Dimensions of Change
By Zipper
Chapter Four
The fog that clouds the recesses of a mind is a curious thing. Sometimes they clear with out a trace, but most of the time they thin out to leave a haze that tints the sky with uncertainty. Gadget struggled against this haze to decipher the images that danced before her minds eye. At first colors and shapes manifested them self. The longer she concentrated, the clearer the picture became, till she could remember…
“… so you see Foxglove, it was a simple matter of changing the transistor
pack from the forward position rear, and bringing the secondary online.”
Gadget caught that faraway look in Foxgloves eyes, but in her enthusiasm, she
ignored it. “Cross you’re wings, and wish me luck.” Gadget dialed
in the latitude and longitude of a specific place she thought would be nice
and pushed a nondescript button.
A small, low hum, more of a feeling, than a noise emanated from the two prominent
pillars, but quickly pick up pitch until it sat at a comfortable level.
“Is it working?” Foxglove asked, still skeptical that two water pipes
could do what Gadget claimed they could.
“I don’t know. We should be seeing a field of poppies in Holland.”
Gadget mentally checked her calculations.
Foxglove inquisicly approached the pipes. She could feel her fur stand on end.
She knew this was due to static electricity, but the effect was still the same.
“Gadget? Is it supposed to so dark over there?” She asked pointing
towards that corner of the room, but Gadget was to far in her calculations.
Foxglove took a step closer. She felt drawn to the cylinders as her fur was
gently tugged like the soft eddies on the very fringes of a whirlpool, yet she
still approached until she was centimeters from the cylinders.
Foxglove could see a thin film in between the columns. It refracted the light
as her breath sent out small ripples through-out the surface. Her wing slowly
reached up to test the strength of the new barrier.
Foxglove quickly recoiled, rubbing her wing. It felt like flesh except cold,
like a corpse, and there was something else. She could taste… electricity,
but she couldn’t be sure. She tried again…
“… and when I turned around, I saw Foxglove being pulled into this
dimensional rift. I grabbed her feet, trying to pull her out. Next thing I knew,
I’m surrounded by an immense coldness.” Gadget stuttered as she remembered
how cold she was, and then her thoughts turned to her companion. “Were
is Foxglove?” Gadget asked, self-pitty setting in at the realization that
she pulled Foxglove into this, what ever it was.
“She’s with Tammy, trying to get Grimcrack back to sleep, though I
suspect there not having muck luck, if I know my son. There’s to much of
me, and a fair dose of his father, in him to willingly sit out when there’s
action afoot.”
Dale stumbled into the living area of the former Ranger HQ, caressing a gash
on his left thigh. The night had been long and painful. Casualties had been
light as of yet, promising to rise as the day began, but the number of wounded
had been staggering. They littered the floor of the old hanger, filling the
hall with their cries. Nurses addressed wounds and made life and death decisions
in the make shift trauma ward.
He met Tammy in the command center. Seeing her reminded him of the first time
he saw her, in this very same room, thought it was only the living room at the
time. Now the room housed the best equipment Widget could find and Tammy was
a Lieutenant and a Tactician in the fight to save all animal kind. How things
had change from those days were she was only threatened to be made into cat
food, not dominated and turned into a mindless slave, or worse.
“Dale you’re back!” Tammy squealed as she flung her paws around
his neck. Dale inhaled in pain as the teen’s knee impacted his wound. “You’re
hurt!” She cried in honest, if not dramatic concern. She forced him to
sit as she dressed the wound then left to notify Widget of the army’s return.
Dale shook his head. ‘If only every one had the much energy.’ He thought
to himself as he got up and hobbled over to the massive TV monitor and turned
it on. Before him was map of the park the surrounding area. Widget insisted
they had one, and Dale had to admit, it was helpful, except when it showed what
it did now. They were boxed in, with dwindling food and medical supplies. He
needed a sign. Most of the cities animal population were kept in line by fear.
Fear of persecution or being enlisted as a foot solder.
Dale shuttered at the thought. A mindless number fighting because that’s
all you knew. Only the “lucky ones” were able to retain knowledge.
They probably had something the ‘slavers’, as Dale was prone to call
them, needed. But, as Dale came to understand it, memories were lost to those
who did not become mindless drones, another form of personality death. The animal
before the conversion was lost, leaving a shell.
What ever they were Drone or enlisted, they were slowly taking over the park.
Dale defiantly needed a sign to rally those who were left to live in fear around,
but what?
Tammy found Widget, like always, one step ahead of her. She was surveying the
wounded from the head of the stairs, a worried look in her eyes, but a face
of stone.
“I don’t know how much longer we can stay on the defensive.”
She murmured, almost like she was thinking out loud. Countless moments passed.
Tammy could tell that she was calculating, weighing the odds. “Tammy, tell
Dale to meet me in the living room, I have a plan.”
Tammy scurried around a corner, using her boundless adolescent squirrel energy
to keep her going. Widget was up to something, but Tammy had long since stopped
trying to figure her out.
