Toyland- the Legacy of Wallace Noel

by Tony Bertauski

  “She’s a good mommy,” Pip said. “The best. You do? Momma, she likes you.”

  “Awww.” Mom gave Baby Doll another hug.

  Tin shook her head. Pip’s not pretending to hear that, Mom.

  Oscar and Corey began the first of three trips for firewood. Tin and Mom stacked it as they made return trips. The fireplace was piping hot when they were finished. They had to move the stockings from the mantel.

  “Ready?” Oscar said.

  “Where you going?” Tin said.

  “Look at the boiler room again,” Mom said. “It’d be nice if we had power.” She put her gloves on and stared at Tin’s feet. “Put your boots on, Tin. Need to stay warm.”

  Oscar put an arm around Mom. She hugged him and closed her arms with a satisfying groan. It was sort of gross. But not, really. They walked out in step. He whispered something to her and she laughed mischievously. That part was gross.

  “Soooo…” Corey said.

  Tin was hugging Piggy again. The toys were normal toys, what toys were supposed to be—staring and not blinking, not smiling. Not hugging.

  Maybe Piggy had some mechanism built in that made her hug back. And leap off the couch and blink and tell me everything is going to be all right. Maybe that was what made Wallace’s toys so special. There was no toymaker and the green hat wasn’t magic. They weren’t filled with elf love.

  Anything was possible.

  “Corey can’t see,” Pip said. Monkeybrain was still doing a mindless dance.

  “See what?” Corey said. “Your sister is getting down with a pig. I see that.”

  “Piggy,” Tin said. “Her name is Piggy.”

  “Okay.” Snow puddles were melting around his boots. “Am I missing something?”

  Tin held Piggy tighter. She didn’t want to let go. The warmth was inside her and felt like it was coming from a stuffed animal. She had to get it out. No matter what he thought. He can’t see.

  “The toys are alive,” she said.

  “Wut.”

  “You know how Pip talks to Monkeybrain? I think she actually hears him talking, like, in her head. No, I don’t think. She does. She hears him and she’s not imagining it. She told a story when I came inside about a toymaker elven who filled toys with love. I think this is his hat.” She rubbed it on her head. “I think Wallace found it on the North Pole.”

  “Yeah. You, uh, you sort of skipped the part about toys and alive.”

  She sighed and shook her head. This would be a lot easier if they stood up and said something. He can’t see.

  “Pip told me to wear the hat and I’d… I’d see.”

  “See what?”

  Pip began laughing. She held her belly at first then covered her mouth but couldn’t stifle it.

  “Clyde likes you.”

  “What?” he said. “Who’s Clyde?”

  Pip flopped on the couch in a fit of laughter. Monkeybrain lay limply on her, his noodly arm pointed at the teddy bear with the shiny glass eyes and the stitched mouth.

  “Here.” Tin held the green hat out. Her head felt naked without it. “Put it on. You’ll see.”

  “See what?”

  “Just do it.” She shook it.

  “He’s not the toymaker.” Pip’s laughter suddenly died.

  “Neither am I. You said I wasn’t the toymaker just because I put this on, right? Corey can do it, too.”

  Tin was feeling tense and hopeful. Part of her panicked that something was happening to her that wasn’t supposed to be happening. She liked this feeling, the feeling when Piggy hugged her. If that was what it felt like to be the toymaker, then she wanted to be the toymaker. She wanted to have the hat.

  I want to feel like this.

  “No offense,” Corey said, “but you look more like a toymaker.” He backed up a step. “I didn’t want to say anything, but you look a little…”

  He ballooned his cheeks. That wasn’t what you said to a girl, or anyone, really. Maybe a sister, though. A stepsister.

  He’s right. I’m fatter.

  “I just thought maybe you were, I don’t know, eating more gluten. I’m not putting on the hat, by the way.”

  Corey had already put the hat on and nothing had happened. Nothing had changed except her. She was still wearing the hat only this time she was awake. I’m not the toymaker. But I’m the wearer. She didn’t know what that meant, but the toys had come to life when she put it on.

