Pit tore across the field in a frenzy. So rabid that when he hit a little dip in the ground he tumbled over and sprawled out in the grass. Loochie heard him making some new call, a high-pitched squeal that sounded like a toddler having a tantrum. Pit fell into the grass and Loochie kept moving. She reached the trees and disappeared among them.
6
The trees ran in two perpendicular lines for two hundred feet, cutting the meadow in half. As soon as Loochie entered the cover of the trees she made a sharp left rather than coming out the other side of the rows. She ran between them. She had the idea that she could trick Pit, lose him, if she did this. She doubted a man, a thing, with only half a skull had more than half a brain. Once he was up again he might keep running straight through the trees and go out to the next meadow on the other side. Meanwhile she would be doubling back toward the open kitchen window.
She couldn’t run so well. The roots of the trees were overgrown and thick and they threatened to trip her up. And there were little stones everywhere, cutting into her soles. Her socks weren’t much protection. Her feet hurt but she didn’t slow down. She tried not to breathe too loudly even though her chest burned from the effort.
Finally she had to stop. She had to catch her breath. She lay down on her back, heaving, with a hand over her nose and mouth to mute the sound. In her own ears her every breath was as loud as a broken muffler. Out there, in the meadow, she heard the Kroon’s high-pitched squealing. Then it seemed to echo. Playing once then again and again. As her breath returned to normal she realized these weren’t echoes. They were replies.
Loochie sat up to check her aching feet. They throbbed like she’d been cut, but they seemed okay. She watched all the yellowed blades of grass in the meadow. Every few seconds they swayed. There was a breeze. Coming from where?
The high-pitched squeals came again. Loochie wanted to get up but found herself paralyzed. Her knees and elbows had locked up from fright. Hadn’t she been trying on wigs in her mother’s bedroom an hour ago? That already seemed a lifetime ago. She must be dreaming. None of this made a lick of sense. Yet somehow she knew she wasn’t. The rough ground beneath her, the squeals of the Kroons, the pain in her feet, all of it too real for a dream. She was awake. And that meant all of this was truly happening. If she was to survive it, she couldn’t stay still hoping to wake up.
She straightened her mother’s wig to steady herself. Loochie got to her feet. She needed to get a better idea of what was happening out there. A strategic view. She would have to climb one of these trees.
She was trembling again. She was used to climbing fire escapes, but hadn’t ever scaled a tree. It didn’t help that this was an insane tree in an insane woods in an insane park that had appeared—insanely—in this apartment.
These trees weren’t at all like the ones she’d seen on trips to the Queens Botanical Garden or Flushing Meadows Park. These trees were like their demented cousins. They were so tall they seemed to run as high as her entire apartment building. Sixty feet straight up, that big. Their trunks were misshapen, bubbling out here and there in thick knots, and their outer bark was gray and ashen, as if burned. In places the bark showed great tears and the inner bark was a sickly white, the color of bones. She didn’t want to climb this tree. She didn’t even want to touch it. But then she heard the calls out in the meadow once again and she had no choice. She reached for the lowest branch of the nearest tree and climbed.
It’s amazing what a person can do when her life depends on it. Loochie scaled that tree from one limb to the next, fearful but quick. Running had been bad without sneakers, but climbing was easier in socks. She was twenty feet up before she looked down. The sight made her dizzy but she shut her eyes and soon she was calm. Then she scooted forward on a limb, going farther and farther, until she was able to peak at the meadow through the tree’s dense leaves.
There were five Kroons out there now. Seventy-five feet away. Pit and Lefty and three more. Two of the new ones looked exactly alike. Twins. And the last of the new ones was low to the ground, as if he was lying on his stomach in the grass. Loochie watched that one. He was pulling himself through the grass. He reached forward and dug his fingers into the dirt and moved ahead a couple of inches. Then, with the other hand, he pulled himself ahead again. Back and forth like this, slow but unceasing. He was missing both his legs but his ratty jeans were full length. The empty denim trailed behind his upper body as if he had two tails.
