churning, infinite waves, Zuma merely peered back at him with a studying look. They held their gazes for a while, Chase standing quietly with his paw outstretched, watching the Labrador in painstaking silence. After what felt like hours, Zuma finally stood up slowly, coming in close to Chase's side. His touch was like a terrified child, the way he gripped Chase's paw in his; a desperate cling to convince himself of reality. But what was real anymore? Chase was confused as Zuma brought his body close, brushing his cheek up against the shepherd and staring out over his back.
"I wish," came Zuma's soft whisper, clinging to Chase's gentle embrace. "But this is my truth to face, I won't drown myself with you tied to me."
"Tied to you? Zuma... we're a team."
"I know, but not right now," he said with a sigh, leaning against his friend a little. "I must do this alone, without them... and without you."
Breaking their hold, Zuma moved a paw to his neck, unclipping the one and only thing marking his allegiance to the PAW Patrol: his collar. He removed the accessory and dropped it into Chase's paw, too consumed by shame to make any sort of eye contact.
No, not like this. Chase's heart shattered witnessing it, "Zuma, wha- ... no, we need you."
"Don't worry," said the Labrador, a faint, yet hopeless smile peeling on his face. "We'll see each other again, one day. Oh and... one more thing."
"What is it?"
"The book, Chase," Zuma said, his tone darkened by just a hair. "The one we found in Humdinger's hideout. It's called the Scio Omnia... I suggest you read it."
"How-" the shepherd blanked, baffled at Zuma's sudden knowledge about the item. "How do you... how do you know that?"
"Because I read it myself. I'd like to take it with me, but it may be best to keep it here with you. Read the Scio Omnia, Chase. It might open up your eyes to a few things."
A part of him wanted to lunge, to grab Zuma with both arms and pin him to the floor, screaming and pleading to not leave him. He already lost one friend, was he really cursed to lose another right before his very eyes? For the first time since Adventure City, Chase felt completely helpless, surrounded in weakness like violent paralysis. Droplets fell from his eyes, endlessly gazing as Zuma's tiny frame grew smaller and smaller on the horizon. The world passed him by as he stood, lost in shaking grief for so long the sky had darkened.