by Simon Holt
“Stop.”
The hands loosened. Reggie gently pulled the double closer to her and embraced her. Her twin tensed, then relaxed. It smiled once before dissipating like mist on a cool wind.
Reggie touched her cheek. The scrape closed under her fingertips, though she could still feel the trace of a scar.
She looked down and saw a green crayon sticking out of the sand, the wax miraculously unmelted in the heat. A second breadcrumb. She was getting closer.
Reggie picked up the crayon and put it with the drawing.
She heard a roar, and the lake began to rotate in a receding whirlpool, like the plug had been pulled from a giant bathtub. Soon, a field of wet silt was all that remained of the clear blue waters.
Reggie walked out into the drained oasis. There, in its center, was a perfectly circular metal grate. She pulled it open like a hatch to reveal a round, concrete passage that plunged straight down. Iron rungs protruded from the wall, still dripping with water. Reggie climbed down into the dark, and the ladder’s passage opened up into a large cavern.
She dropped from the last rung onto a stone ledge, and in the center of the cave was a giant rusty cage, big enough to hold a delivery truck.
Flickering torches on the wall cast light across the giant thing that slept inside. Creeping closer, circling around the corroded bars, she took a long look at the prisoner.
It was humanoid, sleeping on its side with a hand over its face. From the way it was huddled inside the cell, Reggie guessed it would stand over ten feet tall, with blobby arms and legs that looked swollen and tumescent. Reggie thought if she stuck a pin in the creature it might rupture. It looked like a Kassner, or at least like a demonic form of one with sharp, exaggerated facial features and skin specked with black. The thing’s breaths came deep and even, and now and then it snored.
The monster stirred as she circled around the cage.
A distended and rumpled wad of flesh grew from the thing’s broad back. Two spindly arms protruded from the lump, twitching and jerking, and a misshapen head with eyes that appeared sealed behind seamless eyelids.
Reggie stared in revulsion, puzzling over the pitiful abomination.
Who is Keech and who is Mitch?
Only one way to find out.
“Keech,” she whispered.
The lump’s fleshy lids opened, and its gray, watery eyes widened in terror. Reggie squeezed through the bars and tiptoed toward it.
“Keech,” she said. “It’s okay. We’re going to leave this place.”
The tiny mouth was a crude hole that trembled with a wet slurping sound.
“No. Can’t leave without the big one.”
She reached up and touched his emaciated hand.
“You don’t need Mitch to survive, Keech.”
“Mitch…”
“You’re strong, Keech. And part of you is still good.”
The eyes blinked, and its lower lip quivered. “Bad. That’s why we’re locked in the dark place.”
“Good kids can do bad things,” she said. “But they can make up for it.” Reggie reached into her back pocket and pulled out the folded-up piece of paper, the cheerful crayon drawing she’d found in the attic. She held it up to Keech and smiled. “Is this yours?”
The head nodded and stammered, “I like to draw.”
“Would you draw something for me?”
“I lost all my crayons.”
“I found one.” Reggie held out the green crayon and the lump looked with wonder at it. It took it in its nubby fingers and held it, then it began to color the air with it. Reggie marveled at the green swirls that appeared out of nowhere. They were faint at first, then grew in vibrancy. With every stroke of the crayon, the figure looked more boyish, until only the thinnest graft of skin tethered it to the ugly monster. The boy looked a bit older than Henry, and he wore a red baseball jersey and blue jeans. Reggie took his hands.
And then the hulking beast awoke.
Mitch.
The monster thrashed awake and twisted to face the intruder. Bones creaked and cartilage snapped. The beast howled in agony and fury. It lunged at Reggie, but she dove and tumbled away, scrambling in the dirt to the opposite side of the cage. The right arm of the behemoth lodged between two rusty bars of its prison, and it struggled to pull itself free.
“You woke the bad me,” said the boy. “Go. Go before I hurt you like I hurt everything.”
“Talk to Mitch! Tell him to stop!”
