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Tower Town, Chapter 36 - Fathers and Sons

Peppino sighed as he pulled off the sodden shirt. He loved playing with Tony, but by the time he finished, in the summer heat, he was sweat-soaked. He rummaged in his closet for a fresh one…

“Papa?” A little voice piped up behind him.

“Sì, ragazzo?”

“What's that funny picture on your back? And what's that weird shape under it?”

Peppino blushed - he realized that Tony hadn't seen him with his shirt off since he was a tiny baby. He didn't know about the scars, and the meaning of the icon on his back. He wasn't ashamed of it, but there were things he hadn't felt like Tony was ready to know. Looks like it's time, though.

He sat on the bed. “Come here, Tony.” The boy happily bounced over to him, and he put the child on his lap. Peppino sighed. “Ok, first-a things first. You know-a your papa Gus and I were in-a the Army, yeah?”

“Yep!” Tony said happily. “You fought in a-a war!”

His language skills have come so far just in the last couple of weeks. Peppino chuckled ruefully. “Well, that-a ‘funny picture’ is what-a we call a unit tattoo.”

Tony's eyes grew wide. “What’s a tattoo?”

“A tattoo is a picture that someone puts into their skin using ink and a very small needle. They never go away. People usually get them so they'll remember something.”

“That sounds like it hurts.”

Peppino nodded. “Just as much as it sounds, ragazzo.”

“You musta wanted to remember something real bad, Papa. But if you want to remember, why's it on your back?”

Peppino laughed. “Because that's where someone, a long time ago, decided that was where it was supposed to go. Papa Gus has it, too, in-a the same spot. We got it, along with-a all the soldiers in our group, called a unit, to show we were together. A - a family.”

Peppino grew silent then, looking sad. Tony stood up, carefully walking around. Peppino dutifully leaned his forearms on his thighs, giving the little boy a better angle. Tony gently rubbed the tattoo on his father's back. “It's pretty. Like… bird wings. But it makes you sad. Why does it make you sad?”

Peppino turned and gave Tony a weak grin. You're too perceptive, my little bambino. “It makes-a me sad because… we're the only ones left. Everyone else… they died. Only Papa Gus and I lived.”

Tony held his hands to his face, then immediately wrapped his arms as far as he could around his father's wide back. “I'm sorry, Papa. I made you sad.”

Peppino hugged Tony gently, dragging the little boy back to his lap. “It's-a OK, ragazzo. It still-a hurts, but I'm better about it now.” He touched the scar below his left pec. “This, this is a scar. Sometime, when we get hurt, and it breaks the skin, when-a the skin heals back, it grows back thicker. This is-a where I got hurt, a long time ago.”

Tony rubbed the massive scar. “Does it hurt?”

Peppino shook his head. “No, ragazzo. In fact, I can barely-a feel you touching it. Scars can be like-a that.”

“I seen… Uncle Seppe has a big one, right here,” he said, making a cutting motion around his throat, “and on the side of his face, too.” Then he jumped up. “Sofia told me he's got them other places, too. On his side,” making a raking motion, like claws, on his left side… then he giggled, “and a big one on his butt!”

“Oh, did-a she, now?” Peppino chuckled. “How does-a she know about that one, I wonder? But yes, he does! And I-a have one there, too! But for different reasons.” He grinned. “I'll-a tell you the story about-a that one another time.”

Tony sat back down, and rubbed the chest scar again. “The scar on your back looks like this one,” Tony said.

Peppino sighed again. “They're tied together, ragazzo. When… when our friends died… Papa Gus and I managed-a to get away. But… the people we were fighting… one of them shot me. With a very, very bad bullet.” He reached back, pointing at the scar on his back. “From here…” he brought his hand back to the scar in the front, “to here.”

Tony's eyes grew huge. “It went through you?”

Peppino nodded gravely. “Sì. I almost-a died. Your Papa Gustavo managed-a to drag me back to our home base, and-a they operated on me. He got himself-a shot doing it, too.” Peppino teared up, just a little. “I almost-a didn't-a make it. Gus donated so much-a blood trying to save me he almost-a died himself.”

