How to Rescue a Dead Princess (15 page)

“That's really lame, Jack.”

“No, no, you see, it's harder than it seems, because you're ethereal, and so your hands just pass right through your belly and head. So, to get into the afterlife, you have to prove yourself worthy by going through with the bizarre sensation of putting your hand through your head.”

“I can try that bizarre sensation with a partner. Would you like to volunteer?”

“You know, these are my beliefs you're mocking,” said Jack. “If I want to believe that this is how things happen after you die, I think I'm entitled to a little respect.”

“I'm sorry. What does the termite do next?”

“I changed my mind. It's a cockroach. Those things are hard to kill, too.”

“Interesting how your beliefs in the afterlife can morph so rapidly.”

“Let me tell you something. When you're locked down here, morphing beliefs in the afterlife are all a man's got.”

“Proceed with the cockroach story.”

“Okay, once the cockroach has given you admittance, you pass through the Gateway, where your life is reviewed. If you had a good life, you return as a baby, ready to begin anew. If your life was miserable enough that the Committee decides you need a break, you move on to the next world.”

“And what's the next world?”

“Munchkin Land.”

“Okay,” Randall said, “the conversation is now over. I'll stay on my side of the cell, you stay on yours.”

WAS THE conversation truly over?
, Jack wondered as he sat on his side of the cell, making a straw castle. He couldn't tell. Randall didn't
seem
to be interested in continuing their discussion, and was currently sitting with his face pressed into the corner, but perhaps his social skills just needed work.

“Do you—”

“Shut up,” said Randall.

That certainly implied that no more conversation was forthcoming, but if there was anything Jack knew, it was not to jump to conclusions.

“I think—”

“Shut up,” repeated Randall.

Once again, strong evidence that the conversation was over, but most of it was circumstantial. It wasn't as if Jack could see into Randall's mind, after all. For all he knew, the poor guy could be just screaming for the conversation to continue, but didn't know how to properly express it. However, Jack did have his limits, and decided that one more rebuke would result in the official termination of the discussion.

“It—”

“Shut up.”

Then again, only wimps gave up that easily. If there was any chance, any chance at all, that Randall wished to continue the conversation, Jack was going to pursue it. That was his duty. He couldn't let Randall be taken to his death leaving unfinished business behind.

“If—”

For once, Randall didn't tell him to shut up. Instead, he removed his face from the corner, turned around, walked over, and kicked Jack in the gut. Then he returned to the corner.

The conversation was over.

NIGHT FELL.

At least Randall thought night had fell. He couldn't tell for sure with the general lack of windows in the dungeon area. The other prisoners had gone to sleep, and only the occasional guard strolling by disrupted the complete silence.

Thump
! The sound of somebody being hit. Randall sat up, listening intently.

Thump
! “Hit him again!” said a familiar voice, just around the corner.
Thump! Thump! Thump
! “You call that a hit? Let me show you.”
Thwack
! “See? You need to tighten your fist more. Now you try it.”
Thump
! “Tighter.”
Crunch
! “Whoops. Was that your hand or his face?”

“My hand.”

“Sorry about that. Is he unconscious yet?”
Chomp
!

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Get him off me, get him off me!”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack
!

“There we go. He's unconscious now.”

“What are you guys doing down here?”

Thump! Thwack! Crunch! Chomp! Thwack! Spit! Gush
!

Silence.

Then the four Ricks wandered down the aisle. “That's right,” said Roderick. “Nobody messes with us.”

“We bad,” Frederick agreed.

Randall moved over to the bars and stuck his arm through, waving frantically. “Guys! Over here!”

The Ricks hurried over to his cell. “Are you okay?” Maverick asked.

“I'm fine,” Randall assured him. “Thank goodness you guys showed up. Do you have the key to the cell?”

“Oh, we're not here for you,” said Roderick. “We want the necklace back. It was expensive.”

Randall stepped away from the bars. “You don't get the necklace until I get out of here.”

Frederick punched Roderick in the shoulder. “What did I tell you? Didn't I tell you not to be so blatant about the necklace thing? Didn't I?”

“Well, I didn't think he'd be so stinky about it,” said Roderick.