  She really hoped she didn’t imagine that.

  “Close your eyes,” she said.

  “You’re not going to hit me, right? You’re still pretty. Did I tell you—”

  “Just shut up.” She pulled him in front of the couch. “Close your eyes.”

  She took a deep breath. It was shaky. She squeezed Piggy tighter and felt a warm gush of emotions. If this didn’t work, she was going to feel stupid.

  And she really wanted it to work.

  “Ready?”

  She took his hand and closed her eyes. It was damp and icy. She must’ve felt like a branding iron the way he flinched. She refused to let go. A jolt of something rode down her arm.

  His hand warmed.

  He stopped squirming, turned quiet. Stopped breathing. She heard shuffling. It was coming from the couch. There were whispers.

  Corey jumped back.

  If she wasn’t hanging on, he might’ve stumbled into the fireplace. His eyes were pried open. A weird sound eked from his throat.

  Clyde stood up.

  The bear put out his arms. Pip was twirling Monkeybrain in circles. “He wants a hug.”

  Corey shook his head, looking back and forth between Tin and Clyde the teddy bear. Tin nudged him.

  “Go on.”

  He reached down. Clyde leaped before he grabbed him. Corey held him like a dirty diaper. Confusion, panic, and curiosity mixed into a strange brew. Clyde climbed into his arms and hugged him.

  “What’s happening?” Corey whispered.

  Clyde rolled his head against Corey’s chest, the little arms and legs reaching around him. Corey’s confusion melted into a goofy smile.

  “It’s like…” he said, “iiiiit’s like chocolate, like chocolate. Like gooey chocolatey cheese dip that’s-that’s just, it’s just… like a hot tub…”

  His words faded into garbled nonsense. He was right, though. It did feel like that. It was the greatest and safest feeling in the world. Like everything was exactly what it was supposed to be, that this moment was perfect just like it was.

  A hot tub of chocolatey cheese dip.

  “Come here.” Corey swept the other toys off the couch. “All of you, even you, you little wood man. Come here.”

  He fell on the floor with his eyes closed.

  “It’s like a puppy pile,” he said. “Don’t… don’t… hahahaha… you’re tickling don’t… hahahaha—”

  “Corey,” Tin said. “Corey, snap out of it. Hey.” She pulled them out of his arms. His eyes shifted back and forth.

  “That was… that was…”

  He tried to catch his breath. Tin pulled him up and put Clyde back in his arms. That kept him from hyperventilating.

  “They’re… alive?” He asked the question despite the evidence. The toys wanted another pile-on.

  “I don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “I mean, none of this makes sense, but here it is. I’m seeing it; you’re seeing it. I don’t know what it means.”

  “We’ve got to tell our parents.”

  “No,” Pip said flatly.

  “No?” Corey said. “What do you mean no? This is huge! Look at them! They’re alive, Pip. Tin, tell her.”

  “I know what they are,” Pip said.

  “Then we’ve got to tell them. I mean, living toys. No wonder Wallace was selling millions. If he was making them feel like this, then, you know, we could, you know… right?”

  “Make millions?” Tin said. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s why they’re alive. Why can’t we tell Mom and Oscar, Pip?”

 
“They’re adults.” Monkeybrain climbed onto her shoulder. “They don’t have imagination.”

  They would shatter if they saw toys doing this. A break in reality like that and they’d fall through and never come back.

  “All adults?” Tin asked.

  “Most.”

  The toys climbed back onto the couch. Each one helped the other. The wooden soldier was last. They lined up on each side of Pip.

  “So then… what?” Corey said. “We just play with them and don’t tell anyone?”

  “We set them free,” Pip said.

  “Set them what?” Corey said.

  “They’re presents,” she said. “They share and give, that’s their purpose. But they’re trapped here and we need to set them free.”

  Corey shook his head. “I don’t…”

  “Santa can’t see them,” Tin said.

  His confusion intensified. The toys watched him mumble. Pip giggled and answered one of them with amusement. Then she agreed and began singing.

