Now having finished stuffing the Julian clone, The Builder dragged him carelessly down the steps into the prison cells.
“I hope your little friend doesn’t mind if you’re a bit underdressed for your little tea party…” Here they grabbed him by the hair, and shook him.
They then tapped the glass eyes they’d shoved into his sockets. Silently, The Builder lamented having to rip out the beautifully colored originals.
At least they found those electric-green eyes of his delicious, just like the other body parts of his.
With that, The Builder opened the cell door and entered. Their voice took on an unsettlingly gleeful chirp.
“Look, sweetie!” They announced to the other doll in the cell. “I brought you a friend to have tea time with!”
Peeking through the doorway, Horse-Face was sick to his stomach at what The Builder was putting together.
He could hear them laughing like a hysterical hyena as he then walked away, unable to watch any more.
It still hurt to walk for him. Every step he took, it felt as though he were treading upon a field of knives.
When Horse-Face reached his room, he saw Ox-Head patting his pillow almost obsessively.
“Hey Ox-Head,” he said calmly, “do you know if-”
“Nothing!” Was the answer he got. Horse-Face then watched confusedly as his fellow assistant rammed his face into the pillow.
Assuming it was just Ox-Head being Ox-Head, Horse-Face then quietly entered the hidden passageway connected to their room.
For quite possibly the first time in his life, Harwood wished he had his own car.
It had been a struggle to even escape the warehouse undetected. Now Harwood had the immense task of carrying his son to the hospital.
Marc was far heavier than he looked. It may have been that he was practically dead weight on his father’s shoulders. So much so, that at least once Harwood had to kneel down and rest.
“If you can hear me, Marc,” he said to his out cold child, “then promise me you’re not going to get any worse until we get there.”
He didn’t get an answer. Taking hold of Marc’s arms, Harwood forced himself to get back to his feet.
“The last thing I need tonight is to have to bury either of my two boys,” he murmured to himself as he pressed on.
Sinbad watched with a cold stoicism as Elvira fell to the floor, screaming in torment as she clawed at the knife jammed into her back.
“Get it out!” She hollered as she looked up at him. “If you value your life, then take it out!“
Instead of adhering to her wishes right away, Sinbad watched as she writhed about, flailing desperately. Behind them, her minions stood shocked at what he’d just done.
He then bent down to look at her in her pathetic state. “Sure, okay.”
Then Sinbad yanked it out of her back, deliberately making it as painful as possible for her.
Apoplectic at the turn of events that had just happened, Elvira pointed a finger, and shouted to her three minions:
“Get him! For once in your pathetic existence, do something useful and kill him!”
Right away, the closest one lunged for Sinbad. Instinctively, Sinbad dodged him and stumbled for the door.
Putting his knife in his mouth, Sinbad yanked the door open and ran back out of the room.
While she waited for any sign to run, Annette frowned at wishing she’d gone with Harwood. If nothing else, she at least could have aided him in carrying Marc away.
Keeping herself behind the chain-link fence, she looked over at the makeshift doghouse carved out of a barrel.
Just knowing that this was where the Sinbad of this world spent nearly ten years of his life made her feel disgusted. Even now, she could imagine a young redheaded child, crawling in and out of this makeshift residence.
Said child in her imagination was dirty, and wore ragged clothes. He had on a collar around his neck, one attached to a heavy metal chain. Numerous bloody scratches and bite marks, clearly animal in origin, plagued his skin.
She was brought back to present day when the door to the other room opened. The young adult Sinbad burst forth, stumbling to the floor.
When he saw her standing behind the fence, he pulled out the knife in between his teeth and shouted out to her:
“Yo, Neytiri! Where’s my dad and half-brother?”
Looking beyond the first room of the warehouse, Annette answered him. “They escaped! Don’t worry about them! Just try not to get yourself killed!”
As if to spite her for saying that, one of Elvira’s cronies suddenly appeared and punched Sinbad in the face.
Upon impact, Sinbad fell to the floor, his knife clattering a good distance away from him. He looked up at the man that had delivered the blow, and wiped the blood now dripping from his mouth.
With glowing red eyes, the man picked Sinbad up by his hair, sneering at him. He maintained a firm grip as the other two minions stood on either side of him.
“Filthy, wretched mutt,” he said in a deep gravelly voice. “Now that you have made the wrong decision, you must be put down.”
He then reached up and began to tightly clasp Sinbad’s neck with his free hand.
Deciding now was the best time to help, Annette quickly grabbed hold of the silver knife and did her best to make herself scarce.
The other three minions didn’t seem to notice her. They were too busy gloating over Sinbad getting the life strangled out of him.
Quietly stepping behind them, Annette tried not to be too affected by Sinbad’s choking and gasping for air. She then stepped behind the one grabbing Sinbad, and swiftly jammed the knife into the base of his neck.
The howling that ensued sounded inhuman. The man was so caught off guard, he dropped Sinbad to the floor. Annette tried not to be distracted as she repeated this action on the other two.
By the time she was done, all three were on the ground, screaming in pain. Annette then got behind Sinbad, holding him up while he was still coughing. She then grasped the back of his neck gently, but firmly.
“Sinbad, I’m sorry to do this to you,” she whispered to him, “but I don’t know anything else to do.”
Before he could demand what she was about to do, Annette punched Sinbad in the back. As she predicted, he then slumped down as if being possessed.
Carefully, she then helped him rise to his feet. She looked on as Elvira’s three minions struggled to stand up again. Then she watched as Sinbad began switching to his feral state.
When the three cronies managed to get up, Sinbad was already snarling and ready to strike. Annette gave a faint smile as she gave him the command:
“Sic ’em, boy.”
With those words, Annette then let go.
“Dad! My feet hurt!” Shark whined when the family had gotten about two miles walked. Sagebear appeared to sense his distress, given the way she started wiggling in his arms.
Dennis and Blaise stopped walking, and set down their suitcases and bags.
“You need them rubbed, boy?” Shark nodded. When he did, Blaise stepped forward and gently took Sagebear into her arms.
“Oh, come here little girl,” she cooed to her. “Come to Grandma.” When Sagebear was comfortably in her arms, Dennis then sat down with Shark, and pulled his shoes off.
Shark lifted his foot up, and let his father begin to work his thumbs in circles. He felt bad that they had to stop for him. He then brought up something that was bothering him:
“Don’t your feet hurt, too? We’ve been walking nonstop…”
Dennis just nodded. “They hurt like hell for me, son. I just figured I’d not complain about it.”
Looking up at Shark, Dennis paused for Blaise to sit next to him, before he gave an answer.
“Well, what kind of parent would I be if I didn’t put my child’s well-being before mine?” He then leaned over and put a hand on Sagebear’s chin. “That goes for grandchild, too.”
Sagebear’s tail wagged happily as she then began to lick Dennis’ hand. He then rubbed Shark’s other foot into a state of normalcy, and then helped put Shark’s shoes back on.
When they got up, Shark took hold of Blaise’s luggage, as she continued to carry Sagebear. All three humans started walking again on the road.
“All right, Blaise carries the dog for the next two miles,” Dennis said when everything was picked up and being carried. He then smiled at Sagebear again. “And then it’s Grandpa’s turn to carry her! Right, puppy?”
Sagebear began wagging her tail again, as she then craned her neck up and gave Blaise a very much welcomed kiss on the cheek.
In the now near pitch-black of the night, the family continued onward.
(Song that the chapter title came from, which is weirdly epic for this kind of chapter: )