Not Everything Brainless is Dead (18 page)

“Well, let’s get started then.”

“Of course. Your first question is, ‘What is seven plus twelve?’”

She chuckled a little and asked, “Did you write these questions?”

“I sure did!” the boy said exuberantly, “My teacher says I’m very smart.”

“Well, I’m sure you are,” Dr. Malevolent said with a smile, “and the answer you seek is nineteen.”

“Excellent, you got it right! Are you ready for the next one?”

“Lay it on me, kiddo,” she said very confidently to the boy.

“How many sides does a hexagon have?”

“Six!”

“Right you are again!” the boy’s cheerfulness didn’t falter in the least, “the last question is, ‘How old is the universe?’”

Dr. Malevolent’s jaw dropped; she didn’t have the foggiest clue what the answer was. She remained silent for a few seconds, and then said, “I have no idea.”

“Do any of your friends know?! They can answer too!”

Freight blurted out, “NOBODY KNOWS FOR SURE, BUT 13.7 BILLION YEARS, GIVE OR TAKE!” In reaction to everyone’s awestruck faces, he added, “WHAT? I LIKE SPACE.”

The boy began clapping. “Very good, you got all the answers right!” The portcullis sealing off the stairway lifted and the boy wished them well and then he and his lemonade stand vanished.

“That was
super
easy,” Captain Rescue said with blatant arrogance.

“Oh yeah? How many did you know?” Dr. Malevolent asked.

He laughed. “Just one, but still!”

“Yeah… exactly.”

They looked up at the spiral staircase before them, it seemed to climb for stories upon stories, and scaling it would certainly be no simple task. Therefore, without wasting any more time, they got to it.

Chapter 19: The End of the Beginning

The stairwell only accompanied them for mere moments before Captain Rescue started to complain about how boring it was. To vent his frustration, the superhero kicked the metal stairwell, causing it to sway dangerously back and forth. As his friends glared at him, Captain Rescue decided to keep his boredom to himself in the very reasonable fear that he might be flung over the side. The monotony of endless spirals set in quickly. At first, they marched with conviction and confidence, but that soon degraded into plodding up the stairs. The gang acted as if they had been at this journey for hours, when it had actuality been but five minutes. At this rate, it would not be long before they dropped to their hands and knees and crawled.

It was for the best then that something high above wanted to ease their suffering at the hands of boredom. This unseen adversary had sent something tumbling down the staircase. While, for the moment, the gang was unable to see whatever it, they could certainly hear it rumbling down the stairs. The seconds passed and the gang began catching glimpses of a blurry brown object that was visible through the open space between each step. It came closer still, and Charlie finally figured out just what was barreling towards them—a barrel. The man of action, Freight, jumped in front of everyone and stood anchored to the ground. The barrel had half a mind to give up and stop there, but its momentum refused this notion. It crashed into him and shattered into an infinite amount of tiny pieces. It seemed the barrel was no match for Freight, and even the splinters had a hard time finding the courage to pierce his skin.

Charlie leaned over the railing’s edge and looked upwards. He could faintly make out a dark form readying another barrel, and this one was on fire. Freight commanded everyone to get down low. Since it was a good idea, and since nobody in their right mind would question Freight, they got down. The hulking man followed his own advice, got onto his back, and threw his feet high into the air. As the flaming barrel flew overhead, Freight simply kicked it with all his might and sent it flying off the staircase while exploiting that very same might to keep it from shattering. He was that good.

After everyone got back to their feet, Charlie, who had quite enough of this malicious barrel-flinger, put a most ingenious plan into action. He opened his bunny pouch, rummaged about, and withdrew a bunch of bananas and a grappling hook. Charlie then poked one of the sharp black spikes through the yellow treat and leaned over the side of the staircase. The bunny took aim, fired the banana-endowed grappling hook into the air, and after a few seconds it came falling back down. Only it wasn’t alone, the grappling hook had picked up a very infuriated gorilla, which plummeted shortly behind. As Captain Rescue watched the gorilla snarl furiously at them, the hero decided that grappling hooks were cool, and that he needed one. When he finished saving the world (yet again), Captain Rescue would have to make his butler buy him one.