Tony immediately hugged Peppino again. “Papa… Papa almost died!? And Papa Gus, too??”

Peppino felt the boy's tears running down his skin. He hugged the little head. “It was a long-a time ago, ragazzo. It's OK. Ssh, it's all right.” He rocked the little body as the boy cried, bawling for something that happened decades before.

“I don't wanna lose you, Papa. Please.”

Peppino smiled. “It's all over and done with, Antonio. Papa's fine.” He stroked the little boy's dark red hair.

After a few moments, Tony leaned back, looking Peppino in the eyes. “That hurt a lot, didn't it?”

Peppino leaned back, staring at nothing, the smells and screams and blinding pain distant now, but still clear. “Oh, sì. Very much so.” He held the boy's tiny hand in both of his, placing it over his heart. “But-a the hurt here… it was so much worse. I lost my brothers, my fratelli, that day. I wanted…” he paused. Should I say this in front of a three-year-old boy? He shook himself. “I won't-a lie to you, ragazzo. For a very, very long time, I wanted-a to die, too. To rejoin them.” He hugged the boy close, feeling tears run down his cheeks. “I almost-a did, a few times.”

Tony shivered in his arms. “I'm glad you didn't, Papa.”

Peppino kissed the top of the boy's head. “Me, too, ragazzo. It took a lot of work, but I held on. Your Nonna Margherita helped-a me there. Then some-a-thing happened.”

“What?”

Peppino grinned. “I got-a chance to live-a my dream. You know my friend Brando?”

Tony looked up and smiled. “Yes! I like his cooking!”

Peppino laughed. “Well, something happened, and I ran into Brando’s Nonno Alphonso. He offered to let me go to his cooking school. I found out that he had been friends with my own Papa, your Nonno Sergio. And he took a liking to me, so he offered me a chance to make something of myself. And I took it.” He hugged the little boy even tighter. “And look-a where we are now!”

Tony giggled. “Papa, you're smushing me! Stop!”

Peppino laughed again, stood, and gently put Tony on the ground. “If-a all that had not-a happened, I wouldn't-a have this life.” He reached into the closet, grabbing a fresh shirt. “A successful business, a whole bunch of friends, and a beautiful son.” He pulled the shirt over his head, and grinned. “So remember that, Antonio. Life can be hard. But you can get-a through it. And maybe make some-a-thing wonderful out of it, if you work for it.”

As Peppino walked to the living room, Tony trotted along behind him. As Peppino sat down, Tony stared at him in that piercing way small children did.

“Papa?”

“Sì, ragazzo?”

“What's gonna happen with Papa Gus?”

Peppino's heart quivered. Only a few weeks before, Gustavo's companion, Brick, had saved their son from a group of terrorists… only for Gustavo to discover that he couldn't communicate telepathically with the Giant Rat anymore.

In fact, he couldn't feel anyone's thoughts or emotions anymore.

“I must not have noticed with all the depression,” Gustavo had said, his voice weak. “No wonder I felt so alone.”

“You could… stay with-a us?” Peppino had offered tentatively.

Gustavo had smiled weakly, but shaken his head. “Not yet. But I might take you up on that soon.” He'd turned, and Brick had nuzzled the gnome's cheek. “I need to… find out what's going on, first.”

Peppino had given Gustavo a paid leave, and the gnome had been to doctor after doctor, desperately trying to discover why his telepathy had suddenly just vanished.

No luck so far, though.

“I… I don't-a know, polpetta,” Peppino sighed. “Papa Gus is going through a lot, right-a now. We can't push him.”

“But you offered for him to come back with us, right Papa? And he won't.” In one of those lightning mood swings of the extremely young, Tony looked upset. “Papa, does Papa Gus not love me?”

Peppino's eyes turned huge. “Don't-a ever doubt that for a second, Antonio.” He hugged the little boy tightly. “You-a were one of the only things that kept him-a together.”

“But… why does he only come visit?”

