The Toyminator (8 page)

“Old King Cole’s,” said Jack.

“Precisely,” said Eddie.

“But an alien teddy bear, who is
your
doppelganger?”

“Stranger things have happened,” said Eddie.

“Name one,” said Jack.

“Let’s go in,” said Eddie.

Tinto’s Bar was rather crowded now. In fact, it was rather crowded with a lot of swells that Jack recognised as former patrons of Old King Cole’s.

Jack swore beneath his breath.

Eddie, whose hearing was acute, chuckled.

“We don’t want their type in here,” said Jack.

“And
whose
type would that be?” Eddie asked.

“You know what I mean.” Jack elbowed his way towards the bar and Eddie followed on in Jack’s wake.

Tinto was serving drinks every which way. Jack located an empty barstool and hoisted Eddie onto it. “Drinks over here, Tinto,” he called.

“You’ll have to wait your turn,” called Tinto. “I have posh clientele to serve here.”

Jack ground his teeth.

Eddie said, “The spaceman was over there in the far corner, Jack – can you see if he’s still there?”

Jack did head-swerves and peepings. “I can’t see any spaceman,” he said. “A couple of gollies playing dominoes, but no spaceman.”

“Tinto,” called Eddie to the barman, “if you can tear yourself away from your new best friends …”

Tinto trundled up the bar. “Did you hear what happened at Old King Cole’s?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Eddie. “But tell me this – where did the spaceman go?”

“Is that a trick question?” Tinto asked.

“No,” said Eddie.

“Shame,” said Tinto.

“So,
do
you know where the spaceman went?”

Tinto scratched at the top of his head. “Space?” he suggested. “Is that the right answer? Do I get a prize?”

“You do,” said Eddie. “You win the chance to pour Jack and me fourteen beers.”

“Fourteen?” said Tinto, and he whistled. “Was that the star prize?”

Tinto wheeled off to do the business.

Jack said, “Eddie, did you
really
meet a real spaceman?”

“It all depends what you mean by ‘real’.”

“No it doesn’t,” said Jack, elbowing a swell who really didn’t need elbowing.

“He was a clockwork spaceman,” said Eddie. “But who is to say whether all spacemen are clockwork?”

“He was a
toy
spaceman?”

“And who is to say that
all
spacemen aren’t toy spacemen?”

“I’d be prepared to say it, but as I don’t believe in spacemen, it hardly matters whether I say it or not.”

“So you don’t believe in the concept that there might be other worlds like ours out there somewhere and that there might be life on them?”

Jack shrugged. “Back in the town where I was brought up, there was a lot of talk about that sort of thing. Alien abductions, they were called. People would be driving their cars at night, down some deserted country road, then there’d be a really bright light and then they’d be driving their cars again, but a couple of hours would have passed and they’d have no memory of what had happened. Then this fellow started hypnotising these people and all sorts of strange stories came out about what had happened during the missing hours. That they’d been taken up into space by space aliens and experimented upon, had things poked up their bums.”

“Up their bums?”

“Apparently the space aliens do a lot of that kind of thing.”

“Why?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Perhaps they have a really weird sense of humour, or they are a bit pervy – who can tell with spacemen?”

“And these people were telling the truth?”

Jack shrugged. “Who can say? In my humble opinion they were all mentals.”

“So you’re not a believer?”

“No,” said Jack, “I’m not. I know what I believe in and I know what I don’t. And I don’t believe in spacemen.”

“I seem to recall,” said Eddie, “when I first met you on the first night that you arrived in Toy City, that you didn’t believe toys could walk and talk and think and live.”

“I still find
that
hard to believe,” said Jack.

Eddie made exasperated noises. Tinto arrived with the drinks on a tray. There were many drinks. Many more than fourteen.

“We’re three drinks short here,” said Jack.

Tinto trundled away to make up the shortfall.

Eddie chuckled once more. “You fit in quite nicely here now though, don’t you, Jack?” he said.

“I still find it hard to believe. But I know it’s true.”

“Then maybe we’ll have you believing in spacemen before it’s too late.”

“Too late?” said Jack. “Too late for what?”

