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a new classic by Edward Summer |
The large Tiffany lamp hanging in the center of the room came on and lit the library with a warm orange light. The glass shapes in the shade cast shimmering green, blue, and yellow patterns all over the shadowy ceiling. With the light on, Fred felt safe.
Fred looked up and saw all the toy soldiers lined up in rows inside the locked glass cases. His mouth opened in awe. After a few minutes of staring, Fred slowly began to realize that they were far too high up on the wall for him to reach.
Looking around he saw Douglas Calder's large wooden chair and pushed it over next to the cabinets. Carefully, he stood up on the seat, but he couldn't even reach the shelf that ran about eight inches below the cabinets, and the chair tipped sideways when he stood on the arms.
Then he turned over a wastebasket and balanced himself on the bottom, but still he couldn't reach. Fred stepped down onto the floor, discouraged.
"Let me," Teddy said.
"Let you what?" Fred said.
"Boost me up!"
"Where?"
"Onto the shelf, of course!"
"Oh," Fred said, picking Teddy up. "This is impossible."
"No, it's not," Teddy insisted as Fred balanced himself on the bottom of the wastebasket again.
Fred stretched up onto his tiptoes again and pushed Teddy. It was just high enough for Teddy to reach the shelf with his forepaws and pull himself onto it.
Once on the shelf, Teddy tried to reach the soldier cabinets. He could tickle the bottom of the wooden cabinets with the tips of his furry paws, but that was as far as he could reach.
Teddy quickly glanced about and got an idea. He took several steps along the narrow shelf to a neat row of books then tipped them over. One at a time, he dragged them to the base of the cabinets and began to stack them one on top of another until he had built a little staircase of books.
Step by step, Teddy climbed up his book ladder, dragging a new book behind him to make a new step. Finally he stood right in front of a glass cabinet filled with solders. He pulled a the door. It was locked.
Teddy slowly moved his book-ladder to the next cabinet and the next, but each one was locked.
"What're we gonna do?" Fred moaned sitting down on the floor.
Teddy sat down and dangled his legs over the edge of the shelf. Dunkey kicked his back legs against the wastebasket in frustration.
Then Teddy stood up and began to pace back and forth. He was thinking. Paws clasped behind his back, he lowered his head and paced. Absorbed in thought, Teddy walked directly into the side of a small brass lamp that stood on the shelf. Because he was too light to move the lamp, he flopped clumsily over onto his back. Teddy stared up at the ceiling in a daze. But not for long!
"That's it! There!" Teddy shouted.
"Where? What?" Dunkey asked.
"Tarzan!" Teddy answered.
"What are you talking about, Teddy?" Fred looked up at him, puzzled.
Hanging from the ceiling behind the desk was another, smaller Tiffany lamp. Dangling from this lamp was a long pull chain about three feet above and to the side of the shelf.
Teddy took a long running start and made a flying leap at the pull chain. He shot through the air and missed the end of the chain by about eight inches. Teddy flew through the air past the end of the chain and landed flat on his face on the floor.
Dunkey galloped over to where Teddy lay, motionless, on the carpet. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Teddy answered bravely. He rolled onto his side and stood up. "It's nothin' but stuffin'. Come on, put me up again."
"Teddy, what are you trying to do?" Fred asked.
"If I can grab that chain and swing over and hit the lamp hard enough, it'll fall and break the side of the cabinet and the soldiers'll be able to get out. So will you put me back up there now? Please?"
Fred was so impressed with Teddy's logic that he picked up the bear and lifted him onto the shelf without further comment.
Teddy dusted himself off, shook his tail and took another running start. As Fred and Dunkey watched, Teddy sprang off the edge of the shelf
This time, he seemed to float through the air straight as an arrow right over to the chain. Teddy clapped his forepaws and clutched the bottom of the chain. He continued to swing outward and stopped with a jolt still holding on, then swung back again.
Dunkey and Fred sighed with relief. Teddy began to pump his legs as though he were on a swing. Faster and faster he pumped, and he swung in a wider and wider arc. Teddy turned his body toward the brass lamp.
Looking past his toes, Teddy aimed his feet squarely at the lampshade. When he reached the top of a long swing, he let go. Teddy sailed through the air, his body rolling over and over. He plunked precisely into the lamp shade and knocked it off balance.
