“The game, of course! Maybe I’ve given your cleverness too much credit, dear.” He shook his dark coat and the fog billowed back out across the top of the maze, masking the emerald footpath. This time, it did not block Elsa’s sight of her brother, instead only rising to the height of her hips.
“Now then, here are the rules. You must reach your brother, who is standing at the center, in five minutes or less. When you successfully do so, you will both be promptly returned to the end of the maze, where your mother is patiently waiting for you. If you should happen to fail to complete this task…well, let’s just say that there’s never a shortage of space for newcomers here.”
“What if I don’t want to play?”
“Fancy you know a better way to get out of here? Hurry along, now. The clock is ticking.”
“Who are you?” Elsa demanded.
“Tick-tock,” was his only reply. He pulled a curvy object from the folds of his overcoat and pointed it at Elsa, who stumbled back. A moment later, with the application of a bow, the man’s violin began to squeal a wrenching song.
Turning quickly to where Alex stood in the distance, Elsa called out to him. “I’m coming, Alex! Don’t move.” Her words were barely audible above the whining instrument.
“Hurry, Elsa! I think I hear something getting closer to—” He was cut off by a sharp note.
Elsa placed one foot slowly forward, trying to remember the impossible pattern that had been revealed to her moments before. It did not take her long to take her first tumble. Her left foot met with empty air, and only the falling backward motion of her caution kept her from slipping over the edge and into nothingness. Sharp twig ends scratched at her palms, and she heard the violin howl a climactic whine to accompany her stumble.
“Can you stop that awful music? Just STOP IT!”
The man cackled in reply.
She rose on wobbling knees to continue in the general direction of her brother. Moments later, the instrument wailed as she barely kept herself from falling over the side once again.
“I can’t,” she screamed. “I can’t do this. It’s impossible. She turned and yelled hopelessly at the man, who followed closely behind with his violin playing its taunting wail of a tune.
“Four minutes,” he laughed.
Doing the only thing she could think of, Elsa squatted to her knees, so that her eyes barely cleared the top of the fog, and began to crawl. Stray twigs caught her palms painfully as she edged her way forward at an incredibly slow pace.
What seemed like an eternity passed while Elsa inched her way forward. Alex continuously waved his arms and yelled words that she could not hear. Sweat beaded down her forehead and chest. Whenever she reached an edge she turned slightly and continued forward until, at last, she found herself surrounded on all but one side by empty space.
She clawed frantically at the ground, hoping that her path would miraculously reappear.
“It appears you’ve reached a stopping point,” the man said playfully over his softening music. “Would you care for a little assistance?”
“Please let us go,” Elsa said. “Just, please stop…”
“I will offer you one peek in exchange for one minute of your time, my dear.”
“Yes,” she shouted immediately. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
Instantly the fog cleared, and Elsa closely examined the greenery surrounding her. Her jaw dropped at taking in the full size of the maze. There was about fifty feet between she and her brother, consisting of four hedge tops and three ominous looking gaps between them. The path behind her, which held her only chance of finding the right course to her brother, wound back hopelessly back in a crooked line.
And then the greenery was again hidden by mist.
“No! I need more time!”
“Well, you’ve a little over two minutes to bargain with,” the ghostly figure offered. “That is, if you’re determined to waste all of your time gawking at the ground. Personally, I would suggest putting a little more drive into your efforts.”
“I-I can’t do this,” Elsa admitted quietly as the violin lamented. “There’s no way to get through this damned maze.” The statement resonated inside her head, one word in particular. “Can’t get through it,” she thought to herself. “But…what if…”
A glance at her brother showed him still waving wildly. She knew immediately that her only chance of getting to the center in time rested upon her new idea.
“I want another look,” she demanded. “I want another look right now.”
The violin rose in volume and the man gave an obliging bow.
When the fog lifted, Elsa took in a deep breath, shook her head, and backed up as far as she could to the edge. She sprinted forward and yelled as she leaped across the empty space from one hedge to the next. She stumbled slightly on impact, but barely paused to take another breath before repeating the exhilarating drive forward across the next gap. Though she had never been particularly athletic, Elsa found that with her adrenaline pumping, she cleared the bottomless gaps with ease.
The music followed her every move, with rising and excited notes. Her brother was now within ten feet from her and was yelling, though not loud enough to overtake the violin. And just as she was preparing for the final leap, the fog flooded her vision.
Looking backward, Elsa saw that the man was still standing almost directly behind her, watching and playing.
“One more!” she shouted. “I need another look!”
“You haven’t quite been playing fair, have you?”
“You didn’t say anything about fair, you monster. Now show me the ground again!”
As the cushy green floor rematerialized beneath her feet, the man said, “You’ve less than thirty seconds remaining.”
She readied herself and took the final leap.
She landed heavily on the soft treetop, huffing and gasping with excitement. Elsa reached up for her brother’s hand and began to pull herself up the wall when she was abruptly jerked back down by a tightly coiled cord around her ankle.
“Elsa!”
She was hauled back from the wall and started to scream when her leg began to sink into the prickly depths of the trees.
“No, let me go! I won! I made it!”