“Too late to stop them,” said Eddie. “Too late for us all.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“As I said to Bellis, ‘If you have a better explanation.’”

Jack tucked into his share of the beers. “Spacemen,” he said and he shook his head.

“There’s no telling what’s out there,” said Eddie, “Beyond The Second Big O.”

“I’ve heard that expression used before,” said Jack. “What exactly does it mean?”

Eddie shrugged. “It’s just an expression, I suppose. I don’t know where I heard it first. It means beyond, beyond what we know, someplace other that’s different. Really different.”

“But why The Second Big O? Why not The First Big O? Why an O at all?”

“I don’t know,” said Eddie, tasting beer. “I know most things, but I don’t know
that
.”

“Perhaps the Toymaker would know.”

“Perhaps, but I have no inclination to ask him.” Eddie regarded his paws. “Taking my hands away. That was really mean.”

“They were rather creepy,” said Jack.

“They were
not
creepy! They were wonderful, Jack. I loved those hands.”

“Perhaps if you save Toy City from the alien invasion he’ll fit you with another pair.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“You believe that, do you?”

“Absolutely,” said Jack, raising his glass to Eddie.

“Then let’s drink to the fact that anything’s possible,” said Eddie, raising his glass between his paws. “Let’s have a toast to that anything.”

“Let’s have,” said Jack, raising his glass, too.

“To spacemen,” said Eddie. “As possible as.”

“Did I hear someone say ‘spacemen’?” said Tinto.

“Jack’s a big believer,” said Eddie.

“There was one in here earlier,” said Tinto.

“Really?” said Eddie. “How interesting.”

“Well, he wasn’t
that
interesting. He spent most of his time cadging drinks. But he did leave something for you.”

Eddie shook his head sadly. “You didn’t think to mention this before?” he said. “It might be important.”

“You said it was,” said Tinto.

“I just said it might be,” said Eddie.

“No,” said Tinto, “you said it might be important. And then you said it was and then you left with it.”

“Curiously,” said Eddie, “you aren’t making any sense at all.”

“When I gave it to you,” said Tinto, “you thanked me for it and you tipped me for giving it to you.”

Eddie shook his head once more. “And when did I do this?” he said.

“A few minutes ago, when you came in here before.”

“What?” said Eddie.

And Jack looked at Eddie. “A few minutes ago?” said Jack, now looking at Tinto.

“Yes,” said Tinto, now looking at Eddie. “You took the message he left for you, then you left. Then you came back in again, and here you are.”

“Message?” said Jack. “The spaceman gave Eddie a message?”

“No, he left it with me and
I
gave it to Eddie. Do try to pay attention.”

“What did this message say?” Eddie asked.

“Well, you read it,” said Tinto. “You must know what it said.”

“
I
did
not
read it,” said Eddie, “because
I
was
not
in here a few minutes ago.”

“It
was
you,” said Tinto. “I’d know a scruffbag like you anywhere.”

“Tinto,” said Jack, “Tinto, this is
very
important. What did this message say?”

Tinto fluttered his fingers about. “As if I would look at the contents of a secret message,” he said.

“
Secret
message?” said Eddie.

“That’s what it said,” said Tinto. “Top-secret message for your mismatched eyes only.”

“What did it say?” asked Jack.

“I have customers to serve,” said Tinto. “Posh customers. I have no time to shilly-shally with hobbledehoys like you.”

“What did it say, Tinto? This is
very, very
important.”

“It didn’t say much,” said Tinto. “Just the location, that’s all.”

Eddie threw up his paws and shouted, “What location, Tinto?”

“No need to shout,” said the barman. “Just the location of where the spaceship had landed, that’s all.”

“Toy Town?” said Jack as he drove along with Eddie at his side.

Eddie cowered in the passenger seat. “Please slow down,” he said.

Jack slowed down, but said, “Toy Town,” once more. “The supposed location of the supposedly landed spaceship. Supposedly. But I thought that Toy City
is
Toy Town, just grown bigger.”

