The Toyminator (27 page)

Guns were turning in all directions now. Upon both Eddies. Upon Jack. Even upon Dorothy.

Jack dithered, rightfully.

One Eddie said, “Jack, after everything we’ve been through together, you must know
me
. I’m your bestest friend. The bestest friend you’ve ever had.”

“Jack, don’t let this monster fool you. If you shoot me, he will shoot you, then both of us will be dead.”

“It’s a dilemma,” said Jack. And he flinched as another explosion rocked the ailing ship.

“It’s not a dilemma,” an Eddie said. “Go with your feelings, Jack. Do the right thing. You’ve always done the right thing, really. You can do the right thing now – it’s as simple as blinking.”

And there was another explosion.

And Jack’s big gun went off.

And Eddie looked down at another Eddie. This one with a hole in his belly. It was a
big
hole. A lethal hole. Smoke rose from this hole. Which went right through to the other side.

“You did it, Jack,” said the vertical Eddie. Turning his gun upon Jack. “Good boy.”

And …

Eddie dropped his gun. “How did you know for sure?” he asked.

“Because I know
you
,” said Jack. “He said, ‘As simple as blinking.’ You’d say, ‘As simple as.’”

“Well, that
was
simple,” said Eddie. “Well done.”

“Well done, nothing.” The perforated Eddie struggled to its feet and stood swaying on the swaying floor. “It’s not as simple as
that
,” said this Eddie. “I don’t die
that
easily.” And this Eddie put its paw to its head. And lifted it. Raised it from its shoulders, cast it aside.

Where it bounce-bounce-bounced across the cockpit floor.

And Jack looked on.

And Eddie looked on.

As the head of a chicken rose through the neck hole of the decerebrated bear. “I cannot be killed so easily,” said this head, “for I am Henrietta, Queen of all the hens.”

“Henrietta?” said Jack. “Well, you’re a dead duck now.”

And he squeezed the trigger.

But nothing came from the barrel.

“Sorry,” said Queen Henrietta, and wing tips sprouted through the Eddie paws, and these scooped up a fallen gun and levelled it at Jack. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” said the Queen of all the chickens. “Were I to die, all my policies would be reversed by my successor. That cannot be allowed to happen. This craft must return to Area Fifty-Two. We will return here tomorrow and destroy every inch of Toy City. But for now, you and this abominable bear must die. Right now.”

And the Queen of all the chickens squeezed the trigger.

And then gave a sudden shriek and fell in a jumbled heap.

“Dorothy,” said Jack. “You –”

“Wrung its scrawny neck,” said Dorothy. “Well, you’d have done the same for me. Wouldn’t you?”

Jack was about to say, “Yes.”

But he didn’t.

Jack instead said, “
No
!”

Because fire from below rattled into the craft.

And the craft turned upside down.

And then the Great Mother-Henship, the sole surviving member of the chicken strikeforce, dropped from the sky.

And, “No!” shouted Tinto. As it was coming his way.

And then there was another of those terrible explosions.

But no, not in slow motion.

Enough is enough is enough.

Chief Inspector Bellis looked all around and about himself.

A very great deal of Toy City appeared to be ablaze.

The bells of fire engines came to his ears.

The wreckage of his car once more to his eyes.

And the wreckage of the spaceship beyond.

“Well,” said Bellis, “that would appear to be
that
. Job jobbed, but goodness, I dread the paperwork.”

Amelie looked through her fingers. “Did we win?” she asked.

“Naturally, my dear. Most naturally.”

Amelie shook her beautiful head, beautiful, but drunk. “I am
so
impressed,” she said. “You saved Toy City. You are
so
a hero.”

“He wouldn’t have done so if
I
hadn’t tipped him off,” said a clockwork spaceman.

“Then
you
are
so
a hero.” And Amelie threw her arms around him.

“Oi!” said Bellis. “Not so fast. He would never have tipped me off if he hadn’t … How did you put it, spaceman?”

“Received a telepathic message,” said the spaceman. “From the other side of The Second Big O. A bear spoke unto me. Told me what was to occur. Said he kept going in and out of his body, whatever
that
meant.”

“Well, let’s not worry about
that
,” said Bellis. “And get your spaceman’s hands off my girlfriend.”

“Do you think there are any survivors?” asked Amelie, stroking the spaceman’s tin-plate chest. “And do spacemen have credit cards, by the way?”

“Big shiny gold ones,” said the spaceman.

“Survivors?” said Bellis, prising the hands of Amelie away from the spaceman’s helmet. “Aliens in need of shooting, now there’s a thought.” And reached towards his car, then reached away, for it smouldered.

“Shoot ’em with
this
,” said Tinto, wheeling through the doorway and presenting Bellis with a shotgun that he, as indeed do
all
barmen kept hidden beneath his bar counter.

Just in case.

Bellis took the shotgun and approached the craft.

It was pretty buckled up and smoking.

Some laughing policemen who had escaped annihilation through being in the toilet when the mayhem occurred backed up Bellis at a distance.

The fallen craft had flattened several shops. It lay half upon its side.

And as Bellis approached, and so too the policemen, the hatchway slowly opened.

“Hands up, you aliens,” cried the chief inspector.

And struggling down from the hatchway came a tattered trio.

Jack was helping Eddie Bear. And Dorothy helped Jack.

And Tinto served drinks on the house.

Jack toasted Eddie.

And Eddie, Jack.

And Bellis toasted himself.

“You did brilliantly, Jack,” said Eddie Bear, balancing upon his head on the barstool in order that he might really benefit from the beer. “You are as brilliant as.”

“We both did okay,” said Jack. “We’re a team, you and me. We’re the business.”

