For what was, hopefully, the last time that day, Peter picked himself up and brushed himself off. He pulled his pants up, too, fastening the fly and the suspenders. He was in what was, back in reality, his own bedroom. None of the comforts of home were present, however. There was nothing here, at all, actually. No dresser, no side tables, no fancy King-Whomever-the-Whatever bed. There was just the emptiness of a home seemingly unlived in. Not that it mattered, this wasn’t his house, or even his world. This was just a fancy video game, really. Something odd did strike him, nonetheless. It should have been the first thing he took notice of, because it was quite obvious. He gave himself a little elbow room, though, it had been that kind of day. Now that he was of a sound mind, again, he noted that the headache-inducing comic book colors of Sparkle-Wacko were gone, replaced with the natural palette he’d been starting to miss. It had happened. He was real.
It struck Peter that he wasn’t alone in the house. How could he forget that? And now, since he was vulnerable, should he be worried? Who or what was in here with him? He took a few steps toward the door, which was thrown wide open, hoping more for a who than a what. He cleared his throat. “Um…Hey,” he said, with just a bit more volume than if he were chatting in an elevator. He took a deep breath and waited for a response. Nothing came. He tried, again. “My name is Peter Huffy. I…um…I come in peace. I mean, I…I’m a pretty good guy. Pretty nice guy. People…like me…a lot. I have friends. Not here to do anything, really. Just to talk. Not even talk, really…I…I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, actually. If you’ve got any ideas, don’t be shy.”
It occurred to Peter that maybe he’d already done what he'd come here to do. Douglas hadn't been willing to discuss, specifically, what he was to do when he was in the house. It hadn't seemed important before, but now that he was real he felt vulnerable, and he was in this house with creatures he hadn't been prepared to meet. “I’m coming in, okay? Don’t do anything, um…I’d regret. Okay…here I come.” Peter walked out into the hall, which was empty, so were the stairs to his right side. Nobody. They were cowering in his computer room. Of course, it wasn’t hiscomputer room. Not in this particular dimension, anyway. He walked carefully past the stairs, toward the room where he’d seen the white figure. He prepared himself to face this strange, deformed being. Please, God, no complete, satanic abominations. Nothing straight out of HELLRAISER. I wish I’d never seen that damn movie. Pinhead. Wow, I’m scaring myself to death. After a second’s pause before the door, he stepped through.
Standing before him was a scared little girl on crutches, probably no more than seven or eight-years-old. She was dressed in period clothing, a lot like his own, with hair done up in pigtails. Her eyes swatted up and down, petrified, as if he were the very devil himself stepping through the door, come for her soul. The crutches were those strange, forearm variety, with hoops that your arm slid into. The girl was frozen stiff with fear, trembling like she was barefoot in the snow.
“Um…hi,” Peter said.
The girl just continued staring back at him, shaking in her pigtails. Scared in a total way that’s particular to frightened children.
“My name’s Peter.”
“Her name’s Geli,” said a young voice from further in the room, to the right. Peter leaned forward and peeked inside. A little boy, a year or two younger than Derek, sat in a big chair on a thick cushion. He had on a pair of thick, wiry glasses and was dressed in kind of casual formal wear, with a button-up shirt, vest, and slacks. Wait, he’s not dressed up, at all. He’s just old-fashioned, too. Like the girl, just from a different time. That stuff is from the 20’s or 30’s, back before t-shirts and jean shorts. Back when everyone always looked dressed up. Even hobos. The boy didn’t get up, his legs were enclosed in metal braces. They were the kind you see in old pictures of crippled children.
“Who are you?” Peter asked.
The boy smiled, very calm and collected. “I’m Walt Kiplinger, sir.”
“Hi, Walt,” said Peter, casually stepping in the room. Geli let her crutches fall to the floor with a jarring crash that made Peter wince. She ran and stood beside the boy. She didn’t even limp, the girl had just been playing with the crutches. “Geli,” Peter added, with a polite doff of his cap.
