The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse

  ‘The new open-topped look,’ said Eddie. ‘It might catch on.’

  ‘I’m not touching her,’ said Jack, and he folded his shaky arms and made a shaky-headed sulky face.

  ‘Use your foot then.’

  Jack sighed and with difficulty nudged the body over with his foot.

  ‘Fine big bosoms,’ said Eddie. ‘Though rather too scrawny in all the other places for my taste.’

  ‘Stop it, please.’

  ‘Jack,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Eddie?’ said Jack.

  ‘Jack, those fine big bosoms …’

  ‘I told you to stop that.’

  ‘Those fine big bosoms are moving.’

  ‘Wah!’ went Jack; ‘Wah!’ always served him well at such times. ‘She’s still alive. Shoot her again, Eddie. But wait until I turn away.’

  ‘She’s not alive,’ said Eddie, ‘she’s … urgh, look at that!’

  Jack looked at that. ‘Urgh,’ he agreed. ‘What is that?’

  ‘It’s spiders.’ Eddie backed away. ‘They’re coming out of her, everywhere. Let’s go, Jack. I don’t want to look at this.’

  Jack took one more look, then wished he hadn’t. The corpse was now a heaving mass of spiders. They spilled from her ragged neck hole, and out of belt holes and seams and here and there and all over everywhere.

  ‘This can’t happen.’ Jack gawped and gasped and backed away. ‘She can’t be full of spiders. What is this, Eddie? What’s going on here?’

  Eddie backed away and cocked an ear. ‘Do you hear what I hear?’ he asked.

  Jack tried to cock an ear too, but there are certain things that bears can do and lads just can’t.

  And vice versa, of course.

  ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘What?’

  ‘The bells of approaching police cars,’ said Eddie. ‘I think the cabbie must have regained consciousness and called the police.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Jack. ‘And you don’t think we should just stay here and talk to the policemen? Explain things? Tell them what we know?’

  ‘I’m not keen,’ said Eddie. ‘I think we should head over to Miss Muffett’s at the hurry-up; she’s next on the list. We don’t know how many of these spider-women things there are. I can’t believe that this one could move so fast as to kill Tommy Tucker, then head across town and kill the curator and still get here before us. There could be another at Miss Muffett’s now.’

  ‘You’re right. Back door?’

  ‘Back door,’ agreed Eddie.

  They skirted the house and slipped quietly away.

  ‘So where does Miss Muffett live?’ Jack asked as he trudged along upon wobbly legs.

  ‘Not too far. Let’s hope we can get there before our criminal mastermind dispatches another of his killers. He surely won’t know yet that we just popped off this one.’

  ‘But what do you think they are, Eddie? They’re not human, and they’re not toys. So what’s left?’

  ‘Only one thing I can think of and I don’t want to think about that. Do you still have the Maguffin?’

  Jack patted his pocket. It was a sticky pocket, all black goo’d. ‘Still have it,’ he said. ‘And one question. Before we went into that kitchen, you mentioned something the curator said to you. Something you said made no sense.’

  ‘I did,’ said Eddie. ‘Turn left here.’

  Jack turned left. ‘It’s more fun in a car,’ he said. ‘But what were you going to say? It was something about the copyrights on the nursery rhymes.’

  ‘Yes it was.’ Eddie’s little fat teddy bear legs were tiring. ‘Walk slower,’ he said.

  Jack walked slower.

  ‘The copyrights,’ said Eddie. ‘When I asked about the order they were registered in, the curator told me: it was the dates that didn’t make sense.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Jack.

  ‘Well, the copyright on Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. That was the first one ever registered. How long ago do you reckon that was?’

  Jack shrugged and the crown of his fedora fell off. Jack stooped, picked it up and replaced it on his head.

  ‘You should throw that hat away,’ said Eddie.

  ‘No chance,’ said Jack. ‘You can’t be a proper detective without a fedora. But I don’t know about the copyright; maybe thirty or forty years ago, I suppose.’

  ‘That would seem about right,’ said Eddie. ‘But it’s wrong. Humpty Dumpty: The Nursery Rhyme was registered three hundred and fifty years ago.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Jack. ‘Was it another Humpty Dumpty? This Dumpty’s great-great-great-grandfather?’