“And we should be back in business now.” Eddie struggled to pour further beer down his inverted throat. Jack gave him a little helping out. “We can open for business big time now.”

“You think we’ve seen the last of the chickens?”

“I reckon so. The portal between the worlds is destroyed.” Eddie hiccuped. “And from what we both know about the chicken matriarchy, the new Queen will reverse the policies of the old. Pretty daft system, I grant you, but they
are
chickens. And so I suppose that means that not only is our world saved, but the world of men also.”

“I didn’t take much to
that
world,” said Jack, draining his glass and ordering several more. “Things are problematic here, but out
there …
That place is mad.”

“I thought it held some appeal for you.” Eddie tried to remain on his head and did so with some style. “What with that Dorothy. Where is she, by the way?”

“She’s gone,” said Jack. “She left.”

“Left?” said Eddie. “Left for where and why?”

“She returned to the soil,” said Jack. “I dug her in.”

“You did
what
?” And Eddie fell from the barstool.

Jack helped Eddie to his feet. “She wasn’t human,” he said. “She was something else entirely. The last of her kind. She was, well,
is
a vegetable.”

“And you’re kidding me, right?”

“No,” said Jack. “I’m not. The chickens conquered her world a couple of years back. She escaped through another Big O, this one in a big sign that spelt out ‘SPROUTLAND’. She escaped to Hollywood. She was waiting there for someone like me – well, someones like us, as it happens – to help her take her revenge against the chickens for wiping out her kind.”

“And you ‘dug her in’?”

“Into Tinto’s garden. She’ll take root. She’ll bloom here. She’s, er been fertilised.”

“Excruciating,” said Tinto.

“That almost makes me want to cry,” said Eddie. “But I’ll fight the sensation and drink more beer instead.”

“I
really
liked her, you know,” said Jack, making a wistful face.

“A bit more than
liked
, I suspect,” said Eddie, climbing back onto his stool.

“Nothing of the sort,” said Jack. “I’m as hard as nails, me. Women are just women.”

“Leave it out, Jack, you’re as romantic as.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I suppose I am. Now where is Amelie?”

“She went to the toilet,” said Eddie. “To throw up, I suspect. Ah, here she comes now, wobbling somewhat. And, oh look, there’s the Phantom of the Opera.”

Eddie waved towards the Phantom and the Phantom waved back.

And there indeed came Amelie. And she
was
wobbling somewhat. And she swayed up to Jack and gazed into his eyes.

And then she flung her arms about him.

And gave that Jack a snog.

And Jack for his part snogged her in return.

And Jack, as he would soon find out, was really, truly in love.

“And so all’s well that ends well,” said Eddie, resuming his inverted position on the barstool and enjoying the sensation of all that alcohol draining back into his head.

“All’s well indeed,” said Wellington Bellis, looking with distaste towards the snogging Jack and then with even greater distaste towards Eddie. “And now I feel it is time to bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion. And make my arrest.”

“Your arrest?” asked Eddie.

“Bring the malcontent to justice,” said Bellis. “To whit, arrest you, Eddie Bear, cat’s-paw of the evil criminal mastermind, Tinto –”

“What?” went Tinto.

“Eddie Bear, mass-murderer, and clearly commander of the alien strikeforce, I arrest you in the name of the law. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be twisted around and used against you as damning evidence. In order to condemn you to prison, or worse; and I can think up far worse.”

Eddie Bear said, “Hold on there.”

And Bellis said, “You’re nicked.”

“No, hold on,” said Eddie, tumbling from his stool. “It’s not the way you think – I’m the good guy. I sent this telepathic message to the spaceman to warn you what was going to happen. You see, there were these chickens. You don’t understand …”

Wellington Bellis laughed and laughed. “Had you going there,” he said to Eddie. “You’re not really nicked, I was only joking.”

Eddie Bear looked up and huffed and puffed.

“Do you know what?” said Bellis. “I feel you deserve some special reward for your services to Toy City. In fact I feel that you deserve some special position, or rank. I have the necessary clout to pull a few strings around here. How would you fancy taking on the job of Mayor?”

“Well …” said Eddie Bear.

The term preferred by Nursery Rhyme characters, to Nursery Rhyme characters. (As it were.)

As Eddie was unable to do corroborative nouns, Tinto would never know just how hard Eddie had tried, although given the sincerity of the bear’s tone, the clockwork barman could only surmise that it had been very hard indeed.

The sun’s father’s name was also Sam. As is often the case with suns.

See
The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse
for further details. In fact, buy a copy right
now
if you haven’t already read it, read it all the way through, then go back to the first chapter of this book and start again. Because this is a sequel. And although a damn fine book in its own right, one in fact that should win any number of awards, but probably won’t because there is no justice in this world, it might be best to read the first book first and the second book second. Only a suggestion.

Neat trick.

The debate regarding whether mermaids can be described as having thighs continues. And remains unresolved.

Which is to be found chronicled in that damn fine book (and
SFX
award-winner)
The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse.
Available from all good booksellers.

Stop it
now
! Ed.

Last warning! Ed.

Careful now. Ed.

And let’s be honest here, who isn’t? Because when it comes to royalty amongst the ranks of British entertainers, the Chuckle Brothers reign supreme. No? Well, please yourselves, then.

Even though sighing really wasn’t Eddie’s thing. As it were.

Well, just think of the fun you could have, sticking it over a friend’s front door while they’re out and seeing their expression when they come home.

Clearly Tinto’s reference to quintuple murder at the end of the previous chapter must have something to do with his problem with numbers. Clearly!

Yes, of course you know where!

It really does.

And I’m not joking here. When I worked in a prop house, I regularly received free tickets from one of the staff who was dating a Covent Garden ballet dancer. The tickets were always front-row tickets. I used to breathe through my mouth.