Pit pointed toward the trees. He barked at the others loudly and they barked back in quieter tones. They were communicating. Coordinating. They spread out and formed a line, fifty feet between each of them. Together they moved toward the woods. The formation would act like a net, one of them sure to catch sight or sound or smell of her. Did Sunny come through here, too? Loochie wondered. How had she have avoided these things? She couldn’t imagine Sunny sprinting away, let alone climbing a tree, not as sick as she was. Maybe Loochie was too late. Maybe the Kroons had already taken up her tiny body and … what? Burned it. Cooked it? Her best friend going up in a cloud of smoke. The thought seemed to tickle the back of her ear, like a fly or some other pest. You’re too late. Sunny’s gone. But she brushed the words away. She didn’t want to hear them.
As she surveyed the park Loochie’s sense of familiarity returned. From her perch up in the tree, she could see more of the grounds. In the distance, far behind the Kroons, she made out a body of water. It looked like a huge lake. But something was off. From here she could see the surface flickering. The lake was on fire. Or maybe it was a lake of fire. And yet the shape of it, the distance from this stand of trees, were recognizable. Meadow Lake. Flushing Meadows Park. She was in Flushing Meadows Park. Where she and Sunny used to skate around the Unisphere.
The Kroons were creeping nearer. Then all five of them stopped looking toward the trees and snapped their attentions at the ground. They looked at the half-dead grass as if they’d all dropped something important. Just like Pit had done in the kitchen earlier. They scanned the ground desperately. She wondered what it was each of them could’ve been searching for, yearning for, so badly. What had Louis called them? Crackheads. Maybe that meant they walked around searching for cracks in the ground?
Loochie entertained a thought. Maybe she could just climb down and talk with them. Explain that she wasn’t meant to be here. She was looking for her friend and they only wanted to go home. But that would have been as futile as trying to convince Priya, Susan, and Monique that they should let her back into their circle. It would never happen.
The Kroon in the grass had stopped altogether. His arms were straight and his spine curled back and his head lifted. He was no longer scanning the ground for cracks. He’d spotted her. He was looking directly at her. He watched her for a moment, his eyes like embers. She shook her head faintly, as if begging him not to tell the others. His eyes narrowed and he grinned. The Kroon opened his mouth and barked. The other four, his brothers, changed direction. They swelled toward her.
Loochie scrambled backward along the tree limb, toward the trunk. The leaves hid her, but it didn’t matter. They’d seen where she was. She climbed down, practically jumping from one limb to the next.
If this place did, somehow, have the same layout as Flushing Meadows Park then she knew exactly where she might find Sunny. If Sunny is still alive. She had the thought and sent it away just as fast. If this place had the same layout then she might find Sunny at their favorite place. The giant replica of the planet, built for the 1964 World’s Fair. Probably the most famous landmark in Queens: the Unisphere.
Loochie lost her footing ten feet from the ground and fell. The drop seemed to take days but eventually she slammed into the earth. She landed on her side, banging her hip and shoulder. She couldn’t keep her eyes focused but still she scrambled to her feet because she could hear the Kroons rushing through the grass. The brittle blades crackled. It sounded like the meadow was on fire.
Loochie ran from them, through the second row of t
rees. She didn’t think about her feet, shoulder, or hip. Her only thought was to find the Unisphere. She entered a second meadow of half-dead grass. Without meaning to, she let out a sharp laugh.
In the distance she saw a giant silver globe.
7
Flushing Meadows Park, the real one, was enormous, one and a half times the size of Manhattan’s Central Park, and the one here—inside 6D!—seemed even larger. Loochie crossed the second meadow with a quickness that surprised even her. Her socks were soaked from the light dew in the grass. When the Kroons broke through the tree line behind her they looked like specks in the distance. She was that far from them already. But there was more ground to cover before she reached the Unisphere.
After the meadow she reached a concrete path with benches. The concrete was cracked and uneven. The benches were broken apart, splintered pieces of wood jutting out in all directions, as if the Incredible Hulk had come through and smashed each one. Loochie didn’t hesitate. She just kept sprinting.
