Ragabound

Chapter 7: The Bookbinder

Jimmy was three hours into just simply admiring the interface of the website he'd created for Indelible Ink when he heard the ping of an email notification. He clicked it open:

riallytired78 left a message on your post! see what they have to say!

He hurriedly followed the link:

'errr...tasting pens??? you might need a trip to the hospital, both for your body and your mind!'

Jimmy grinned, stretching his mouth unnaturally wide. He had the perfect response.

Are you sure about that? Many people taste pens!

He then scrolled through his phone to find what he was looking for—a grainy yet recognisable video of a man just downing an entire inkwell. He uploaded it, then hit reply.

Despite his initial shock at Nomad's presence, Jimmy was absolutely delighted when he'd downed that ink, and even more so that he had managed to capture footage. He was sure Nomad and him were kindred spirits, two deeply misunderstood souls who shared a passion for top-quality ink. He made a mental note to get him to try some of his latest pens—maybe even a feature on his YouTube channel! The possibilities were endless!

He refreshed his email. Hmmm, no reply yet. That was troubling, considering that it had been a full thirty seconds. To distract him from this catastrophic turn of events, he decided to also post the clip on TikTok.

As soon as Ria had mentioned starting up an indie press, Jimmy had been elated! He thought it was the perfect opportunity to showcase all his talents, which, of course, included everything.

He was particularly fond of the animation he'd created for the welcome page. It was a number of elephants (with a penchant for organised storage) walking across the screen using wooden pallets as stepping stones, surely a common occurrence. One of them was even wearing a fez.

***

Meanwhile, Erik and Nomad were clutched in an embrace, both teary-eyed. Erik had been summoned by The Higher Powers That Be (Really Quite Tired And In Desperate Need Of Funding for New Chairs With Lumbar Support), for reasons unknown (to Nomad, at least). Erik knew that his time on this realm was nearing to an end. He had one more task left. Tearing himself away from his best friend, he pulled something out of his satchel. It was an adorable tiny toxic waste barrel. Erik unscrewed it and pulled out an even smaller vial that had a pink liquid in it. Nomad, knowing its significance, couldn't help but gasp.

'It's in your hands now, Nomad.' Nomad was confused as Erik was still holding it, albeit precariously (as if repulsed by it's existence), ergo it was in his hands, but he let it slide. Grief was a potent thing after all.

Of course, Erik had every right to be repulsed. The rumours had not been just rumours — Mr. Al Chemist, the alchemist, had indeed created this insidious potion that would wreak havoc. Nomad shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

'All I know is that I need to give this to you,' said Erik, handing it over.

Nomad took it without a word. There was nothing to be said. The vial was surprisingly heavy given its size, perhaps symbolic of the power it held.

They continued their embrace, the tears now openly flowing. Finally, Erik turned to leave, having to drag a scratching Quibbles away from a smoking Scenty.

The doughnut stall holder sighed in relief. The pair had been holding up the queue for close to 45 minutes. He watched as the strange young man in front of him (whose satchel seemed to be smouldering in distress) watched the other depart, his eyes trained on his back. It would have been truly a moving sight, had Erik not had walked to the other side of the doughnut van, got in, ushered the seller out and driven off with it into a doughnut-shaped portal.