Nowhere Blvd.

by Ryan Notch

  Something about that presence he felt, it was like he was born knowing to be afraid of them. An echo left over from ancestors a hundred thousand years back. Whatever they were, somehow every part of him knew they were bad. The terror of them pushed his very thoughts away, left him as no more than an animal. He wanted to reach for his bone spear, but was frozen in place. Then a new noise came, a high pitched whine this time. After a few seconds he realized it was coming from him, a tiny scream chocked off in his throat.

  Spencer ran blindly, making his way as best he could back the way he had come, forgetting at first to put his right hand against the wall to feel his way back. By the time he did think of it, it was too late. He reached out as he ran and felt only empty space. He struck another stalactite, or maybe the same one as before. Not full on, a glancing blow against the side of his head that left a burst of stars in his vision. He couldn’t hear them following, such was their stealth.

  But he could sense it. He felt them following.

  He ran on, tears streaming down his cheeks, knowing already his panic had ruined him. They would have him in only moments, because there really was nowhere to run. And then his foot missed purchase, sprawling him face first down onto the ground. He started to get up dizzily, then realized even as his head still spun that he had stepped into the hole he had climbed in from.

  He spun and scampered down it, pushing his pack in front of him before he could think to leave it behind. Through every inch of the tunnel he thought he could feel icy claws ready to grab his ankles. Crawling through that tunnel were the longest moments of his life. His panic was such that he thought his heart would explode.

  And then, almost as soon as he saw the light of the end, he was out of it. Out and running, though he only ran a few feet before he fell. His right ankle was twisted badly from the hole and wouldn’t hold his weight. He turned on his hands and knees towards the tunnel to see what followed. There was nothing.

  Or was there? Something just inside the mouth of the tunnel, just outside of the edge of the light. He thought just maybe he could make out eyes staring at him from the darkness. Black, lumpy eyes. The kind he’d seen just once before. The eyes of Jack’s people.

  Staring…staring.

  Afraid of the light, Spencer thought.

  He backed away on his hands and his one good foot, never taking his eyes off it. He backed around the curve of the rocks so it could not longer see him, though still watched in case he should see some terrible thing appear from around that curve. He crawled until he found a stick he could use as a crutch, then moved as fast as he could as far away as he could. It was only after some time he noticed the throbbing pain in his ankle and head or that his nose was streaming blood from the fall.

  * * *

  The next day after Suzie’s broken arm Spencer woke with the sun, as always. He put his bed back away from the door and sat waiting. Trying to be stoic about what was in store for him and failing. Back in Nowhere Blvd. he’d lived in constant fear, but at least there he had had some control over his destiny. Here he didn’t control anything. He used to take what he wanted, now he only had what he was given.

  After a while he heard something at the door. It was Baby Suzie peeking in. His first thought was that she came for revenge, trying to catch him while he slept. After a moment he realized how ridiculous the idea was and actually smiled at the thought of it.

  Suzie came in the rest of the way, a purple caste on her right arm and a pink pony in her left hand. She walked up to the bed he was sitting on and handed him the pony. He looked at it, at a loss for what he was supposed to do with it.

  Well if she’s not going to hold a grudge then I guess I won’t, he thought.

  He pranced the pony around the bed, nuzzling it at her face. She gave him an inscrutable look and walked out, leaving him with the pony. He sat there a bit wondering what it was all about before she came back in with more stuffed animals, held awkwardly between her good and bad arm. He danced them around, amusing her as best he could figure out how to. Occasionally she would giggle at an animals particularly acrobatic antic. After a while his mom came looking for her and stood watching them with a hesitant expression for a few moments. Eventually she made up her mind and left them, calling them for breakfast a while later.

  To Spencer’s surprise, he was not expelled from the house. He father gave him a dangerous look, as one gives a wild animal who is docile for the moment but might turn on you, but did not say anything.

  Spencer was extremely relieved, but he didn’t think it was because of this change of fate. After some thought it seemed he was more relieved at Suzie’s state for some reason.

  He wanted to do something for her, and thought about how her room was still completely un-secured. He figured that after breaking her arm, the least he could do was make sure they couldn’t get her in her sleep. He took the nightlight from under his bed and put it under hers, contenting himself with a little used lamp he’d found in one of the houses other rooms. As far as the large wardrobe in her room, he wasn’t even sure Smiling Jack could use them. The only reason he knew Jack could use the area under beds was because in the early days some of the other children had said that was where Mr. Buttons had come from. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. The cabinets of the house were all secured with plastic baby locks, and he used an extra one he found to lock the wardrobe. If he checked it at night to make sure it was secure, at least if they tried to come for her that way they would be blocked.

  * * *

  That day in the cave was a turning point for Spencer. Because finally there was something in the world he feared more than Smiling Jack. Somehow when he had only had one option, it had seemed worth doing anything to find another one. But now that he had two, he could consider the first one in a new light. Because after all, there was another way out.

  The same way he had come in.