Peppino paused, thinking. “Onestamente, I don't-a know. Perhaps he thinks he still doesn't-a deserve us. No one thinks that, now… except, perhaps, him.”

The tiny body finally seemed to untense. “I still wish he would come live here. I miss him.”

Peppino wrapped his arm around his son. “I do, too, ragazzo. Perhaps, one day. I think… I think that-a day will come, soon. But… Papa Gus needs to work things out.” Leaning back, Peppino flicked the TV on. “Now, I believe there was a TV show you-a wanted to watch tonight?”

The little face split into a giant grin. “Yeah! I wanna watch the one about the Pizza Tower!”

Peppino laughed. Noise had started a TV series about the first Pizza Tower, and while barely accurate, and a lot less serious, it was actually pretty funny. They can never get my double’s mustache right, though. It had become a national sensation overnight. “All right, polpetta. Pizza Tower it-a is.”

~~~~

Peppino felt a tiny cannonball flop onto his belly in his sleep. “HOOF!” His breath blew out of him.

Tony laughed at his father's discomfort. “Morning, Papa!”

“Morning, polpetta,” he said as he got his breath back. While small, Tony was a fairly heavy child. Must be the half-gnome.

The little boy laughed again as he rolled off his father. “I got you, I got you!” He said in a sing-song voice.

Peppino sat up and grinned maliciously. “Oh, you-a got me, eh? Well-” he suddenly lunged over, pinning the boy down, tickling him and rubbing his face against him. “What-a do you think-a now, eh?” He mock-growled like a bear, pretending to bite and paw at the boy, who squealed and shrieked.

After a few minutes of play, Peppino stood up. “Time to-a get ready, Tony, eh? We'll-a be heading out-a soon.”

“Yay!” Tony hopped off the bed and ran from the room.

“Tony! Wash your face and brush-a your teeth!” Peppino called after him.

Peppino stretched as the little boy's acknowledgement drifted back to him. He was almost fifty now, but he had the body of a thirty-year old. Considering the shape I was in at thirty, better. He ruefully admitted he probably wouldn't have been able to keep up with Tony otherwise. Too bad I had to die for it to happen.

That was something he'd wait much later to explain to his son.

He scratched absent-mindedly as he headed for the shower.

~~~~

Peppino was sitting at the table with Tony, having breakfast, when there was a knock at the door. Before Peppino could, Tony bolted to the door and opened it.

Giuseppe stood outside, festooned with bags and carrying little Gus in a harness on his chest. Sofia immediately tackled her cousin, and the two playfully wrestled on the floor.

Peppino walked up. “Morning, fratello. Ay, take it outside, you two.” He grinned at his brother as the play-fighting children moved outside. “What-a brings you here? You-a know we were going to visit Gus today…”

Giuseppe grinned, watching the two over his shoulder. “We’re actually in town to get supplies. We're headed down to Crust Cove. Sofia insisted we come by and visit.” He gestured towards the table, and the two sat. “And I thought you might enjoy visiting with your nipote.”

“I can't-a say I mind,” Peppino said, reaching over and playfully tweaking his nephew's nose. The baby, barely old enough to see, giggled just a little.

Giuseppe grinned smugly. “Can you believe Anita is already talking about another one?”

Peppino looked up, his face a mixture of amusement and horror. “She barely-a has this one out of-a the oven! I know she wants a full famiglia, but she needs to rest!”

Giuseppe nodded. “My thoughts exactly. She says she ‘doesn't want to waste time.’” He snorted. “She doesn't have to keep up with the little devils every day.”

Peppino laughed. “She doesn't-a take care of them?”

Giuseppe shrugged. “Not as much as me. I'm fully retired. She's still intent on working in some fashion.” He waggled a finger in the baby's face, trying to get him to focus. “I think she intends to join the police force.”

Peppino's eyebrows rose. “I'd-a say she's more than-a qualified. She'll likely still have-a to go through some form of training. How can she do that and be pregnant?”

