The Lost

by William Joyce

  “OUCH!” yelled Billy. “That hurts!”

  This seemed to interest Zozo. “He’s torn,” the clown said calmly. “And tearing him hurts.” Unlike people, toys don’t hurt when they’re torn. They can rip an arm or lose a head, and it causes no pain at all. The pain a toy feels is in his soul, and that pain is always from loss. And loss is what Zozo had felt every minute of his life since the dancer had been taken from him.

  “Sit him up!” Zozo commanded his Creeps. “Make him see my dancer!”

  Billy felt pulling and poking from every direction. The Creeps were not very good at this job. They’d quickly attached ropes to the ceiling and were trying to hoist Billy up on his knees. The Super Creep’s wayward head kept falling off, and his directions to the other Creeps grew all scrambled, depending on which direction his head landed. “UP! OVER!!! DOWN!!!! I MEAN UP!!!!”

  Twice they dropped Billy, and he fell right on top of Super Creep. The first time, the Super Creep was just sorta smushed flattish. The second time, they couldn’t find the Super Creep’s head. He kept yelling, “I’m in here!” until his cohorts finally figured out he’d been knocked into Billy’s pajama top’s pocket. The very same pocket filled as it usually was with about six pieces of already chewed gum. It took three Creeps to unstick the head from the pocket. As they were trying to pry the gum off the Super Creep’s face, Billy, trying to be helpful, explained, “That’s where I keep my gum for later.”

  Zozo became furious and took command. The Super Creep’s head was now stuck upside down on Billy’s knee. Zozo left it there and focused on getting Billy to sit right where he wanted him to be. He ordered the Creeps to wrench and pull and tighten till Billy was sitting up with his legs under his chin, all of which pleased Zozo. But none of it pleased Billy. They’d been treating him roughly, like a toy, like one of the imprisoned toys Billy had seen tied to the wall in the other room.

  And Billy was worried now. Some of the strings and wires wrapping around him were practically cutting into his skin. The ones around his wrists, which were pulled behind his back, were the worst. He could barely move his hands or arms without it hurting. But he soon realized that the strings around his ankles were looser, so loose that Billy could rub his feet together to get his socks to shift down, covering the obvious slackness.

  At least he might be able to get his feet free and make a run for it. But the real problem now was with his knees up under his chin, the Super Creep’s gum-smeared face was staring right at him.

  “All right, kid,” said the Super. “Look over at the table.”

  Billy did as he’d been told.

  “See the Dancey Doll?”

  Billy did see the doll. The dozen or so lights and lamps strewn throughout the lab were all aimed toward it. Billy was at first confused. The doll looked familiar. Then he realized why. How could this be possible? Could there have been more than one of his mom’s favorite toys? Then without meaning to, he whispered the doll’s name. “Nina.”

  Zozo had retreated to the side of his throne in the shadows, but when he heard Billy say that one word, he stepped closer. He watched Billy’s expression with keen interest. Even after all this time, he remembered the look on a child’s face when they picked their favorite toy, that sparkle in their eyes when they’d found “the one.”

  Billy just stared at the dancer doll. And stared. Zozo watched him with a sinister stillness. The Creeps looked nervously at one another. The only sound came from the creak and squeak of their anxious shifting.

  The Super Creep—well, his head—was closer than anyone else to Billy, but he could tell from the look on the boy’s face that something was up. He had seen skads of children up close over the years. He’d seen them happy and he’d seen them crying. He’d stolen many a Favorite, so he’d caused lots of tears. It was the best part of his job. Like bees to honey, he loved making tears. But Billy wasn’t sad nor near tears. And he didn’t look scared. The Super Creep was as scared as he’d ever been. His plan was not going as planned.

  “What is it, kid?” he whispered, but Billy paid no attention to him.

  “This boy can’t favorite my dancer?!” Zozo said.

  Billy finally looked away from the doll to Zozo.

  “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I can’t,” he repeated, even more softly. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Not ever!”

  Zozo grabbed a long slim rod of metal with a jagged piece of tin welded to one end. He pressed the sharp end against Billy’s chest, close to the boy’s heart.