“Mitch isn’t here. Just me. Only me.” The boy was terrified. “I lost him a long time ago. I’m all alone here.”
And then Reggie understood.
The doppelgänger in the pond, the identical beasts locked in deathblows, the vast and empty desert. This fearscape wasn’t about being a weaker sibling. Keech’s deepest fear wasn’t of his brother.
Most of all, he feared himself.
As a young boy his personality had split, the dark half opening a black maw inside him to swallow pain and anger while the light half withered like rotten fruit. And in this place, all that was good in the boy had been consumed.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Reggie said. “And you’re coming with me.”
Reggie took the boy’s hands again and heaved backward. Flesh ripped and the skin holding beast and boy together tore apart. The monster roared in agony.
“Come on!”
Reggie and Keech slipped through the bars as a massive fist slammed against the cage, rocking it back and forth.
Keech stood paralyzed with fear as his monstrous self rattled the bars and bellowed. The roars echoed throughout the cave, shaking every stone. Boulders tumbled down the walls, and stalactites plummeted like daggers into the floor. The monster bent the bars of the cage and forced itself through the widened opening. Keech just crouched on the ground, huddled into a little ball.
Reggie kneeled beside him. “Remember your drawings?” Her voice was thin like a breeze. “Draw a picture for us.”
Keech gazed at the crayon in his hand. He held it up to her.
“Here. You do it.”
The monster was free now and almost upon them. Reggie did not look up at it.
“I can’t.” She smiled gently at him. “I can’t do it for you. Draw what you want to see happen.”
The boy held up the crayon and drew a green lasso in the air. It looped around the monster’s head, and Keech cinched it tight. The creature gasped and lost its balance. It fell over and landed with a crack, and smoke began to seep out its nostrils. It writhed violently on the ground, its furious convulsions pulling down the walls of the cave around them. Reggie searched frantically for another exit, but there was none.
“Keech. Get us out of here.”
He thought for a moment, and the monster wrenched the lasso off its head. It threw it to the side and held a claw out toward its weaker half. The boy wavered and reached back, dropping the crayon in the dirt, but Reggie caught his hand.
“You can do this!” She grabbed up the crayon and wrapped his fingers around it. Keech nodded.
He drew a rectangle in the air, then a circle in the middle of it. He grasped the circle and turned it; the knob twisted, and the door out of this hell swung open, revealing a light on the other side. The monster howled and ran at them. Reggie started through the door, but Keech hesitated.
“What’s over there?” he asked.
She grasped his hand.
“Mitch.”
Hand-in-hand, the two stepped into the light as the cavern collapsed, and the rest of the fearscape fell away into nothingness.
16
Reggie returned to a groggy consciousness on the floor of the freezer, her head pressed to Keech’s chest. For a moment her exhausted mind told her she was seven or eight years old and waking up after a nap on the couch in front of the television—a little child who’d fallen asleep on her dad.
But the piercing cold and rasping wheeze coming from Keech’s lungs made her sit up. The moist and frigid air spun in a fren
zied cyclone over her head, but the vapor was no longer a wispy white. It had turned noxious and inky black.
The expelled monster whipped around the dim pale bulb that dangled from the ceiling, a terrible and wicked thing desperately hunting for heat. The entity looked like a repulsive comet with an oily tail, and at the head, a disturbing blob morphed and convulsed.
Reggie could make out the mimicked face of a young Keech in between the erratic pulsations, as if the Vour fought to retain the innocent boy it had consumed years ago. But it could not hold the human features; the face sagged and dispersed into amoebic rings. The Vour clung to the edge of existence, and watching it panic in its last throes did not give Reggie the satisfaction she’d anticipated.
In a final thrust of anger, the unstable monster surged and smashed against Reggie’s face. The putrid mist broke all around her head, and she smelled the Vour’s fear of death as plainly as the blunt scent of fresh road kill. She thought of Eben, and she closed her eyes and tried to hold her breath, refusing to inhale the poison.
