Child’s Play 3

by Matthew J. Costello

  They walked over to Tyler. One was a man, the other was a lady. They looked at him with serious faces. The lady cop put a hand on Tyler.

  “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

  “You from Kent?” the other cop said.

  Tyler looked back to the woods. There was no sign of Chucky. Oh, where is he? Is he hiding, waiting for these people to go away? Where is he?

  Tyler spoke. “Charles is after me.”

  Tyler heard his own voice. He realized that he was sobbing. He tried to talk as his chest heaved. “Charles is going to get me.”

  The lady cop gave him a squeeze.

  “It’s okay now, honey. And who’s this Charles?”

  Tyler looked up at her. She seemed nice. And she had a gun. That could stop Charles. A gun could stop him. Sure.

  “Who’s after you?” the man said.

  “Charles!” Tyler repeated. Don’t they understand? Charles is after me. Tyler looked back at the woods. There was nothing there. And now Tyler got even more scared.

  Is he hiding again? Is he waiting to jump out at me?

  The policeman crouched down. He put a hand on Tyler’s shoulder.

  “We have to leave,” Tyler said. “We have to get out of here.”

  The policeman smiled. There’s nothing to smile about. Doesn’t he know that?

  “Slow down, son. Just what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

  There’s no time. We have to go, Tyler thought.

  He reached out and touched the policeman, begging. “He wants to take my soul.”

  The policeman looked away, still smiling, to the woman. And Tyler knew: He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m imagining all this.

  The woman said, “Honey, you’re from Kent, right? Why don’t we just bring you back there?”

  She look his hand. Tyler looked over his shoulder again.

  She started leading him to the car. Yeah, that was a good idea. Tyler let her lead him away, away from the woods, away from Chucky.

  Tyler heard the police radio, and that sounded good. I like the radio making all that noise. It makes me feel safe, as though there are a lot of people watching out for me.

  Tyler got into the car, sliding onto the front seat.

  The policeman got behind the wheel, and the woman sat beside him.

  Tyler was in between the two of them.

  The man started the car.

  We’re almost out of here.

  And Tyler thought: Now I feel safe. Now everything’s okay.

  The policewoman patted Tyler’s knee.

  Then she reached down and picked up the radio. Tyler watched her. It’s like the walkie-talkie that Chucky had. It’s the same thing.

  She spoke into it.

  “Dispatch, this is Lincoln eighteen. We found a lost boy on Route 89 and we’re running him back home to the Kent School.”

  A voice inside the radio said, “Roger, Lincoln eighteen.”

  The policewoman went to hang up the radio.

  “I’m not lost,” Tyler said. “I’m running away. I told you that.”

  “Oh, is that right?” the man said. “What are you running away from?”

  Tyler shook his head. “I told you. I told you already. I’m running from Charles.”

  Tyler looked out at the dark highway. Their headlights no longer seemed so bright to Tyler, sitting inside the car.

  “I told you. He tricked me. I thought he was my best friend. But he tricked me.”

  The policewoman gave his leg another pat. “But what’s your name?”

  “Tyler,” he said, saluting. “Ronald Tyler, private first class.”

  She laughed. “At ease, private.”

  Tyler brought his hand down.

  “I know,” the policewoman said, “how much it hurts when a friend does something bad to you.”

  Tyler nodded. “Yeah, it sure does.”

  “And I bet that your friend—what’s his name?”

  “Charles. But Andy calls him Chucky.”

  “I bet that Charles didn’t mean it. I bet he’s real sorry.”

  Even before she finished her sentence. Tyler started shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Not Charles. I don’t think that he’s sorry at all.”

  The woman made a funny face, as if what Tyler said made her sad.

  But then she smiled, as if she had a wonderful secret. Tyler turned and looked at the other cop. He had a grin on his face too.

  What’s going on? thought Tyler. What are they smiling about?

  “Well,” the policewoman said, “I know what will cheer you up.”

  Tyler liked surprises. He liked it when his father brought him things from overseas. Toys from Japan, rocket ships and hand-held video games that you can’t buy in America. Tyler liked that.

