by Brian Rella
“Alec, look!” Christine said. He glanced at her and saw she was pointing at the mirror on Mason’s wall. Alec walked over to the mirror and could see his son banging on the other side of the glass. Alec started banging back on the glass too, then he started looking and feeling all around the mirror frame.
“Mason! How do I get to you? How do I get you out of there?” Alec ran his fingers around the edges looking for some kind of way to open the glass. He pulled the mirror off the wall and looked behind it, but there was nothing on the other side of the wall or on the back of the mirror.
Christine was crying behind him as he frantically searched for how to get his son out of whatever mirror prison he was trapped in. He thought about breaking the glass, but wasn’t sure what would happen if he broke it. He might never be able to get his son out of there.
Finally, he gave up. There was no way to get in or out. He looked at the mirror and at his son. He had to do something, but what could he do from here? Then the thought hit him: Not what can I do. What can Mason do?
“Mason,” he said, “Mason, calm down.” Mason was crying and slapping on the glass. Alec focused, stayed calm, and spoke softly to his son. “Mason, calm down. Can you hear me? Can you hear my voice? Where are you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” he said, “I’m in a maze. There’s mirrors everywhere. He’s here. Harvey’s here. He’s going to eat me, Daddy!”
Alec could hear yelling in the background. The clown is coming. Keep calm and figure this out.
“How did you get into the maze? Can you remember?”
“It’s across from the food place and the Ferris wheel,” Mason said.
Ferris wheel? “Mason, are you in an amusement park?” Like the one I saw in my mirror…
“Yes, Daddy. But I’m scared. I want to go home!”
“Daddy is going to get you home. How did you get there?”
“Harvey took me here.”
“Did he drive you?”
“No, Daddy. He took me through the wall in my closet.”
The puzzle pieces all came together for Alec. The closet door, the nightmares, the clown, the statue, they all formed some kind of doorway to another world in Mason’s closet and this clown, this evil fucking clown, had kidnapped his son and taken him to some crazy, hellish, otherworldly amusement park. It was the only explanation.
He got in through the closet. Maybe he can get back out that way, too.
“Mason, listen to me. You need to try to find the way back to the entrance of the park. Can you find your way back to the spot where you and Harvey entered the park?”
“I don’t know! Help me! Get me out!” There was a holler and the sound of smashing glass in the background. Mason turned and when he looked back, his face was blanched with terror. “Daddy…”
Alec was trying to keep his cool but he was struggling. He wanted to reach through the mirror and grab hold of Mason. He could hear Christine moaning softly behind him.
“Hang on, buddy,” he said. “I need you to think. What was the first thing you saw when you got to the park?”
“The closet, Daddy. I came in through the closet.”
“After the closet, what was the first thing you saw when you got into the park?”
“The big gates. The gates in front of the park with the big lights. There were big letters on them all lit up.”
“Good job, Mason! OK, now you have to get back there and try and come back through your closet. Can you do that, buddy?”
“You won’t be going anywhere, kid!” Harvey said. The clown’s face appeared right behind Mason.
Harvey grabbed Mason by the shoulder and smiled at Alec. “He’s mine now, daddy,” Harvey growled. “You had your chance, pal and you didn’t believe in him, didja? You thought Mace was just scared of the dark, didn’tcha?” Harvey grinned and showed all his teeth. “Now he’s mine, all mine, you lousy fuck!” He grinned a crooked, evil smile. “And I mean that literally! Bahahahaha! You really are lousy in the sack! Bahahahaha!”
Alec fell back against Mason’s bed. “No. Please don’t,” he begged.
“Tell ya what, Daddy. I’m gonna do him right here in front of ya. Now stand still, ya little shit,” Harvey snarled at Mason. “It’s eatin’ time!” And he raised the butcher’s knife and swung.
“Run, Mason! Run!” Christine screamed.