“Ours…”
The thing spoke like untilled dirt. It had come apart and hung in the cold air for a torturous moment more. The voice emanated from nowhere and everywhere, and Reggie heard an ancient chorus of evil things echo in her mind.
“You will be ours…”
And then it was gone. A residue of sickly moisture clung to Reggie’s bare skin, but the monster was no more.
Keech coughed, shallow and weak at first, then louder, stronger, as cold air flushed his lungs and the oxygen rushed into his brain, a mind no longer bound and corrupted.
“Keech…”
Mitch, wrapped in white towels from the school gym, had opened the freezer door and stumbled inside, his eyes circled with deep black bruises caused by the harsh break in his nose.
Aaron walked inside a few paces behind him, sullen and silent. He looked immediately to Reggie and nodded.
Mitch knelt down next to his stirring brother.
“Keech? It’s me. Can you hear me?”
Keech’s eyelids opened slowly like those of a newborn. He squinted and blinked repeatedly. He licked his cut lip and swallowed, parched and sore. He touched his brother’s cheek.
“I know you.”
He sounded surprised by the sound of his own deep voice.
Mitch placed a calloused but gentle hand beneath his brother’s head and helped him sit up. And then he lifted Keech to his feet, absorbing all of his weak sibling’s weight.
Mitch turned to Reggie as Keech sagged against his shoulder.
“Thanks. I owe you.”
The twins walked out of the freezer and into the dark cafeteria. There would be more police tomorrow. School, though over for the summer, would be shut down and cordoned off. Questions. Media. Another investigation.
But that would be tomorrow.
Now the feeling came back, along with the pain from the wounds she’d received in the fearscape. Her hands, in particular, ached. She examined her palm where the acid had burned her; grayish scar tissue marred her skin, and when she pressed it black smoke seeped out. In a twisted way it was like popping a blister. Aaron took Reggie’s hand and examined it.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Reggie. I’m worried about this. With what happened to Eben. The coughing and—”
“Not now, Aaron. Please?”
He nodded and draped a towel across her shoulders. They exited the freezer, and he held her as they moved slowly down the hallway.
A silhouette appeard down the dimly lit corridor.
“Finals are over, you two. Congratulations, you both passed. And you, Reggie, earned an A for your extra credit work tonight.”
Mr. Machen flicked on the hallway lights. He held a handgun loosely at his side.
“What the hell?” Aaron shielded Reggie.
“Oh, God, Aaron. He’s one of them.” Reggie’s mind was fatigued beyond human capacity, and the shocking appearance of Machen was more than she could bear. “In class—the one who gave me the vision—he’s a Vour.”
Aaron ran at Machen before he could raise the weapon. But the English teacher merely snatched hold of Aaron’s wrist and turned, flipping the boy across the floor using his own momentum against him. Then he scratched his temple with the gun and shook his head in disappointment.
“Please give me a little more credit. Would I really expose myself as a Vour after what you just did in that freezer?”
“Then who are you? A cop?”
“No, no. I operate outside of certain laws. Not much unlike another of your acquaintances.”
“Wait, you’re a Tracer?”
“Is anyone in this town who they say they are?” Aaron stood up and rubbed his wrist. “Is it something in the water or what?”
“We have a lot to talk about,” Machen continued. “But not here. Broken entry, butchered animals. Not very subtle. Follow me.”
“Why would we follow you?” Reggie asked.
Machen was already walking briskly toward the gymnasium. He wagged his gun in the air but did not turn around.
Aaron looked at Reggie. “He may have information about the solstice, Reg. We should hear him out.”
“Well I guess it’s a good thing I told my dad I was spending the night at your place.”
Aaron took Reggie’s hand again and pulled her down the hallway. Machen held open the door at the gym exit.
“Hurry. The police are out front arresting the Kassners.”
Reggie’s heart sank. So much for a brotherly reunion.