  “Sure you can, kid, please,” the Super Creep pleaded. He could see the tip of the spear pressing tightly against the pocket of Billy’s pajamas. “Zozo ain’t kiddin’ around.”

  It was so quiet and tense in that room that you could sense the tightening of every muscle, every spring, every metal joint and piece of fabric and even every breath. Then, drifting into all this stillness, came a distant sound . . . an echo . . . Music. As if playing from far away, which it was. The sound of the old merry-go-round.

  At first, none of them knew how to respond, or even if they were really hearing this strange old music. Not the Creeps, not the toys, not Billy, not even Zozo. But it played on. And then the clown king remembered. Nina. And the sound of her going away. The delicate chime of her bell. A sound he never thought he’d hear again. But he had, earlier that night. In the chest of a runaway Homemade.

  “You know her name!” muttered Zozo to Billy. “The plush that ran.” In the rusted and brittle workings of Zozo’s memory, many pieces of his past were fitting together. “The Homemade with the bell. . . . Your toy . . .” Zozo’s eyes glistened. “How do you know the name? Where is my Nina?”

  The puzzle of Billy’s expression was now clear.

  Billy may have been afraid, but he didn’t show it. He was determined not to show any emotion at all. He would make his face as blank as a toy’s. He would reveal nothing of the secret he now knew.

  28

  The Tunnel

  Minutes earlier, Ollie and the Junkyard Gang, riding in the all-terrain mobile-junk attack vehicle, had come to the entrance of the Tunnel of Love. It was Pet Rock who spied Pegasus at the muddy edge of the ride’s old canal.

  “Toy horse with wings to aft!” shouted Pet Rock.

  “Good eye! That’s Billy’s toy!” said Ollie. Pet Rock felt very proud; he did have only one eye, but it was nice to be complimented for it. “Take us aft if you please, Mr. Greenfellow,” Ollie ordered. The lawn mower promptly pulled them to the water’s edge, trimming a nice path in the grass as he went.

  Tinny and Lefty scampered down to retrieve the small horse and brought it to Ollie. The toy sensed the naval spirit of the mission and reported thus:

  “Pegasus reporting for duty, sir!”

  “Tell us what you can, Pegasus!” said Ollie.

  “Well, Captain,” the toy replied, recognizing Ollie’s leadership role. “The hostiles brought President Billy to this point and then smuggled him aboard a large wooden swan and sailed the swan down the canal and out of sight.”

  President Billy? That sounded right. To a kid’s toys, their child does seem like a president.

  Tinny and Lefty looked up to Ollie for direction. Ollie sensed his crew had confidence in him, and that gave him a surge of braveness. So much braveness that it scared him, because Ollie knew they didn’t have a plan. Ollie had been Billy’s second in command for many pretend attacks and invasions, and he kind of knew the words to say, like “Charge!” and “Cover me!” and “Use the Force Luke!,” but he had never imagined that he would ever be leading a real mission. Yet here he was.

  A real boy—his boy, President Billy—was captured by real bad guys. Guys who did so much illegal and mean and cruddy that Ollie’d have to be the bravest and best Grand High Safemaster of any kid ever in all of history. He had to do this for Billy, even if Billy had chucked him away. It was the Code of the Toys. And this kind of Real was a little scary. Actually, this kind of Real was REAL scary.

 
Ollie stared down into the dark, watery tunnel. They all did.

  “Man, it’s dark in there,” said Topper.

  “Really dark,” agreed Reeler.

  “So dark I couldn’t see my thumb in front of my palm,” said Lefty.

  Tinny had followed the Creeps into the tunnel when they Billynapped Billy, and even he couldn’t help but shake a little at the thought of going back. And his shaking made the other cans shake. And then the knives and forks were shaking. Then Keys started typing lots of question marks. And the music from the merry-go-round started sounding kind of spooky in the breeze. And now, the all-terrain mobile-junk attack vehicle was rattling and clattering so loud. You could actually hear their fear.

  What do I do?! Ollie thought. Even his own bell was ringing! I’m not made of brave. I’m just . . . stuff! But he KNEW what he had to do. He had to find Billy.

