In Which Our Hero Makes a New Friend, Four Thousand Miles Away

The nefarious Happy-Happy Cult has been defeated, Ness has one part of the Sanctuary’s melody good and recorded in his Soundstone, and now it’s time to get out of Twoson and hit the road. Too bad the next town over has been invaded by spooky zombies! With such an infestation of the living dead in Threed, no buses will go near it with a ten-foot pole. Nuts! 

Ness and Paula have no choice but to bum a ride with the touring yacht-rock act the Runaway Five, who just so happen to be Ness’s parents’ favorite band of all time, not to mention Ness’s uh… not-so favorite band of all time. He’s tangled with aliens, with weird cults, and with predatory taxi cabs, but now Ness will face his toughest foe yet… a whole three-hour set of smooth-jazz rock, right in the front row! 

Will Ness and Paula endure the encore’s extended drum solo? Will they make it out of the strange circus tent in the middle of town and live to tell the tale? And how on earth will they ever get their third friend to join them, when he lives four thousand miles away?!

Find out on this week’s episode of… The Podcast Against Giygas!

ROCKIN!!!

Transcript

You’re listening to… The Podcast Against Giygas!

Episode four: In Which Our Hero Makes a New Friend, Four Thousand Miles Away

*

—Two one way tickets to Threed, please!

Ness stood on his tiptoes and slapped a handful of twenty dollar bills on the counter of the Twoson bus station, his business in the town finally complete, his new friend Paula good and rescued from a sinister if also a little silly cult, the first part of the Sanctuary melody good and recorded into the Soundstone, and not to mention a rockin’ photo of Ness at the Giant Step good and snapped by a strange man from the sky.

—All routes to Threed have been cancelled due to a recent zombie outbreak. The next bus to Onett leaves in an hour.

—What? But I just came from Onett!

—Sorry kid, that’s all I got.

Paula grumbled and spoke up to the ticket seller, also needing to stand on her toes.

—Please, sir, it’s an emergency, we have to get there! Anyway, they’re just zombies, we can take care of ourselves.

The seller raised an eyebrow at them both.

—Oh, I’m sure you can, children. Nonetheless, I have no buses en route.

—Well, we can’t go back where we came from!

—Guess you’re staying in Twoson for a while then.

—How long is a while?

—I dunno, you tell me how long it takes to clear out a infestation of the living dead… You could always take in the Runaway Five. I heard they’re starting their world tour tonight, right here in Twoson. History’s about to start right in our backyard, boys and girls.

Deflated, Ness and Paula had nothing to say to the ticket seller. The adults behind Ness and Paula made their way to the booth and took their spot in line.

—Nuts! We’re stuck in Twoson, and to make matters even worse, we’re stuck here with the Runaway Five!

Ness grimaced and took in a deep breath in disgust.

—…my dad likes the Runaway Five.

It was true. A short walk to the Chaos Theater, a small music venue closer to the outskirts of Twoson, showed that the world-famous dad-rock band The Runaway Five were playing their inaugural show of their biggest tour yet! Scores of fans waited in line at the box office, holding out hope that they would eventually reach the ticket seller at the front of the line and purchase their chance to witness the band’s longtime deft blending of raucous rock and roll and blues with smooth jazz stylings.

—Wait, this is our chance to get to Threed!

—…how so?

—If they’re going on tour, they’re bound to be headed there next. There isn’t any other town worth traveling to so far down south for miles away. We hitch a ride with them!

On cue, the ticket seller shoved down the shutter on the box office window, revealing a sign that read SOLD OUT, which elicited a deafening groan from the queued-up line of fans.

—Nuts! Just when it couldn’t get any worse, we can’t even get in to the stupid Runaway Five show! How are we gonna get to Threed now?

—Hold on…

As the crowd milled away to lick their wounds, one among them held his tickets before them, laughing at them with an irritating nasal snicker. Whether he was just a jerk in general, or a scalper fundamentally unaware of how scalping works, was anyone’s guess.