“What a lovely way you have with words,” Eddie said. “Toy City
is
Toy Town grown bigger. But not quite in the same location. From what I’ve heard of the original Toy Town, it was an idyllic, paradisical sort of place, nestling against a sunny hillside – always sunny, of course, I don’t think it ever rained there.”

“I’m sure it must have,” said Jack, taking another corner in a dangerous fashion and sending Eddie sprawling.

“Seat belts,” Eddie said as he climbed once more onto his seat and glared a glare at Jack.

“What would those be?” Jack asked.

“Something I’ve just invented, for strapping yourself into your seat in a car.”

“Sounds dangerous,” said Jack. “You might get trapped or something, say if the car were to go over a cliff and into a river, or something. Am I going the right way? And tell me more about Toy Town.”

“It’s a bit of a way yet, and you are going the right way and the car will need a few more windings-up before we get there. But, as I say, it was the original town built for toys and P.P.P.s, from the original kit, if you believe what the followers of the Big Box Fella, He Come, Jack-in-the-box cult do. Toys lived there in harmony and happiness. Then there were more toys and suburbs were built and then places for the toys to work in were built beyond these, and then homes for the rich who made money out of these enterprises beyond this. And so on and so forth and eventually up grew Toy City, of evil reputation. Folk sort of moved away from Toy Town – it fell out of favour, reminded them of their humble beginnings. The desire for progress and evolution forced them out of their simple paradise to search for a more sophisticated lifestyle, so they came to live and work in Toy City.”

“I don’t quite follow the logic of all that.” Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “But it’s still there, is it? The original Toy Town? Who lives there now?”

“I think it’s a bit of a ghost town now.” And Eddie shivered. “You hear stories about odd folk who live there. Outcasts. I thought of going there myself after I lost my job as mayor. They make movies there, I believe.”

“Movies?” said Jack, and he grinned towards Eddie. “I’ve always wanted to be in a movie.”

“Since when?” Eddie raised an imaginary eyebrow. “This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing.”

“You mean you’ve never wanted to be in a movie?”

“Have you ever seen a Toy City movie, Jack?”

Jack shook his head. “I haven’t,” he said, “but I’ll bet they’re much the same as the movies I watched in the town where I grew up. Action and adventure.”

Eddie laughed. Loudly. “Action and Adventure?” he managed to say. “Not a bit of it – they are as dull as. Biopics, they’re called. Always about prominent P.P.P.s, with constant remakes. If I watch that Jack and Jill go up that damned hill one more time, I’ll puke.”

“He does fall down and break his crown – that must be quite exciting.”

Eddie sighed and he was so sick of sighing. “Trust me, Jack,” he said, “they’re dull. Dull, dull, dull.”

“So why does anyone go to see them?”

“It’s complicated,” said Eddie. “I’ll explain it to you sometime, but not now. And see, just up ahead, where the street lamps end – we’re almost there.”

The street lamps ended at the top of a hill. Jack drew the car to a rather unnecessarily sharp halt and he and Eddie climbed from it. Jack peered out and down at a moonlit landscape. “Oh,” was all he could find to say for the moment.

Jack stood beside Eddie, who peered in a likewise fashion, and a little shiver came to Eddie, which wasn’t caused by the chill of the night.

There was something about Toy Town that haunted Eddie. It haunted all toys in Toy City to a greater or lesser extent. Toy Town represented something, something that had been but no longer was: paradise, before the fall. In truth, few toy folk ever ventured there. Toy Town was almost a sacred place. A place perhaps for pilgrimage, but somehow, too, for reasons that, like going to see P.P.P. biopics, were too complicated to explain, a place to be feared. An
other
place. A place not spoken of.

It
was
complicated.

“Looks pretty dilapidated,” said Jack, “but in a romantic kind of a way. The way that ancient ruins sometimes do.”

“Hm,” said Eddie, and he shivered a little bit more.

“What’s that up there?” asked Jack, and he pointed.

“Ah,” said Eddie. “The sign.”

The sign rose above the hilltop. Great white letters, standing crookedly. Great white letters spelling out “TO TO LA.”

“‘To to la’?” said Jack. “What does that mean?”