  “Santa Claus is coming to town…”

  “This came from an elven.” Tin waved the green hat. “Pip told me a story about who it belongs to while you were digging out the car. This hat is what made them alive, I think. And it somehow woke them up when I put it on. I think that’s why Wallace hid it before he left.”

  “Why did he hide it?”

  “Maybe so they wouldn’t wake up, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter; the toys are awake. The tower is keeping Santa from seeing the house.”

  “Santa?”

  “Yeah. Santa.”

  “You said Santa, right? I heard that.”

  “Santa Claus. The reindeer, the sleigh and presents. You just rolled around in a puppy pile of living toys. Why is Santa so hard to believe?”

  “Yeah, but… Santa?”

  “How are you not making the connection? Look at me. I’ve gained twenty pounds in like three days, a teddy bear just hugged you, and you can’t get past Santa Claus? Where do you think magic elf hats come from?”

  “It’s a lot. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Tin closed her eyes and walked off with Piggy. Corey did the same with Clyde. They looked like oversized toddlers with their favorite toys.

  “Presents aren’t about stuff,” Pip sang. “They remind us, that’s what they do. That’s why we got to set them free.”

  “Remind us of what?” Corey said.

  “Love,” Tin said. “They’re reminders of love.”

  She felt it. So did Corey. That made sense. Maybe Wallace lost his way; that was why he locked them up. He had used the hat to get rich. He sold the love instead of receiving it.

  Santa Claus gives it away.

  “Are there more toys?” Corey asked.

  Clyde nodded. The others did, too. They jumped on the couch and pointed in different directions.

  “Where?” Tin said. “Show us.”

  Piggy wiggled out of her arms. Clyde dropped on the floor. They zigzagged around the room, their padded legs sliding and thumping, and funneled into a line beneath the old antique couch against the wall.

  Wump-wump-wump-wump.

  Corey picked up the sheet covering it. Tin got on her hands and knees. A tiny door wagged on a hinge. The same kind of door in the workshop and the bedroom closet. The same door in the ceiling.

  “Guess we should’ve known what the doors were for,” Corey said. “Living toys.”

  11

  “Clyde!” Corey shouted into the wall. “Hey, buddy. Come back.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Mom didn’t exactly sneak into the lobby, but they didn’t hear her walk in, not with all the shouting. They’d pulled the couch away from the wall. Corey had been yelling into the little mouse door for ten minutes. Clyde didn’t come back. None of them did.

  Corey jumped up. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Well… yeah, no. Nothing. We were just playing… Clyde. It’s a game that Pip made up, right, Pip? She, uh…” His words trailed off.

  “Everything all right?” Mom asked.

  “Hey, it’s great,” Corey said. “Did you get the heat thing going?”

  “No,” Mom said. “The generators are working. As far as we can tell, the solar panels and wind turbines are still producing, just all the current is being redirected.”

  “Where?” Tin was on one of the couches.

  “Hard to tell. The system is so complicated. Maybe it’s stuck in a deceleration cycle or a circuit loop. I’m going to take the laptop back for an analysis. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

  She started for the front door, the puffy snowsuit rubbing between her legs.

  “Where are the toys?” she said.

  “That’s the game,” Tin said. “The one Corey was playing with Pip. It’s like hide-and-seek, but with the toys. Only I hid them. He’s trying to find them. It’s complicated.”

  Mom looked at them one at a time. Pip was pretend-reading with Monkeybrain. Tin and Corey stared back. Talking was just making it worse. Mom approached the couch and, suspiciously, picked up the comforter.

  “What’s this?”

  “This?” Tin slid the map onto her lap. “We found it in the workshop. You know, the one you told us about. Over there. Just all sorts of junk in there.”

  Mom’s lie detector was going off. “Out with it. What’s going on?”

  “Someone likes Corey,” Tin said. “His name is Clyde.”

  “Clyde?”

  “Clyde’s what they call a bear cub. Corey’s a pup.”

  “Tin’s girlfriend is a pig,” Corey said. “Seriously.”

  “All right, that’s enough.” Mom lifted her hands. “What’s really happening?”