—Haha! Suckers! Go home and watch the show on pay-per-view! Not me! I got front row seats, baby, backstage passes, the works! Me and my old lady are gonna have one heck of a time! Hehehe, eat crow, you buncha losers! Eat cro-aaaah!

One moment, he was flaunting his tickets in their faces, the next, they disappeared from his hand like a magician’s trick. The crowd, still bummed that they had to miss the show, gleaned whatever solace they could from seeing this man forced to eat a hefty helping of crow himself.

From a good distance away from the line, Paula inspected her new telekinetically-gotten tickets. Well well, lookee here, front row seats? Backstage passes? How about that! Meanwhile Ness raised a cautious eyebrow at Paula.

—That’s stealing, you know.

Paula gave Ness a smile and a wink.

—As soon as the show is over I’ll give them right back. I promise.

With that, Ness and Paula took their place in line, and once the ticket taker waved them down and temporarily confiscated their baseball bat and frying pan, and once black X’s were drawn on their hands, they were ushered in with every other ticket holder to the old Twoson Chaos Theater.

—Nuts! As if it couldn’t get any worse, we actually have to see the Runaway Five!

—Oh, hush up, you!

The annoying man outside the Chaos Theater was true to his word, the children had front row seats facing the direct center of the stage. There was not a single note, gesture, or mannerism to be missed from the Runaway Five. While Ness sulked at the situation he was in, stuck in a loud room full of adults for three hours listening to music for people who wish they had a yacht, Paula took in the new sights and sounds the place afforded her. Being cooped up in her reinforced-steel bedroom for most of her life, she had only rarely been outside it, rarely socialized with what few friends she made at school, and certainly had never been to a rock n roll show. Even the buildup to the main event, the grand hall full of the audience’s chatter and roadies scrambling around the stage and fiddling around with musical instruments, thrilled her.

Finally, the Runaway Five took their places on the stage. The two black-suited and fedora-ed singers, “Gorgeous” Donald Walters and “Lucky” Decker Hagen, grabbed their mics and asked how everyone was doing tonight before ripping into their first number: “(She’s a) Full-Blooded Lithuanian Lady.” Ness spent the entire two hour and forty eight minute runtime of the show frowning, sighing, and resting his head on his hand with his elbow on the armrest. Paula, meanwhile, took in the early raucous blues-rock numbers and smooth jazzy ballads in equal rapt attention. She danced along as the lead guitarist and saxophonist, “Fine” Mikey Ryan and Jimmy “Okie” Dokie respectively, flew through wild solos and played off each other through well-known hits such as “The Magician’s Shoehorn” and “Sally, Don’t You Steal That Produce.” Finally, the band rounded out their set with the encore, a fifteen-minute improvised rendition of the popular showstopper “Rabbi for Sale,” featuring an extended drum and bass solo from the low-end leader “Nice” Guy Fox and that master of the kit himself, “Groovy” Gus Wakeman, before bowing to the audience and wishing Twoson a very good night, till the next time they see them at the show.

*

As all good things eventually do, the great big Runaway Five show came to an end (or ugh, the big dumb Runaway Five show is finally over!, depending on which kid you asked). Ness and Paula were then ushered into the inner recesses of the Twoson Chaos Theater and, after presenting their backstage passes, were introduced to the six Runaway Fivesmen. 

Despite the earlier good time presumably had by all, none of the Runaway Five seemed particularly energized, pumped, pepped, or otherwise generally glad to be there. They almost had to make some kind of effort of enthusiasm when they finally noticed the children greeting them backstage, which, to their credit, they did.

—Hey hey! Here come the VIPs!

—How do you do, kids!

—Say, that sure is a new demographic, huh?

—Most nights we play to a bunch of dads.

—And maybe their wives…

Paula cleared her throat and broke their silence first.

—Well, not me, I thought you all were simply stupendous. We both did! Didn’t we?

