Child’s Play 3

by Matthew J. Costello

  He whispered in Tyler’s ear. “Keep moving, kid. It’s called cutting the line. Let me know if you want me to blow any of the rubes away.”

  Tyler pushed his way through the crowd, a small kid nudging past grown-ups. Tyler moved to the front of the line. The operator looked down and saw him.

  “Hey, kid. What are you doing? Wait in line. You’ll get on the next . . .”

  “Let’s go, Tyler.” Chucky hissed. “Get on the damn carousel—now!”

  Tyler ducked under the chain and ran past the operator, who yelled at him.

  The horses sped by, and the music thumped loudly.

  “Get on!” Chucky yelled.

  Tyler chewed his lip. He waited until there was a space between horses, and then he jumped onto the spinning platform.

  The sound of the calliope grew in Andy’s ears, the thumping, the jingling sounds, the bellows making the organ pipes hoot.

  “Where are they?” De Silva said.

  Andy pointed straight ahead at the carousel. “There.”

  He saw Tyler, standing right next to the spinning platform, watching a horse go up while the operator ran over to him.

  A little boy holding a doll.

  Andy saw the gun.

  He thought: the poor kid. And, once again, Andy remembered his promise. What he was going to do to Chucky.

  A million pieces.

  De Silva grabbed his arm. “Oh, god, Andy. He’s going to jump onto the carousel.”

  But even as she said the words. Andy watched Tyler jump onto the disk. The movement of the platform made the kid fall, roll forward. The crowd gasped, watching the strange scene.

  Still holding the doll, Tyler rolled forward and hit his head against the upraised hoof of one of the hovses.

  “We have to get to him,” Andy explained, moving again, pushing through the line of people.

  De Silva followed him as he made his way to the carousel, to Tyler.

  To Chucky.

  “Get up, squirt. Get your little black butt up!”

  Tyler nodded. Tyler’s head hurt where he had banged it on the merry-go-round horse.

  The operator was still yelling at him.

  “Hey, kid. Stay down. Just stay down now!”

  He doesn’t see Chucky, Tyler thought. Doesn’t see Chucky holding a gun up to me.

  Tyler felt the merry-go-round slow. And then Chucky kicked him. “I said get the hell up and get ready to jump off—at the back.”

  As the disk slowed, Tyler stood up and got ready to jump off.

  He saw Barclay, and then, just behind him, De Silva. They’re coming for me, he thought. They’re coming to rescue me!

  “Get ready,” Chucky hissed in his ear. “Ready . . . ready!”

  The carousel slowed down even more. And Tyler faced the back of the carousel building, which was an empty lot. There was tall grass here and empty cans. Faraway, another ride glowed in the night, fiery red.

  “Now!” Chucky yelled. “Now!” And Tyler jumped off.

  Tyler landed on concrete. A small fence cut him off from the lot.

  “Over you go, Tyler. Just make sure that you don’t drop the Chuck man.”

  Tyler climbed over the fence, clutching the horrible doll close, crying again. Because he just kept getting more and more scared.

  Andy jumped onto the slowing carousel, followed by De Silva.

  The operator looked up and started yelling. “Hey, what are you two doing? What the hell are you . . .”

  De Silva turned to Andy, the lights spinning, the operator there, then gone, then there.

  The music slowing.

  “I don’t see them, Andy. They’ve gone.”

  Andy nodded.

  Then, as they spun to the back, Andy saw someone moving through the empty lot behind the carousel. But he was spun away before he could get a good look.

  He grabbed De Silva’s arm. “I think I saw them. Get ready. We’re going to jump off.”

  Andy waited until he was once again facing the lot, and then he leaped off the carousel. He landed hard, his knees smacking against the concrete walkway around the ride.

  De Silva—after a more adroit landing—helped him up.

  He looked up at her. “Thanks.”

  But when Andy got to his feet, she said, “Are you sure that you saw them?” De Silva looked out at the lot. “I don’t see see anything.”

  As soon as they were out of the tall grass and on concrete again. Chucky leaned close to Tyler’s ear and said, “Go right, you little shit. Move it.”