Giuseppe nodded and smirked. “I'm hoping she'll be too busy to be worried about kids for a while.” He shifted the baby to his knee. “Honestly, I feel like she's in too much of a rush… and even I have my limits.” He bounced Gus on his knee, keeping the child occupied. “This one's too little yet to get into much of anything, but good god, Sofia… I know now why Mama said it was a blessing our powers didn't manifest until we were older.”

Peppino nodded. Tony already had super-strength and telepathy, while Sofia had super-strength. It was a part of why the two loved playing together - they were the only ones they could go all-out with and be evenly matched. “Oh, I-a know what you mean. Just the other day Tony hauled off and hit me, and I almost-a flew across the room.”

“How'd he take that?”

Peppino chuckled. “Ah, he was a portrait of contrition. It took me ten-a minutes to get him to stop bawling.” He looked at his brother. “I guess-a we need to start training them to control it…”

Giuseppe nodded. “I've got the time, I'll start working on it. I'll start tomorrow.” He turned his head at a particularly loud play-shriek, making sure it wasn't actually an injury. “Sofia didn't inherit the speed, but she got the strength in spades. Thank goodness she's tractable.”

Peppino nodded and stood. “Grazie, fratello. I hope it isn't too difficile.”

Giuseppe nodded. “I trained a lot of people back in the force. Shouldn't be too difficult.” He gathered up his bags. “Anyway, we should get going, and let you get going, too.” He stared his brother in the eyes. “Tell Gus hi for me.”

Peppino nodded. “Lo farò.” As the two walked outside, they glanced to the side. The two children were still wrestling, already covered in dirt. “Ay, bambini! Easy on the landscape, eh?” He gestured. “Ay, Tony, ragazzo! You just-a had a bath! Go inside and get-a cleaned up!”