Paula elbowed Ness in the arm.

—Uh… yup, me too. Loved it.

—Well, how about that, we’re finally hip with the kids! Say children, what’s your favorite album?

Ness grumbled and rolled his eyes.

—Oh, all of them. But especially ah… your first album.

—Myself, I’m a recent convert I must admit, but from your setlist I could see a gradual shift from the seventies arena blues-rock that made you famous, exhibited in early hits like “Turquoise Vestibule,” to your more adventurous, dare I say playful fusions of traditional blues and rock with big band swing and even hard bebop jazz, as showcased in a track like, say, “Moroccan Quinceañera.” And yet, there’s a rigorous musicianship to it, classically trained even. If we look at something like your second to last song, for example, there was an interesting counterpoint between the sax and the rest of the band, on the mixolydian scale if I’m not mistaken, that suggests a baroque fugue that would make Handel himself proud. What was it called again? Oh yes, “Geisha of the DMV.”

—Wowzers! You sure know your stuff, young lady!

Paula giggled a little and shrugged.

—Well, I just love music. I have a lot of time to listen when my pa locks me up in the basement for the day.

A pall suddenly came over the gathering, but Paula, who recognized a mess of her own making when she saw one, took up the slack and cleaned it up.

—Say, I bet you got a lot of exciting places lined up on your big tour. I’d guess you’ll be starting in Threed first…

—Oh yeah! All around the world, baby…

—Fantastic! We were wondering, ah… if maybe you could do a couple real kid fans of the Runaway Five a big Runaway Five favor…

Ness, already in the presence of his least favorite dads-favorite band for too long, rolled his eyes and spilled the beans.

—We need to bum a ride to Threed.

—…that’s right. No buses are going there from the local station. It’s a matter of life and death that we get there, you see…

Despite Paula giving Ness a dirty look over spoiling her careful diplomacy, the Runaway Five didn’t seem to dismiss the notion out of hand.

—Uh… well sure, you can hop on our bus, it’s big enough for two more kids. Except…

—…except?

The Runaway Five all to a man fell silent and gave each other shifty looks. 

—There is no world tour. We’re not going anywhere!

—We ah… we entered into a bad contract, you see.

—And by that he means we smashed up our guitars and amps after a show, you know, to try and get cool with the kids… and maybe smashed some other stuff in the theater.

—And now, it’s pay up or perform in this dead-end dive forever! I’m afraid the good people of Twoson are going to enjoy the show for quite a long time…

—I’m also afraid we’re going to abandon the usual whimsy and insouciance of our lyrical output and start constantly singing about how we need the money. Just check out this little ditty we’ve been knocking around…

With that, Gorgeous Donald Walters and Lucky Decker Hagen cued the band, who got to their instruments. Ness’s heart dropped, ugh, I thought it was over, but thankfully the group merely sampled the new tune’s chorus:

Money, that’s what I want!

Money, that’s what is hot

Money, that’s what I want

Money, it’s what we ain’t got ‘cept freedom, freedom,

Freedom is what we really sought!

Even the impromptu rehearsal, while lacking none of their usual virtuoso chops, seemed a joyless affair in light of this setback. It was no “Geisha of the DMV,” at any rate.

—Well, how much do you need?

—I’m thinking about calling it “Money (that’s what is hot!).” Though I think you might be onto something with that “freedom, freedom, free-” wait, what?

—Well, sure. Maybe we can help, and in return you can give us a ride to Threed? 

—Psh, yeah right, kid. Look, it’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t think you got ten thousand clams in those little pockets of yours.

Ness smiled to Paula and pulled out his wallet, which had his trusty debit card snug inside. 

—Well, no, it’d be in a bank account. Buuuut if you’re sure you don’t need our help, I guess we’ll just be going then. Thanks for the show, guys…

Paula took Ness’s lead and pretended to show themselves out the door, in which case the hapless band frantically changed their minds and rushed them back into the backstage hangout room, suddenly thinking well, maybe they can work something out with the boy.