***
Mason ducked just below the edge of the knife as it sliced through the air above his head. It shattered the mirror and Mason could see the red sign on top of a door. E-X-I-T. Mason recognized that word and ran for it. He pushed through the doors and out into the park grounds again. He was on the other side of the House of Mirrors. He looked up and saw the Ferris wheel. The Ferris wheel. The gates were right by the Ferris wheel. Mason turned and ran toward the Ferris wheel as fast as his little legs could carry him.
He had gone a short distance when he heard the doors to the House of Mirrors crash open behind him. “Mason! Stop running! I’m coming for you, Mason!” Mason looked behind him and saw Harvey splayed out on the ground, blood spurting from where his arm used to be, struggling to get up. He turned and ran straight for the Ferris wheel.
***
Alec watched the knife slice through the air and just miss Mason’s head before the mirror shattered. Christine screamed.
Alec locked eyes with her. He had told Mason he needed to get back to where he entered the park. The plan was to come back out the way he went in. There was still a chance.
He went to the closet. The hole in the wall where he had found the statue stared back at him. He stood there, not knowing what he was supposed to do. He stood there waiting, praying. Come on, Mason. You can do it. Get here, Mace. Get home to Daddy.
***
Mason was almost at the Ferris wheel. He could see the gates he had come through just beyond. He was tired. His legs hurt. His bare feet were cut. He wanted to stop running but he knew if he did he was dead. Fear kept his legs going. Right behind him, the maniacal one-armed clown was running after him. Mason could hear his footsteps now and knew Harvey was close. He put his head down and with every bit of energy he had left, he ran on, toward the gates with the big lit-up letters.
***
Alec prayed. He knew Mason could do this. He knew his son would be able to make it through. He had faith in his son. He was sorry for yelling at him. He swore to God that if his son could just come back through that wall that he would never yell at him again. He would put Mason ahead of his work and his sleep and everything else. He would be a better father. All these thoughts of remorse and prayer swirled around his head—and then the wall in the back of the closet began to change.
First a small glow; a pinprick, barely visible. Then the small light grew and spread. A new hole in the wall opened up. But this was not like the hole Alec had kicked and punched open. This was more like a portal into another place. Alec began to see what his son had described. A big Ferris wheel, a merry-go-round, and the gates with FUNLAND in bright lights above them. Alec could hear the music and he could see two figures running: Mason and right behind him was the one armed clown waving the butcher’s knife in the air. He was closing in on Mason.
Alec touched the edge of the portal and tryin to climb through to help Mason. He was thrown back with such force he hit the wall on the opposite side of the room and was knocked to the floor. Christine gasped. Alec got up, staggering, just in time to see Mason come running through the portal and into his arms. The clown was right behind him.
“Daddy!” Mason cried as Alec scooped him up, moved to his right, and tossed Mason onto his bed. He stepped on something as he turned, felt it crunch under his foot, and fell to the floor. Harvey howled in pain.
“Christine! Get him out of here!” Christine grabbed Mason off the bed and ran out the bedroom door.
Harvey was on the floor, screaming in pain. Alec recovered and jumped on Harvey’s back. The clown tossed him off like a rag doll and Alec slammed into the wall.
Harvey sta
yed on the floor as he turned to Alec. “Hello, Daddy! Don’t worry, I’m a happy clown!” He tried to stand and howled again, falling over and onto the floor. Alec looked down at the clown. His foot and shin were broken off from the rest of his leg. Blood pooled on the floor around him. Alec noticed something between him and the clown. It was the statue. He had stepped on the statue when Mason and Harvey had come through the portal and had broken the statue’s foot off. Now the clown’s foot was broken off as well.
Alec lunged for the statue, grabbed it from the floor. He saw Harvey swing the knife, and rolled out of the way, the knife grazing him on the arm. Alec scrambled to the door where Christine and Mason were. Harvey was crawling along the floor toward them, a trail of blood behind him.
“You beat me to it, Daddy,” Harvey snarled. “Now whatcha gonna do, huh? Why doncha’ put down the statue and fight me like a man you fuckin’ pussy!”