  Tyler turned and ran. He saw red glowing lights. But Chucky was guiding him away from the lights, down an alley to the side.

  Tyler half walked, half ran, stumbling along, moving when Chucky told him to move, stopping when he told him to stop. Like now.

  “Okay, stop here.”

  They were next to a big red metal door. There was a sign on it that said, Employees Only.

  “Let’s see if it’s our lucky day,” Chucky said. Tyler didn’t move. “That means, try the door, buddy boy.”

  Tyler reached out and tugged at the heavy metal door. It didn’t budge.

  “Pull a bit harder.”

  Tyler pulled back with all his weight. The door opened with a horrible groaning sound.

  “There you are. I guess we are lucky.”

  Tyler heard screams inside. It must be a ride of some kind. It had been hard to see, running here, he was crying so much.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Get your butt inside.”

  Chucky jabbed him with the gun.

  And Tyler thought: I’ll go in here. And Andy and De Silva will never find me.

  That will be it.

  Tyler hesitated a second.

  Chucky jabbed him again. “Move it!”

  And Tyler walked inside, into the darkness, wondering why people were screaming.

  “No. They can’t have disappeared,” Andy said. He quickly clambered over the fence and started running through the grass.

  He heard De Silva right behind him.

  As he ran, he checked the dark grass in case Tyler had fallen or was hiding.

  Then De Silva yelled at him. “Andy, look over there!”

  Andy stopped, and looked in the direction De Silva pointed. A red glow filled the misty air around the ride.

  Andy read the letters of the ride.

  Devil’s Lair.

  A leering Satan looked out at them, his eyes rolling back and forth. Skeletons and ghouls danced on the façade of the building. Colorful cars were lined up for a ride into the lair.

  “I don’t see . . .”

  “There!” De Silva said, “Down the alley, the side entrance.”

  Andy saw an alley that ran down one side of the Devil’s Lair. But so what?

  Then he saw the side door shutting.

  “Good eyes, Kristin.”

  They both tore off toward the side entrance to Devil’s Lair.

  It sounded like a roller coaster—only it was inside. It was an indoor ride. Tyler heard the clattering of cars rolling through the building, climbing up ramps. There were sirens that screamed out, and then the screams of people in the cars and the banging of doors all around them.

  Tyler couldn’t see anything.

  Just a thin slit of greenish light straight ahead, behind doors.

  “There, kid. Move toward the light, bozo. This place is damn near perfect.”

  Tyler took a step, and then stumbled on the metal track used by the cars. He fell to the floor. Chucky nearly slipped out of his arms.

  “Uh-uh. Be careful with the goods, bro. You nearly dropped me there, clumsy. Now up. Get a move on.”

  Tyler got to his feet and ran to the door. He pushed it open. The sick green light fell on his face.

  And he saw a cemetery.

  Tyler looked at the cemetery, filled with tombstones, some cracked, a few lying on the ground.

  “Perfecto!” Chucky said. “That one will do, right over there.”

  C
hucky pointed to a tombstone lying on the ground.

  Tyler carried the doll there. “Now put me down.”

  Tyler lowered Chucky to the tombstone. “Okay, it’s time to play.”

  But then the boy heard a rattling behind him. A while light flashed. There was a siren and screaming.

  A car full of people burst into the scene.

  The graveyard suddenly came to life. A skeleton flew out of an open hole, a ghost dropped down from the roof. Hands started growing out of the ground.

  “No, no, no!” Tyler screamed.

  The people in the car saw him, watched him, but continued to laugh.

  They think I’m just like the other tricks, just a machine. He looked at the people in the car, screaming and laughing, as the car wove its way through the cemetery. A bat on wires swooped down at him, filling the room with its horrible squeaks. A rotten corpse stumbled from the back.

  “My kind of people,” Chucky said.

  Tyler shook his head. On the other side, he saw a stone house for dead people. The door opened. Something glowed inside. A gigantic moan filled the cemetery.