“Check the guards we substantially injured,” said Frederick. Rick nodded and went back the way they came.

“After we get you out, you're coming with us to assassinate the king,” Maverick told Randall. “Or else your friend here dies.” He held up the jar containing Bug, who was lying on the bottom, unmoving.

“It's already dead,” said Randall, angrily. “I can't believe you guys! You killed an innocent bug! I hope you develop facial warts in the pattern of an obscene phrase!”

Maverick tapped on the jar a couple times, then smacked his forehead in realization. “Air holes! I knew I was forgetting something, but I assumed it was a label.”

He removed the lid. Suddenly Bug sprung to life, flew out of the jar, and zipped off in the direction of the dungeon exit.

“Look at that,” said Maverick. “It's gone to the afterlife.”

“You cow chip, it's gone to get help!” snarled Roderick.

“Run!” shouted Frederick.

“No!” said Roderick. “We need the necklace for the ladies-only hot tub party.” He looked at Randall. “Let me have it, and I promise we'll let you out afterward.”

“Sure thing,” said Randall. “Not!”

“Ah, the ol’ unexpected last word reversal trick, huh? Listen, buddy, your only hope is to trust us.”

“I trust you about as far as I can shot-put a proboscid.”

“What's a proboscid?”

“Any member of the mammalian order of large herbivores possessing a long and flexible trunk, incisors modified as tusks, and huge molars, some examples being the elephant and the now-extinct mastodon and woolly mammoth, all of which are unsuitable for shot-putting.”

Rick hurried back over to the group. “No keys!” he announced. “But I did catch a bug that looked just like the one we were keeping in the jar.”

“Good,” said Roderick. “Where is it?”

“I let it go. We already had one.”

Jack opened his eyes and sat up. “What's going on?”

“We have to get out of here!” said Maverick. “If we get caught, we'll be executed along with Randall.”

Roderick stared at the necklace for a few seconds, then nodded. “All right, let's go. You're on my list, Randall.” He slammed his fist against the cell door in frustration. It slid open.

“It was never locked!” said Frederick, for the benefit of those who had trouble with eye-brain communication.

“The guards here are big on trust,” Jack told him.

Roderick fumbled around in his robes for a moment, then took out a dagger. “Give me the necklace,” he said.

A voice sounded from the stairway: “I think the disturbance is coming from the dungeon area! But I guess we should do a thorough check of these stairs first, just to be safe.”

“There isn't time to waste!” said Roderick. “Give me the necklace! Now!”

“You want the necklace? Come in here and fight me for it,” said Randall.

“Know what?” asked Maverick.

“No, what?”

“You're coming with us.” Maverick, Frederick, and Rick also took out their knives as the four Ricks burst into the cell. Roderick and Maverick grabbed Randall by the shoulders, while Frederick and Rick took hold of Jack. Roderick grabbed the necklace and put it around his own neck. “C'mon!”

The voice from upstairs sounded again. “Well, I don't see anything on the stairs, but there's no harm in double-checking.”

The group rushed forward, past the cells filled with soundly-sleeping prisoners. When they reached the end of the hall, they froze at the sight of the two guards on the staircase.

“Don't move!” shouted the first guard.

“Don't you move, either!” shouted Roderick.

“I'm allowed to move. I'm a guard.”

Roderick pressed the tip of his dagger against the side of Randall's neck. “Let us pass or he dies!”

“He's already set to die,” explained the guard. “That's why I was coming downstairs, to bring him to the guillotine.”

Frederick pressed the tip of his own dagger against the side of Jack's neck. “All right, then let us pass or this prisoner dies!”

“I think he means it!” said the second guard.

Without warning, the first guard threw the spear he'd been carrying. It struck Frederick in the chest, causing him to drop his dagger and stumble backward, gasping.

“Wow!” exclaimed the first guard. “First try!”

“Frederick!” shouted Roderick.

“Frederick!” shouted Maverick.

“Maverick!” shouted Rick.

“What?” asked Maverick.

“Look what happened to Frederick!”

Randall and Jack forgotten, the three Ricks hurried over to their comrade, who was still stumbling backward and gasping. His feet slipped, and he fell on his back, hands clenched around the spear.