As she closed the distance between her and the stainless steel Unisphere, she saw the one here wasn’t exactly the same as the globe in Flushing Meadows. In that park the Unisphere sat upright, in the same position as the world, tilted on its real axis. But here in 6D she could see the silver globe hung at a precarious angle. Instead of being perched up on its stand, tilting slightly but secure, this one teetered so far over it looked like one good shove would send it rolling away.
Then the terrible grunting and barking seemed close again. Loochie looked back, her pace slowing so she wouldn’t trip on the uneven ground. The Kroons had reached the concrete. All of them were there. Pit, Lefty, the Twins. They were at the line between the meadow and the concrete path but they’d stopped. All four of them had the same narrow, long builds. She would’ve guessed they were brothers even if Louis hadn’t told her earlier. They looked like four demons. Their decaying jeans and T-shirts sagged on their thin bodies. From a distance this made it look like they were shedding their skins. Again Loochie thought of Sunny. How had she survived them? How had she escaped? Maybe she didn’t. Again, Loochie brushed the thought away. The four males stood still and watched her patiently. What were they waiting for? She kept running. She wasn’t going to wait around to find out. Straight ahead to the Unisphere, hoping and praying to find her friend there.
The Kroons barked again, all together now, and Loochie looked over her shoulder. The last of the Kroons, the one without legs, had finally reached his brothers. The Twins reached down to lift him. What happened next, she almost couldn’t believe. The Twins heaved him backward and then chucked him into the air. They threw him at her. And as he tumbled through the air—could it be possible?—was the legless Kroon smiling? Yes. He was. He was. Hunting her. Hurting her. To them this was just a game. Having fun. Right then they seemed like boys at play.
At least until the legless one, Chuck, landed hard on the concrete. He slammed into the ground and the momentum turned him over twice. As he rolled he made a weird choking noise. It took a second for Loochie to realize he was laughing. And when he stopped Loochie had to stop, too. They’d thrown him so hard, so far, that he’d landed ahead of her on the path. Blocking her straight run to the Unisphere. Chuck was on his belly. He planted his two arms and raised his head and snarled at her like a guard dog. And now the other Kroons came screaming up the path behind her. They had her at both ends.
Luckily, Loochie knew this park. Knew what she would find just west of here, if it was indeed a twisted version of Flushing Meadows. The Playground for All Children. It had swings and slides and little tunnels and bridges for kids to walk across. Plenty of spaces for a girl like her to sneak through, hide under, disappear. Louis used to push her in the swings back when she was small. Loochie broke left, going off the path, headed toward the playground. She hoped it would be there.
The Playground for All Children was straight ahead. She even felt grateful to see the black fencing that surrounded the grounds. The tops of the fence were sharp, pointed. She made it to the front gates. They were open but when she tried to pull them shut behind her she couldn’t manage it. Each gate hung at awkward angles and she saw that they were broken, their hinges warped. Shutting the gates wasn’t going to happen. She just had to keep going. Disappear among the tunnels and slides. As she entered the playground she passed the green plaque that hung on the side of every New York City park. A familiar site, the name of each park engraved in clear lettering. She barely looked at the words, ran three steps past it before she caught herself. Something was wrong. Something was off about the sign. Despite the fear she felt, the knowledge that the Kroons were closing in, she still turned back to read it. She read the four words, out loud.
“Playground of Lost Children,” she whispered.
She didn’t want to go in, but what choice did she have?
8
After five steps it was as if the rest of the park, the rest of the world, had been shut out. No sounds carried over. She looked around. Even the Kroons, their barking, was gone. She couldn’t see them, either. They hadn’t been that far behind her. So where were they? Nowhere. The faint breeze she’d seen brushing the tops of the grass, had felt against her skin, had disappeared. The air here was completely still. Even the sky seemed to be shut off from her now. She could still see the overcast grayness, saw a spark of lightning over the meadow, but she never heard the crack of thunder that should’ve followed. A moment after that she saw rain, faint droplets, falling in the distance, a rain shower throughout the park. But not here. Everywhere but here. Not a drop fell on the playground.
