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The wicked wind whipped about him, carrying a whirlwind of razor sharp leaves, their jagged edges slicing any and all exposed flesh. His frigus-hide coat hung in fresh tatters from his aching shoulders.
He couldn’t spare a moment to assess his situation, nor to shield his striped face from the bloodying green blades. Chittering and chattering ran in the dense jungle undergrowth behind him. The cacophony filled the humid air, and Stanford could tell that the carnivorous pack was closing in. Their cries were ones of victory, his were grunts of pained exhaustion.
It was a little known fact that in his youth he had admired wolves. The well oiled machine that brought about swift kills. The behavior and complexity of the animals had fascinated him, he had even based several of his college papers on the evolution of the efficient killers. On their flaws...and their perfection. But for all his fascination and research, it was all through books and diagrams. He had never been in the field. Never been on a tracking trip gone awry.
He had never seen a kill with his own eyes.
Today, it seemed he’d be appreciating the experience first hand.
Ford’s eyes scoured the forestry ahead of him for any break in the neverending green. The strong accursed breeze must be coming from somewhere. If there was a clearing, or perhaps even the end to the godforsaken jungle, it might provide him with a chance to escape from the tiny jaws of death.
At least expose how many of the wretched creatures were chasing him.
Unfortunately, there was no break, or if there was, he wasn’t fast enough.
A weight landed heavily on his back, upending his balance and nearly toppling him. A sharp, needle like pain sprouted at the back of his neck and Ford twisted to grab the lizard that was biting him. He flung the chicken sized reptile to the ground, a flash of satisfaction lighting his mind at the thump and crack that came from the creature’s breaking neck.
Only a flash of satisfaction though, for the tiny carnivore had done its job. It had slowed Ford down.
He was surrounded in an instant, the animals leaping forward to nip at his legs and hips before jumping back to the safety of the bush.
Ford pulled out his ion pistol, blasting away two, three shrieking beasts before they started jumping onto his arms, his shoulders and back.
He struggled but was down in an instant. He was victim to the pack.
His head having hit the ground, he was dazed and writhed in agony as the lizards started eating him alive. The breath rushed out of him as a larger of the creatures jumped on his chest.
Instinct kicked in and his hand dove beneath his pillow for the gun that waited there. With a war cry Ford jumped off his couch, knocking the thing that had leapt upon him in his sleep to the floor, and expertly aimed at the small being.
As he pulled the trigger with no hesitation, a heavy force slammed into his side. The bolt of ionized particles flew high, blasting the midst of Ford’s disorderly desk and setting the paper mess aflame.
He spun out of his unknown assailant’s grip and pointed his weapon towards them. His finger twitched, but did not pull the trigger as his entire being froze.
The words that the man before him had been shouting finally registered in Ford’s ears as he took in their face.
“STANFORD! What the hell is wrong with you?!” The gun was knocked from his hands but Ford didn’t care. He stood in shock, mouth agape as his mind processed what he had almost done.
“Uh, Ford? Are you-”
His legs gave way beneath him and his knees hit the hardwood floor.
“Ford!” Strong hands gripped Ford’s shoulders as the man knelt in front of him. Pain filled his core as he stared panicked into the man’s brown eyes. His brother’s eyes.
He had nearly shot Stanley.
A croaked cry squeaked past his lips and he hung his head in agonizing shame. The hands on his shoulders moved, and he was gathered up into a tight embrace.
“Hey, it’s okay Sixer,” Stan said, rubbing circles into the distressed man’s back. “It was just a nightmare. You’re home now. I’ve gotcha.”
Ford buried his head in his brother’s shoulder, and despite his efforts, he began to shake.
“Stop that,” Stan chided, but there was no edge to his voice. “It’s okay.”
“I-it’s not okay!” Ford shuddered. “I-I almost…”
Stan shushed him. “No...it’s alright. No one was hurt. You stopped! You stopped Ford before you did anything. It’s okay.”
The soft assurances repeated and tumbled as a never ending stream of comfort as Ford broke down in his brother’s arms. He clung to his twin as images of what nearly happened filled his head. A split second, a sliver of movement from his trigger finger and he would still be embracing his brother, the difference being that Stanley would be dead. Dead. He had nearly-
His eyes locked on the abandoned pistol behind Stan and a dreadful thought made itself known. He had fired, at something. At something small that would have jumped on his chest to wake him up...with hugs perhaps.