A payphone on the premises was soon procured, and Ness made a long distance call to Tokyo.

—Hiya, slugger! Jeesh, I’m just about to order lunch, you must be up super late over there…

—Hey dad. I ah… I know you said the Tokyo job was gonna give you an extra bonus, but… you wouldn’t happen to have ten thousand dollars to bail the Runaway Five out of a bad contract so they can give us a ride to Threed?

A long protracted silence followed on the receiver, which made Ness wince in dread.

—…are you kidding me right now?

—I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot but-

—The Runaway Five?!

—…er, yeah, that’s right.

—You betcha I got ten thousand for them. Holy cow, the guys are gonna flip!

—Heh… phew, well that’s… you sure it’s not too much?

—Not at all. I told the boss man all about you and your quest, we all agree you’re doing very important work. One condition though… milk them for all they’re worth. I’m talkin box sets, season tickets, backstage passes, autographed merchandise, the works!

—Heh… I ah, don’t think that’ll be a problem.

—The Runaway Five, hot dog! Seriously kiddo, you have no idea, without them you wouldn’t even exist. You see, they have this early song called “Fallin’ Love,” and there was this log cabin out in the woods and your mother and I…

—Oooookay dad I gotta get going, you know, they’re waiting for me, but thanks again!

—Oh… Well, okay, slugger, I’ll give your best to Itoi-Sama. Till next time!

—Till next time, dad!

Ness returned to the backstage room, where the band and the Chaos Theater waited on tenterhooks.

—So my dad said um, he needs your… 

Ness took out a paper from his pocket with a hand written note and looked it over.

—…your wire transfer number?

A half hour later funds were wired, signatures were signed, hands were shook, and the band all but leaped for joy at their new emancipation, all six of the Runaway Five not forgetting to give big bear hugs to Ness and Paula alike.

—Whoa baby! These little tykes brought us out of a nightmare and straight into a dream! Woo hoo!

—Awright, now let’s get outta this dump!

The next morning they all huddled into the Runaway Five bus with two extra kid fans in tow, Lucky Decker Hagen jumped into the driver’s seat, and after a small mishap with the curb that left a dent in the bus’s rear and not a small crack in the Twoson pavement (hey, watch where you’re going!, Lucky Decker Hagen scolded the curb as he backed out), they finally hit the road to Threed.

—Not to worry, children! Once we start jamming out, the bus is gonna be way too loud for any spooky things to bother us, zombies, ghosts, what have you.

True to their word, they did, and it was. For the entire eight hour ride to Threed, Ness and Paula’s entire sensory perception was the Runaway Five and nothing else, they saw, heard, and even felt the hours and hours of jams, improvisations, rehearsals, starts and stops, as the band played on and on.

Ness grimaced and covered his ears, man, this is really gonna take eight hours?! Paula shouted something to Ness, but for all that she might as well could have just been mute-mouthing words. Ness shrugged, and Paula made a motion as if to say, hold on. Paula’s eyes went white, and even over the Runaway Five he heard a ring!

The next thing Ness knew, there was total, empty silence in his head, like seashells held right up to both of his ears. Even the whir of the engine and the whoosh of the bus speeding down the highway was gone. And then, there was Paula’s voice, the same one that led him to her, and comforted him when he was discouraged, and even sang a little song for him.

There, much better.

Wow, rockin! You can read minds too. And hey, your accent’s gone!

Har de har har… I can send my own thoughts, and receive them when they’re sent to me, but ah, technically no, I can’t read someone’s private thoughts.

Well, still, that’s neat! It’s crazy how much stuff you can do with your mind. You’re like, a superhero!

It's not that great, really... I've had these abilities ever since I can remember. It was harder to control back then. Always the loudest, angriest, most messed-up thoughts that got in my head. I was too young when I found out how really bad people can be. That and no one wants to be friends with the girl who accidentally sets things on fire. 