  The policewoman reached over the back seat and grabbed something.

  “Look what we found a way back on the road, just sitting there.”

  Tyler watched her pull something from the backseat to the front and drop it on Tyler’s lap.

  Charles. Chucky.

  A Good Guy.

  And Tyler screamed, screamed as loud as he could.

  The moon, a thin leering sliver of a smile hung over the hills, finally giving Andy and De Silva some light.

  Now they could see how lost they were.

  De Silva grabbed Andy.

  “No. This isn’t doing any good, Andy. We’re just running in circles, getting nowhere.”

  Andy nodded. He didn’t recognize anything, but he knew that they had passed one trail marker at least twice.

  “We’re not going to find him this way.”

  “God,” Andy said. “He’s got him. Chucky’s probably got the kid.”

  De Silva shook her head.

  “Don’t bet on it. Tyler’s a tough kid.”

  Andy thought of Whitehurst. How scared he was, how he wouldn’t come with Andy to rescue Tyler.

  Don’t wimp out on me, I said to him. And then Whitehurst said that if you hear it enough times, you start to believe . . . you believe what everyone else says about you.

  And Andy thought: No one will ever say that again, Whitehurst. No one will ever forget what you did tonight.

  He rubbed at his eyes. They stung, and started to tear.

  Andy looked away, and he saw light, headlights.

  “Is that a road down there?” he asked.

  De Silva nodded. “I guess so.”

  “Come on!” he said, and he darted down the slope to the highway.

  Tyler screamed at the doll. Pushing at it, pushing it away as it grinned at him, inanimately pretending to be just a doll, while the two cops looked at Tyler and wanted to know what was wrong.

  “Charles!” Tyler screamed. “It’s Charles!”

  Then Chucky moved, so fast that Tyler thought maybe it was just his own kicking and screaming.

  Chucky moved his arm down to the holster of the cop driving the patrol car.

  “No!” Tyler yelled.

  But then Chucky whipped the gun up and pointed it right at Tyler’s head.

  “Hit the brakes!” Chucky said.

  The headlights weren’t moving.

  Andy stopped De Silva at the edge of the highway.

  “Wait! Something’s wrong down there. There’s something . . .”

  The car was on the side of the road, in a ditch, pointing down. The front door was open.

  “Maybe the police found Tyler,” De Silva said. “They probably saw him.”

  Andy nodded. Yes, that’s probably it. He let De Silva pull him along, closer to the car.

  The light from inside the car spilled onto the highway. He heard the radio.

  “Lincoln eighteen, come in please.”

  No one was answering. They must have walked away, Andy thought. They saw something and walked away.

  “Lincoln eighteen, please acknowledge.”

  “Wait a second,” Andy said. He pulled back against De Silva.

  Instea
d of walking right up to the open door of the patrol car, he circled behind it. De Silva followed.

  “Andy? What is it? Why don’t we just . . .”

  The other door was open, tilting down, pointing at the ditch.

  The radio kept asking: “Lincoln eighteen? Come in. Lin—”

  Andy walked to the open door, still staying well back from it.

  He saw the policewoman, slumped over. He saw the big red dot on the side of her head. He watched it, still oozing, still fresh.

  Next to her, he saw another cop, a man. His head was back. But he also had a hole in his head. His eyes were open, looking up.

  He can’t be stopped, thought Andy. There’s no way to stop him.

  No matter what, he just keeps coming back.

  “Oh, god, Andy, oh, god.” De Silva—right next to him—groaned.

  “Careful. He might be here. Anywhere. He’s got Tyler. He has to do the ceremony, but he could . . .”

  Andy heard something.

  A voice, somewhere in the woods by the side of the road. More cadets, he wondered. Or . . .

  He looked back in the car. He saw that the driver’s holster was empty, but the woman still had her gun. Andy reached in. His hand, shaking nervously, brushed against the stream of blood red lava pouring down. Andy quickly unfastened the holster and took out the gun.