Sofia protested, but Tony dutifully disengaged. Giuseppe scooped up the complaining toddler and hauled her up. “See you later, fratellino.”

~~~~

Peppino stood outside Gustavo's apartment door; Tony stood beside him, holding his hand. “Papa… something feels wrong.”

Peppino looked down. “You can feel that, eh?” Even I can feel something bad in the air. “Can-a you feel him?”

Tony tilted his head, then shook it side-to-side. “Uh-uh. It just…” the boy struggled to find the word - “something feels wrong.”

Peppino rolled his shoulders and sighed. “Lo pensavo anch'io. Still, all things-a considered, that’s-a even more reason to check up on him.” He reached out, and firmly knocked on the door in a rhythmic thmp-thmp-tha-tha-thmp that was an old “friend” signal from their Army days.

A few moments later, the door opened… and Brick stood, looking down at them.

Peppino blinked, then nodded. “Buongiorno, Brick. Is Gustavo bene?”

Brick looked behind her, then opened the door wider.

“She says he's not in a good mood, but we can come in,” Tony said.

Peppino looked down at him. “You know, I forgot you could understand her.” He crouched down. “Tony, can-a you do something for me? Don't show you can-a talk to Brick like that in front of-a Papa Gus.”

Tony looked confused. “Would he get mad?”

Peppino waved a hand. “Non esattamente. It could-a upset him. This is something he's lost… on top of everything else. It would make him feel worse.”

Tony nodded. “Capisco, Papa. I'll try.”

Peppino flushed; though he understood it, Tony rarely spoke Italian. He hugged the boy. “You're so decent, mio figliuolo. Thank you.” He stood.

Brick stood aside, and the two walked in.

The apartment was dark, though the light levels indicated the windows were open. The ubiquitous plants, often an indicator of Gustavo's mood, looked to be struggling, but alive.

Much like their tender.

Brick quietly closed the door, then scurried towards the worn couch in the living area. She turned, staring at them, then gestured for them to approach.

Peppino and Tony quietly circled around the end of the couch. Gustavo sat in the middle. Peppino winced inwardly; the gnome was obviously not taking care of himself. His hair was frizzy and tangled, his mustache had grown out again, covering his mouth, and his beard had grown in completely. What Peppino could see of the gnome's face was around his eyes - puffy and swollen.

The eyes themselves were downcast, lifeless.

Tony, ever sensitive, gently approached and put a hand on the gnome's knee. “Papa?”

Gustavo looked up… and a faint glimmer rose in the otherwise-flat eyes. He's not completely gone. “Tony? Mio figlio? I… I forgot you were coming today.” He looked up, finally taking in the large man behind the child. “Hello, Pep.”

Peppino’s heart, already sinking, plummeted to the floor. He sat beside his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, amico,” he whispered, “what has-a happened to you?”

Gustavo shrugged; the motion looked like it took all his energy. He didn't speak.

Tony hopped up on the gnome's other side. “Papa, please. What's wrong?”

The gnome turned, his eyes seeming to wobble. “You don't - you can't understand, mio figliuolo,” he whispered. “It's so quiet. So, so quiet. I didn't think about it until… until I couldn't hear it anymore.” He looked up, his face screwing up behind the shaggy beard into a rictus of suffering. “I can't… I can't describe it.”

Peppino felt his eyes welling up; despite everything they'd been through in recent years, the sight of his old friend in such agony was tearing him up. “Amico…”

Tony carefully reached up and touched Gustavo’s cheek, a look of confusion on his face. “Papa… I can hear you now.”

Gustavo's head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Che-??” He reached up with both hands, clasping Tony's wrists. “You… you can hear me? In your head?”

Tony nodded, the little boy's eyes full of tears. “I can hear you, Papa.”

Gustavo let go, sitting back, his expression stunned. Tony instantly wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders, crying. “You hurt so much, Papa. I'm so sorry.”

Gustavo looked up, and wrapped his own arms around the boy, suddenly howling out his pain.

Peppino leaned over and wrapped his arms around them both. “Va tutto bene, amico mio. Siamo qui. Siamo qui.”

For several minutes, the three stayed huddled, as the gnome poured out months and years of pain. The only movement was Brick, who stood in front of them, quivering in anxiety for her friends.

Then Tony pushed away gently, turning to the giant rat. “Brick says she's sorry, too, Papa.”

Gustavo wiped his nose. “For… for what?”

“For not being able to talk to you,” Tony said sadly.