The violin shrieked violently along with Elsa’s screams.
She clawed at the column of brick and eventually at the topmost layer of trimmed shrubbery, but knew that no amount of flailing would save her from the powerful, gnarled root’s grasp. And then another firm coil wrapped itself about her wrist and pulled hard. She felt as if she were being wrenched apart from both ends. Surely one of her limbs would give way soon.
“Let her go!” Alex shouted, pulling with all of his might. Elsa looked up and saw that the thing gripping her wrist was no arboreal attacker, but rather her brother. He groaned and pulled with all his might, as did she.
Elsa was enabled to kick free of the binding grip and pull herself up next to her brother.
“Up,” she demanded. The two siblings hauled themselves over the ledge and embraced triumphantly.
“I can’t believe you made it across all of those holes,” Alex exclaimed. Neither of them paid notice to the fact that the violin had ceased its terrible melody.
“Let us go home,” Elsa said, pushing herself between Alex and the shadow-faced man. “Fair is fair. You said you’d let us go if I got to him.”
“Right you are, my dear. And a deal is a deal.” He waved a hand and a doorway of pale sunset appeared behind them. Elsa pulled Alex toward the door, but he stopped to ask one parting question.
“What would’ve happened if she hadn’t made it?”
The man winked at the little boy. “Come now. It was only ever a game. You were never in any real danger.”
The man grinned with innocent satisfaction. “What sort of a monster do you think I am?”
When they emerged on the other side, the Laurio children ran right into the rather large behind of the security guard standing watc
h at the underground exit of the maze.
“Oops, I’m sorry, mister,” said Alex, bouncing off the guard’s backside.
“Wossat? Hey, it’s almost closin’ time, you two. Go on now. Get back to your mum ‘fore she comes looking.” The portly guard pointed toward the exit, which glowed with the fading sunlight of the early evening.
They followed the path behind a pair of giggling teenagers until Elsa stopped. “Wait, Alex. Look at this.”
The two of them looked up at a wall of painted faces. There were men, women, and children of all ages, woven into what a casual glance would reveal to be a mural depicting the happy diversity of human life. Upon closer inspection, however, Elsa and Alex saw that the faces looked troubled, even frightened. As they watched, the faces transformed, eyes widening and heads tilting backward with open mouths.
“It looks like…” Alex began.
“They’re falling. Come on, dork. Let’s get out of here.”
Runaway Train
Sunlight danced sharply through the trees and into the train’s cabin as it coasted along the tracks. It was high summer and soon the leaves would be falling, but for now, they held the contented attention of Jake Rickshaw through the square pane of glass that accompanied his seat.
Jake loved to take the train. Whenever the schedule allowed, he did all of his business traveling by rail, by far preferring the various bumps and jostles of transport at ground level rather than thirty-thousand feet above it. In fact, it was the place where he got his best thinking done.
The train was scheduled to reach Bangor in another hour, and was thus far running very much on time. The six hour trip south was one that Jake was very familiar with and, as always, he found himself feeling a little disappointed on this final leg of it.
When the train began to slow, however, Jake was pulled from his thoughts as he watched the passing trees come to a still.
Raising his head, Jake peered quickly around the train, seeing that none of the other passengers seemed to have taken any notice, or if they had, did not care. He did note that the car was unusually full. Jake leaned curiously toward the boarding side of the train, hoping to see any signs of a station that he had previously ignored. But as soon as it had completely halted, the train had again begun to accelerate.
Jake slid back into his seat and fumbled in his bag for the mystery novel he had been reading. When he sat back up, with book in hand, he let out a shriek of surprise. A tall, gaunt gentleman was sitting in the previously empty seat beside him. The man turned to regard Jake with an apologetic smile.
“Forgive me,” he said in a kind but gravel-filled voice. “Is this seat taken?”
“No, no,” Jake said with embarrassment. “It’s not. I’m sorry, I just looked down and…you startled me.”
“Please do not apologize,” the man said in a diplomatic eloquence that had the faintest hint of a foreign drawl behind it. Something Slavic, maybe. “It was my fault for…sneaking up on you so.”
“Forget about it,” Jake said with a quick smile, turning his attention to the book in his lap. It wasn’t that Jake didn’t like making small-talk with strangers, it was simply that he did not like making small-talk with strangers on a train ride. Or anyone, for that matter. Train time was Jake’s time, silly as it may sound. So when the stranger continued to chat after a moment, it put Jake on the irritated defensive.
“A pleasant day, is it not?”
“Very nice, yes,” Jake agreed with a flat nod at his book.
“I do not get around to these parts of the world near often enough,” the man continued. “The scenery is beautiful.”
Indeed Jake agreed with this, and it was one of the main arguments he made when trying to excuse his small fear of flying to anyone inquiring. He did not, however, voice any of his thoughts to the gentleman, but merely nodded again.
“It is always astonishing to me to think that people will consciously choose aviation over a locomotive as a means of travel, or better yet, the automobile. Is that not the beauty of traveling? To watch the world change before your eyes as you are moving.”
“You’d hardly believe it, wouldn’t you,” Jake said, hoping that a more syllabically-endowed response would satisfy the man.