  ‘There’s only ever been one Humpty Dumpty: the one who got boiled in his swimming pool.’

  ‘But no one can live for three hundred and fifty years.’

  ‘Toy Town grew into Toy City,’ said Eddie. ‘But I don’t know when it did. It’s always been the city to me and I’ve been here for a long time. I was Bill Winkie’s bear. I’d never thought before about how long I’d been his bear, but it must have been a very, very long time.’

  ‘What, you’re telling me that you might be three hundred years old?’ Jack stopped short and Eddie bumped into him.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Eddie, who, having tumbled, now struggled up. ‘No one ever really keeps track of time here. Things are always the same. Nothing ever changes. We just go on and on. Until we fall to pieces. If you’re a toy, that is.’

  ‘It’s all nonsense,’ said Jack. ‘Three hundred and fifty years old! But then, in this nightmare of a city where nothing makes any sense, who can say? Are we there yet?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Eddie. ‘We are. But we’re not.’

  ‘Well, that doesn’t make any sense, so I suppose it’s about right.’

  ‘No, Jack, we should be there, but we’re not, because it isn’t here.’

  ‘What isn’t here?’

  ‘Miss Muffett’s house. It’s gone.’

  ‘What do you mean? It’s been pulled down?’

  ‘No, I mean it’s gone, just gone.’

  ‘A house can’t be just gone; where should it be?’

  ‘There,’ said Eddie. ‘There.’

  There was a bit of a hillside with some well-established trees and some equally well-established bushes.

  ‘There’s not been a house there in ages,’ said Jack. ‘If there ever was one.’

  ‘There was,’ said Eddie. ‘I was here last week, on the Tour of the Stars’ Homes bus. It’s one of my favourite outings. The house was here. Right here.’

  ‘You must have got it wrong. Houses do not simply vanish.’

  ‘I never implied that there was anything simple about it. But this house has vanished.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I know so.’

  ‘Oh.’

  22

  ‘Listen, Eddie,’ said Tinto, ‘much as I like you, and don’t get me wrong, I do like you, I can’t keep giving you credit. I’m trying to run this bar at a profit. That’s how business is done.’

  ‘I know how business is done.’ Eddie comfyed himself on a barstool. ‘But Jack and I have just been through a very traumatic experience. We both need beer. Lots of beer. You’ll get your money when we’ve solved the case …’

  ‘Cases.’ Jack uncomfyed himself on the barstool next to Eddie.

  ‘Cases, then. You’ll get your money, Tinto.’

  ‘He might not,’ said Jack. ‘If we can’t prevent the rest of the PPPs getting butchered, there won’t be anyone left to cough up the rest of the money that was promised to Bill.’

  ‘Stop that,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Only a thought,’ said Jack.

  ‘I saw you two on TV this morning,’ said Tinto. ‘I was going to mention it when you were in earlier, but it didn’t seem to be the appropriate time.’

  ‘Thanks, Tinto,’ said Eddie.

  ‘But, as it is now, I’d just like to say that neither of you are as good-looking as you look on TV. You’re both shorter, too.’

  ‘Ha ha ha,??
? went Eddie, in a tone that lacked for humour.

  ‘But what happened to Little Tommy Tucker, that was terrible.’ Tinto’s head spun round and round.

  ‘It was even more terrible right up close,’ said Eddie. ‘And please don’t do that with your head; it makes me feel sick.’

  ‘But it was terrible.’ Tinto drummed his dextrous fingers on the bar-top, which further upset Eddie. ‘Terrible, terrible, terrible.’

  ‘As if you care,’ said Eddie.

  ‘I do care,’ said Tinto. ‘We all care really, even if we don’t own up to it. Society’s coming apart, Eddie. You catch this killer before everything goes down the toilet.’

  ‘You don’t use a toilet,’ said Eddie.

  ‘You know what I mean. You just won’t admit that you do.’

  ‘I admit that I don’t,’ said Eddie. ‘Ten beers, please.’

  ‘No,’ said Tinto. ‘Think about this, Eddie. Toy City is Toy City. It’s stable. Nothing ever changes here. We may say that we don’t like it, but we kind of do like it. We’re used to it. It’s all we’ve got. It’s what we’ve always had. These rich and famous celebrity folk are part of the essential fabric of society.’