Paula said nothing for a long while, looked out the window past the rushing blur of trees on the side of the road, people in their own cars making steady pace against the side of the bus, listening to their radios, not paying them a single care.

Most people just think I'm weird... My dad always thought I was weird. 

I don’t think you’re weird.

Well, I know you’re just saying that to cheer me up, but thanks all the same.

Come on, Paula. I almost got eaten by a taxi cab on the way here. You're not even close to being the weirdest thing I’ve seen so far. 

Ness gave Paula a little smile and pat on the shoulder, and that actually cheered her up. 

*

Finally, the bus pulled into the Threed city limits just as the sun set. The small town was entirely deserted, not only was there not a single soul present in either its impressive downtown center or any of its quaint suburban clusters, indeed, the kids and the Runaway Five alike noticed many of the residents making a frantic break to their homes, slamming their doors shut, turning bolt after padlock after reinforced-steel chain, swiping curtains, turning off the lights, shuttering window after window, and were some of them even nailing two by fours over the windows? Even if there wasn’t an alleged zombie outbreak in Threed, the town was as good as dead.

Ness and Paula exited the bus last as the band looked around the joyless small town, and shrugged to each other.

—We're gonna hit the road, this place is too down in the dumps. 

—Well… thanks for the ride.

—Not at all. Thanks for setting us free. Keep on truckin, young squire! 

With that, the Runaway Five hopped back into the bus and headed toward their next destination. Not missing a beat, Ness and Paula could still hear the music coming out of the thing even only minutes after peeling away from the gloomy town. Once they got going, nothing could keep down the Runaway Five. Well, nothing short of staggering fiscal irresponsibility, of course.

Ness took a look around. He could have maybe imagined a time when Threed was bright, bustling, full of smiles and chatter as people went about their day, but that time was gone now. Now, it was as if everyone was to spend every waking moment indoors, under bolt-locked front door and shuttered windows, as if even the sun was afraid to come out. A zombie invasion will do that.

Imagine his surprise when he spotted, just beside the Threed city limits, the very same hippie he encountered in Twoson, and there indeed was his ramshackle wooden kiosk, the big spray-painted placard above him advertising five cent hunts. Paula regarded the sight with a little laugh, before she noticed Ness heading toward the booth and followed close behind.

—Ness, what… what are you… you’re seriously going to buy a hint?

—Eh. At least they’re cheap.

Ness approached the kiosk with a wave and a smile, as the hippie looked on without a word or gesture.

—Say, how come you left Twoson? And what brings you all the way out here?

—…sorry, kid, but have we met before?

—Wh… what do you, of course we have! You run the hint booth at Twoson. Or, you used to.

—I’ve never been to Twoson in my life. Born and raised in Threed, myself.

Ness frowned and folded his arms.

—Come on! You look and sound exactly like the guy! You have the exact same booth and the exact same service for the exact same price!

—It’s a franchise. I work at the Threed branch. 

Ness grumbled, dug into his pocket and slipped a nickel into the tin. After taking a moment to shake the nickel around in the can, the hippie cleared his throat.

—There’s a zombie invasion in the works here. Things were never the same when the dead started walking in once-quiet town of Threed. The sun never shines, no one ever smiles, and everyone passes the night locked in their houses. 

Ness and Paula looked to each other. You get what you pay for. Paula grabbed Ness by the hand before he could drop another coin into the slot.

—Oh, come on! We don’t need that junk.

With that, Paula dragged Ness away and they went deeper into the spooky town of Threed.

—Where are we going?

—We should find a hotel or something, if there are zombies it won’t do any good being outdoors while the sun’s down.

—I mean… what are we doing here? How did you know we had to go to Threed, anyway?

—I just know. It’s a hunch.

—A hunch?

—Yes. A hunch.

—Come on, really, you can tell me. How come we’re in Threed?

Ness noticed that this question seemed to bother Paula more than the others. She hesitated for a long while and sighed.