The lamp began to totter as Teddy careened off to the side. It wobbled, threatening to fall onto the floor, but at the last moment, it crashed into the glass of the nearest soldier cabinet. The pane cracked as the lamp rolled off of it. A long splinter of glass fell out, leaving a hole in the door.
Fred cringed when the glass broke, but when Teddy stood up and bowed, Fred clapped. Dunkey brayed with enthusiasm. Behind Teddy, the bottom row of Napoleonic soldiers - in bright red and white uniforms - began to stir. They marched neatly and stiffly to the edge of the cabinet. One soldier unfurled a rope ladder, and another started to climb down.
Soon, dozens of soldiers were marching into position. A large contingent of Angles and Saxons moved siege ladders to the edge of their shelves. A group of S.W.A.T. toys threw climbing hooks to the top of the cabinet, climbed out, and began to pick the locks on other cabinets.
With some hard work, all of the cabinets were open. Hundreds and hundreds of soldiers marching into position, began to climb down onto the shelf where Teddy stood watching.
Fred was overjoyed. Maybe we can do it! Fred thought. He climbed onto the wastebasket, caught several soldiers that had lowered themselves over the edge and put them down onto the floor.
Within minutes, the shelf was covered with solders. Rope ladders hung down around the periphery of the library. Soldiers streamed down the ladders and started forming ranks and units on the carpet.
Dunkey pranced about in excitement, though the space in which he pranced was shrinking. He could barely move without knocking over the tiny soldiers.
And the soldiers streamed forward. There were thousands of them, collected from all over the country and all over Europe. Douglas Calder had brought them back from trips since before Tony was born.
Fred turned to survey the room. Suddenly, a dazzle of blackness streaked out of a shadowy corner of the library. Two searing red eyes and a fanged mouth followed by large bat wings flashed across the room toward the single bare bulb in the Tiffany shade.
With an explosion of glass and dust, the flying demon collided with the light bulb, plunging the library back into blackness and panic.
Tony and Ginger stepped back from the dresser drawers. The bedroom door was now unprotected.
Ginger could hear the clicking scratches of the demons' feet outside on the floor of the hallway.
Slowly, Tony turned the key and unlocked the door. He glanced at Ginger. She turned to look at the toys behind her.
Tony put his hand on the doorknob. "Let's go," he said quietly and turned the knob.
Demons poured up the shadowy staircase like a river running uphill. They shook their claws and spears, gibbering and drooling with the fervor of the imminent battle.
Tony jerked the door wide open. The light from the bedroom flooded into the hallway. With wild screams, the demons fell back, crawling over one another to get out of the way of the light. But they had been taken by surprise, and the light cut through their ranks, leaving a large empty area full of dust for Tony and Ginger and the toys to march into.
"Let's get 'em!" Tony screamed. The toys rolled and ran and crawled and hopped to the head of the stairs. Tiny guns opened fire! Pitchforks were tossed. A group of cowboys knelt down at the edge of the top step and fired into the wave of demons.
A small demon at the front of his ranks was spitted on a toy spear. There was a bright pop of sickly green light, a puff of dust, and the demon was gone. A toy farmer whooped with delight!
But the demons fought back. Like Reon, they had minuscule spinnerets lining the underside of their forearms. When they raised their arms, silken threads of sticky, dusty webbing wafted toward the toys. The threads reached the toys and stuck fast, building up on the plastic legs and arms and clothes.
At first, Reon could not tell exactly who or what was fighting his army. Nothing that small had ever attacked them before, except perhaps a mole or a badger that had strayed into the wrong cave. This army had no unity and no two soldiers looked alike: they were of so many sizes and shapes and colors. Slowly he realized what was happening.
Reon was so startled that he breathed the word out loud, "Toys…. Toys!" He didn't know whether to laugh or cry with relief. So he stood still, confident, watching and waiting for this joke of an army to be destroyed by his seasoned troops.
By the time Tony and Ginger reached the top of the staircase, the air was thick with dust and webbing. Ginger coughed loudly and aimed her squirt gun. Whoosh! The stream of water dissolved a row of demons! Whoosh! Another clump of demons vanished into a muddy pool of dust!
Yet for every demon that the toys destroyed, another, even five more demons, took its place. They seemed to multiply faster than they could be eliminated. Demons poured up the basement stairs, streamed down the back hall, flowed across the living room past the furniture, past Reon himself. They cascaded up the stairs by the thousands, screaming and screeching and tearing toys apart with their claws, leaving broken and webbed toys everywhere on the stairs.