Gustavo's eyes widened again, and he jumped off the couch, wrapping his arms around the rat. “Oh amica, it's not your fault. The fault is mine. I've mistreated you, and you only wanted to help. You have helped.” He looked up, locking eyes with her. “Grazie per essere qui per me, caro amica.”

As the two hugged, Peppino leaned back, picking at his beard. “Amico,” he said, pausing, “it's molto strano that-a Tony can hear you, but you can't hear him. Some-a-thing is obviously wrong with-a your powers.”

Gustavo stepped away from Brick, his eyes more awake than they'd looked in months. “But… what? What in the world could affect someone's powers?”

Suddenly Brick broke out into a series of squeaks, chirps, and purrs that went on for several seconds.

Everyone stared. “Did, uh, anyone-a catch that?” Peppino muttered.

“She said our powers are a part of us,” Tony said, “and tah… trauma… can affect them.”

Gustavo and Peppino looked at each other. “Trauma,” Gustavo whispered.

“You-a definitely have plenty of-a that to live with,” Peppino muttered.

Both men paused, their minds drifting back decades, the smell of gunpowder and burning and blood filling their minds, the sound of screams and gunfire…

Tony wrapped around Peppino's leg, and Brick squealed loudly.

Both men shook, coming out of their fugue.

Gustavo wiped his hand down his face, banishing the memories of war back to their shadowed corner of his mind. “Between that and everything else that's happened…” he sighed.

Peppino nodded, falling to one knee to be eye-to-eye with the gnome. “Gustavo… you have a phobia of being alone, non è vero?”

Gustavo stepped back, surprised… then stepped back forward. “I don't suppose it's really a big secret…”

Peppino smirked. “Non lo è per il tuo migliore amico.” He put a hand on Gustavo's shoulder. “You've been alone too long, Gustavo. You need to be around people.” He turned, and Tony stepped forward, into Peppino's embrace. “You-a need to be with us.”

Gustavo stood, eyes down, for an immeasurable time… before finally looking up. “All right,” he said in a tiny voice, “all right. But… none of the doctors could find anything. I don't think moving in with you will fix… whatever is wrong with me.”

Peppino smirked. “I-a bet there's-a one doctor you haven't-a spoken to. One who we both know. One with a… speciale knowledge of powers.”

Gustavo, his mind still heavy, blinked. “Who?”

Peppino rolled his eyes in good-natured frustration. “Oh Dio Mio, amico! Aldo! You-a know? The 3000-year-old gnome? Worked with-a the Pizzamancer? Practically invented powers?”

Gustavo's eyes went wide again. “È vero, è vero! But… would he even have a way to help?”

Peppino stood. “I'd-a be willing to bet he would. It wouldn't-a hurt to ask, anyway.” He looked around. “But-a first… we need to get you out of-a this dark hole you're in.”

Tony's face turned unusually stern, and he poked Gustavo's leg. “You come with us, Papa. Stay with us. At our house. Right, Papa?” He turned, staring up into Peppino's eyes.

Peppino nodded emphatically. “Assolutamente. Staying here will do nothing but make you worse.”

Gustavo stirred uneasily. “I don't know…”

At that moment, Brick made an unmistakably-frustrated noise and, moving behind the couch, grabbed the back of the gnome's shirt in her teeth, picking him up like a kitten.

“Oy! Oy, ratto! Mettimi giù! What do you think…” Gustavo protested.

She pointedly opened the door and dropped him outside.

As Gustavo sullenly rubbed his rump, Tony and Peppino walked up beside the Giant Rat. “She says she wants us to take him right now,” Tony said. “She'll pack him a bag and bring it over. Then she'll get her…” Tony paused, looking surprised, “her kids… to help her pack up and move things over.”

Gustavo and Peppino's eyes went wide. “Kids? Brick has… children?” Gustavo said with awe.

Brick squeaked at length. “Yes,” Tony interpreted, “that's who helped her save me, she says.”

Peppino chuckled. “Ovviamente. That's why you-a disappeared for so long, isn't it?”

Brick nodded.

Gustavo stood, a mixture of happiness and indignance on his face. “When I get my powers back, we're having a long talk, Brick!”

Peppino laughed out loud. “That's the spirit, amico!” He slapped the little man on the back. “Let's-a keep that positive attitude!”

Gustavo reluctantly handed over the keys to the giant rat. “Thank you, amico mio. For everything you've done… and do.”

Brick bent down and hugged the gnome, and Peppino heard a quiet, muffled sob.

Peppino quietly put a hand on Tony's head. Neither spoke.

After several moments, Gustavo and Brick broke. “Grazie mille,” Gustavo whispered. Then he turned to Peppino and Tony.

“I'm ready… i miei amici. La mia famiglia.”

Brick closed the door as Gustavo walked away.