Flying around the stairs, she bounded over the banister and into the living
room with a muffled ‘thump.’ Dale was on the couch, his soft snoring
filling the quiet room. Tammy checked the watch on the wall quickly. Almost
morning.
She softly sat on the couch. Her mind wandered over what had happed during the
night as her eyes drooped still lower, exhaustion finally catching up to her.
She never noticed three shadows slip down the stairs.
“Why are we going to the hanger?” inquired Gadget as they descended
the spiral staircase.
Widget continued walking, leaving Gadget and Foxglove shrugging in her wake.
Soon the sound of raised, hurried voices assaulted their ears until it rose
to a cacophony. Widget stopped them before they entered with a raised hand.
“To understand our situation, you must see what we’re up against,
but be warned, it’s not pretty.”
Widget reached into a closet just before the hanger. “Here, wear these.”
She said as she tossed them some kind of cloth. “You’re to high profile,
and since I don’t want word that you’re here to get around, this will
help hide your identities.”
Foxglove felt is the clothing in her wings. It was soft and held little resistance.
She held it out.
‘IT’ was a black body suit, with a thick dark gray stripe that ran
from the collar and half the shoulder on the right side and down the inside
of the leg.
“Its an officers uniform. Only a few can wear that here. It will give instant
respect, but will hide your features. Hiding in plain sight as it were.”
Widget smirked.
Foxglove slipped it on and zipped the front up. She checked the uniform out.
“Fits like a glove!” She commented.
“Had them made today. Sizes and species weren’t that hard.” Widget
nodded.
Gadget only stared at hers one paw supporting the cloth while the other made
slow circles over the surface.
“What’s wrong Gadget?” Foxglove asked.
Gadget patted the uniform. “Don’t laugh but… Can I still wear
the goggles?” She asked with innocence and sincerity.
“Here,” Widget said, throwing a black ball-cap and a pin with a hammer
in front of a screwdriver and wrench cross. “All maintenance, even officers,
wear these. The goggles add a nice touch.”
Gadget smiled and disappeared into the closet, the door closing quietly behind
her.
Widget and Foxglove politely face away from the door.
“I forgot how shy she was.” Widget commented. “And her attachment
to her goggles.”
“Why is she so attached?” Foxglove quarried.
“I never was able to find out before she turned.” Widget mumbled.
“Droppings! I miss her.”
The door behind them opened. Gadget stepped out, the uniform tailored better
then her own skin, her hair hidden in the hat except for a straight golden strand
that fell over her brow, her goggles placed on top like any self respecting
inventor.
Widget nodded her approval as she opened the door to the hanger. The light inside
was faint as the sun started to rise through the hanger. The main doors looked
battered and inoperable in there half-open, skewed manner. The ground of the
hanger was littered with sleeping wounded. The wounded moan as the trio walked
passed, legs, or arms missing. Some obviously not going to make it, an F on
their foreheads to signify their fatal wounds, being pumped full of morphine
to lighten their last moments.
Nurses yawned as they wrapped up their rounds, stumbling to the back and out
of sight into a hole added recently in the back of the hanger. Gadget wondered
were it went, but didn’t ask.
“As you can see, we’re not winning. Our small band of rebels are not
going to make it.” Widget mumbled. “We’re the last hope.”
She finished in a whisper.
“I wish there was something we could do.” Foxglove said numbly, her
feelings stunned into submission.
“Maybe there is.” Widget said calmly as she snapped her fingers.
Silently, a graceful gray bat landed beside her.
“I would like to introduce Captain Tacoma ‘Dodger’ Airheart.”
Widget began.
“Honor is all mine Ma’ams” Tacoma stated as she held out her
wing, gum visible as she chewed. Both Gadget and Foxglove accepted her wing
in friendship.
Foxglove gave the captain a once over. She wore a simple vest of black, a scull
and crossbones emblazed on the back with the word ‘dodger’ written
in script just below. She had strong, frequently used, flight muscles, but kept
an air of femininity about her. Her eyes were the most striking features. As
green as new grass with a ring of blood red stroking the outer rims of her pupils.
Widget interrupted Foxgloves assessment of her new acquaintance. “Dodger,
Briefing in an hour.”
“Yes ma’am. I’ll head up and catch fifty minuets of shuteye then.”
She said as she turned and glided over to the door that led up stairs.
What is Widget up to? Who is this new, young bat? Does our intrepid, yet dimensionally stranded heroines ever get a bite to eat, or any sleep? What’s up with that whole Tune in for the next exciting installment of ‘Dimensions of Change’ Line I always use. Ya think that if I had this much creativity and time, I’d come up with a better, less Douglas Adams sounding line. Oh well.
‘Dimensions of Change’ was produced, written, edited, and well, brought into this dimension by Zipper the Magnificent! He apoligises for the hiatus in between the chapters, but the little device he uses to get ideas from other dimmentions was in the shop. All Characters except for Widget and Grimcrack are the trademarks of Disney Animation or some other Disney company (who knows, or cares). John W. Nowak is credited for the creation of Widget and Grimcrack. Zipper would like to take this time to thank Red Swift for recovering his previous chapters by saying: ’You Tolerate me! You really, really tolerate me!’