Chapter 5

Danbr worked late into the night. The conditions of his orders were to ‘work until his hands fell off’, not ‘work until either it’s done or his hands fell off.’ Danbr realized this at about one o’clock in the morning, an hour after every bolt on the jungle gym was hand-screwed as tight as he could have managed with a wrench. He passed the time by polishing it with his shirt. It was the closest thing to sleeping he could do without getting a pain in his head for disobedience.

He was tired. He fell in an out of consciousness, each time being awoken by a jolt in his skull. One minute he’d be polishing the playground equipment, the next he’d be first mate on a five-star cruise ship swabbing the deck. The captain would tip his hat for a job well done. Then he’d get a headache and pop back into the real world.

As the night went on, the dreams got weirder. At one point his highschool girlfriend showed up and kissed him until his headache pulled him out of it. At one point the shirt he was rubbing the equipment with turned into a tiny version of himself, which startled Danbr into dropping it.

It was a tortuous state of mind. He was both awake and asleep. The demonic mistress in his head whipped his brain when it strayed from the task at hand. He wanted to sleep more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life, but he knew it would only happen if his hands fell off.

And then poof. They did. And he did. And he didn’t wake up for hours.

It was sunny. A little shirtless child was kicking Danbr until he started moving, at which point he ran screaming. (The boy, not Danbr.) He didn’t remember putting his shirt back on. A cab drove by the playground, which was odd because the cab he took there yesterday was afraid to enter the neighborhood. Danbr ran and flagged him down.

“Rough night?” He asked. Danbr nodded, dazed. “Get in.”

Danbr reached for the door handle, but only nudged it with his arm stub. Startled, he looked back over his shoulder, scanning the playground. “I think I left my hands over there.”

The cab driver took a look at the perfectly smooth stubs at the end of Danbr’s arms. He suddenly became very sympathetic. “Sir, it looks like you left your hands somewhere a long time ago.” He reached back and opened the door for him. “Get in, bud, this ride’s on me.” Danbr did, nodding appreciatively.

During the ride, Danbr couldn’t help but wonder why his headache wouldn’t come back, and wondered if maybe he was still actually working on the equipment. “What are you doing?” asked the cabby as Danbr rubbed the back of his seat with his sleeve.

“Working on the equipment so my head doesn’t hurt again.”

    “Do you have a person I should call? Or a card or a bracelet or something?”

    “No. I’m fine.” He sat back in his chair. “I’m fine. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” He looked at his hands, or lack thereof. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to be perfectly honest with me.” He leaned forward and whispered worryingly, “Am I dreaming you?”

    After a long but understandable pause, the driver replied, “...No?”

    “How can you be sure?” Danbr slurred, “I’ve been dreaming things all night.”

    The driver tried to think of a response but couldn’t. “I guess I don’t know for sure I’m not just a player in some cosmic circus; a passing thought in the mind of a madman; a whisper in the wind,” His eyes focused forward as the cab stopped at a red light. “But I can tell you that this morning I had toast and orange juice, and tonight I’m going to call my mother and father, and it all feels very real to me.”

Danbr nodded. And nodded some more. He looked down at his stubs. “What’s the date?”

The driver answered.

“I thought so,” replied Danbr, nodding. “I had hands yesterday.”

The driver nodded back.

They stopped in front of Danbr’s apartment. “Thanks again for the ride, sir.”

“Do you need me to unlock the door for you, or dial a phone or something?”

“That’s fine, you’ve been wonderful.” Through the combined effort of his forearm and his elbow, Danbr opened the door and exited the cab. “Thanks again!”

By now he was pretty sure he was awake, but every time he looked at his wrists or thought about Burke he started wondering all over again if any of it was real. He bumped into his landlord gathering the mail.

“Good morning Mr. Higgins!” said Danbr, “Could you open the door?”

“It’s three in the afternoon,” he replied, “But sure. What the hell happened to your hands?”

For some reason, this was incredibly relieving to hear, and it brought Danbr comfortably back into reality. “I don’t know! I had them last time you saw me, right?”

“I think so.”

“Could you open my apartment for me? I don’t seem to have my keys.”

“What happened to your keys?”

“I don’t know! Isn’t that weird?” Mr. Higgins nodded.

Danbr entered his apartment, and Mr. Higgins waved goodbye. “Wait,” Danbr called, “Quick question, has anyone ever died in my apartment?”

Mr. Higgins was still shaken up by the chronologically confused Danbr wandering home without his keys or hands, so the question seemed comparatively job-relevant. “I don’t know, Danbr, it’s an old building. People die. Statistically, probably. I’ll look into it. Why?”

Danbr decided to keep the fact he saw a ghost to himself. “No reason. Thank you!” He left. Danbr plopped on the couch, and immediately fell back asleep.

Waking up in his own apartment had an effect on Danbr. He opened his eyes, saw his familiar ceiling, and everything fell into perspective. Burke was real. What happened yesterday definitely happened. For some strange reason his hands were missing. He got up to have a drink of water, but being unable to hold a cup, he simply nudged the tap and drank directly from the stream.

“You weren’t at the worksite.”

Danbr zipped around. There sat Burke, the smug sack of smog, unable to express emotion but still somehow managing to be disgustingly giddy. Danbr tried to splash him with the water from the tap, but Burke flipped open his umbrella with an unseeable swiftness. “Danbr! Hold on! I have good news!” He stopped splashing. The tap continued to run behind him. Burke folded his umbrella and tossed two wood tokens on the floor in front of him. They were each about the size of a coaster, and each had a picture of a hand on them. “I saved you! I got you out of your curse, and now we can go and get your hands back!”

Danbr sat down and gave Burke time to explain.