—I… can see small glimpses of the future. It’s in Threed that we meet our third friend. And when I see it in the future, you can trust it’s gonna happen no matter what. They always come true, always.

—You can see the future, too? Wow! You’re like a psychic! 

—It’s not as neat as all that. Only very small glimpses, a couple seconds. Brief moments, but significant, and… intense.

—Say, do you know if like… you know… have you seen if we…do we win? Against Giygas?

Now this question really bothered Paula, though Ness still had a little growing up to do to gain the emotional intelligence enough to realize this. Paula tried not to think about the nightmare world where the only sounds are someone’s screams and the only sights are black and red misty haze and red blood in the pitch dark, and before her three boys she had never met before, lying on the ground dead, and she, only she, alive to gaze upon their broken bodies, the last thing she saw before the world was destroyed, these three boys she had never seen before in her life, at least when she first had the nightmare, but now that some time had passed and the adventure was good and begun, she remembered that one of the dead boys wore a blue and yellow striped shirt, red high-top sneakers, and a bright red baseball cap.

—…no. I haven’t seen that far ahead yet.

—Ah, nuts. Oh well… Sheesh, is there anything you can’t do?

—I guess I can’t make boys walk faster and stop asking me stupid questions!

—…sorry.

Ness giddied up and caught up to Paula as they headed deeper into Threed.

After a little bit of wandering, since there was not a living soul outside to ask for directions, they came across a modest hotel and went inside. 

A record playing a minor-key dirge warbled throughout the lobby, slowed and warped as if someone stretched out the tape. The concierge was a Dracula, handing out keys and wishing every-bloody a spook-tacular stay in in their boo-tiful suite. Bellboys wearing white sheets with holes poked out for eyes led guests, with jack-o-lantern heads, to their cobweb-ridden rooms, and a werewolf wheeled a push-tray to a guest for room service, serving them a platter of spiders, scorpions, and worms. In the convention center, a wild group of partygoers were helping themselves to copious red cups of fruit punch, or let’s hope it was fruit punch, anyway, and performed a wild dance that ah, was supposed to send them back in time or something? And a booth of brochures near the door advertised a carnival, a huge circus tent with bloodshot eyes and a sharp jagged-toothed mouth for a doorway, promising a frighteningly good time, a Halloween extravaganza.

It was the middle of June.

—On second thought, let’s not stay here. I think if we stay here, it will be the biggest mistake we ever make.

Paula about-faced and made herself scarce from the lobby, and Ness followed close behind.

Even if they had not glanced at the brochure with the menacing circus-tent carnival back at the bone-chilling hotel, it would not have been hard for Ness and Paula to spot the thing: it was the only place in the dark and desolate town lit up and playing music. Determined, Paula headed toward the spooky carnival and Ness nervously traipsed behind her, stopping at the threshold of the open tent.

—I dunno… what if it’s a trap?

—I can set things on fire with my mind, that’s what if it’s a trap.

Paula entered the tent with confidence and Ness, more or less satisfied with her response, followed with a lot less confidence.

Inside they saw a horde of terrors, shrouded in the dark. An expansive circus full of creeping figures, shadowy crevices where only spiders dared to creep and cast their webs. Aa far as their eyes adjusted to the dark could see, clowns were everywhere, painted on posters and performing a single animatronic task again and again, juggling, unicycling, packing en masse into tiny cars, you know, clown stuff. As Ness stepped back and reached for his bat, Paula scanned the area.

—Ah, there we go.

She went deeper into the ring and found a circuit breaker fastened to a post. Flipping all the light switches from left to right, she illuminated the whole tent in an instant.

Lights flashed, the animatronic clowns laughed, and canned renditions of the entrance of the gladiators blared tinny through speakers. And as the circus emerged from the dark, so did the zombies.