  Tyler bit his lip. He tasted blood. He stepped backward and stumbled, falling, rolling.

  He felt the cold metal of the track.

  When he looked up, the car was coming right toward him, as the people screamed even louder.

  A most excellent place, thought Chucky. Why, there isn’t a better place to perform the final ritual and terminate this little sucker.

  Chucky saw a skeleton trying to pull itself out of a rotten coffin.

  Keep pluggin’ away, babe, he thought.

  Tyler was crying, screaming.

  And then the kid slipped away. Chucky turned. “Hey!” he said.

  But the kid had fallen onto the track.

  Hell, Chucky thought. The stupid kid’s trying to turn himself into hamburger. The car’s going to plow right into him.

  Chucky stood up. All this work to get somebody, and now he’s going to kill himself?

  A brilliant light flashed, a giant blinding strobe. Chucky blinked. And when he opened his eyes, the car rumbled out of the cemetery.

  Chucky looked at the track. There was no one there. Tyler should have been there, squashed. But he wasn’t.

  Chucky hopped off his tombstone.

  The brat is still here. Inside a pretend grave, maybe hiding behind a cardboard tombstone.

  Still here.

  I keep letting myself get distracted, Chucky thought. I keep letting that happen. No more screwing around, he thought. The gloves are off. The kid’s still here, and he’s dead meat.

  He’s mine.

  Andy tugged on the side door, and it opened. De Silva grabbed his shoulder, and they entered the house of screams together.

  “I can’t see a thing,” De Silva said.

  Andy nodded, and then—realizing that De Silva couldn’t see him—he said, “Yes.”

  But as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw a thin sliver of grayish green light ahead. Somewhere behind them a car rattled.

  “There’s some light,” he said.

  Holding De Silva’s hand tightly, he walked toward the greenish slit. Toward the door.

  Tyler looked around the tombstone. The car had nearly smashed into him. He just had time to leap away, rolling behind the stone.

  In the back the tombstone was just plain wood, not even painted. He peered around the edge, looking for Chucky.

  The skeletons, the ghosts, the bats were all quiet, waiting for the next car.

  I don’t see him, Tyler thought. Maybe he left, maybe he went someplace else. To some other scary room in here.

  Tyler looked behind him. The little stone house was just behind him. He heard the terrible rattle of one of those cars riding the metal rail coming closer.

  Then—with a tremendous kick—the doors flew open. Tyler yelped, startled.

  Again the graveyard came to life.

  He saw skeletons rising from the ground and ghoulie guys crawling around.

  Then—just by his feet—a skeleton grabbed his ankle. Its bony fingers seemed to close and lock on Tyler’s ankle.

  Tyler scrambled away, scurrying like a crab.

  Right into Chucky.

  “Hey, kid. Long time, no see,” the doll said.

  Chucky pointed his gun right at Tyler’s head. Tyler backed away, tripping on the skeleton, feeling its rubber body beneath him writhing.

  “Stop. Get back here!” Chucky yelled.

  Tyler looked around. The door to the stone house was open.

  Tyler crawled, real fast, into the stone house, into—he read the word as he rolled inside—into the crypt.

  The car rattled out of the graveyard, kicking open doors, leaving the cemetery.

  The door to the crypt slammed shut.

  Tyler was safe.

  But, but . . .

  He felt someone—something—watching him.

  Tyler was breathing hard. He heard himself breathing in and out, in and out, the sound so loud inside this small room.

  He felt it.

  Behind him.

  And so, still panting, still sucking in air as fast as he could—but now smelling this place, this small enclosed room, this crypt—he turned around.

  And he saw a skeleton, grinning at him, and glowing just like one of those watches that glows in the dark.

  Grinning at Tyler.

  The boy watched it, thinking: He knows.

  He knows that there will be another car. The door will open.

  And Chucky will be there waiting.

  29

  Andy pushed open the door.

  “God!” De Silva said. “It’s a cemetery—creepy!”

  “Yeah. But perfect for Chucky.” Andy looked around. He saw tombstones and some slumped-over skeletons.

  Lots of gray, green, and black.