~~~~

Two gnomes huffed and puffed as they walked through the devastation.

Christof held the lantern high; it had been at his insistence that they push on through the remains of the forest at night. Even as mulish as he was, he was starting to regret the decision. Damned fool I was, thinking trekking out here in the dead of night would be a good idea.

Behind him, Theo coughed. Still just a child, but healthy and strong, Christof had dragged him along, despite the boy's protests. Now, deep inside, he was regretting that, too. “Papa, I can't… I can't breathe…”

Christof harrumphed, but conceded. “‘S all this dust an’ soot.” He waved the lantern around; the forest was nothing but a field of burned spikes. The desiccation that had been eating at the forest before - before Gustavo showed up - had finally killed it off entirely… except for one tree, from what he'd heard. Then another storm had come… and there hadn't been enough water to stop the inevitable fires. All the gnomes who'd stayed behind had died in the flames.

Or so it had been said. Most of the other gnomes, who'd taken up residence near La Crosta, had muttered about how lucky they'd been to escape when they had. Privately, Christof thought it was more likely someone had killed them all, taken their valuables, and torched the village as a cover-up. Finally, his paranoia getting the better of him, he'd set off in search of his old home.

Bringing Theo along had been an impulsive move. Now the boy's sufferin’ for my stupidity.

When he'd lived here before, he'd thought he never could've been lost in these woods. But now, it was a blasted, apocalyptic landscape. He had no landmarks, no bearings.

The silence, only broken by the light breeze moaning through the forest of blackened spires, was giving him the shivers.

Theo slumped over. Christof felt a pang of concern. He'd only recently been going to therapy for his anger issues; before that, he'd beaten the boy far, far too much. Theo’s mother had always been a brake on his temper, but after her passing the previous year, he'd taken to drinking more.

Finally, after one very nervous trip to the hospital (he fell, I swear), the boy had shown a surprising amount of grit - he'd blessed the older gnome out. Christof, to Theo's immense surprise, had agreed.

He didn't have it under control yet, but he was trying.

Theo was coughing even harder now. “Pa… Papa… I can't…”

Christof put down his pack, fishing around for one of the water casks he'd brought. Even he’d known, regardless of the truth, there'd be little to no water in the desolation. There wasn't much before we left. He poured out a measure into a cup, and handed it to his son. “Don't drink the first shot. Rinse your mouth out. Try to gargle it a bit. Then spit.”

Theo dutifully did so, and the water came out black and cloudy. “Good,” Christof murmured. “Again.”

This time, the water was mostly clear.

“Now, you can drink.”

Theo greedily downed the rest of the cup; they'd been rationing their water for the trip out. Gnomes didn't need as much water as other species, but they still needed it. “Papa…” he whispered, “why are we here?”

Christof looked around, asking himself the same question. Finally, he growled softly. “‘Cause I'm a damn fool, is why. Never should have brought you out here.” He took a long draught of water himself. “We’ll look around a little more, then we'll head back in the mornin’.”

Theo sighed. “This place scares me, Papa. It doesn't… doesn't look anything like what I remember.”

Christof snorted. “‘Course not, pebble. It's all burnt up. Although,” he mumbled, looking around again, “I thought I'd be able t’ find something familiar. A tree, a dip, a damn tree stump…”

He felt something settle on top of his head.

Quickly, a shiver of revulsion passing through him, he reached up and picked it off his head. He held it up to the light.

“A leaf?” Theo said.

Christof turned it. It was dry and shriveled, but he thought he recognized it. “A chestnut leaf. An elder chestnut leaf, ‘n fact.” A lumberjack by trade, Christof knew every tree in his old home. He smirked. “Only one of those in the forest. Bet it was the survivor. They're damned hard to kill.”

Theo fingered the leaf; it crackled and crumbled. “Looks like something tried real hard, though.”

Christof wiped his hand on his shirt. “The only one of those was near the village. We gotta be close. Let's… let's just-”

Suddenly Theo yelped, tripping over something; his foot had plunged into a depression filled with fluffy ash. “Papa! Help!” He cried out in pain; his foot was twisted at a strange angle.

Christof felt the blood leave his face. He dug around the boy's foot, frantically trying to free him. He felt an object, grabbed it, hurled it upward with gnomish strength…

Christof heard it plop into the ash beside them as he examined Theo's foot.

Theo bit his lip, trying not to cry out. “Is it broken?”

Christof shook his head. “Dislocated. Our bones’re too hard to break from that, boy.” He grabbed the boy's foot. Done this with other jacks, but not my own son… “Brace yourself, boy. I'm gonna reset it. It's gonna hurt… a lot.”

Theo nodded… and, in one motion, Christof wrenched the foot back into its proper position.

Theo cried out, bawling. For once, Christof said nothing; he knew it hurt worse than a break.

Finally, Theo's cries faded to whimpers. “Think you can stand?” Christof muttered.

“I… I think so…” Theo reached over to brace himself…

And grasped the object. He moved it into the light…

A skull. A gnomish skull.

Theo's eyes went wider and wider as his cries rose. “Ah. Ah! AH! AHH! AAAAGGH!!” He flung the skull away, still screaming…

Christof grasped his son's shoulders. “Theo! Theo! It was just some bones! Calm down! Calm down!”