They slinked through the parking lot toward the woods behind the school. Blue and red lights pulsed against the high branches and leaves, but Reggie tried to put the Kassners out of her mind. There was nothing to be done now.
Once clear of the school grounds, Machen turned on the flashlight Aaron had left behind and guided the two teens deep into the grove. He had set up a small camp with a one-man tent amid the deep brush, an inconspicuous hideout he’d used to keep an eye on the school.
“How did you know we’d come here?” Aaron asked.
“Your phone, Aaron. It’s tapped. Easier to tap cell phones than wires. Just ride the signal.”
“Like I’m not paranoid enough already.”
Reggie stalked over to Machen.
“So I’m here. Tell me what you can do to help, or pack up your crap house and get the hell out. I don’t care what sort of secret anti-boogeyman organization you belong to—give me something I can use to destroy these things, or I’ll call the cops myself and tell them there’s a pervert hiding out in the woods, spying on underage girls in cheering camp.”
Machen laughed.
“You don’t understand, Reggie. The Tracers thought they knew everything they needed to know. People turn into Vours, we find them and eradicate them. Clean and simple. Our fraternity has been doing it for centuries. But now you’ve turned the whole thing upside down. Cutter’s Wedge’s very own Puck.”
“What do you mean I’ve turned it all upside down?” Reggie asked. “I brought my brother back. And I saved Keech Kassner.”
“And your kind would have murdered them,” Aaron added.
“Not murder. Extermination.”
“Your way is no longer acceptable.” Reggie looked Machen straight in the eye. “No more murder.”
“I do what’s necessary.”
“Not anymore. I—”
“This isn’t just about you, Reggie. These monsters have destroyed lives, communities—entire civilizations. You have no idea what you are dealing with here.”
“Who did you lose?” Reggie asked.
“I’m not here to—”
“A brother? A sister? Tell me.”
Machen stood silent. And when he finally spoke, it was without emotion. Like he’d moved beyond feeling.
“My wife. My sons. When the Vours found out that I had discovered their existence, they murdered everyone I loved.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. I didn’t even know you guys existed until a few hours ago,” said Reggie.
“Well, he was,” said Machen. “After he failed to kill your brother.”
“What?” Aaron gasped.
Reggie said nothing.
“His job was to eliminate Vours. He should have taken out Henry, but he didn’t, so he was sacked. They sent me as his replacement. Not to kill Henry,” Machen added hastily. “It appears your brother is recovered. But in addition to taking care of any threats, my orders were to observe you and find out more about this power of yours. But the Vours lay low for six months, so I had nothing. Not until last Friday, anyway.”
“So you knew what was happening in class,” said Reggie.
“What’s the point of telling us now?” Aaron asked.
“I saw something I never expected to see,” said Machen. “A Vourized human brought back. A Vour destroyed. We should be working together, Reggie, don’t you see? We can help each other.”
“How’s that?”
“The Tracers have an extensive network. Lots of resources. And you have a singular perspective on how the Vours operate. Maybe, working together, we can defeat them for good.”
Aaron pursed his lips and shrugged. “What do you know about the Vours and the summer solstice?” he asked.
Machen considered the question.
“Almost nothing. The Vours are usually quieter at the solstice—their hallucinatory powers are weaker this time of year, though no one knows why. But they have been more active this summer.”
“Keen observation,” Reggie said dryly.
“We’ve had evidence suggesting the Vours are planning something big on the solstice,” Aaron said. “Think your ‘resources’ could look into it?”
“I’ll see what I can find out. In the meantime, keep quiet. No more breaking into buildings. I can’t help you if you get locked up. As far as this town knows, I’m just an English teacher.” He handed Aaron his flashlight. “One question for you, Reggie. Your vision in class. What did you see?”
“I saw my brother as a killer. My deepest fear.”
“Be careful, Reggie,” Machen said. “I doubt you know what your deepest fear really is. Your mind won’t let you. But these monsters will try and find it. Don’t let them.”