Chapter 10

Guinness had beaten me again to the 'in between', the space of darkness that appeared while the client wasn't dreaming. I floated in the nothingness, clutching my hockey stick, wishing a pack of cigarettes could cross over with me as well.

“What's this one about?”

“A teddy bear named Mr. Wiggles.”

Guinness studied my face.

“You're kiddin' with me.”

“I wish I was. At least it'll be an easy job.”

“First unicorns, then teddy bears. What is with the world lately.”

“In Chuck's defense, that unicorn was... not a normal unicorn. Shh, it's starting.”

The world around us shifted to a light blue, and a scene slowly materialized before us.

We were in a nursery; one decorated for a boy in pastel blues and greens. On the floor, playing with the teddy bear in question was a baby Conrad, no more than nine months old. The teddy bear was admittedly cute with the button eyes and a smile spreading across it's short, brown muzzle.

Since Conrad was so young, I decided to reveal myself early.

“C'mon,” I said to Guinness. We both walked over to the baby Conrad, who looked up with big, blue eyes that demanded to be picked up.

I backed up, coughing restlessly. I was not a kid person, and had never even held a baby. Hell, I'd only ever met one �" my niece who screamed bloody murder whenever she laid eyes on me.

“Aww,” Guinness cooed softly, rushing over to pick Conrad up, who dropped the bear in favor of playing with Guinness' beard.

“He's so cute,” he said to me, a smile touching his brutish visage. I stared in disbelief. Guinness gave a cough and looked away.

“I mean, he's okay. I might as well hold him for now. We may need to make a quick get-away from...”

He looked at the bear on the ground, it's great, black eyes staring up blankly. He trailed off, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

I prodded at the bear with my hockey stick, and with a surprised gasp, I pulled it away. The bear had moved. It's head turned to the side with that deceptive grin.

“Guinness...” I said, “Something creepy is happening.”

Guinness ignored me, his stubby finger finding Conrad's cheek and pinching it. “What a sweet baby you are,” he murmured, then turned toward me.

Mr. Wiggles had stood up by then, and as it stood, it grew. It grew so tall that it loomed above me, my neck craning backwards as it did so. It shifted just as quickly as the unicorn had; it's snout lengthened and grew teeth, exaggeratedly large, sharp teeth. Giant paws grew blunt claws, and muscles ripped under the creature's thick, brown coat.

What made Mr. Wiggles even more disturbing was his eyes. They had stayed the same black buttons as when it was a normal teddy bear. It's blank stare caused me to shudder. Stuffing spilled from one arm, just as Mr. Morris has described. I could see the seams stretch across its body.

“Uhoh...” Guinness muttered. The baby in his arms saw the bear and screamed, high and sharp.

The bear gave one, long roar before stamping the ground in front of me with it's front paws. It looked toward Guinness and the baby and ignored me. With a rush of fur -I could smell laundry detergent on the thing- it made a bee's line for Conrad.

“Run!” I shouted at Guinness, who clutched Conrad close to his barrel chest and ran in the opposite direction, out the door of the nursery and into darkness.

“He hasn't dreamed anything out of this room yet!” he shouted back. I ran behind him, my foot going from carpet to nothingness.

“Face him in front of you.”

Guinness turned the baby around in his arms, threading one arm under Conrad's arms and using a hand to hold his diapered bottom.

The rest of the house slowly manifested around us. We ran down a narrow hallway, narrowing missing the bear as it crashed through the wall and snapped in our direction.

“What are you waitin' for,” Guinness shouted, “Write his name in the damn journal.”

I fumbled the journal from my pants and accidentally dropped it as we ran.

“D****t,” I hissed. The bear trampled past, its speed increasing as it chased us through the house, it's great big shoulders smashing the walls as it lumbered by.

“Get outside. We need to get outside,” I said. Guinness nodded and ducked around another corner, his face lighting up as he found a screen door that led outside. We barreled through the screen door, and I tripped and fell as the screen caught my foot on the way out. My hockey stick flew from my hands.

But the bear did not care. He sailed over me, landed hard and continued to chase Guinness and the baby. The gnome gave a cry as the bear jumped forward over him, blocking his path.

I picked myself up and smirked; the bear hadn't even noticed the handful of fur I had pulled from it as it sailed over me. I grabbed my hockey stick from the ground. I ran toward Mr. Wiggles, positioning myself behind him and hooking my hockey stick under the arm with the stuffing spilling out.

I pulled. Hard.

There was a loud rip, and the seam gave way under the tug, the stuffing overflowing the gap. The arm hung uselessly at bear's side, and he let out a long roar of what I assumed was pain. He did not turn. He kept his gaze firmly on Conrad, who was screaming hysterically and clutching on to Guinness. Mr. Wiggles tried to move forward, found he couldn't without proper use of his arm, and promptly crashed to the ground. He mumbled into the dirt sadly. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Now that I had given Guinness some time, I ran back into the house and back down the long, destroyed hallway. Thankfully, the journal was unharmed. I opened it, pressed the fur into the journal, and then pricked my finger and put blood to paper with the quill I kept in my pocket.

Mr. Wiggles, I wrote in long, flowing font. People always gave me s**t for having flowery writing. ((Blah blah, something else about it here))

I waited, perking an ear toward the outside. I didn't hear anything. This was a good sign.

I went outside. Guinness was on the ground, covering baby Conrad with his body while his eyes were squinted shut, probably awaiting a giant paw to end his existence. At least, I think it would end his existence. We had never figured out what would happen to Guinness should he be harmed in the dream world. Lucky him, he's never had to deal with it. For some reason, I was never so fortunate.

“You're fine now, Guinness. Get up.”

Guinness popped open an eye, looked at me, then opened the other eye and glanced around fearfully.

“You wrote in the journal?” he asked. I nodded in affirmation and went to help him up, pointing at the kid.

“You, uh... want to grab him?”

Guinness picked up the baby Conrad, who cried softly into his beard.

“What, you afraid of babies?” he asked with a smirk.

“Hell yes I'm afraid of babies,” I admitted. “They're loud, annoying, and can puke all over you in an instant.”

Guinness rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

We made it back to the nursery, placing baby Conrad on the floor where we had found him. I searched the toy bin in the corner, picked up a stuffed kitten, thought better of it, then put it back.

“Come on, let's go.”

The last thing I heard was Guinness' baby cooing as I sprinkled the smelling salts across the room.