  “Mom, it’s just a map. Seriously. We found it over by the workshop, and we were just looking at it, sort of figuring out where stuff was. That’s the truth.”

  It was the truth. That was a way around the lie detector: lie with the truth. It wasn’t exactly lying, not exactly honest. But enough to satisfy Mom’s X-ray vision. She examined the map.

  “We could use this,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah, for sure,” Tin said. “Can we just look at it some more? Just something to do, you know.”

  Mom swept her lie detector one more time. She agreed as long as they left it for her and Oscar when they got back. It might come in handy if they didn’t get the boiler room running.

  “We’ll be another hour,” Mom said. “We’ll cook dinner on the fireplace when we get back. Popcorn for dessert.”

  Tin and Corey pretended to be bored till she went out the front door and returned with a tool bag from the car. She tucked the laptop in the side pocket. They remained quiet for another five minutes. Mom sometimes made a return visit when her lie detector was going off.

  “A pig?” Tin said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “You started it.”

  “She saw you shouting into the wall. I was making something up, anything to explain why you were yelling Clyde into a hole.”

  “So you told her I’m a pup? That makes no sense.”

  Tin threw the sleeping bag off. Time was short and Mom wanted the map. Tin had been tracing the hollow walls when she heard Mom’s footsteps coming down the hall. It was clear now. Those wide walls were narrow hallways for the toys, with little mouse holes for them to come and go.

  This place was built for them.

  Some of the walls were solid. Corey said they were probably load bearing, but he didn’t really know what that meant. Tin started where Clyde, Piggy and the others entered the wall under the antique couch.

  They could be anywhere.

  Monkeybrain could go looking for them. If Pip let him. That was a hard no when they asked. What if he didn’t come back? There was something about the toys that worried Pip. Tin knew what she meant. There was a reason Wallace was hiding them.

  “Know what’s weird?” Corey said. “I really miss him.”

  “Don’t shout anymore,” Tin said. �
�It’s not helping.”

  “You think they’re all right?”

  “Will you just… stop for a second?”

  Tin lost her place. It was hard to concentrate with him breathing over her shoulder. She knew what he meant. I miss her, too. That feeling she got when Piggy wrapped around her felt so good. All her troubles melted away. Like home.

  “Well, it would’ve been nice if they just told us where they were going.” He laughed slightly maniacally. “You know what I mean, Tin? How hard would it be to say, ‘Look, we’re going here.’ No, they just popped into that tiny wall and gone. We could’ve gotten the map; they could’ve pointed with their tiny hands, or little clubs, I don’t know what to call them. Stumps? Oh, God. I think you’re right, Tin.”

  Hands on his hips, he looked at the ceiling.

  “I think I love him.”

  Tin took a deep breath. “I know where they are. I just… I don’t know where it is.”

  It was the room with the red door, the one Wallace locked. The others are still trapped, she thought. She didn’t know how Piggy and Clyde and the others got out, but she was sure the rest of them were in that room. Where is it?

  She traced the walls again, this time with both hands. There were several intersecting junctions. The door was in between the lobby and the kitchen. And then Tin remembered something Pip had said about Gingerman.

  That giant gingerbread house was in the pantry. When they were finished building it, Pip put him in one specific room. That’s where he belongs, she said. That’s his room.

  Tin assumed she was talking about the lobby, but that wasn’t it. The lobby was big and empty. There were couches and a fireplace and nothing else when they arrived. But the lobby was labelled on the map. Toy room.

  “I know where they are.”

  She carried the map over to the upside-down staircase. It was built out of the wall as if someone could walk up if gravity was reversed. But that was a deception. There was a way to use it. She put the map on the floor.

  “Up there?” Corey pointed. “You think he’s up there?”

  “Quiet.” Tin hovered over the map.

  The notes were shaky, hardly legible and faded with time, but there was an X on the wall at the foot of the upside-down staircase and a word.

  GUBMUH.

  “Maybe Monkeybrain can, you know, climb them,” Corey said. “He is a monkey.”