It was so quiet, in fact, that she heard her own footsteps on the concrete. And when she reached the padded play area she could hear the plastic wheeze beneath her. There wasn’t anything but some fencing separating this area from the rest of the park, but it was as if the playground’s fences were locking the world out, but maybe also locking Loochie in.
Loochie walked through the padded playground and just before she reached a row of swings she came across a child’s bike. It was upright. Made for a kid younger than her. Red, with rainbow tassels coming out of each end of the handlebars. It had one training wheel attached, on the left side. The right one was missing.
She stepped around the bike and toward the baby swings. There were four of them, in a row—black plastic. They were closed off inside a low set of black gates. From here she could see there was something sitting inside one of the swings. She opened the gate and the metal whined, making Loochie stiffen with fear that the Kroons would hear the noise. She stood there, the top of the gate in her right hand, and it took almost a minute before she could breathe normally again. Before she could walk.
She walked to the third swing in the row. There, tilted at an angle in the swing seat, was a toy school bus. She picked it up and when she did the bus’s little lights flashed and the toy rumbled out the sounds of an engine chugging. She balanced it on her open palm.
Loochie walked away from the swings still carrying the bus. As she moved to the next part of the playground, a big blue jungle gym with two yellow slides, she found more children’s toys, lying here and there. She stepped over two baseball bats and three small gloves. She found a length of jump rope in a heap. There were Frisbees and bright rubber balls, soccer balls and even tennis rackets. But no kids.
She passed under a silver awning, like a metallic tent top, that threw shade down on a portion of the playground. She found a Razor scooter there, still standing. She didn’t want to even touch it. Where had all these kids gone? As she passed the scooter she dropped the yellow bus. She hadn’t even realized she was still holding it. It fell on its side and its headlights flashed. The engine chugged, but Loochie wasn’t listening.
She stepped out from the awning. She just wanted to sit down. Where were all these kids? Were they dead? All of them? She felt—what?—weighed down by the thought, by the reality. Maybe children just die. They do. Sometimes. Loochie sat cross-legged and felt like she was going to m
elt. She covered her face with two hands. Her eyes burned as she began to cry.
She imagined Sunny, but not just Sunny, maybe all the kids who’d owned these toys, burned alive by the Kroons of apartment 6D. A place that was no apartment at all, but something else. Was it hell? Nobody had ever explained to her where hell was. People said it was underground, but how far down? She’d been riding the subways her whole life and she’d never seen a pit of fire filled with burning souls anywhere on the 7 line. So why couldn’t hell be located in a sixth-floor apartment in Flushing, Queens? What if she’d gone looking to rescue her best friend and got herself trapped in hell instead? And what if she never escaped? Who would take care of her mother? Would Loochie just die here? Starve to death? She didn’t even have a toy to leave behind. Eventually her body would wither away and there’d only be her bones.
But there weren’t any other bones here.
Plenty of toys, but no bones.
It was this realization that reenergized Loochie. If these kids had just died here there’d be bodies all over the place. There’d be something. She’d seen ashes fall from the tip of that first Chinese cigarette she smoked. Wouldn’t bodies at least leave ashes, too? But there were none. Now Loochie imagined that all these kids, one for each toy, dozens of them, were huddled away somewhere. Together. And that sounded a lot better than being alone.
Loochie stood again. She located the Unisphere on the landscape. It loomed larger than it had before. Maybe a hundred yards away now. She walked to the edge of the playground and strolled along the fence line. She didn’t want to go back out the gates she’d walked through. Maybe the Kroons couldn’t come into the playground any more than the wind or the rain, but they could be waiting right on the other side of those gates. In the real world this playground had two entrances. Maybe this one did, too. She’d walk along the fence line until she found the other one and hope none of the Kroons was waiting there. She put out one hand and ran it along the fence as she walked. The tips of her fingers felt slightly numb, in a good way, as she made sure to brush every pole she walked past for good luck.
Lucretia and the Kroons Page 5