  “Okay. Okay, now,” he said, holding the gun, feeling ridiculous. What do I know about guns? Trying to calm himself.

  He put it into his pocket.

  “Andy,” De Silva said. “There. Look!”

  De Silva pointed down the road. And Andy saw a boy—Tyler. He was holding Chucky and running away.

  “Come on!” De Silva said.

  Andy ran down the road.

  There’s no getting away, thought Tyler.

  Not from Charles, not from Chucky. Tyler held the doll close, just like Chucky ordered. Tyler felt the gun barrel pointing at his ribs.

  He heard the carnival music. The amusement park was just ahead.

  “Come on, kid, step on it. We’ll get lost in fun land while everyone’s out hunting for us. Move it!”

  Tyler nodded. He passed under a bright neon sign. There were so many people here, but they just smiled at Tyler. He was just a kid holding his doll.

  Then Tyler saw another kid holding a Good Guy. The kid smiled at Tyler.

  “Smile back,” whispered Chucky. “Smile at the nice little boy.”

  Tyler forced a smile.

  He kept walking. The round-up was to his left. The ride was just starting. People were pressed against the metal hoop, spinning faster and faster. Tyler kept walking—and then he heard the floor fall away. People screamed.

  “No,” Chucky whispered, talking like a ventriloquist. “Over there.”

  Tyler smelled cotton candy. And hot dogs with mustard. People were laughing. Everyone was so happy.

  Tyler trudged deeper into the amusement park.

  De Silva ran ahead of Andy to the amusement park.

  “Why is he going in there?” Andy called to her.

  De Silva, faster, trotting ahead, shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe to get away from us. To lose us. More police will come now, too.”

  To get away. She’s probably right, thought Andy. But it’s going to be hard for Chucky to find some place to perform his ceremony in there with so many people around.

  Ade due, Damballa.

  The kid’s got a chance, thought Andy.

  He followed De Silva under the neon sign. Funland, it said.

  Andy ran into the crowd, behind De Silva.

  They passed by the roller coaster. The clackety-clack of the string of cars was so noisy. Tyler kept walking. The noise stopped, and then there was the sound of the cars rolling down the first hill, followed by the screams.

  Another hill, and more screams.

  Just ahead, Tyler saw the Ferris wheel. It seemed like such a quiet ride. People get in and gently fly above the park into the sky.

  Tyler came to a corner and saw the bumper cars, spitting sparks of electricity into the air. There were big kids here.

  He took another step.

  When someone tapped his shoulder.

  Tyler turned around.

  There were three kids grinning at him.

  “Hey, kid, what’cha got there?”

  The kids laughed. They were big, mean-looking kids. The kid that spoke stepped close. He reached toward Chucky, rubbing his orange hair. “Hey, this is one of those Good Guys. It’s a Good Guy, isn’t it?”

  Tyler nodded.

  Sure it is.

  The kid nodded to his friends. “He’s excellent.” He asked his buddies. “Don’t you think he’s an excellent doll?”

  The kid, his face looking even meaner, like he could punch Tyler without even thinking about it, came right up to Tyler.

  “I’ll take him.”

  Tyler didn’t do anything. Chucky nudged the gun closer, jabbing him in the ribs.

  The bully grabbed Tyler’s collar. “Hey, didn’t you hear what I said, geek? Hand ’em over!”

  Then Chucky turned his head.

  He turned it right to the bully, who was still grinning.

  Chucky sneered right at him, and said, “Screw off!”

  The kid backed away. He bumped into his friends, and then they all turned and darted away.

  It was dark here. Only the bumper cars were nearby on the right, next to some boarded up game stalls.

  Chucky looked around.

  “Over there,” he said, gesturing to the right.

  And Tyler felt the gun jab him.

  Andy looked at De Silva. They were in a sea of people, all of them laughing. There were couples hanging on each other, parents with little kids, teenagers running around.

  De Silva shook her head. “We’ll never find him in this mess.”

  Andy chewed his lip. It looked hopeless. When . . .

  He saw a little kid moving down one of the alleyways between the games. The kid held something. When the kid turned a bit, orange hair caught the light.