“I'm a goner,” he said, weakly. “I can feel the life draining from my body...”

“That's not your life,” said Maverick, “that's blood.” He considered that for a moment. “Oh, I see your point.”

“Didja see that?” the first guard asked his partner. “First try! You saw it, right? Did you see the way I threw that thing? Got him smack dab in the chest! Go, team, go!”

Randall and Jack just stood there, unsure what they should be doing.

“I know my time is drawing to a close,” said Frederick. “At least I can go out knowing that I died for the Cause.”

“Well, not really,” Maverick corrected. “We were just down here to get back the necklace.” Roderick elbowed him in the ribs.

“Goodbye, my friends!” Frederick said. “Oh, how I wish I would be there to see you all in your old age ... to watch you get married, have children, share good times and bad...”

“Could you maybe speed it up a bit?” Maverick asked. “Your last words are very important to us, but we kind of have a situation here.”

Frederick coughed. “I've still got a good three minutes left in me,” he said.

“We can't wait three minutes!” Roderick insisted.

“A lifetime of friendship, and you won't stay with me three more minutes?” Maverick asked.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Talk.”

The second guard nudged the first. “If you'd really hit him as well as you're bragging, he wouldn't have three minutes left.”

“Yeah? Well, let's see you try and hit one of them.”

The second guard flung his own spear at the Ricks. It missed Roderick, Maverick, and Rick, and struck Frederick in the chest two inches from the other spear.

“There go my three minutes,” winced Frederick, just before he died.

“You're pathetic,” the first guard told his partner.

“I know,” the second guard admitted with a sniffle.

The three Ricks turned around to face the guards. “We will have our revenge,” said Roderick. “Someday soon. Just keep looking over your shoulder.”

The guards looked over their shoulders nervously.

Roderick clapped his hands loudly, awakening the other prisoners. “Everyone upstairs! It's time for co-ed naked backgammon!”

The prisoners burst out of their cells and surged forward, overwhelming the guards. Randall and Jack tried to escape, but the Ricks grabbed them by the shoulders again and forced them to move with the crowd. Right before they reached the stairs, they veered to the right, pushing through a hidden revolving door that led to another tunnel.

“Frederick's passing was not in vain!” Roderick announced. “Tonight, King Irving dies!”

“YOU CAN'T be serious!” Randall said. “An attempt on the king's life now is suicidal! We'll be captured for sure!”

“I know what you're going to say,” said Roderick. “You're going to tell me that an attempt on the king's life now is suicidal, and that we'll be captured for sure.”

“That's what I
did
say,” Randall told him.

“Oh. Sorry, I was a little distracted. No, this is the perfect moment to strike! The guards will be so concerned with the escaping prisoners that they won't be watching the king's chambers as closely! And we've got hostages!”

Jack cleared his throat, “I wasn't going to say anything, but since you brought up the hostage situation, I was just wondering if I could leave, being redundant and all.”

“No.”

“Is that no meaning yes, or no meaning no? Hard to tell sometimes.”

Roderick gave him a dirty look, then proceeded down the tunnel. The others followed, Jack and Randall both with knives pressed against their backs.

“Here's the plan,” said Roderick. “We go to the trap-door underneath the king's bedroom. Rick, you'll stay down in the tunnel, while Maverick and I take Randall and ... your name is?”

“Jack.”

“Nice name. We'll take Randall and Jack up there with us. Maverick and I will flip a dvorkin, and the winner gets to go over and kill the king. Then we'll hurry back down into the tunnel, go back to our lair, and celebrate with bottled water and croutons. I mean it, Jack, that's a really nice name. Simple. Precise.”

“Why do all four of us need to be up there?” Randall asked.

“Because if there are guards waiting, we need hostages to distract them with,” said Roderick.

“That would be you and Jack,” Maverick explained.

“What if the flipped dvorkin wakes up the king?” Jack asked.

“Then we'll just have to kill him a little more quickly.”

“Why not just flip it before you go up into the bedroom?”

“Do I tell you how to do your job?” Roderick demanded.

“No ... not that I recall...”