With the malicious primate quelled, they were free to scale the staircase in a state of absolute boredom, a state only slightly more enjoyable than dodging flaming barrels. As they neared the staircase’s summit, a simple wooden trapdoor came into view. Freight took point to annihilate whatever lay beyond it, be it a dragon, a zombie, a gorilla, or a combination of the three. Considering what they had already encountered in the past day, anything was possible. To test the waters, he knocked three times and waited to see if anything replied. When nothing did, he grabbed the iron handle and flung it into the air. Freight leapt through the trapdoor and slammed down on the other side. After he and Courtney made sure that no dragzombrillas (a most ferocious zombie/dragon/gorilla hyrbird) waited on the other side to ambush them, he gave everyone the signal to come up. Charlie grabbed the arm of the last surviving lackey and hoisted him up, and then shut the trapdoor behind him.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Charlie said as he took in the distinctly familiar broom closet, and sure enough, sitting on one of the shelves was a distinctly familiar dented lamp. Dr. Malevolent grabbed Charlie’s arm as he reached forward to pick it up. She was giving him the evil eye, and he knew why. This time around, he’d try not to piss the apparition off.

He rubbed softly, and whispered, “Uh, Mr. Genie, sir, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

The lamp vibrated lightly. “I don’t have feet, and thanks to you I barely have a home.”

Charlie’s head bounced around lightly on his shoulders as he listened to the genie whine. “Yes, well, I apologize, but you didn’t really leave me much choice. You were trying to drown my friends and me.”

From inside the lamp, the genie laughed. “That goofy one in the cape is your friend? I thought he was a mental patient.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Captain Rescue’s frown turned into a smile at Charlie’s words, although he did not exactly understand them. The genie sighed and then began to seep out from within its wrecked home. The being soon coalesced into his humanoid form once more, but this time he was bright red to match his mood. The genie, arms crossed and looking quite stern, floated before Charlie and the others in absolute silence

Finally, the genie said, “Yes? What do you want?”

“Well,” Charlie said with a laugh, “obviously, we were hoping you’d help us save the world. If it’s not too much to ask.”

The genie floated a few steps away from the bunny. “Save… the world? Why would I ever consider doing a thing like that? And how do you know I can even be trusted.”

“I just have one of those feelings about you.”

“Oh, you have a feeling? About me?” the genie said as he pointed at himself. “How typical.”

“Hey now, don’t get bent out of shape. You just don’t seem like the type to let a few zombies get out of control.”

“Bent out of shape? Let me turn you into a toad, and we’ll see just how ‘bent out of shape’ I am.”

“Oh, are you a witch now too?” Charlie teased.

The genie snapped its fingers.

“Ribbit.”

“Not so witty now are we?”

“Ribbit.”

The genie chuckled and then snapped its fingers once more. Charlie dusted himself off as he rose from his hands and knees. As the shock of being turned into a frog wore off, he noticed how much cleaner his suit was. He almost wanted to hug the genie.

“No need to thank me,” the genie said as he noticed Charlie’s excitement. “I am not opposed to random acts of kindness. As long as they’re not wished for.”

“So, will you help us or not? Must be boring trapped inside that tiny lamp.”

The genie grew quiet as if thinking the world saving proposal over. Finally, he sighed and said, “Okay… okay. You have my… gas.”

“Awesome, with you at our side, things should be exponentially easier.”

The genie laughed. “Don’t think I’m going to make this easy for you meatbags. I mean, I definitely could if I wanted, but I’d much rather just be a relatively impartial observer.” 

“I’m sure you’ll warm to us. We are a stand up bunch.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” the genie said unenthusiastically as he took a moment to look at everyone around it.

“Let’s get crackin’ then, Genie and everyone else,” Charlie said.

“I have a name, you know,” the genie replied agitatedly.

“Well, I just assumed…”

“Oh, you assumed,” he said with an eye roll. “I’m the one who’s been around for thousands of years, and you’re the one who gets to assume things. Perfect.”

“So, what
is
your name?”

“Greg,” the genie stated.

“Really, it’s Greg?”

“It sure is.”

“Care to explain how that came to pass?”

“Not especially, do you care to explain why you parade around in a rabbit outfit?”

Charlie became uncomfortably silent.

“Just what I thought.”

And then there were seven, including the nameless lackey whose death loomed just around the corner. Seven people crammed into one broom closet only begged the question of how they were all able to fit, even if one was incorporeal. The simple fact of the matter was they did not, not in the least. To make matters worse, if there were one thing no one wanted to be stuck in a broom closet with, it would be a zombie. Stubbs was beginning to rub off on everyone around him in the most literal of senses. This may or may not have been hazardous to his health; there was really no telling how much body mass Stubbs could do away with before he simply stopped working.