Alec smirked and something twisted inside him. A shadow came over his face as he took the arm of the clown statue between his thumb and index finger and glared at Harvey. “You still a happy clown, Harvey?” Alec said and broke the arm off the statue and threw it at Harvey.
Harvey’s arm was torn from his body and flew across the room. He howled as a geyser of blood shot from his arm. Alec took the statue’s foot between his fingers, ready to break it off, too. He would tear Harvey apart, one limb at a time. He felt a hand touch his arm. He turned, looked at Christine and shrugged her off his arm. “Back off!” he snapped and watched the shock spread across Christine’s face as she pulled Mason close and covered his eyes. “Leave,” he growled and they shrunk away and left the room. Alec turned back to Harvey.
“That’s it, Daddy,” Harvey wheezed. “You know what you want to do to old Harvey, don—ahhhhhhhh!”
Harvey shrieked as Alec snapped the foot off the statue. “You like that, motherfucker? You like it when Daddy tickles your feet?” Alec said through gnashed teeth.
“Ohhhh-ho-ho-hah-hah. That does tickle, hah-hah-ha. You got me there, Alec. Just like I had you last night, right between my legs…Yarrrrrraaaahhhhhhh!”
Alec broke the statue’s other foot. Then he reached down and picked up a shard of the broken mirror. His eyes reflected in the mirror as he raised it to show Harvey.
“Ah-hah-ha…now you’re cooking with gas, Daddy…hehehe,” Harvey wheezed, a sadistic smile on his face, showing all his teeth.
Alec went to work on the statue, first scratching out the face of the clown, watching as Harvey’s face was split open in too many places to count, until he was unrecognizable. “Who’s happy, huh, Harvey? I’m happy…are you still a happy clown?” Blood bubbles came from Harvey’s mouth as he screamed. Alec watched with perverted amusement as he went to work with the shard on Harvey’s stomach. The room filled with the smells of viscera. Eventually, after a long while, Harvey stopped screaming.
***
“Christine,” Alec called. “Are you ready to go?”
“Be right down,” she called back.
Alec closed the last box with the packing tape. “Go ahead, Mason.”
Mason had a black marker and he scrawled his name across the box with it.
“Good job, buddy,” Alec said and rubbed his head gently. Mason smiled up at him and Alec picked him up and gave him a big hug.
“Ready,” Christine said, running down the stairs.
“Say one more goodbye,” Alec said, but no one said anything. They were moving to Florida, far away from Hastings.
The movers grabbed the last of the boxes. Alec handed Mason to Christine. “Just one more sec,” Alec said. “I need to use the bathroom. Meet you in the car.”
Alec went into the bathroom to pee. He thought about all they had been through over the last few weeks. Mason was back and seemed OK. He and Christine were no longer fighting and had made up. Things were going to be fine.
Alec went to the sink and washed his hands. He was feeling good again. Back on track. He looked up from his hands in the sink and into the mirror. A happy clown with too many teeth smiled back at him. He smiled and headed out to the car.
THE NEST
"WHATCHA GOT?" I ask.
Terry unzips his backpack and pulls it open and the three of us peer inside. "A dozen Star Fires," Terry says. "Some mortars, a brick of black cats, a dozen pineapples, and half a gross of M80s. The mortar tube melted. We'll have to find something else to launch them from."
"I brought some PVC and duct tape we can use," Paul says, smirking.
Paul is the smart one. I swear he never studies, and he always gets straight A's. Our history teacher, Mrs. Cantor, writes our grades on the blackboard after each test. For anyone who gets an A, their name is put up on the board right next to that big, yellow chalk A. She reads the 'A' names aloud and makes everyone applaud. It’s her way of motivating, I guess. Praise for the A’s! I get A's when I feel like studying. Paul is always on the A list, though, and he never studies. The kid has known he’s going to be lawyer since he was two. I'm not kidding.
"Nice," I say. "Paul, what have you got?"
"Two gross of whistlers, two gross of regular bottle rockets, about 5 bricks of firecrackers, a brick of jumping jacks, a gross of M80s, and a gross of blockbusters."