  ‘Essential fabric of society?’ Eddie made a face. ‘What’s with all this sudden articulacy on your part?’

  ‘You know what I’m talking about. These killings. They’re changing things. Things aren’t the same any more.’

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ said Eddie. ‘Ten beers, please.’

  ‘No,’ said Tinto. ‘I mean what I say. A couple of weeks ago everything was normal. As it ever was and ever would be. Then Humpty Dumpty was murdered. Then Boy Blue and Jack Spratt and—’

  ‘All right,’ said Eddie, ‘I know. Don’t rub it in. We’re doing our best.’

  ‘Everything’s falling apart. It’s as if someone is out to destroy the whole city by killing off its most famous citizens. Destabilisation. You know what I’m saying?’

  Eddie looked at Jack.

  And Jack looked at Eddie.

  ‘I think I do,’ said Eddie. ‘Ten beers, please.’

  ‘I’ll only give you five,’ said Tinto, and he whirred and wheeled away behind the bar counter.

  ‘What do you think?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘It makes sense,’ said Jack. ‘This criminal mastermind of yours could be trying to bring down the entire city, starting from the top. But to what end?’

  ‘All right,’ said Eddie. ‘Let’s think about this. Let’s seriously think about this,’ and Eddie smote his head. ‘Seriously think,’ he said, smiting again and again.

  ‘I really hate it when you do that,’ said Jack.

  ‘It works,’ said Eddie, ‘don’t knock it.’ And he smote his head once more.

  Tinto delivered nine glasses of beer.

  ‘I see Eddie’s having a good old smote,’ he said. ‘Although I do constantly warn him that smoting can seriously damage your health.’ Tinto chuckled. Jack didn’t.

  ‘Tell me, Tinto,’ said Jack, ‘how long do you think Eddie’s been coming into this bar? In years. How long?’

  ‘Well.’ Tinto scratched at his tin plate brow with a dextrous fingertip. ‘Not that long, I suppose. A couple of hundred years, maybe.’

  ‘A couple of hundred years?’ Jack all but fell off his barstool.

  ‘Give or take,’ said Tinto. ‘I suppose it’s quite a long time, when you come to think about it. But then folk like Eddie and me are old-style folk. We were built to last. Craftsmanship, you see.’

  ‘You’re winding me up,’ said Jack.

  ‘Me winding you up? Is that some feeble attempt at humour?’

  ‘I have it,’ said Eddie, bouncing up and down. ‘I’ve figured the whole thing out. You’re not going to like it, but I have.’

  Jack passed Eddie a glass of beer. Eddie took it between both paws and drained the beer away. ‘Imagine,’ said he, ‘that you, Jack, are a criminal mastermind.’

  ‘All right.’ Jack tried to imagine it.

  ‘So what would you want?’

  ‘Whatever you’ve got,’ said Jack. ‘And everything else besides.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Eddie. ‘You’d want the lot. All of it. Everything. All of this.’

  ‘The city,’ said Jack. ‘I’d want the entire city.’

  ‘You would,’ said Eddie. ‘But why would you want it?’

  ‘Because that’s what criminal masterminds always want. Everything.’

  ‘So how would you go about getting this everything?’

  ‘Well,’ said Jack, ‘personally, I’d gather together a private army, dressed in really stylish black uniforms. And I’d have this secret hideout, in an extinct volcano, with all these special trains that travel along secret tunnels and a Doomsday weapon and this white cat that sat on my knee and—’

  ‘Jack,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Eddie?’ said Jack.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Eddie. ‘But what would you do here, in this city?’

  ‘I’d threaten it with my Doomsday weapon.’

  ‘But if, by some chance, you didn’t actually have a Doomsday weapon?’

  ‘I would have one,’ said Jack.

  ‘But if you didn’t!’ Eddie made a fierce face at Jack. ‘If you only had a very small private army, say three or four assassins at your disposal. What would you do then, in this city?’

  ‘I’d have my assassins kill off all the powerful members of society. Mess things up a bit. And then when the city was in total chaos and everyone was running around like headless chickens, I’d take over. Restore law and order. Seize power. Control it and …’

  ‘Right,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘Yes, right. And that’s what’s happening, isn’t it?’