  He had thought about the closet at the end of the long hall without really considering it ever since his first escape. But he’d always been too afraid to go near Jack’s mansion, knowing that if caught while inside there would be no escape. But even Jack’s lab wouldn’t be as bad as that cave. He was convinced that nothing was, either in the world or under it.

  And he knew he couldn’t stay in the woods forever. He was getting sick in a way that, unlike a cold, wasn’t getting any better. He skin had sores on it that didn’t heal. His joints hurt when he walked and he was getting thinner and thinner. He’d even lost two teeth that had just fallen out while eating. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but he thought it would go away if he could get back to the real world.

  So he began to plan.

  First he had to wait until Smiling Jack was occupied. Although it was an unknown whether Jack ate or slept, this was still the easiest part. All he had to do was wait until a child was taken for Jack’s lab. There was the smallest tinge of guilt at this, like he should do something for that child. Maybe even a year ago he would have seriously considered it. But so much of his humanity had worn away that the idea of another dead child didn’t even warrant a fully conscious thought.

  The Hollow Men were easy, rarely maintaining much of a presence at the mansion. He thought about making a distraction somehow to draw them all to the south end of town, but couldn’t think of any way to do it without raising alarms he’d rather avoid. Nanny Gurdy stayed in her house, which left only Mr. Buttons. His tree house was on the southeast corner of the mansions hill, which was a problem. It meant Spencer would have to approach from the northwest, the furthest corner from the stairs leading up to the hallway in the southeast. Also too close for comfort to Jack in his lab in the basement.

  Ideally he would just have gone through the front door, which lead in almost a straight shot to the stairs that lead to the long hallway with the Great Closet at the end. But he remembered when those doors opened, they were loud. Also they were fully in view of Mr. Button’s tree house. No, he’d go in the same way he had before. He’d never found ou
t whether they knew about the way he had come in that night, but given that they thought he was dead it was likely safe to use the same way again.

  When the day finally came he was nervous in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. But he didn’t try and talk himself out of it. It was like he was too tired of being afraid to do it anymore. He left his pack behind, bringing only his telescope and his short bone spear. The latter wasn’t for fighting, it was to make sure they didn’t take him alive. And the former, well at this point it was mostly for good luck.

  Spencer desperately wished that Jack would, at least occasionally, leave his house at night. He’d be happy to wait for the opportunity if he thought it would ever come. But with the exception of Jack’s manhunt for him, he’d never seen it happen. He thought about using that to his advantage, creating a distraction somehow. Even thought of a few scenarios, but ultimately it all seemed too risky. If he couldn’t get the closet to work, he needed the chance of sneaking back out and working on a plan B.

  Spencer watched from the woods until he saw Jack and Nanny leave the guest cabin with a young boy around nightfall. He waited a couple hours after that as well, remembering the “waiting room” with the small chairs and shackles. Finally he decided it was time to make his move.

  He made his way from the edge of the woods to the house with the stealth of a cat. At the basement window he was surprised to find that there was no light trickling down the hallway from the operating theatre as there had been before. He waited a bit with his ear to the glass, listening for something lurking in the dark. Finally he reached his fingers in the cracks and pulled at it, wondering if it would prove to be locked this time.

  It wasn’t.

  Jesus, he thought. Some people never learn.

  Knowing the distance to the floor this time, Spencer quickly lowered himself from the windowsill and pushed off for the drop, crouching low on the landing to cushion the blow.

  There on the floor, inches away from his face and illuminated barely in the dim light from the window, were the rusty jaws of an old bear trap. He’d missed it by luck alone, having jumped away from the wall rather than dropping straight down.

  Decided to invest in a little home security after all, eh Jack? he thought. Not that a leg would be a high price to pay to get out of here.

  Without the light of the lab to make his way by, the basement was almost pitch dark. Spencer moved carefully, going by touch and memory. He kept his feet low, testing each step for more traps. Spencer remembered the way well, just as he always remembered directions. The stairs were the third door on the left, which he counted by fingertips. He made his way up them, walking with his feet pressed up against the wall where the steps would squeak less. They didn’t squeak at all though, the house was utterly still.

  He was surprised to find as he approached the top that there was illumination coming from the doorway. He peered through it to find himself in a kitchen. It was lit, though dimly. Not from the lights above, they were dark. In fact he couldn’t tell where the light was coming from, although he could see pretty well. Almost like the light from a full moon, but the kitchen had no windows.

  It wasn’t like any kitchen he had seen before. It was both nicer and poorer than the ones he remembered. It looked like the kitchen a millionaire would have had back in his great grandparents time. Full of all kinds of old-timey fancy cookware he had never seen before, but nothing modern like a microwave. The room had a sense of disuse about it, but not dusty exactly. More like a display kitchen in a department store. Spencer suspected that the Hollow Men kept it clean of dust, even if no one ever cooked anything here.

  Peeking out the door of the kitchen into the hallway he realized the whole house was lit up with the same ghostly light. Why this couldn’t be seen from the outside was as big a mystery as where the light itself was coming from. This was both a good thing and a bad thing. Finding his way would be easy now, but hiding from anybody would be mostly luck.