“How do you do, sir?” the girl replied, carefully, with a slight bow. She had a faint accent that Peter couldn’t place. “My name is Geli Geisler, sir.”
“My name is Peter Huffy.”
“Hello, Mr. Huffy,” both of the children said, at once.
The boy groaned and pushed himself up on his seat. Geli saw him striving and helped him. “Thank you,” he told her, then looked at Peter. Peter stepped further into the room and stood in front of the window. Peter’s body cast a faint shadow that shrouded the children. “I’m kind of new here. I don’t really know what’s going on, um…” He considered his next words for a couple seconds. “Oh! Do you two know Douglas?”
“Yes,” said the girl.
“No,” said Walt, shaking his head.
“Oh, okay, um…” Peter didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t actually know what he was doing here. Outside the room, in the hall, there was a flash of movement. Peter turned and looked. There was a person there. He’d seen him for half of a second, then he was gone. The figure came back into view. It was the man himself: D. D. Windward. Before Peter could say anything Douglas put a finger up to his lips, shushing him. Douglas then stepped out of sight. Peter looked at the children. “Um, be right back, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” both of them answered. Douglas had receded into the opposite bedroom, so Peter walked back across the hall. Douglas was just on the inside, standing where the dresser would have been back in the real world. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but was shushed, once again.
“Peter, the window!” Douglas said, in an urgent whisper. He shoved Peter across the room and pointed to something happening outside and below them. “There!”
Peter turned and looked. Strangely enough, the wooden balcony was gone. He could see the back yard. “What happened to the balcony?” Peter asked.
“Never you mind, Peter. Just one of those parlor tricks I can do.”
“But…” Then he saw what Douglas was so excited about. It walked into view. It was gigantic. “Ah!” he yelped and jumped back. “What the hell, Douglas!”
Outside the house, now pacing circles on the gravel, was a gargantuan, black cat. It was, absolutely, the biggest, most frightening anything Peter had ever seen with his two eyes. It walked back and forth, as if indecisive, its long body curling as it changed direction. Its eyes turned up and met Peter’s own. Peter’s breath grew rapid. “Uh…that’s the…um, what does it want?”
Douglas grabbed Peter by the shoulders and spun him around. “No time for discussion, Peter! You must get these children upstairs! To the attic! Right this minute!” Douglas, then, pushed him to the door. “Get going!”
“Okay! Yes! Okay!” Peter yelled, racing out of the room.
Inside, the children were wide-eyed and frantic. “What’s wrong, Mr. Huffy?” asked Walt, Geli nodded, mutely, with wide, scared eyes.
“Can you walk at all, Walt?” Peter asked, then winced at the stupidity of the question. He was trying, very poorly, to hide the overwhelming urgency.
“Not very well, Mr. Huffy,” the boy replied, struggling in his chair.
Peter grabbed the crutches off the floor. “We’ve got to get you up, okay! Let’s just get you up!”
“What is happening, sir?” asked Geli, meek as a mouse.
Peter affected a calmer attitude. “We just need to go upstairs, honey. Something, um…someone is coming here, right now. We’re going to play hide-and-seek, okay?”
Geli didn’t have an answer. Suddenly, she looked even worse. “Someone bad, sir?”
“Look, don’t worry about it. We’ll be safe upstairs. This is gonna be over real soon. Douglas is coming to help us, okay?”
Geli was relieved and surprised. She started to help Walt. “Douglas is here? In the dream place?”
Peter nodded. “Yes, and he’s coming. So don’t worry.”
After getting Walt to his feet, Peter scooped the kid up in his arms and carried him out into the hall, toward the attic stairs. Behind him, Geli lagged. When he heard her start screaming, he realized he should have kept her from running into the hallway and looking out the window. He turned around, and there she was standing next to two buckets of paint she'd just been standing on. “Geli! Come on! We have to go!” The girl didn’t listen, though, she had slid to the floor under the window and was cowering in a fetal position. She continued to screech like she had caught fire. “Geli!”