  ‘It all makes perfect sense when you piece it together.’ Eddie patted his head.

  ‘Not altogether,’ said Jack, ‘as nothing really makes sense here. But if I was this criminal mastermind, I’m not exactly sure where I’d find these superhuman killer women that turn into spiders. Do you think I’d be able to get them out of a catalogue or something?’

  ‘Not out of a catalogue. But you’ll find them mentioned in a Holy Book. Which is where I start getting to the stuff that you’re really not going to like.’

  ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Jack took up another glass of beer and drained it away.

  ‘Jack, something very bad is happening here in the city. Something different. Something new. Something the city has never seen before and doesn’t know how to deal with. Something has entered the city. Something really evil.’

  ‘Someone,’ said Jack. ‘This criminal mastermind.’

  ‘Something,’ said Eddie. ‘Something that isn’t a man and isn’t a toy. Something else.’

  ‘You mentioned something about this earlier, when we were walking to Miss Muffett’s. Something you didn’t want to think about.’

  ‘That’s the something,’ said Eddie. ‘And it’s a terrible something. A horrible, frightening something.’

  ‘Do you want to tell me about it now?’

  Eddie took up another glass. ‘I think perhaps I should,’ he said. ‘Because, dreadful and unthinkable as it is, it’s the only thing that seems to make any sense.’

  ‘Go on then,’ said Jack. ‘Tell me.’

  And so Eddie told him. ‘This is what I know,’ said Eddie. ‘In this city there are a number of religious movements. There’s The Church of Mechanology, clockwork toys who believe in a clockwork universe—’

  ‘I believe in that,’ said Tinto, who was listening in. ‘Because it’s true.’

  ‘And there’re The Daughters of the Unseeable Upness,’ said Eddie, ‘which is a foolish dolly cult, and there’s The Midnight Growlers, a philosophical movement dedicated to high spiritual ideals and the pursuit of truth and—’

  ‘Beer,’ said Tinto.

  ‘There’s also The Spring and Catch Society.’

  ‘Who owe me money,’ said Tinto. ‘As you do. What is
it with you cult nutters, eh? You never pay your bills.’

  ‘Would you go away please, Tinto?’

  ‘Do you want more drinks on your account?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘I’ll get to it.’ Tinto whirled and wheeled away.

  ‘The Spring and Catch Society,’ said Eddie to Jack, ‘as you know, is a secret organisation. All the rich folk are rumoured to be in it. It’s a branch of a Jack-in-the-box cult known as Big Box Fella He Come.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘Well, I suppose there would be Jack-in-the-boxes in Toy City, although I’ve never seen one.’

  ‘And you won’t; they’re very reclusive. They believe that the entire universe is a construction kit, taken out of the big box and assembled by God with the aid of his little helpers. Jack-in-the-boxes live underground, which is fine by the rest of us because there are far too many Jacks in this city already. No offence meant.’

  ‘None taken, I assure you.’

  ‘They believe that the universe comprises a number of boxes, one inside the other. They live in their boxes, which are inside secret rooms, bigger boxes, in the city, a bigger box still, that’s in a box-shaped world, which is inside a box-shaped universe.’

  ‘Which is all rubbish,’ said Jack. ‘Which is why I do not hold to any religious beliefs.’

  ‘Well,’ said Eddie, ‘the point of what I’m trying to tell you is this …’

  ‘Oh good,’ said Tinto, bearing drinks. ‘I thought I was going to miss the important bit.’

  ‘The point is this,’ Eddie continued. ‘Jack-in-the-boxes believe in Big Box Fella, who was one of God’s little helpers. He and his twin brother were given the job of constructing Toy City, which was one small bit of the universe kit. When it was finished, it was supposed to be a wonderful place to live in. Big Box Fella and his brother would have brought joy and happiness to everyone who would later be built to live there. But his brother was evil and refused to follow the instructions, which is why the city is the way it is now: a mess. So Big Box Fella threw his evil twin out of the city, but the evil twin went off with the instructions. Some Jack-in-the-boxes believe that Big Box Fella went after him and will one day return with the instructions and make everything right. Others believe that Big Box Fella is still here in the city, trying to make things right.’