Fifteen: Custody

Agent Tomatilla Bygone decided not to handcuff the suspect because he looked like a nice enough guy. This was the dumbest reason she could ever recall for not handcuffing someone. She also felt safe with Nathanial Wildacre around, even if he was older than her grandfather.

"What's your name?" she asked the man, believing she already knew which of the four he was but wondering if he would tell the truth.

"Jim Misanthrope," he replied. "What's going on here?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"I can tell you this whole place is a freak show."

He walked alongside her, as though he considered himself in custody even though she had not put him in handcuffs or charged him with a crime. Her cell phone rang and she plucked the tiny instrument out of a carrying case on her waist and peered at it.

"Oh, lovely," she said, in obvious dismay.

"What's wrong?" Nathanial Wildacre asked.

"The moderates have attacked Tulsa again."

"What did Tulsa ever do to them, I wonder?"

"Well, I'm not sure I'd call it a moderate town," Agent Bygone said.

"Maybe not, but they've got a lovely zoo," said Wildacre, "Cheap, too."

"Pardon me for interjecting, but what exactly is happening?" demanded Jim, who felt he had tolerated enough ordeal and frustration for one day.

Though concealment had become part of the natural order of things for SpyCo employees, Tomatilla Bygone decided to abandon and intrigue for bluntness. Something about the presence of Wildacre emboldened her and she didn't think Jim Misanthrope was connected to any sinister plot.

"Rumor is that this company had developed some type of disposal method for Tangible Hubris. You knew that and we knew you knew. I was sent from Chicago to catch up with you, see what your intentions were. You do realize that whenever someone sets out to accomplish something grandly heroic, lots of people, including our organization, assume you must be driven by an ulterior motive that's sinister."

"Of course," Jim deadpanned, "I keep wondering what our ulterior motive is. I haven't figured that out, but I guess there's no need to now since we've proven so incompetent. Before you ask, I don't know where the others are. They left me here, probably because they thought I was dead. I might forgive them or I might hold a grudge for the rest of my life and die a bitter man."

"I always wanted to try that," said Wildacre, "but I lacked the commitment."

"I'm sure I do as well," said Jim.

Wildacre and Agent Bygone searched the area, finding the unsettling phony corpse and the sign warning off all trespassers. Neither Jim nor Agent Bygone understood how he knew, but they trusted Wildacre when he said the sample piece of Tangible Hubris was real.

"No synthetic approximation has ever been attempted, as far as I know," the old man shrugged. "What would be the point?"

"To scare people off, like they're trying to here?"

"But you can just use the real stuff. There's plenty of it and it's not really dangerous, except that you just can't get rid of it. It doesn't decompose but it isn't toxic."

This, as far as anyone knew, was true. Agent Bygone's next utterance proved inaudible because Nichelle Trudery stormed the room and demanded Jim's release, offering herself in his place. Tottchell Zizzzard stood behind her, looking utterly bewildered.

Fourteen: Compromisation

Nichelle Trudery felt like a complete and utter recreant for abandoning Jim Misanthrope to his fate, whatever that fate might be. Try as she might, she could no longer blame their frantic retreat on Elmer's panic or the bipedal dog's obvious fear of the basement. She and Tott--well, she--should have calmed the others down and ventured into the contaminated cellar to check on Jim. No one knew how far he had fallen nor the nature of the contamination nor even if the sign indicating the danger was still relevant.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Tottchell Zizzzard, who had stretched out his long body in the back seat.

"We get out of here, as I have been saying all along," Elmer insisted.

"No, we have to go back for Jim," said Nichelle, "You guys know that, surely."

They had stopped on the side of the road just outside Goofy Ridge and let the dog out of the car. Unlike most canines, this one seemed not to love riding in the vehicle. In fact, it appeared the creature was carsick. No one spoke for a few moments, as Elmer and Tott absorbed Nichelle's exhortation. They agreed with her, she knew, and must have been riddled with the same guilt that was jolting her. Their silence amounted to consent.

"No," said Elmer, "I don't see that we do. I think it would be a mistake."

Nichelle shot a glare at Elmer, one ablaze with profundity, with reminders of the past, with indicators of his responsibilities toward his friend. Or perhaps the look simply carried disgust. Elmer ignored her. She turned to the backseat, eyeing Tott for signs of resistance. Without even speaking to him, Nichelle knew he would go back for Jim if she pressed hard enough unless Elmer actively recruited him as an ally, which was unlikely. Elmer displayed little but disdain for Tott most of the time; he liked Tott, but rarely showed respect for his feelings or opinions.

She got out of the car to check on the dog, pocketing the keys as she did so, fearing faintly, distantly that Elmer might slide across the seat and take off without her. She did not really think he would attempt this, nor did she imagine even the pliable Tott would permit such an extreme course of action. Still, she was taking no chances.