“Put me down, Mr. Huffy!” Walt demanded, yelling over Geli’s yelling.
“What!” Peter yelled back.
“Get Geli!”
Peter swore. Not at anyone, just for his own benefit. He set Walt down at the foot of the attic stairs.
BOOM!
The whole house shook. The beast had walked around to the front and was trying to force its way in. With its incredible size, and overlarge head, its body was a natural battering ram. Walt tried to scramble up the steps on his own. The sight was so pitiful that Peter found himself turning, not sure which child to help, but then spun and shot for the screaming girl. She put her arms out, like an infant wanting to be picked up. Peter whipped her up into his arms. Back at the stairs, Walt continued to struggle. Peter leaped over him, the girl in his arms, and ran up the stairs. “I’ll be right back, Walt! Okay?”
“I’m okay, Mr. Huffy!” the boy answered.
BOOM!
Even though she was in Peter’s arms, the helpless child was screeching like a police siren. Somehow, Peter didn't make her feel safe from the gigantic super predator forcing its way into the house. Peter’s face squeezed tight like he’d encountered a bad smell. When he tried to put her down at the top of the staircase, she refused to let go, clutching him like a security blanket and digging her nails into his skin. “Ow! Geli! Stop! I’m a friend, for godsake! A friend!”
“Don’t go! Don’t go!” she cried.
“I have to get Walt!”
“Don’t leave me!”
“I’m not leaving! I’m going right there! See?” Peter grabbed her head and fixed it on the stairs below them. “I have to get Walt! I’m not going anywhere!”
She continued to yell and cry, but she let Peter put her down. That was when the gigantic invader broke through.
BOOM! BOOOOOOOOM!
The first crash was the front wall giving in, the second crash was the Bunyine’s giant body colliding with the bottom of the grand staircase, which was followed by some dazed stumbling through the foyer. The beast roared with anger as it scrambled around inside the dining room, its claws tearing up floor boards. The call of a large predator induces panic in all creatures, so both children promptly lost what remained of their minds. Peter flew down the attic stairs for Walt, caught between two sets of lungs and vocal cords at full, stereo output. As the man descended, the Bunyine did just the opposite, it started charging up the main stairs, which, as bad luck would have it, were unusually wide.
Peter had just caught hold of the helpless boy and began dragging him upward like a sack of oats, just as the beast’s immense head poked through the doorway. He found that he was screaming, too, when the Bunyine’s titanic jaws cracked open, then loudly slammed shut, just trailing the boy’s stiff legs as they bonked up the steps, like two tin cans tied to some newlyweds’ rear bumper.
A few minutes later, Peter and the children were gathered under the old stained-glass window. They could hardly get further away from the stairs than this. The Bunyine forced its gigantic body up through the narrow passage that encased the stairs, widening the already huge passage as it went to accommodate its size. The walls cracked and buckled at its shoulders. Paint chips and plaster exploded in fists of white dust. Its mighty, knotted muscles made almost anything possible. When Peter saw it out the window, the possibility that something that large could make it up the attic stairs never even crossed his mind. Its body tucked and coiled in ways that were startling. It should be impossible, but it wasn’t. Not for the Bunyine. When, finally, it reached the top step and it could go no further, it stretched its neck sharply to its right and stuck its huge head into the room. It barely fit through the archway. The creature’s eyes glowed with a white-hot fury as it released the most voluminous roar it had made in centuries.
When the wind of the beast’s breath hit the three of them, Peter hugged the children as tightly as his wobbly arms could. Walt screamed and struggled. Geli cried, then fainted. Peter just clutched them even harder and tried his best to act brave. He maintained a straight face, but turned it away from the gust of hot air. When the roar passed, the monster kept his eyes locked on Peter. Peter dared not look away, as desperately as he wished to, he kept his eyes meeting the beast's own. It was the bravest moment of his life.