“There’s a casino,” he explained, “not far from town in the woods. It’s a place where supernatural beings go to socialise. And since they use the barter system and they have no money to speak of, they bet things like talent, years of life, and...” He tapped the tokens with his umbrella, “...body parts! Let’s go cash in these chips!”

They decided to walk. It would only take a couple hours, and it would give them a chance to talk. “So were you ever going to show me this place? Was it on your itinerary? It sounds very exciting.”

“No,” replied Burke, “It’s scary and dangerous. But it was the easiest solution to your predicament.”

“Really?” said Danbr, “I was trying to think of ways to get Debbie to tell me to stop.”

“That was the first thing I tried.” replied Burke, “I figured being woken up by something spooky like me in the middle of the night would scare her into doing whatever I said, but she just yelled at me and threw things until I left.” He shuddered, in his own way. “This is easier, trust me.”

“Wait, this place just let you cash in my body parts?”

“I might have told them you were my property.”

“They didn’t check?”

“It’s pretty informal there.”

They stepped into the forest and left the trail. They came to an area with tall trees all around, and a rough creek that made everything misty. There was a tall, mossy cave, and a faint murmur of a party. Hanging from the trees was a variety of umbrellas, and a few were leaning up against the cave entrance as well. “Each one is a vorax.” Burke explained. “You can bet that any people who come by this place won’t remember it. They hide in their umbrellas because the mist makes them uncomfortable. In fact, do you mind going in without me and asking the lady to give you back your hands? It’s very very damp inside.”

“Sure,” said Danbr. “Hey, Burke? Thank you for doing this for me. I don’t think you’re a sack of scum.”

“Thank you. I don’t know why,” Burke began, “but I find your companionship valuable.”

“Back atcha.” Danbr replied.

The inside of the casino was mossy and scummy and damp. Creatures of every shape, size and colour imaginable passionately played games Danbr had never seen before at large, stone tables. It was lit by bright quartz gems. The place had a soft carpet of moss, and a ceiling of limestone. It looked at once deliberately designed and naturally formed. Danbr took a moment to appreciate it.

He stepped up to the counter labeled ‘cash-in’. It was designed for creatures about two feet taller than Danbr, so he had to stand on his toes. “Hello,” he said, pulling the large, wood chips out of his shirt pocket with his teeth and dropping them on the counter, “I’d like to cash these in.”

The lady behind the counter, a giant enthusiastic but slow-moving lady with blue hair and toe earrings (toe earrings?) slid them over to herself and clapped her hands.

Poof! Danbr could feel his hands move again. He looked down.

“Sorry to pester you ma’am, but these aren’t my hands. This one’s the much too big, and I think this one belongs to a woman.” he said, admiring his bright red nail polish.

The lady suddenly became less enthusiastic. “That one’s a left hand, and that one’s a right hand. It’s what we have back here.”

“I don’t suppose it’d be possible to maybe double-check?”

“For something small, stubby and pale?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed deeply and checked the safe.

“That’s all that’s left.”

“Did you see who happened to have them? Maybe I could trade?”

She became upset, at which point her hair turned orange, which Danbr noted was kind of neat. She boomed, “You don’t trade things here. You play for things. It’s not a market,”

Danbr cautiously stepped away.

“How’d it go?” asked Burke.

“Not so great,” said Danbr, “these aren’t my hands.”

“That matters?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I wish I’d known that.” He tapped his umbrella as he pondered. “We’ll try to get an audience with the manager, Armaan, but I’m not going to promise anything. Maybe he can help.”

“Do you two know each other?”

“We’ve never met. And he hates vorax; we’re bad for repeat business. Still, it can’t hurt to try, right?”

Danbr nodded. “Is there anything I should know about him?”

“He used to be an arms dealer, but nowadays he manages this casino and keeps an incomparable arms collection. There’s not much else to know.” Danbr gulped.

Burke floated to the countertop. ‘We’d like to speak with Armaan.” He said to the lady. “Will that be possible?” She looked at her watch and nodded, then clapped her hands.

The two of them were suddenly in a dark, torch-lit chamber with no door. The massive, shapeless form of Armaan hid in the shadows. “What is your business?”

“Hi, hello,” Danbr stammered, “Um, my friend here exchanged my hands for chips, and I got these back, and they’re not mine, and is there anything you can do for me?”

Armaan took a deep breath. He slowly slithered out of the shadows, and Danbr got his first good look at him. His form was strange and hideous, but this made sense for the owner of a casino that deals in body parts. He was about twenty feet tall, and if his body had any shape it was impossible to tell under all of the writhing, grasping arms protruding from every inch of his body. A small head the size of a grapefruit stuck out of the top of this mess, and it’s neck had an elbow.

Armaan’s tiny head continued, “If I assume correctly, this vorax lied about you being his property and traded in these hands for credit.” Two of Armaan’s longer, skinnier arms reached out of the tangle. They had two small, stubby, pale hands on the end. “But you aren’t his, and now you feel entitled to these.”

Danbr had trouble seeing the hands in the dark, but knew without question they were his. “I… would like them, if possible, yes.”

“I’m not proficient in human law, but isn’t this an issue between you and he?”

“I don’t want them for free, I’ll give you these!” He said, presenting his current hands. “Look! This one looks really strong, and this one has pretty nail polish on it! They’re better! I just have a sentimental attachment to those other ones.”

“Shall I consider it a favour?” Armaan droned.

“Sure.” Danbr said. He leaned over to Burke. “Was that a mistake?”

“I don’t know.” Burke replied.

“There is a spot,” said Armaan, turning around, “That I can’t reach, and it needs a good rub.”

A clapping sound came from somewhere, and Danbr’s wrong-size hand was replaced with the one he was born with.

“You can have the other one when I’m satisfied.” All the arms on his back reached for Danbr. “Deal?”

Then, and only then, did Danbr notice the smell.