“It originally spelled ‘TOYTOWNLAND’,” said Eddie. “That was the name of the original development. Seems as if some of the letters have fallen down. It’s a very long time since I’ve been here. And I think I’ve now been here long enough again. Let’s come back in the morning, Jack. Or perhaps you might come back on your own.”

“
On my own
?” Jack looked at Eddie. “What’s the problem?” he asked. “Eddie, are you scared of something?”

“Me?” said Eddie, straightening what shoulders he had. “I’m not scared of anything. We bears are brave, you should know that. We’re as bold as.”

“Right,” said Jack. “But you do seem to be trembling somewhat.”

“It’s cold,” said Eddie.

Jack, having eyebrows, raised them.

“Yeah, well,” said Eddie, “there’s something about this place. Something I’m not comfortable with.”

“Well, I’m not altogether comfortable myself. I’m not too keen on getting blasted by a space alien death ray, you know.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the concept of space aliens.”

“I don’t,” said Jack, “but something zapped the monkeys and the clockwork musicians. And whatever it is, I don’t want it to zap me as well. Nor you, as it happens.”

“We shall proceed with caution, then. I’ll lead the way, you go first.”

Jack said, “Eh?” But Jack led the way. “Where am I leading this way to?” he whispered to Eddie as he led it. Down and down a hillside, through gorse and briars and unromantic stuff like that.

Eddie battered his way through nettles. “Keep a low profile,” he counselled. “And keep an eye out for anything that looks like a landed spaceship.”

“As opposed to something that actually
is
a landed spaceship?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Jack, keeping the lowest of low profiles despite the heightness of his height, did furtive glancings all around and continued in the downwards direction. At length, and one too long for Jack, who was now somewhat briar-scratched about in the trenchcoat regions, and who now had Eddie riding upon his shoulders due to Eddie being briar-scratched about in more personal regions, the intrepid detectives reached a bit of a road, a bit of which led into the romantic ruination of Toy Town.

“They’re pretty little houses,” Jack whispered, “but they’ve got holes in their roofs and everything. Do you really think anyone lives here any more?”

“We bears have almost mystical senses,” Eddie whispered back. “We can sense things. And I sense that we are being watched.”

“By spacemen, do you think?”

“There’s a tone in your voice,” said Eddie. “Put me down, please.”

And Jack put Eddie down.

Jack said, “I don’t see any landed spaceships. But then perhaps landed spaceships have some kind of advanced camouflage and can look like ruined houses. In which case, I can see lots of spaceships. Which one do –”

“Stop it,” said Eddie. “We
are
being watched. And I don’t like it here.”

“I’ll protect you,” said Jack. “I have my gun.” Jack patted his pockets. “Oh no,” he said. “I don’t have my gun – one of the laughing policemen confiscated it.”

“We’re doomed,” said Eddie. “Do you still have your watch?”

“I do,” said Jack, holding his wrist up to the moonlight. “It’s nearly two-thirty. Time travels fast when you’re having a good time, doesn’t it?”

“Turn it in,” said Eddie. “You’re as scared of this place as I am.”

“I’m afraid of no man,” said Jack.

“There’s something out there,” said Eddie. “And it ain’t no man.”

Which rang a distant bell, somewhere.
[15]

“Which way do you want to go?” asked Jack.

“Home,” said Eddie.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“It’s what I mean,” said Eddie. “I used to live here. I’d like to see my old home.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “Right. Lead on, then.”

And Eddie led the way.

He led the way to Toy Town Square. There were ruined shops all around and about: a butcher’s, a baker’s, a candlestick maker’s, a cheese shop and a dolls’ hospital.

Jack peered through the grime-stained window of a tailor’s. “This really is a proper ghost town,” he said. “There’s still a display in this window and suits of clothing hanging up.” Jack moved on through the square. “Same in the cheese shop,” he said. “It’s full of old cheese. How come when the traders moved away they left their stock behind?”

“They moved away fast,” said Eddie. “In a single day. All at once.”

“But I thought you said –”

“I know what I said. I didn’t say how fast they all moved to Toy City.”

“What happened here, Eddie? Something bad, was it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now.”