The Bunyine looked him and the children over, but he focused on the girl. A soft sound percolated up from the bottom of its throat. It was faint laughter. The deadliest mirth imaginable. “How do you do, child?” it said, eyes never leaving Geli. “What a pleasure!”
Peter’s face crinkled up, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked boldly. “Leave her alone, Garfield.”
The Bunyine, undoubtedly, did not understand the reference. It cackled much louder, nonetheless. It was far more obvious amusement, this time. “I do prefer tough meat.”
“What do you want?”
The creature purred. Peter thought he could hear its belly rumble. “For you to slide just a bit closer. It's not so far. Be right with you.”
“If you’re stuck, just go away.” Peter thought the Bunyine looked tired, but he may have been projecting his own weariness.
“It’s a terrible feeling, is it not?”
“What is?”
The Bunyine licked its lips. It was a gesture, intended to scare him. It worked. “Being meat. I know of you, Peter. This is your home. I will be visiting you soon, and I am going to devour your little wife.”
“Shut the hell up!”
“I will make you watch me pick the delicious meat from her bones.”
Peter tensed. The beast was talking about his wife, and he started to tremble with anger, more anger than he could even remember feeling before. He wanted to kill it, and he would do it gladly. Anything to protect Alyssa. Anything. He thought now about what Douglas had said about not knowing what you're capable of. Peter wanted to murder this beast, and anyone who got in between he and it. “You’re just a dumb animal,” he said. “And you smell like shit.”
The Bunyine growled. “You will scream and beg, Peter Huffy, when I swallow your little woman’s head. You will beg me to kill you. Your heart will die when you see her twitching corpse. It will die, Peter Huffy.”
“Shut the hell up, you freak!”
“So many men have cursed me, Peter, as I killed their families. So many fathers swore revenge as I consumed their screaming children. I made them watch, and I left them alive, so to remember. I will leave you alive, as well.”
“Shut up, you filthy animal!”
The beast’s joy was obvious. Drool spilled to the floor like droplets of rain. “I’ve heard it all before, Peter Huffy. So many oaths of reprisals. So many broken men. Just as you shall be. The pitiable wreck I will make of you. I will crack your woman’s skull and eat her brain. She will cry to you, before I begin, Peter. When she calls for you, your helplessness will appall her. She will turn from you in disgust. I have seen wives do so. So shall yours.”
“Just shut up! Shut up! Shut your goddamn mouth!”
The beast was delighted. It showed in its eyes. “There will be nothing left of her but my turds on your floor. You will clutch them to your breast.”
“I swear! Goddammit! I swear, I’ll...!”
The Bunyine bared its teeth. It was as close as it could come to smiling. “Your little Alyssa will offer me anything I wish. My every desire to fulfill. Like a whore, she will beg, just as so many have before her. You will never forget her begging, Peter. Your weeping will never end. It will never end until you die. An old man. Alone.”
“You’re the one who’s going to die! You filthy, ugly, mangy…!” Peter continued to yell, but he couldn’t think of any appropriate insults. What did you say to a creature like this? What was there to mock?
The Bunyine tore with laughter. As it went on, Peter only did as the monster predicted. He cursed and swore, yelling words that didn’t exist when people wore clothes like he was wearing. It only drove the beast into further hysterics. When it was done, it was only because the taunts of his prey had been exhausted and could provide no more amusement. When it was over, Peter was a wreck. When it spoke, again, its words were cool. There was no pride in it. It was just plain, unimpeachable fact. “I cannot die. You cannot stop me.”
While Peter and the monster had been sparring, a lone figure stood outside on the roof of the house. It was Douglas, and he was clearly biding his time, waiting for someone, or something. His pipe was in his mouth, but it was not smoking. He pulled it out from between his teeth and tapped the bowl on his hand. He was on the brink of becoming uncharacteristically agitated when something, a glimmering form, appeared next to him. It had no real shape. At that moment in time, it did not want one. Douglas turned to it. He was angry. “Have you had enough fun for an afternoon?” Douglas said, fuming. He'd never spoken to it like this before. The Onk shrank a little back, its amorphous shape conveying demonstrable guilt, somehow. “I can’t make the window disappear! Now do something useful for a change!” the man demanded. “Get them out of there, or get me in! Do something! This instant!”