The strange beast they had found at the Monolithic Chemical Company lifted its weary head when she approached and made a sound, half bark and half moan. Though there were no obvious signs of illness or injury to the alleged dog, the creature was clearly uncomfortable. It occurred to her now what needed to be done, that there were two important things to accomplish, one of which might serve to distract and preoccupy Elmer long enough for her and Tott to return to MCC and locate Jim. Unfortunately, she wasn't certain Elmer could be trusted even with this much less risky assignment. She motioned for the upright-walking dog to accompany her and it grudgingly obeyed.

"Elmer," she said, "I'm not going to try to cajole or guilt you into going back to get Jim."

"Thank you," he muttered, without looking at her.

"Instead, I want you to take this animal to a veterinarian."

"What?" Elmer demanded, as though he had been asked the most confounding trick question possible.

"Will you do this for me? I know you don't want to go back to that contaminated basement, but I have to. Tott can go with whomever he likes, though I suspect I'll need him more than you will. Meanwhile, you can go to the vet and see what you can find out about this... er, dog."

As she spoke, she noticed Tott nod from the back seat, indicating he would go with her.

"That's not a dog, that's an experimental freak," said Elmer. "Besides, who can afford a vet bill? Not me. And this creature doesn't belong to me in the first place."

"Elmer, you're not using your brain. I know you're afraid to under the circumstances, but listen for a minute. Do you think once the vet sees something like this that there will be any demands for money? All you have to do is say what happened and where you found the thing. Like you said, it's not your dog. The vet can do whatever, but my guess is under the circumstances, they'll do everything they can for it because, like us, they want to know what the hell it is."

Elmer's averted eyes and shaking head revealed what his mouth wouldn't say. You're right, Nichelle, you're right and I'll do this so you'll stop thinking I'm a jerk and a coward.

Thirteen: Unlucky Jim

Jim Misanthrope could not believe his misfortune at first, but then he recalculated this assessment and deemed himself lucky to be alive. Then he refigured again and decided it was possible to be lucky and unlucky at the same time. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious when he woke, only that he felt dreadful, dull pain in his head, neck and shoulders.

Nichelle Trudery, Elmer Treedweller, and Totchell Zizzzard were gone now, probably assuming he would be impossible to find or had been killed or captured. The upright-walking dog had also vanished, presumably following the three humans to the car for a long-awaited ride with its head out the window.

Until his eyes adjusted to the overall lack of light, Jim would have sworn he fell through some kind of trap door. In reality, he had fallen because he had come to a staircase on the opposite side of where the steps began and the guardrails were missing. Apparently unable to find him or learn what had occurred in the darkness, the others assumed the worst and made their escape. He could not help but feel a little disappointed by this development, especially considering he would not have left any of them in this building without an exhaustive search. Then again, perhaps something else, a more imminent threat, had prompted their departure.

Jim struggled for several minutes to find a light source, a long chain attached to a bare bulb that burned surreal yellow and revealed nothing in particular. The floors were hardwood and surprisingly clean, the walls recently painted ivory with cobwebs in the corners. This struck Jim as stranger than just about anything he could previously have imagined. Considering the presence of the bizarre dog and the apparent emptiness of the facility and the sinister feel of the whole affair, he would have been less surprised by a chamber of horrors or signals of longer abandonment. Instead, the area was simply a long, open and low-ceilinged basement that looked something like a laboratory, but with no experiments present, only countertops and tables and chairs.

When Jim made his way carefully up the staircase he had used about half of to get down, he could see a few drops of blood and various dings and dents and bruises on the steps, any one of which could have been caused by part of his body. At the top of the stairs, he discovered what, in all likelihood, had impelled his friends to leave the area in the first place. It was a grotesque and horrifying sight, a man of roughly his own age who had apparently coughed up a fatal dose of tangible hubris, a huge blob of grey, rubbery gunk that apparently had poisoned him or choked him to death or damaged his esophagus, or whatever tangible hubris did to kill its victim. There was a handwritten sign attached to the man's corpse, evidently intended for anyone who ventured down the stairs.

DO NOT ENTER: CONTAMINATED AREA

Perhaps Nichelle, Elmer, and Tott had not known exactly what happened to him and ran across the corpse in their search. Maybe they didn't even see the staircase or the fact that there were no guardrails on the far end. It remained fairly dark, but the light of the still burning bulb downstairs and Jim's well-adjusted eyes rendered things more clear than they would have been to his friends. It occurred to him that he had no idea how long he had been unconscious and, therefore, how long they had been gone. In all likelihood, they had seen the body and panicked, especially Elmer, who feared TH more than anything.

Upon closer examination, the dead body proved fake. He could not verify one way or the other whether the tangible hubris was genuine, but now he felt slightly better. One less victim of the scourge, perhaps a little less threat to his own well-being and, if he was lucky, maybe the others had called for help or were waiting outside.

He tried to work his way back to the corridor they had followed after discovering the very peculiar floor door and the bipedal canine. Finding it turned out to be really easy, what with the footsteps and voices. Two people, a young woman and an old man, burst from the corridor as he approached and the woman shouted at him.

"Hold it right there. Put your hands behind your head!"

And there it was. Jim complied after a brief pause, not certain whether to be grateful or frightened.