Tony stepped onto the top step, trying to crush demons with his sneakers. But the shiny black creatures skittered out of the way, their red eyes flickering. As Tony placed his foot on the second step, the demons swarmed up his jeans and bit his legs through the cloth. Tony pulled them off with his hands and swatted them away with the tip of his baseball bat.
Yet as Tony fought, Ginger was mysteriously surrounded by a small empty space. The demons came no closer than a few inches before they turned away cringing and ran to attack Tony or the toys. As Tony tossed away clumps of demons, Ginger was free to swing her hockey stick and shoot the squirt gun. No webbing or dust stuck to her. Tony, however, was covered with a cloud of gray dust and webbing.
The last of the toy tanks and cars rolled out of the bedroom and toward the stairs shooting sparks and BB's.
Now the frog was alone in the terrarium. As the sound of the battle wafted back into the brightly lit bedroom, the frog's eyes scanned the empty floor. He could barely see Tony and Ginger in the dusty blackness of the hallway, but he could hear Tony coughing thickly, blinking dust and webbing out of his eyes and snorting it out of his nose.
With a sudden burst of energy, the frog leapt from the pool of water in the terrarium. The leap carried it up over the rim and through the air.
But something was wrong. The frog's body was bloated and heavy. It landed heavily on its left side then skidded into a leg of the bunk bed. The frog careened off the sharp corner of the leg and rolled over onto its back.
For a moment, it lay still, its large eyes pressed against the floor. Desperately, the frog tried to turn over, but its limbs felt heavy. They didn't want to move. Panting, the frog tried again and again, but its back legs refused to push. Its forelegs waved slowly in the air. Its fingers opened and closed helplessly.
An agonized cry escaped the frog's mouth. Its tiny chest expanded far beyond capacity as it tried to pump more air into panicked lungs. Its damp green body began to dry.
Pain shot through the frog's nerves as its skin began to crack, but it could only lie helpless while the life fled its body. The frog made one more weak cry and was silent.
Despite the loud din of the battle, Ginger heard the terrible sound.
"What was that?" she yelled at Tony.
"What was what?"
"I think it's the frog."
"There's not time!" Tony stared down the staircase at the hordes of demons advancing toward them.
"You're right. We've got to stop them!" Ginger followed Tony halfway down the staircase.
Tony took a wild swing with his baseball bat, trying to knock a clump of demons off the banister. As he swung, he spun around. For the first time, Tony could see all of the demon-infested living room.
And, standing like a flaming beacon, Reon turned toward the boy.
Tony nearly dropped the bat in fear.. He had never seen or imagined anything like the burning black creature that towered over the battle.
"Hey!" Ginger said with annoyance as Tony almost hit her with the bat. Then she, too, looked up and saw Reon. She reached out and took hold of Tony's arm. She could feel Tony shivering with fear. Her own breathing became labored and tense.
"What is it?" she whispered. Tony didn't speak. They both knew the answer already.
Slowly a force of determination grew inside Tony. He had to stop this thing. He had to protect the frog from this creature.
A hush fell over the battle. The few toys that were still able to move turned to watch. Even the demons ceased fighting.
Imperceptibly, Tony began to lift his baseball bat. With all his courage, Tony raised his eyes toward Reon and looked squarely into the blazing pools of fire that spiraled around the spines of Reon's tortured face.
Deep inside the ashes of what was once a brain, beneath the pain that racked his body, Reon's consciousness stared across the living room at the small, human boy who could barely threaten him. Reon hated the boy's gentle shape, his soft flesh, the ease with which he moved, even the light clothing that the boy wore.
The hatred propelled Reon's legs. He lurched toward Tony, and demons scurried out of the way to make a path.
Narrowing his eyes and clenching his teeth, Tony held his baseball bat ready to swing. He waited breathlessly for Reon to come within range.
(c)1980,1981,1996,1997 Edward
Summer, All Rights Reserved, Teefr TM R, All Characters TM, R In any form
whatsoever
Mrs. Seel, Theadore Rosebear,
Dunkey Hotie, Tony Calder, Ginger Stephens, Fred Stephens, Teefr, Reon
are all (TM) (R)
created 6/9/97
revised 12/26/97, 10/23/99