  The breeze calmed, and the merry-go-round sounded less strange, and then, at the entrance of the tunnel, tiny dots of light began to appear. First, a dozen or so. Then more and more. Fireflies! Hundreds of them, some drifting all around them, but more gathering around Ollie, so many it was almost blinding. “I think they’re here to help us,” said Ollie. And though the Junkyard Gang could barely see Ollie for all the flickering, they weren’t afraid anymore: they all knew that there was nothing to fear from fireflies. Then the little glowing insects began to drift away, away from Ollie, and back toward the tunnel. They darted into the dark entrance, lighting it up. Just enough. Just enough that Ollie and the others could see. See what was ahead.

  29

  The Canal

  Ollie thought of every trick he’d ever seen in every battle movie he and Billy had watched and in every book that had been read to them. “Okay!” he commanded. “Our plan is gonna be: do some Robin Hood, and some Use the Force Luke, and some Trojan Horse, and some . . . Yellow Submarine.”

  The Junk kinda understood. Luckily, Chilly was watertight when closed and could submerge like a submarine. His ancient cooling motor would act as a perfect propeller to power the refrigerator at a good clip through the thick, murky water. Once inside Chilly, the platoon of tin cans had been busy arming themselves with wheels and arming themselves with knives and forks and ingenious little bows and arrows made from every kind of scrap imaginable. So on Ollie’s order, Chilly submerged.

  Ollie told Pegasus to guard the tunnel entrance while he and the rest of the Junkyard Gang leaped into one of the wooden swan boats bobbing in the water. They pushed themselves away from shore and let the swan drift into the tunnel, just ahead of Chilly. They hunkered down and hid. Every piece of Junk knew what they were supposed to do in a general sort of way. They were cocked and ready. Locked and loaded. Full of vim and vigor. Swash and buckled. And lots of other hero phrases they weren’t sure they understood. The fireflies continued to hover above them, but as they neared the end of the ride, the insects began to go dark. Ollie, peeking past the swan’s long neck, could see that the dock at the other end was unguarded, and—could it be? Yes! It could!—just beyond that was the room of the lost toys. Ollie could hear voices. One was definitely Zozo’s and the other . . . Billy’s!

  Ollie turned to his crew. “Okay, everybody! You know what to do!” he whispered.

  “Pretty much!” “Kinda!” “I think so!” came their replies.

  “Not so loud, guys,” hushed Ollie. “Remember, this is a super-spy, super-sneak-up, super-ninja-man, surprise attack-the-bad-guys super attack.”

  “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaahhhhh,” they all whispered back, feeling super-spy-inner-ninja non-Junkiness filling their every molecule.

  Ollie waited patiently till the swan finally nudged up against the edge of the decrepit old dock, which was literally the end of the ride. He spoke quietly into a walkie-talkie. “Tinny, can you read me? Tinny, come in!”

  After a moment there came “Ting! Ta ta ting.”

  “Good,” replied Ollie. “Tell Chilly to remain submerged till I give the order. Do you read me?”

  “Ta ta ta ting.”

  “Okay, hang loose,” said Ollie. He peered carefully around. A single firefly drifted forward, as if making sure the coast was clear. It hovered near the top of the door that led to the lost toys’ prison room, then blinked several times.

  “That must be their signal! Come on!” Ollie waved the gang onward, and they began to slip and climb and spring and tiptoe from the swan boat to the dock and then toward the entrance of the lost toys’ prison. The room was dim, the only light coming from Zozo’s lair.

  “Can we yell ‘charge’ now?” asked Pet Rock.

  “No,” said Lefty. “We’re still sneaking!”

  “Well, can we yell ‘sneaking!,’ then?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Topper.

  “I think we just sneak till it’s officially charge time,” added Brushes.

  Keys was being pushed along by several Junk helpers, and Clocker was riding along. Everyone had an old steak or butter knife, or a bent fork or a fondue spear as a weapon, except for Pet Rock—he really couldn’t hold anything. “Just throw me! Hard! I’m a rock! I can take it!” he insisted adamantly.

  Ollie was the first to reach the forgotten favorites’ door, and through their prison, he could see into the well-lit chamber of Zozo’s lair and across the room to Billy. There was Billy!