The Onk, properly chastised, dissipated. Douglas looked around to see what it had done. “Confound it! Where did you go? This is no time for games!”
A few feet away, the old stained-glass window exploded into a thousand beautiful pieces. Douglas pocketed his pipe and nodded in approval. “That will do fine.”
The sudden explosion of the window got the attention of every living thing in the attic. The three humans who were huddled beneath it were safe enough, it had exploded outward, so they were no worse for the wear. The Bunyine, however, snarled when he saw D. D. Windward’s face poke through the empty space. “How do you do?” Douglas said soberly. He gestured to Peter. “If you’ll just come this way, Peter. Bring the children, would you?” Peter was already on his feet. His face was flushed red, exhausted. “I have to get back to my wife,” he said to Douglas.
“You will see her very soon, I promise.”
“Dammit, Douglas! I just need to…!”
Douglas interrupted him with a stern look. The young man exuded a natural authority that shut Peter up. “The children first, Peter!”
“Um…right. Okay, sir,” Peter said, contrite.
Douglas’ face became immediately assuring. “She’s perfectly well, Peter. You’ll be with her shortly. The creature is here with us, after all. Likely huddled in its cave, miles from your home.” Peter hoisted a crying Geli out of the room and Douglas set her down. “There you are, dear,” Douglas spoke softly. There was a tenderness there that was hard to deny.
“Thank you, Mr. Windward,” Geli said.
“Stay with Peter. There’s a good girl.” Douglas patted her on the head. Then the two men assisted Walt out through the window. Peter followed the boy out.
“Wait,” said Peter, who was standing around the corner, on the broad strip of roof. “How do we get down?”
“You won’t be getting down,” answered Douglas. “You will be retiring from your slumber to your respective places. It will be just a moment.”
Peter nodded, reluctantly. “All right, Douglas. What are you going to do?”
Douglas took his eyes off the Bunyine and looked over. He seemed, suddenly, very serious when he gestured at the creature with a nod, who was patiently watching them from inside the house. “I’m going to have a word with this one.”
Peter said no more. He turned and directed his attention to the two distraught children. Douglas, however, directed his own at his gigantic house guest. He lifted his right leg over the edge of the empty window, which was perfectly smooth, without any of those razor sharp, broken teeth often left over when glass shatters. When his whole body was inside, he stood up straight and walked half the distance to the trapped beast, leaving him outside the reach of its jaws. It was not necessary. He crossed his arms and did not greet it with his usual manners. “Well, you have been unusually active today, haven’t you, old man? I see you haven’t forgotten our language.”
The Bunyine paused for just a moment. “I never forget.” The Bunyine looked Douglas up and down, a survey that contained no opinion. “Once, again, here we are.”
“Once, again, you are making a muck of a man’s house.”
“You were quite different, then.”
“I was living, amongst other things. And a boy.”
“No longer living, yes. Without a scent. Otherwise, I might have seen you coming.”
“I do enjoy ruining your afternoons, it seems.”
”I’d like to have been rid of you, long ago.”
“Too late, I’m afraid. Not the first time you have failed, in life, is it?”
The Bunyine poked its snout in the direction of the recently escaped man and children. “That girl…”
Douglas stomped his right foot, angrily. “Do not speak of her! You have no right! Not you! It's indecent!”
The Bunyine purred. “She is the one, then, isn’t she? I remember her.”
“Stop!” Douglas demanded. “Deal with me, and me alone, you scoundrel.”
The beast snorted indignantly. “Scoundrel? Indecent? You would think that,” the Bunyine replied. “Being just a man.”
Douglas fully comported himself and stepped up closer. “What are you up to, kitty?”