Ness and Paula sprang to action with their weapons. Fortunately for them, the zombies appeared to be an easy foe, slow, unorganized, doing little more than shuffling their undead carcasses toward the only two living things in the tent, arms outstretched, decayed sputum dripping down their open moaning jaws. As the children knew very well, a simple blast of buckshot to the head could stop a marauding zombie in its tracks.

Unfortunately for Ness and Paula, neither of them remembered to pack any shotguns. They did the best they could with their bats and levitating cast-iron skillets before Paula let loose a warning blast of pyrokinesis on the bare ground between them and the zombies, which was ignored. Her eyes went white, ring! The next moment, the zombie in front of her was engulfed in flames. Her target now screeching, flailing around, running like a beheaded chicken, Paula worried for a moment that the burning zombie would catch the whole tent on fire with them all trapped inside, but luckily, another zombie was on hand with a fire extinguisher, who doused his burning comrade in the stuff and saved the poor thing’s unlife.

Ness and Paula gave each other a look of dread. Maybe they were a little more organized than they thought!

They didn’t have to long to worry, though. As the kids did what they could to fend off the undead horde, as they could all but watch as one finally lumbered up to them and grasped with rotten outstretched hands, the next thing they knew, that zombie was knocked down on the ground, out, er, colder.

Standing before Ness and Paula was the very same mysterious Dalaamese boy that Ness encountered on his way out of Onett, who single-handedly dispatched all the Sharks and also got Ness in trouble with the cops. Now, they watched a veritable king-fu flick in the circus as the same boy went one on fifty-eight with the zombies, knocking them all down with blazing-fast punches, flying kicks, and even a few painful elbow shots directly to the face.

The zombies seen to, the boy approached Ness again with the same gesture, an outstretched hand and a not-in-the-mood-at-all-right-now frown, wordlessly demanding that Ness cough it up! Ness knew this time what he was meant to cough up, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the glistening red Soundstone.

Paula gasped in horror at the sight, and ran to Ness pushing him away from the other boy.

—What are you doing?! Stop it!

The boy grimaced, and motioned to Ness with his open hand one more time, but Paula stepped in between them both.

—No! It doesn’t belong to you! Now whoever you are, get out of here. Go on, git!

The other boy sighed, then motioned to the pile of beaten zombies on the ground, as if saying, be my guest. He threw something on the ground and vanished in a cloud of smoke.

Ness and Paula looked to the fallen zombies, rising to their feet, moaning, and fixing upon the kids a glare of newfound rage. That’s the annoying thing about zombies, you see. Since they’re already dead, you can’t really stop them, even if you give them a good kung-fu thrashing. 

*

Ness and Paula found themselves locked in a dungeon. Literally. 

A dank basement with nothing but various medieval torture devices, an authentic racking table, iron gibbet, iron maiden, Catherine wheel, and lazy Susan, each with a warning note from the circus management: please be careful around the authentic medieval torture devices, some of them are older than you’ll ever be.

Paula went to the locked door and banged on it with her fists, but no dice. On the other side of the door the children could hear the raspy voices of the zombies.

—Heh, stupid kids, wandering a carnival alone. Works every time!

—That’s right, there’s nothing a kid likes more than a circus with dark clown aesthetics, put one up and they’re like moths to a light!

—We’ll keep them here until the boss wakes up. Been a while since he’s had children to eat!

Paula waited a moment until the zombies’ faint voices could no longer be heard, and then swung at the fragile rack with her skillet, breaking it into pieces on the floor.

—I can’t believe I’ve already been abducted twice!

Ness, meanwhile, went for the door with his bat, and it worked in opening it about as well as you’d expect.

—Nuts… 

Paula then turned her attention from the destroyed piece of medieval history to her companion.

—You were going to give that boy the Soundstone! Why would you do something so stupid?

—I don’t know, maybe… I don’t want it. 

—What do you… It doesn't matter if you want it, it's your responsibility!