  As he went down the hallway in what he was pretty sure was the direction of the front room, he took only cursory glances at the paintings on the wall. Some of people, some of demons, some of children playing in the shadows of ancient castles. There were a few small statues in alcoves, all of cherubs.

  He followed a few other twists and turns, always careful to walk silently and to peek around the corner for occupants. Always careful to watch his back and keep an eye out for rooms to hide in if he needed to. Those rooms called out to what remained of his old curiosity. Peaks into them revealing hints at the unimagined treasures of the ages. Spencer wondered if the specimens in the basement were the junk of the house, what magical items might exist on display throughout the mansion?

  But he didn’t hesitate to explore, not once. Only moved slowly, cautiously towards his escape. The boy that had wanted to believe in magic now did, unquestionably. It was no longer a curiosity, just another weapon of Smiling Jack.

  Even moving slowly, it was less than five minutes before he found exactly what he wanted. The main room, with the grand staircase sweeping off to either side in a crowded embrace. The massive and dominating front doors waiting in silent accusation of his taking the long way around. He ached to make a run for it, the shining jet-black wood of the stairs pulling like a magnet. But forced himself to be even more careful still. Checking around corners and moving with well practiced stealth.

  And yet even after peeking at the room as best he could, there was no way to be sure no one was waiting above. No way to sneak through it. No direct light source meant no shadows to move between. He would be completely exposed during his entire trip across the room and up the sweeping staircase.

  Faced with no better alternative, he went for it. He moved fast but sure, short bone spear in his hand and ready as always. Across the black wood floor, across the long Persian rug with it’s faded threads depicting children in sun drenched fields, up the black stairs. And towards the door of the long hallway. Close, so close he came.

  And then the front door opened.

  Spencer froze, his instincts those of the mouse in the field, hoping by holding still he wouldn’t be seen even though he was right in the open. The click of claws on wood told Spencer who it was even before the figure crossed into view. Mr. Buttons, plain as day.

  Mr. Buttons walked in only a few steps before it stopped. As if it could sense him, it looked right up at Spencer. The two stood for a moment, just staring at each other. Spencer looking down into those two dead black buttons, and the buttons looking right back up at him. Spencer had a surreal moment where he thought they were both feeling the exact same thing, but didn’t know what that feeling was exactly.

  He wasn’t sure which one of them broke the spell first. Just a twitch from either would have been enough. At almost the same moment Spencer began to run, and Mr. Buttons dropped to all fours and began to chase him.

  Spencer was only a couple feet from the long hallway, and was inside of it and sprinting in a flash, slamming the door behind him. He dodged and jumped over toys in the false twilight, knowing one stumble and he was dead. Probably was dead anyway. He saw the murals on the wall fly by him, realizing now that the children in the pictures weren’t playing with the forest animals, they were being played with by them. Their smiles and yells of joy were grimaces of fear and screams of terror.

  Mr. Buttons charged through the door behind him, knocking it almost off its hinges with a roar that shook the rafters. One glance back was enough to see that the beast had torn its mouth stitches open, revealing the razor sharp fangs that so easily tore flesh. It was gaining on Spencer already, crashing through anything in the way.

  The hallway seemed to grow even longer in front of Spencer as he flung himself down the length of it. He could barely feel his feet touching the floor, he felt like he was flying. And yet the crashing behind him grew closer and closer.

  Just a little further, just a little further…

  He dropped his bone spear, thinking only that he would need his hands fr
ee to open the Great Closet before him. It looked so simple. No giant panels carved with ancient spells. No arcs of electricity coming off of exotic machines. Just a plain closet door, the center of his entire world.

  He hit it going too fast to stop, and was yanking it open even as he was bouncing off the wall. He flung himself into the darkness with only a halfhearted attempt to shut the door behind him. Praying without words that he wouldn’t hit a flat wall at the back of the closet.

  He didn’t. Instead he kept running. Finding his way and even moving in a manner he couldn’t quite identify. Strange yet familiar from his last trip through. Like there was no question he knew where he was going and how to get there, even if he couldn’t say where he was. He saw a light ahead, only slightly brighter than the liquid dark through which he moved.

  Spencer ran out of a doorway and slammed the door behind him, pressing his body against it as hard as he could. It was only a heartbeat before something slammed against the door, almost knocking him away. He held the doorknob in place while hands on the other side tried to open it. He knew with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t hold the doorknob against hands with that kind of strength.

  And yet soon he realized he had an advantage because they weren’t hands, they were claws. He heard them clicking against the knob on the other side and felt them sliding against it, hot nails on cool bronze. Mr. Buttons couldn’t get a grip, couldn’t grab something it couldn’t dig its claws into. Bears didn’t have opposable thumbs.

  Spencer realized they were at a standoff, one which would end when Mr. Buttons finally decided to ram the door open by brute strength. He looked around the room, but didn’t recognize it. There was only boxes around him, lit by a strange orange light coming through the window.