Jack shook his head. “Are we still being watched? What do your special senses tell you?”

Eddie nodded. “We’re still being watched. Come on, this way.”

And so they moved on, across the moonlit square, into a side alley that wasn’t really lit very well at all, into worrying darkness, then out into some small light.

“Ah,” said Jack. “I see.”

Before them stood a little house. A pretty little house. It was a man-sized pretty little house. A flaky painted sign upon the aged front door spelled out the name “WINKIE” in archaic lettering.

“Bill Winkie’s house,” said Jack. “The house of Wee Willy Winkie. And you were his bear.”

“I was Bill’s bear,” said Eddie. And he produced a key from his trenchcoat pocket. “Would you care to let us in, Jack?”

Jack took the key from Eddie. “You have the key with you,” he said, “but you didn’t know we were coming here. I mean –”

“I’ve always carried it, one way or another, and the another way wasn’t very comfortable,” Eddie said. “I carry it as a kind of good-luck charm, or something.”

“Oh.” Jack said no more, but tried the key in the lock. After some struggling, he turned it. “Are you sure about this?” he asked Eddie. “Sure that you want to go in? It might be painful for you. I know how much you loved Bill.”

“It will be painful,” said Eddie, “but I have to. There’s something I have to know.”

“All right.” Jack drew the key from the lock, returned it to Eddie, then pressed his hands to the door, which opened, silently.

“There should be a candle box on the wall to your left,” said Eddie. Jack felt around to his left, found the candle box, located candles within it and a tinderbox, fumbled about with the tinderbox, drew sparks, then fire from it, lit a candle. Jack held up this candle.

“What do you see?” Eddie asked.

“Just a room,” said Jack. “Quite tastefully furnished. Are you coming in, then?”

Eddie followed Jack.

Jack spied candles set in wall sconces, others upon a table. Jack lit these candles with his. Soft light filled the room.

Eddie gazed around and about it. “Just as I feared,” he said.

“Feared?” Jack asked. “What did you fear?”

“The hinges on the front door have been oiled and there’s no dust,” said Eddie. “Look at the tables and the chairs and the floor – no dust. Someone’s living here.”

“Upstairs, do you think? Asleep?”

“Possibly. Jack, give me a hand, if you will.”

“What’s this, then?”

Eddie was tugging at a rug. “Help me with this.”

Jack did tuggings, too. They tugged the rug aside.

“Ring in the floorboards,” said Eddie. “Secret compartment. Lift the trap door, Jack.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “Exciting. What’s down there?”

“You’ll see.”

Jack pulled upon the ring and the trap door lifted. He held up his candle. “Golly,” he said.

“Golly? Where?”

“Term of surprise,” said Jack, “not golly as in golliwog.” And then Jack did awed whistlings. “This is what you’d call an arms cache,” said he, once done with these whistlings.

“Well, Bill
was
a private eye.”

“And part-time arms dealer?” Jack beheld the stash that lay beneath, steely parts glinting in the candlelight. There were many guns there, big, impressive guns, toy guns all, although toy guns got the business done in these parts.

“Just haul up some weaponry.”

“Okey-dokey,” said Jack, “will do.” And he lowered himself into the secret hideaway beneath and handed weapons up to Eddie. And as he did so, Jack did thinkings. What exactly was all this about? went one of these thinkings. What exactly happened here in Toy Town that drove its population away at the hurry-up, without their possessions? Why would Bill Winkie really have needed so much high-powered weaponry? And there would have been more thinkings along these lines had not Eddie hurried Jack up and broken the chain of these thinkings.

“It’s too much to carry anyway,” said Jack.

“And those grenades,” said Eddie.

“This is ridiculous,” said Jack.

“You’ll thank me for it later.”

“What was
that
?”

“What?” said Eddie.

“I thought you bears had special senses,” whispered Jack. “I heard something.”

“Come on, then, hurry up – gather up guns and let’s be off.”

The sound of voices now came to the ears of both Eddie and Jack.

“On second thoughts,” whispered Eddie, now tossing weaponry back down to Jack, “it might be more propitious for us to hide.”

“But we’re all tooled-up.”