His responsibility? His responsibility?! What kind of a thing was that to say to him at a time like this? What was she, a…a teacher? Something emerged in Ness that was before only quietly lurking deep within. There were two sides to the boy, and the normal, rational, conscious Ness knew that he was way in over his head and he needed to cooperate with whoever was to be his ally. But another side, steeped into his very bones from birth, had been poking and prodding him since the moment Paula became a real person and not just a telepathic voice in his head. Every single backhanded statement, every ribbing, every grumpy sarcastic aside that Paula let out to her new companion teased the caged lion in his heart: the unconscious, deep-seeded revulsion commonly found in all twelve year old boys, the immediate and thorough revulsion against a bossy girl. 

The lion was freed, but before it had a chance to roar, Paula grumbled and changed the subject, sitting down beside the wall.

—Ugh, never mind for now. First let’s get outta here. I guess I’ll have to call that second boy.

Paula took in a deep breath, then her eyes went white. Ness could hear her telepathic message, loud enough for this other person to reach his own mind as well.

Can you hear me? My name's Paula. I'm a friend you've never met before. If you can hear me, please help us. We're in trouble. Please, find us in Threed. Find us... 

She finished her message and sat back down in the same spot.

—Now what?

—Now we wait. He’s all the way out in Winters.

—Winters! That’s like a million miles away!

—Four thousand, but yes. It could take him days, weeks to fly here, who knows…

They were interrupted by a deafening crash as something fell through the ceiling, crushing the iron maiden and the lazy Susan alike. Stunned, Ness and Paula rose to meet the strange heap of junk that literally dropped in to meet them. If Ness had to guess, he would have guessed it was some kind of UFO, almost perfectly sphere-shaped and metallic, impressive in its design, if not its current appearance. 

A hydraulic door on the UFO gushed steam and opened, and out stepped, not an alien, thankfully enough for Ness after having his full of aliens and zombies alike, but a boy, dressed entirely in green nonetheless.

The dust cleared from the crash and the two kids took a better look at the boy. He was the same age as them, a little taller than Ness but far skinnier, and well-dressed, a green blazer with matching neatly-creased green slacks and brown leather penny-loafers. Indeed, a small logo with heraldic arms on the lapel of his jacket indicated some private school or other that no doubt made  the formal attire necessary. He was pale white with freckles and rosy red cheeks, he had a neatly-cut blond bowl cut parted down the middle that rose just above his ears, and he wore glasses with thick black square frames. 

The boy dusted off his suit, took a moment to orient himself, and then saluted to Ness and Paula. He spoke in an accent which confirmed he was indeed from Winters, a cold little country on an island all the way across the ocean, called North Armourica.

—Jeffrey Andonuts, at your service! You gave me a ring in my head and I got here as soon as I could. I'm not very strong, a little nearsighted, quite eccentric and extremely reckless, but I can fix anything that should or could work, I'm a crack-shot with a laser-pistol, and I have a rucksack full of bottle rockets. I'm your man to the bitter end!

—You… you really… you got here… all the way from Winters?!

—Right you are, you get the booby prize! And who do I have the pleasure of conversing with?

—Uh, I’m Ness and this is Paula… 

Jeff offered his hand and Ness and Paula both took turns shaking it, the former boy giving their arms a rigorous workout.

—Ness, Paula, chuffed to bits, I’m sure.

—…but she only contacted you a second ago. How did you get here so fast?

Jeff chuckled and flashed them a little smile.

—I’m so very glad you asked!

*

You’ve been listening to “The Podcast Against Giygas!” The Podcast Against Giygas is an audiobook written and performed by me, Garrett McMahon, based on Earthbound, the Super Nintendo game directed by Shigesato Itoi. With production by William Pawlowski, and thumbnail design and art direction by David Peters.

This podcast stinks! It is also a fan-made project affiliated in no way whatsoever with the Nintendo Corporation or Mr. Itoi. This podcast is free to listen to, ad-free, and always will be. I hope you enjoyed this week’s episode, and I’ll see you back next Monday, till next time!