Panic filled his darting gaze as he pulled away from Stan. He feared the worst, the absolute worst.
“Ford? You fine now nerd?”
To Ford’s relief but growing confusion, he saw no sign of anyone else in the room.
“I…” he started, confusion coloring his tone. “I...shot at something .”
Stan looked over his shoulder at the rest of the room himself. “Yeah, ya did. Don’t worry though, I stopped ya from hitting him.”
“Him?!” Ford’s voice went up an octave with the exclamation and panic overran him. The fear however was quickly quelled by the confusing absence of Ford’s apparent near victim. “...Where?”
“I think he’s under the couch or somethin’,” explained Stan. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him out later. You alright now?”
Ford nodded slowly, before shaking his head in frustration. Still trembling slightly, all his jumbled thoughts came out as a clear simple, “Wait, who?!”
Stan grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Moses,” he muttered, “This is all my fault.”
Ford tilted his head quizzically.
“Uh...just a mo,” and with that Stan shuffled around Ford and to the couch. He crouched down and reached under into the dusty dark before recoiling with a cry.
“COMPY!” Stan clutched his right hand in his left, examining the fresh bloody bite on the end of his middle finger.
Ford was instantly at his brother’s side; having scooped up the pistol as he rushed over he pointed it at the edge of the dark and jerked his twin away. One swift and smooth action, Ford was ready to defend, to kill.
“Ford! Calm down ,” the gun was taken again from his hand, but slowly. “Why don’t you go stand over there,” Stan gestured vaguely behind himself, “He’s frightened, maybe if you leave-”
“It bit you Stan!”
“Like I said, Poindexter. Scared animal. They do that. Now go away.”
Something twinged inside Ford’s chest at his brother’s sharp tone. It took him a moment as he backed away to assure himself that Stan only meant as of this moment. Ford was in the way, making things worse for the curious creature under the sofa. Ford did not have to leave Stanley’s presence however. Not what Lee had meant.
“It’s okay,” Stan cooed once Ford had moved to the opposite end of the room, “It’s me Compy. It’s Stan. I know the big scary nerd was mean but it’s alright now.”
“The what?”
Stan shushed him before tentatively sticking his arm back under the couch. He did not recoil this time, but Ford was able to see a relieved expression cross his features. “That’s right, it’s just me. You wanna come out?” Now Stan ducked down so he could look under the furniture.
An odd chirping sounded from the crevice. Ford stepped forward with curiosity.
Then Stan scooped out the unknown animal, leaning back to sit with a whump and hold the nervous thing in his lap.
Ford froze. It was a lizard. It’s weathered grey skin wrinkled in pebbled designs and it’s sharp needle fangs flashed as it chirped happily up at Stan.
It was a dinosaur. And not just any dinosaur but one that struck a chilling resemblance to the predators of Dimension EB1'i5%I9. The very creatures that his horror filled memory had blessed him with mere moments before as he dreamt.
He stumbled back against his bookcase in shock. His mind swirled with whys and hows, not drawing any conclusions to ease his panic at the sight of his twin lovingly holding a beast that had near killed him years before.
“See, it’s alright,” Stan’s voice shattered the tense silence. “Nothing’s gonna hurt ya.” It took Ford a moment to realize that his brother was indeed speaking to the wretched reptile, not himself.
Frustration overtook Ford’s confusion. “Where did that come from ?!”
“Well, that’s a bit of a story,” his brother grinned and Ford could tell that Stan didn’t wouldn’t mind the long and, no doubt, embellished telling.
Ford quirked a brow and smiled fondly, “Do tell.”
Stan got up and sat on the sofa, holding the happy dinosaur in his lap before starting with a dramatic air. “You remember how the kids were going on about that time I punched a pterodactyl?”
Ford nodded and, carefully, sat down besides his brother.
“Soooooo, that’s about that!” finished Stan, still stroking the now named “Compy”.
Ford however was confused, “But if you gave it to the farmer, what is it doing here ?”
His unhelpful brother shrugged, “I dunno, probably missed home or something. Didn’t ya you little guy?” Compy squeaked with joy and wagged his whiplike tail. “You miss your Mama?”
Ford…..chose to ignore Stan’s baby talk. “Why did you name it-”
“You wanna hold him?” Stan interrupted.
“Wha-NO!” his resistance came too late though, and the compsognathus was plopped onto his lap.
“STANLEY!” But his brother was of no use, merely chuckling and resting a solid hand on Ford’s arched back.