“B-but… it was - it was a gnome skull and that means we're in the village and it's somebody we knew and they died and and AND-”

Christof gently slapped Theo. The shock interrupted his panic. “You… you said you'd never hit me again.”

Christof frowned. “I know, but… seemed like the only way to knock you out of that. ‘m sorry.”

Theo looked long and hard at his father. He knew the man had been trying to get himself under control. He'd been saying “I'm sorry” a lot more… and even seemed to mean it. “Okay, Papa,” he said. “But… but…”

Christof fought not to show his own shivers of horror. Gotta stay strong for him. “Shoulda known we might find somethin’ like that. Come on, we need t’...”

Another shriveled leaf landed on Christof’s head.

His eyes glazed over a bit, and he started wandering.

Theo tried to grab the man's arm… but he simply pulled away. “Papa?”

Christof shook his head, but still seemed almost in a trance. “We… we need t’ go… this way…” He stumbled off.

Theo trotted after; his father had the only light source, and he knew being without one in the burnt, lonely wasteland around him would be a very, very bad idea.

As they walked in silence, he saw more leaves on the ground. Like a trail. The phrase “a trail of breadcrumbs” drifted to the surface of his mind, and he shivered. Something's wrong about all this. “Pa-papa, maybe we should go b-”

“No,” Christof said simply. His voice was leaden, almost monotone.

Moments later, an immense shadow loomed above them.

Theo grabbed Christof's alarm again. “Papa, something's wrong here. We should lea-”

The voice echoed in his head. Theo looked around, and even Christof shook his head. “Who…?”

Christof shook his head violently. It sounded like Old Gnomish, but somehow it was every other language, too. And in his head.

The two of them stared at the tree. In the wavering lantern-light, it looked twisted and malevolent.

In fact, the shadows around it seemed to move independent of the light.

Theo froze; he felt like he was being stared at by countless people, and ancient instincts told him, if he valued his life, not to move.

Then Christof froze; Theo felt the voice in his head like a crack of thunder.

The shadows seemed to detach from the tree, moving like smoke (or was it a snake?), moving with deceptive quickness towards Christof…

He bawled out in pain as the tendrils touched him.

He slapped at the smoky tendrils, but they simply flowed around his hands, beginning to wrap around his torso, his legs, his head… he clawed at his arms, his face, tearing bloody furrows, but the smoky substance just leapt into the openings, like soldiers rushing a breach in a city's walls.

He fell over, face down, sobbing as the smoky horror began to dig into his mind, his very soul.

He reached out towards his son. “Run… boy. Run…!”

Theo, torn between running and trying to help his father, simply gaped.

Finally, the gnome's body was coated in a smoky black flame… which suddenly seemed to soak into his skin. He stood…

Theo stepped back in revulsion. His father's eyes were burning black pits.

“At last… a form we can use.” The voice was quiet, whispering, but Theo swore he could hear a multitude.

What truly horrified him was the fact some of the voices sounded familiar. Old neighbors, distant cousins… and his father's.

The thing inhabiting his father's body looked down and grinned.

Despite his abuse, Theo had never seen such naked evil on his father's face. He began to back away…

The thing quickly raised a hand, and black flame shot out, scorching through the air.

Theo managed to turn and run, but the flame caught his right arm and leg. “AAAAGGH!” he shrieked. Despite the pain, he kept running, into the darkness, his inherited constitution keeping him going.

In his head, he heard a faint voice. Run… boy… find… Farina… warn… him… it wants… his soul…

Then his father's voice faded.

Theo sobbed and cried as he ran as fast as his injured leg would allow, barely dodging splintered trees. Got… to get… back!

As the boy’s sobs faded into the night, the thing picked up the lantern, its darkness swallowing the light. “Warn them if you like, traitor. We control you now, and we will have our revenge. We have already begun it, from afar, cutting him off from all he holds dear. Now, we will have him, body and soul.” It began to laugh. “But first, we shall visit some of the evil he visited upon us, upon him.”

They chuckled as they blew out the lantern, plunging the burned forest into stygian darkness.

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