  But no orange and red and blue.

  Andy shook his head. “I don’t see him.”

  De Silva took a step into the cemetery. She called out: “Tyler? Tyler . . . are you here?”

  Andy yelled, “Tyler? Are you here? Ty . . .”

  He heard something. A muffled voice, coming from . . .

  Andy saw the crypt, shut tight. Then, again, the muffled voice, “I’m in here!”

  Andy ran over to the crypt with De Silva. He banged on the side of the crypt. “Tyler. Is that you?”

  “Yes. I’m in here and—”

  “Hang on, Tyler,” Andy said. Andy started feeling the outside of the crypt, looking for a way in. He felt the wood seams, digging his fingernails in.

  He moved to the back. “Just hang on, Tyler.”

  Andy looked at De Silva, who was also looking for a door or latch, some way into the pretend crypt. She looked up at him and shrugged.

  “We’re coming, Tyler, just . . .”

  Tyler looked at the glowing skeleton.

  It’s just sitting there, Tyler thought. Sitting there, watching me.

  It’s not real, he told himself. Not a real skeleton. Just something somebody made.

  He heard Andy pounding on the outside of the crypt, feeling the sides.

  Tyler looked at the skeleton. He reached out a hand to touch it, wanting to feel it for some reason. He chewed his lip.

  It’s not real, he told himself.

  Close. Almost touching those bony fingers that glowed in the dark.

  Closer.

  And then—from behind the skeleton—another hand reached out.

  Chucky’s hand.

  “Surprise, kiddo.”

  Chucky’s plastic fingers locked on Tyler’s hand. They were so strong. Tyler yelled and squirmed. He heard Andy calling to him.

  Chucky had been in here all the time.

  Then Tyler heard the rattling noise, the crazy clackety-clack of another car roaring through the cemetery. The door to the crypt popped open, and the glowing skeleton moved, pushing Chucky.

  He let Tyler’s hand slip away.

  They can’t save
me, Tyler thought. Barclay and De Silva can’t do anything.

  The boy ran out and across the tracks just as the car was about to come.

  Chucky saw Tyler. He saw the car. There might not be enough time, he thought. The car might catch me, slam right into me. And I know how my body is starting to feel. It’s like skin now, like flesh.

  It would hurt bad if that car rammed into me.

  Chucky shook his head and then darted out, taking as big steps as his little legs would allow. Big, bigger. He heard the screams, the squealing of the metal wheels on the track.

  Shit. I’m not going to make it, he thought. But right there, on the track, he leaped, and he felt a breeze dust his little doll butt.

  Way to go, he thought. Good Guys always finish first.

  Tyler was running out an opening in the back of the cemetery scene.

  Barclay and De Silva were cut off by the car.

  Suckers, thought Chucky, as he ran after Tyler.

  Andy didn’t notice that the crypt had opened until the haunted house car was right there, squealing in their ears. He saw a teenage girl break away from a kiss and look over at them, stupidly grinning.

  When the car passed, he saw Tyler on the other side, crawling through an opening.

  And Chucky was just behind him.

  “Tyler!” he yelled.

  They disappeared.

  The car roared past. Andy grabbed De Silva and pulled her to the other side, past the tombstone, to the next room.

  Tyler stopped. A dozen Tylers stopped. Some looked right at him, some looked off into space. Tyler turned, and the reflections from a dozen mirrors turned.

  Tyler looked around. He took some steps. Turned. Took some more steps. He didn’t know where to go.

  There was great rumbling, and the haunted house car kicked into the hall of mirrors. And now there were dozens of cars, hundreds of kids inside the cars, screaming, yelling, laughing. The tracks climbed up, weaving through the mirrors.

  Tyler tried to follow the real car, to see the way out. But then it would disappear, melting into nothing, as another reflection took its place.

  The car came right at Tyler. He looked down. He wasn’t standing on any track. How could it?

  But it was coming right at him, rumbling, shaking.

  Then the great rumbling of the metal wheels roared around his ears before turning away, a dozen cars disappearing all at once.