"Dude!" Terry says.
I smile. Paul always has the biggest stash of fireworks after the Fourth of July. I swear he saves his money all year for this day. If no one else brought anything we could still blow up the old building twice over with his stuff alone.
"Awesome," I say. "I've got a gross of M80s, a gross of bottle rockets, some whistlers, some black cats, and four dozen Star Fires."
"It's going to be a good day," Terry says with a grin so wide his cheeks look like they might pop.
We sling our backpacks over our shoulders, cut through the old lady’s yard at the end of Crompond Road, walk our bikes through the small brush, and cross a little creek. A trail follows the creek straight to the old building.
It's really an old road, to be more precise. A huge ridge runs right down the center. It probably stands a foot higher than it is wide, gravel tracks on either side. Big machinery once drove up here. I don’t know when but it must have been a while ago, because there’s no sign of the trail from the road. We would’ve never have known about this place if Paul’s brother hadn’t shown us a few years ago.
The old building is an old Con Edison building. It’s been abandoned for decades, I think. It’s set back in the woods just enough so that a few teenagers can wreak havoc on the building (and its ‘occupants’), without anyone from the neighborhood being bothered by all the noise. At least no one has ever complained and we’ve never had the cops bother us up there.
Terry can’t wait until we get to the old building. He’s got his backpack open and hooked around the handlebars of his bike. He’s reaching inside, fishing out bottle rockets and firecrackers and lighting them from the cigarette hanging from his mouth, tossing them as we go. He tosses a firecracker at my legs.
"Quit it, asshole," I say. Terry just snickers and keeps tossing them as we walk our bikes up the trail.
"You toss one at me and I’ll kick your ass," Paul says. More snickering from Terry, but he gets the message, I think.
I don't know who named it the ‘old building’. I’d like to think it was us, but I know Paul's older brothers used to come up here all the time. Maybe they named it. Anyway, the building is really old. Its roof is partially caved in, the walls are crumbling, and the floor is broken concrete with weeds growing out of it. The whole thing should really be torn down, but thank God it hasn’t been! We spend a lot of time here in the summer. We even camped out here once.
Lots of forest critters have taken up residence in the old building. Squirrels, birds, chipmunks, a family of raccoons, and of course our favorite: snakes. Yorktown is well known for its copperhead population. The poisonous pit vipers love the walls and piles of debris in the old building. They’re hard to see sometimes, because of their coloring. Hour
glass shapes of copper and charcoal cross their bodies and heads, which is how they got their name. Very poisonous. Very aggressive. A single bite by a mature copperhead could kill a thirty-year-old man. The town mails warnings about them every spring when they come out of hibernation. They’re that prevalent.
While the town warns us and teaches us how to avoid copperheads, our little group seeks them out. We like blowing them up with our left-over Fourth of July fireworks. The old building is a nesting ground for them, and every July fifth we do our civic duty and help the town significantly reduce the copperhead population with a grand culling at the old building. Today, July 5, 1987, is gonna be killer.
There’s a scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indiana Jones finds himself in the Well of Souls, where the Ark of the Covenant is. There are snakes everywhere. That’s the way the old building looks most summer days, especially in the morning. At least that's how I see it through my thirteen-year-old eyes. On a hot July morning, they’re everywhere, hanging out of the walls, or outside sunning themselves on broken bricks and ledges. It is a target-rich environment.
When we get to the old building, it’s nearly eleven o'clock. The sun is high and it’s getting hot. We walk up to the front of the building and see three copperheads, right out in the open on the broken windowsill, sunning themselves. I can feel the giddiness growing and I reach into my bag and pull out a few whistling bottle rockets. Popping one into a PVC tube, I light the wick and launch it. Whistlers rarely fly straight, and this one is no different. My shot goes high and to the right. The rocket bounces off the wall about two feet above the snake and drops down onto the ground in front of the window. The whistling stops and there’s a loud pop as the rocket explodes. The snake wiggles its tail and its head rises, but it defiantly stays put.