Chapter 26

chapter twenty-six I reach my gloved hand back and draw the Slicer. The dark energy—that ebony ink—begins draining out of the glove and snakes up the Slicer's handle with a SCHLURRRP. It seeps into the Slicer's every splinter, sliver, fracture, and fissure. It's joining with the dark, awful power already contained within it until, at last, the entire blade is the color of midnight.... "Thrull," I say. "These zombies—your army— belong to ME now!" I swing the Slicer around, toward the zombies, and a chalky charcoal arc hangs in the air. My gloved hand throbs as the final bit of energy is absorbed into the bat, and—

Zombies are yanked toward me with magnetic force. They lean forward at an angle, feet dragging, just barely skimming the ground. They move so fast that I smell burning rubber from the ones still wearing shoes. In half a second, all of them are gathered behind me. Thrull can only watch. The tip of his skeletal arm slowly grazes the ground. The arm lifts, and Thrull softly runs his hand over it.

Thrull looks up, a cryptic smile on his face as his hand continues to trace over the skeletal appendage. And the action figures embedded in it. "This is so very far from over. The Tower will be built—though I may enlist a different kind of army," he says. He taps the skeletal tail, then smiles. "I suggest you get used to the sight of bones, Jack...." He lifts his war hammer, sets it over his shoulder, and makes a medium-dramatic exit. The skeletal arm drags behind him, until he snaps it up. A few tiny bits of remaining Vine- Thingies gather around him, following like gooey little snails....

Excuse us, Excuse us. Close personal friends of the hero Jack. I apologize for saying you have the bootleg version of the force that was not bootleg. My friends come closer, but I take a hesitant step back. "Guys, please," I say, throwing up my hand, all dramatic. "I have changed.... I... I am different now. I am no longer the Jack you know. I am... more." I hoist the blade over my head. "I must go now," I say. My face is somber. "I must learn the limits of these powers. It is my quest—my quest alone. And where I go, you cannot follow." June's mouth hangs open. Quint is frozen. Dirk is quiet. I hang my head for a moment,

and when I lift it up again— gotshe. I got you right. I definitely got you. I see it on your faces. Jack cheese, man. Not funny, friend I'm giggling so hard I snort. "Just messing with you! But, yeah, that was legit crazy. I'm still me, though, and if I ever hear anyone say they are 'close personal friends of the hero' again I will FLIP." "Good," June says. "I like regular ol' Jack."

Suddenly, Quint points. "Jack! Your hand! The glove!" I hear scattered whispers among the monsters. "Whoa," says Dirk. I lift my hand, twisting it, looking at it from all angles. The Scrapken flesh has smoothed over. It crosses over that weird tight fleshy part between the thumb and the pointer finger, then back around, over my palm, where it fused together. It's tight, but not uncomfortable. Still wet. Still changing.