A close contender for the
Would Rather Not Be Stuck in a Broom Closet With
contest was Captain Rescue, and judging by the smell, the man had not stepped foot in a shower his entire life—or he too was dead. Yet, one could argue that the night’s activities would have left even the cleanest of persons in a rather unkempt state. Regardless of the aforementioned argument’s outcome, Dr. Malevolent had the nagging temptation to grab the nearby mop and give Captain Rescue a good scrubbing. She would have probably done the same to Stubbs, but frankly, she was afraid to touch him. Not to mention the fact that he would probably dissolve. 

“What’s out there?” Charlie asked Greg.

The genie pointed at the door. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”

“Is this how things are going to go from now on?”

“Indubitably.”

Charlie simply rolled his eyes, opened the nearby door, and stepped foot into yet another hallway. Luckily, this one was significantly shorter than the last, and the bunny wasted no time in commencing a search for clues that might lead to saving the world. Right after Charlie, Dr. Malevolent stepped out of the broom closet and instantly noticed a door at the end of the hallway, over which a red sign read, “Base of Operations, Authorized Dolphins Only”. She nudged Charlie and pointed, but he was too busy inspecting each individual door to bother with his boss. She nudged him again and harder. He spun around and, through the bright smile of the bunny head, glared angrily. Dr. Malevolent shoved him and pointed towards the red sign. After reading what it said, his mannerisms apologized profusely, and the bunny headed towards it.

“That was a rather conveniently placed broom closet, was it not?” Charlie said to Greg.

“I plead the fifth,” the genie replied as he looked off to the side.

“Do you even have an understanding of our laws?”

Greg looked at him. “Just from what I’ve seen on television.”

“You have a television?”

“I did—until you crushed it,” Greg replied somberly.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get you another.”

“Don’t bother, I have to get them specially ordered. Feel free to get me another lamp, though.”

 “I sure will,” Charlie said with a chuckle as he grabbed hold of the door handle and tried to open it. Sure enough, it was locked. He looked at Greg, who just shrugged indifferently.

“You can’t expect my help with every issue you run into,” the genie teased. “You did make it this far without me. Not that I’m admitting I’ve helped at all, but if I had, it’s not something you should grow accustomed to.”

Freight, ready to give this door a taste of
his
medicine, shoved Charlie aside and stood before it. He did not care how large, wooden, or reinforced with space-age steel the door was, he was going to kick it down. While no one existed who could convince him otherwise, someone probably should have tried. Freight was undoubtedly about to seriously injure himself. Kick after kick collided with a door that made no apparent signs of giving. After a few dozen tries, Dr. Malevolent kindly pushed him aside.

“You’re going to break something if you carry on like this,” she said softly.

The super villain pressed herself against the large door and reached for its frame. As luck would have, a key sat up there.

Charlie looked at the genie.

“Wasn’t me,” the apparition replied.

Dr. Malevolent slid the key into the keyhole, opened the seemingly ancient door, and blinked several times to make sure nothing in her head was broken. The room in front of her had nothing in common with the rest of the castle, and if anything, it was from the future. She opened and closed the door several times to make sure the fabric of their reality was intact. Dr. Malevolent, however, was no scientist, and she was only barely a doctor, so detecting issues in the fabric of reality was certainly beyond her capabilities. Despite these inabilities, everything seemed okay. Simply put, the control room before her was straight out of a science fiction movie. The holograms and digital displays within depicted everything from the Earth to an ant colony in Arizona. They were sure that as soon as they stepped past the doorway, some space-age security failsafe would surely vaporize them. So, Freight grabbed the collar of the very last nameless lackey and shoved him into the room. He covered his head with his arms and squinted tightly, waiting to be vaporized, but his vapors stayed in one place. The others shrugged and followed him into the rom.

Speaking of vapors, Greg followed behind the survivors and watched inquisitively as they inspected the room. The humans scratched their heads at many of the buttons and displays that appeared to be of an indecipherable language. One button, out of all in the room, drew attention to itself—most likely because of its red color. This large red button had a purpose, a large purpose, a zombie exterminating purpose. Even though a glass case shielded the button from any unwanted pressing, Freight had a way around the most impenetrable of barriers. The mammoth man whipped out his lovable shotgun and gave the button a taste of sizzling deer slug. Apparently, whoever shielded the button from any unwanted pressing foresaw bullets being just as unwanted, because the glass remained intact. What didn’t, however, was the general hue of the room, which now flashed red; Freight had tripped an alarm. Greg smiled. While he did not wish his newfound comrades harm, a little danger would at least make things entertaining for him.