“Indeed,” the man said. “I sometimes forget how fulfilling a train ride can be.”
“I’m sorry,” Jake said, looking up from his book, “but I’m trying to get a little reading—”
When he looked into the man’s face, silence gripped his words. Having not looked at him fully before, Jake now wiggled in his seat uncomfortably. The man was of an indeterminable age. Not because he looked well-preserved, but because he seemed to actually shift up and down the scale of time as Jake stared at him. He had completely forgotten what he had been in the middle of saying as he peered into the gentleman’s eyes, which were of an opaque slate color that Jake had never seen before, and would probably have trouble ever having to describe again. The most unnerving part was that the eyes seemed to look directly at Jake, but right through him at the same time.
Jake dropped his gaze immediately.
He felt the terribly pale eyes of the gaunt man beside him and mumbled, “I’m sorry, I have to get by you. Restroom.”
Moments later, Jake was splashing cold water on his face in the lavatory. After giving himself a good long stare, he had decided to forego the reading and try to get in an obviously necessary nap before they reached the depot in Bangor. Perhaps the convention had been a little more stressful than he’d realized.
When he returned to his seat, though, he found a small surprise waiting for him. The man had taken the seat next to the window, and had placed Jake’s bag and book on the aisle seat. He stood there for a moment, a little confused, before taking his new seat. The man, who paid him no notice, was busy looking out the window with great interest.
Jake tilted back his seat quietly and began to take a series of deep, calming breaths, hopefully inching his way towards a nap. A minute or so went by before the man again began to speak.
“I apologize if I have made you uncomfortable,” the man offered. “Sometimes when I find myself a little ahead of schedule, I tend to prattle.”
“It’s nothing,” Jake insisted, keeping his eyes closed. “No worries. No trouble at all.” Jake’s heart had begun to pulse faster, though, and something within him seemed to be insisting that something was amiss in his situation. What exactly, he was not sure, but it was deeply unsettling.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you again, but may I ask you a question?”
Jake thought momentarily about trying to act as though he had already nodded off, but knew that since it had only been a few seconds that the option was blown. “Sure,” he said, half lifting his eyelids, but not moving his head.
“It is just that…I have ever wondered about the emotion of fear in people.”
At this, Jake’s heartbeat again quickened.
“Particularly the fear of death,” he said in dark monotone. “It is most unreasonable, is it not?” After a slight pause during which the man had probably expected a reply, he continued. “As it stands, all living things eventually reach the point of transition in which they must leave their bodily vessels behind as so many dried husks. It is a known fact. Why do so many fear such a fact intrinsically? It makes even less sense yet when these same people find themselves taken by surprise, or angered when it finally happens. It does make my job ever so much more involved.” The man sighed.
Jake dared to look at him again, going against every wish of the pounding organ in his chest. The train was approaching a short tunnel, and as it submerged, the cabin was washed in darkness. Jake backed away from his fellow passenger with a breathless whimper. In the window seat sat a visage of inky shadow. Its darkness swirled and flickered about it in wisps of ebony that seemed to have their own luminescence, giving a dark glow that revealed a face leaning against the window. It was the face of the traveler, that was sure, but his gaunt features had been magnified, a
ppearing to Jake as an alabaster ghoul cloaked in the living night.
The train emerged from the tunnel, and the figure in the window seat changed immediately back to normal, as Jake sat horrified on the aisle floor. He was vaguely aware that his fellow passengers had taken notice of him, and a few looked rather uncomfortable.
The ghastly man looked down at Jake and beckoned him to return to his seat. “Please, Jacob. You are causing an unnecessary scene. Fear is a contagion.” All the while, the man seemed to speak without moving his lips, offering instead a rictus that bore far too many teeth.
If it occurred to Jake exactly how this figure had known his name, it was a thought overlooked very quickly by his lingering fright. He crawled, fumbling backward the way that crabs do, and made it a few rows down the aisle before stopping out of sight of his seat.
A little girl with pigtails was seated beside him and she pointed. “Don’t be a-scared mister. My momma sez that when I get scared on the train just to hold my Binky.” She squeezed the tatty doll in her arms affectionately. “Do you have a Binky, mister?”
“Sweetie, leave the nice man alone,” said her mother, pulling her daughter carefully out of her aisle seat and into her lap. She glowered threateningly at the questionable looking Jake sitting in the aisle, undoubtedly ready to plant a spiked heel in his face should he happen not to be such a nice man after all.
Jake kept moving, eventually finding that his legs would permit him to stand, and found himself again in the restroom. Sweat beaded down his forehead and underarms. He had never felt so out-of-control of himself in all his thirty-eight years. The billowing specter was imprinted on his vision like a sunspot. He knew without a doubt what the man had really been when he had glimpsed him in the darkness.
“Death,” he whispered. Jake curled his knees up to his chest while sitting on the toilet seat. The monster had come to claim them. In a flash of mental clarity, Jake saw the entire train being derailed at a near point down the tracks. In a blaze of smoke and twisted metal, none of the passenger cars would hold any survivors, all of them swallowed by unforgiving wreckage and flame.
Chasing the Sandman Page 3