“Stanford, re laaaaax .”
Ford inhaled sharply, holding his breath as he looked fearfully down at the monstrosity in his lap. Stan exhaled loudly beside him, and Ford followed suit. A few repeats, and suddenly, Compy didn’t seem…..that deadly.
One of the lizard’s toe claws dug into Ford’s thigh and he carefully moved the foot in question.
He didn’t lose any fingers.
Ford carefully stroked Compy’s long grey neck, then let out a chuckle as his nerves shook themselves out.
Sure, the prehistoric killer could still cause some damage, but there was only one….and he was small…..a bite or two wouldn’t release enough of the paralyzing venom….
Compy chirped, happy eyes smiling up at Ford.
Ford lips twerked upward and he sighed in enamored defeat, “Alright, I admit that I’ve perhaps been a tad too high strung-”
“HA!” Stan’s bark of laughter interrupted Ford’s apology. “A tad ?”
“Haha,” Ford deadpanned, looking away from Compy to glare at his infuriating twin. “I’ll have you know that in Dimension Dimension EB1'i-”
He jumped as there was a wild rapping at his door.
“Grunkle Fooooooord ! Are you up yet?”
Instantly an joyful grin spread across Ford’s features and he pushed Compy off his lap, ignoring Stan’s indignant, “Hey!”. He ran to the door and swung it open, gathering the precious --if squeaking in surprise-- girl in his arms.
“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel giggled. “What are you doing?”
He held her tight, and muttered into her hair, “What do you think?” Her little arms snaked around his neck and for the millionth he felt so, so grateful to have his life so blessed with her existence.
“Are you okay, or is this just the best good morning hug ever?”
He sighed, “I…” he searched for an answer, “I had a nightmare.”
A scoff sounded behind him.
“What?” he turned, still holding Mabel. “I did.”
“Grunkle Stan? What are you doing?”
“We were talkin’ sweetie. No big deal.”
Ford hummed in humored gratitude. No big deal . How was it that Stanley could always make things so easy?
“Well,” Mabel leaned out of the hug, “As much as I love this, I don’t want you to hurt your back Grunkle Ford.”
“You’ll never break this back!” He grinned impishly before stepping inside for room and spinning around and around. Giggles echoed about the room and Stan joined in with their laughter. So did Compy, chirping.
Ford stopped before he became too dizzy and Mabel’s gaze fell on her other grunkle, the dinosaur in his lap.
“COMPY!” she squealed, causing Ford to find reason in why Stan had a hearing aid at their age. He dropped Mabel lightly on the ground and she darted over to her favorite lizard. Compy purred as she started to stroke his neck. “When did he come back?” she asked Stan.
“Last night, the lil’ scamp was tapping at the kitchen window when I went for a midnight snack.”
Ford frowned and gave his brother a look . They both had been making an effort to sleep for solid blocks of time at late. If Stan was breaking the rules they had agreed upon-
Stan rolled his eyes, “Nightmare Poindexter. You ain’t the only one who gets ‘em.” Ford figured that was fair, though he did take a mental note to check up on Stan later, when the kids were gone for the day perhaps.
“MAAAAAAAAAAABEL!” called a voice that cracked at least four times mid-shout. “WADDLES IS TRYING TO EAT MY WAFFLES!!!”
“COOOOOOOOOOOMING!” Mabel hollered back. She stroked Compy a few more times, ignoring how both her grunkles were rubbing their ears. “I better get you some food too, right Compy? How’s about some rotten eggs?” Compy cooed in reply, causing Mabel to awe over his cuteness.
Compy chirped sadly as she stopped petting him, opting instead to ruffle Stan’s hair. “Food for you two knuckleheads too!”
Before he knew it, Ford was nearly bowled over as she began hugging him tight once again. He knelt down as to better utilize the embrace. “Are you okay now Grunkle Ford?” she whispered, just enough for him to hear. “Nightmares are awful, but they’re just mean dreams.”
He smiled and replied, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“By being the best nerdy grunkle ever!”
He chuckled as Mabel pulled away. She knocked their foreheads together and her dark brown eyes seemed to gaze into his very soul. “I love you Grunkle Ford.”
Ford laughed then, all the guilty darkness in his heart melting away at those words. He pulled her back into the hug and said, “I love you too Princess.”
Compy chirped from across the room.
“Wait,” began Stan, “Where did Dipper get waffles ?”