“You mean to say…” the Bunyine grunted, then it yanked one of its giant back legs into a more comfortable position. All their surroundings rumbled. “You do not know?”
“Well, you seem to have a faint interest in this old house. You’ve made quite a mess of it. Mind you, I don’t usually give visitors this much freedom.”
The beast was in no mood for brave language. “Stop this. You are no fool. You know what I want, and you know what for. I wish to exit this world. That gate is the only way. Over a hundred years I’ve been waiting. No longer.”
“All of a sudden, you’re in a hurry? Why now?”
“It cannot wait. I cannot wait. You can speak to that thing. When you do, ask it to remove its barrier. It will open it for the boy, will it not? It can let me through, as well.”
Douglas shrugged his shoulders. “Why not ask it yourself?”
“Stop this. It is happening, again. Like the other gardens. I know their failures, and I can make this garden fail, as well. I can ruin it for all. There will not be another, I am sure of it. Nobody knows the mind of God better than I.”
“Now you speak for God? Had I only known you'd had such esteemed friends...”
“I will have what I want. I will have it.”
Douglas, hardly afraid of anything, alive or dead, stepped forward and put his face right in the beast’s own. “You will have it? And do what? Do you know the first thing about it? I think not. And here you are, as rabid as any beast-of-the-field.”
The Bunyine reacted to these words faintly, a few seconds passed. “I know enough. I will have it.”
“Only the boy can go through.”
“Never mind that. Tell that thing to open the gate, and I will allow the boy to live. You have my word. If you do not, I shall have him instead. I will tear him to bloody pieces. I swear it.”
Douglas shook his head. “I’m afraid this cannot be, and no threat can change that. It simply cannot be done.”
“I am no fool, either, Windward,” the creature growled. “Do not toy with me. I mean what I say.”
“It cannot be.”
The Bunyine’s eyes sharpened, as if for the kill. “For the last time, tell it to let me through. It will listen to you.”
“That cannot happen.”
“Why!” the Bunyine roared. To its bemusement, the noise did not mean a thing to Douglas Windward.
Douglas shook his head. “It cannot contain what you are. It is delicate, like so many precious things. Since we are no fools, you must know that. That is what this is all about.”
A faint look of defeat passed over the Bunyine’s eyes. He started to wonder if he would not get his way, after all. “That is not certain.”
“Of course it is. A bit disingenuous, for a cat who means what he says, isn’t it? Why do you persist in this? It cannot be, and that is that.”
“Whatever is there, I deserve it more than any other. There is no other way.”
“I suppose not. Nevertheless, that doesn’t make a difference.”
“It is the only way! This is not the end, flea!”
Douglas straightened. He’d been relatively civil, up to this point. He jabbed a finger at the beast. “Listen, you foul thing! I have pulled the innocent out of the jaws of demons before. I’ve seen cities incinerated! Power your animal brain cannot comprehend! You bring nothing to this game that I have not seen done better! So go back to the smelly bog that bore you!”
The Bunyine roared with rage. The archway’s beams split as his head and his shoulders flailed. “I’LL KILL EVERYTHIIIIIIIING!”
The Bunyine tore itself free of the wreckage, and the world thundered. The stairwell became a typhoon of debris as it shattered under the beast’s angry strength. It bashed a huge hole in the wall, exposing the attic stairs to the outside world for the first time since their construction. The beast leaped through the tattered hole and dropped three stories to land on its feet. It was a frightening spectacle. Douglas stood still, arms crossed, and watched. It was the damnedest thing he'd seen in years. When it was done, and the Bunyine was raging away from the gutted house like a locomotive, Douglas turned about and walked quickly across the room, stepping through the empty space where a stained-glass window had once been. When he was out on the roof, he called out for someone. “Come to me!” he yelled. He looked all around. “Come to me!”
The Onk poked up out of the roof next to Douglas. Douglas turned to it. “Find the boy! Warn him if you can! It will be after him, now! Do whatever you can, if anything, my friend!”