  Billy was sitting up with his knees to his chest and his back toward them. Several dozen Creeps surrounded him—the room was lousy with Creeps. And there, just past Billy, was Zozo’s table. And on the table was a doll, a ballerina doll. It looked like— No, it couldn’t be. But yes, it did—it looked just like the Nina doll from that photo of Billy’s mom from long ago. And standing next to the doll was Zozo, looking intently at Billy.

  30

  The Echo

  Ollie inched forward. He was not walking like a regular plush; he was walking like a plush on a mission! The rest of the Junks followed his lead: attentive and at the ready and very, very surprise attacky.

  They sneaked past the imprisoned lost favorites who recognized Ollie and understood immediately that they were not to make a sound. Some of the toys looked more tattered than they had when Ollie first met them. After they’d helped him escape, the Creeps and Zozo had clearly not been gentle. Some of them were nearly torn to shreds. One-Eye. Carrot Bunny. Dino. They had all lost some fabric or stuffing or parts. But they didn’t mind. As soon as Ollie and his crew began to untie the them, they immediately fell into rank, eager to help.

  Once they were all free, Ollie edged himself up against the wall just beside the door of Zozo’s lair. He could hear Zozo easily now, and what he heard was alarming.

  “This boy can’t favorite my dancer!” Zozo was shouting.

  “I can’t,” Billy said quietly. “I can’t,” he repeated, even more softly. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Not ever!”

  Ollie snuck a look. Zozo was placing a sort of spear against Billy’s chest.

  Then things went quiet. Ollie glanced back at the gang, worried.

  “Now!” whispered Pet Rock.

  Ollie shook his head—no—urgently. He wasn’t sure. He knew deep down inside that he had to wait for something, but he wasn’t sure what. He was feeling so many things at once—scared, brave, calm, and something else. Something mysterious. Like a memory he didn’t know he had. He was waiting. He looked up. The fireflies were clustering again, just above him, their lights very dim. Then the brightest one buzzed down and landed on his chest, just above his bell heart. As Ollie watched in surprise, the firefly blinked on and off, on and off. Blink-blink . . . Blink-blink . . . like a beating heart.

  As the firefly continued its blinking rhythm, Ollie understood what the firefly was trying to tell him. His bell. His heart. It had been more than just his—it had been Nina’s before him.

  Blink-blink, blink-blink.

  He knew that at that same moment, Zozo was pushing his spear against Billy’s chest, just above Billy’s heart.

  Zozo�
�s voice boomed. “You know my dancer, don’t you! I can tell from your face. YOU KNOW HER! HOW?”

  The firefly stopped blinking. And Ollie knew what to do. He began to pound his chest as hard as he could, making his bell ring loud and clear.

  31

  CHARGE!!!

  Billy eyed Zozo. “I’m sorry, Mr. Zozo,” he said with calm defiance. “But you’re right, I can’t favorite your Nina. I already have a favorite, and his name is Ollie.”

  The sound of the bell had transfixed Zozo. “My Nina. My Nina,” he said almost tenderly. Then his face made the closest thing to a smile the Creeps had ever seen Zozo make.

  Billy knew this was his chance. Ever so slowly, so no one would notice, he reached down to knee level and pressed one hand over the Super Creep’s mouth. Then he started sawing his wrist bindings against the sharp edge of the Creep’s tin-can head. He was nearly finished when there came a funny sort of shout, not of a person, not of a child or even an animal. It was the unmistakable cry of a toy. A very brave and valiant toy. His toy.

  “CHARGE!!” bellowed Ollie.

  Then every piece of Junk and every ancient toy joined him in a great magnificent roar, “CHAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGE!!”

  And they charged.

  The Creeps were too stunned to react. Before they could put up their guard, the Junks and toys were overrunning them, swatting the first wave of villains down like flies.

  Billy jerked around, an openmouthed grin of surprise on his face. He spotted Ollie rushing forward, taking the lead, sword slashing left and right so fast that no Creep in his path stood a chance. They were actually running AWAY from him.

  “Look at him go,” Billy murmured in happy, bewildered awe.

  It took Billy an instant or two to absorb the fact that Ollie was leading a charge.

  In those few seconds, the Creeps had regained their senses and started to fight back with their usual skill and cunning. But not before a protective blockade of junkyard warriors and determined toys surrounded Billy. “President Billy!” cheered the Junks.