  “There he is. We got him.” Andy darted off, following the kid. He ran full out, right at the kid.

  Chucky’s got a gun on him. I’ll just hit the doll, knock the gun away.

  Andy ran up to the kid. He smashed the doll and it went flying to the ground, talking as it flew through the air.

  “Hi! I’m Paulie, and I’m your friend to the end! Hidey-ho, ha-ha-ha!”

  Andy looked at the doll. And then at the little boy who ran to it, a little blond-haired kid. He said, “Hey!” as he scooped his doll off the ground. The boy’s parents were just in front of him.

  “Watch where you’re going!”

  Andy backed way, nodding. “I’m sorry. I . . .”

  He spun around, and found himself staring right at another Good Guy doll. A young girl held this one. Andy shook his head.

  He ran back to the midway, seeing De Silva standing there. She stood next to two kids fighting over a Good Guy doll, pulling on it.

  “It’s mine,” one said.

  “No,” the other screamed, “it’s mine.”

  “What’s going on?” Andy said to her.

  Looking into the crowd, he saw that it was littered with Good Guys. There were Good Guys everywhere. And he heard them all speaking at the same time.

  “Hi, I’m Tommy.”

  “Hi, I’m Wally.”

  “Wanna play? Hidey-ho!”

  “Wanna—wanna—wanna—”

  “I’m—!”

  Andy covered his his ears. “Where are they coming from?”

  De Silva pointed to a booth just behind him. Andy turned around. He saw the sign.

  GOOD GUYS—WE’RE BACK!

  The booth was filled with Good Guys, some pinned to the wall, others sitting on shelves, a few in front, near a huckster yelling at the crowd.

  “Good Guys! Get your Good Guys here!”

  The huckster turned and spoke to the dolls, demonstrating. Andy dri
fted closer.

  “So what’s your name, sonny?”

  A doll turned its head and said, “Hi, I’m Richey. Wanna play?”

  Then the huckster turned to the audience, grinning, so pleased with his wares. “Ain’t they something? Get one now, folks, ’cause they won’t last. No sirree. Bring one home for the kiddie. Buy one for your sweetheart.”

  “This is a nightmare,” Andy said.

  De Silva grabbed his arm. “We’ll never find them in here.”

  Two kids with dolls drifted by, and Andy heard a chorus of hidey-hos.

  Then, the crowd seemed to part, as if one half drifted to the right and the other left. There was an opening. And there—down at the other end—

  Andy saw Tyler.

  “Tyler!” he said. The boy still held the doll. Andy patted the gun in his pocket, then grabbed De Silva’s hand and started to run. The opening disappeared. The crowd came together, and Andy had to squirm his way past each person.

  While Tyler vanished.

  28

  “I saw them too, kid. It’s no good down here, now. Get moving.”

  Tyler stood there. He had seen Andy and De Silva. They were there. His real friends, coming to save him.

  “You losing your hearing, little twerp? I said get moving.”

  Tyler felt the gun, the cold metal twisting against his ribs.

  “Go up there. Now, run!” Chucky said.

  Tyler held the doll tight and ran away. They were moving closer to the sound of the calliope. Tyler heard the thumping of the drum. Jingling bells. The strange wheezing sound of the organ.

  He saw the carousel, the roof looking like a funny hat strung with red and blue and yellow lights.

  It was the carousel.

  I was on a carousel once, Tyler thought. My dad took me. And this man put these rings in this arm and I tried to grab them. But I couldn’t—not until Dad helped me, holding me up, away from the horse.

  It felt great to hook the ring.

  “Wait a second,” Chucky said. “Wait.”

  Tyler watched the doll, turning to look back.

  “Damn, they’re still coming. That damn Andy Barclay just won’t give up. You know what I’m going to have to do to him, huh, kid? Just what I did to those two stupid cops. I’ll have to ventilate old Andy’s head.”

  Chucky turned, looking at the spinning carousel. He nudged Tyler. “Go up that way.”

  Tyler ran up the ramp.