Devil's Playground

by Sara Clancy

  “Don’t touch me,” he hissed out.

  Whether it was his tone or the demand, he didn’t know, but she flinched back as if he had struck her.

  “What is wrong with you?” she demanded.

  Aleksandr ignored the question as he looked around. There were a few other people in the hallway. Aside from the onlookers, there were a few staff members that were picking him up off the floor, muttering a lot but trying not to swear as they tended to oblivious guests. As the adrenaline faded, he began to feel the pain. Different points that littered his body but mostly centered around his shoulders. It occurred to him then that he had never been alone in the ballroom. And his escape had forced him to barrel through a sizable crowd.

  “Alex.”

  He didn’t know how long Alison had been repeating his name but she seemed to be relieved when he finally looked over to her.

  “Are you alright?”

  “No,” he said softly before he got to his feet, mumbled an apology, and started running again.

  Chapter 9

  “You need to get out now!”

  Evelyn gripped her mobile phone, pressing it hard against her ear as she raced through the gambling area. It hadn’t been long since she was here, but the crowd had thickened considerably. People in various states of intoxication clogged the pathways, slowing her pace, forcing her to duck and weave around their bodies before she could surge forward again.

  “Meet us at the staff entrance,” was the only reply she got before the line went dead.

  Evelyn had no idea which one of the twins had answered. She reasoned that it didn’t matter. Telling one was as good as telling both. Shoving her mobile back into her bra, she ducked deeper into the sea of poker machines, seeking out the path of least resistance. Her bag thumped against her back. It only contained a few hard items, yet all of them had positioned themselves to dig into her spine.

  Finally, the area cleared and she burst out onto the polished floor of the lobby. Her shortcut had put her off course, taking her back to the entrance. Skidding to a stop made the contents of her bag shift and threw her off balance. Instead of falling, she dropped willingly and braced her hands on the cold tiled floor. One jump and she had herself organized into a sprinter's stance. Her legs wobbled, desperate for a break. Vaguely, she was aware that she had drawn some attention. It didn't matter. She ignored them all as she darted off to the front desk.

  Fewer people milled aimlessly around there. With everyone eager to check in, the general public swiftly joined the lines and got out of her way. She picked up a decent pace as she yanked the strap of her duffle bag off her shoulders. Careful not to hit any of the startled staff, she tossed it over the partition, between the workers and the wall behind them.

  “Sorry, in a rush! Reservation under Figueroa! Thanks!”

  She was gone before they could ask any questions, resigned to the fact that the bag probably wouldn't be there when she returned. If she returned. After the incident at the Flamingo, there was going to be some paranoia over a random bag being hurled towards them as the owner fled. Some, she reasoned, were going to call the cops. A new time limit pressed down against her shoulders like a weight. Get the kids out before they get organized.

  Her lungs burned as she ran past the games area, heading straight for the hidden door. The kids came out just as she reached it. Once more, they looked far more prepared than Evelyn felt. Matching black sneakers, jeans, and tops. Only their backpacks would keep them from disappearing entirely into the night.

  “Alek?” one asked the second Evelyn was in earshot. It was impossible to tell which one. The child snarled, for an instant looking remarkably like Petya. “I’m Nadya. Where’s Alek?”

  “He said you’d know where to meet him,” she said through panted breaths.

  “Okay.” Nadya looked at her twin and nodded once.

  They set off together.

  “Let me take your backpacks,” Evelyn said.

  They scowled at her.

  “We might need to run. I don’t want you guys weighed down.”

  “And I don't want to get stabbed,” Ivan said almost conversationally.

  They quickened their pace as Evelyn studied them.

  “I won’t let that happen,” she promised.

  The twins shared a look before Ivan answered, “We appreciate that. But we’re still going to keep the Kevlar inserts. You know, as a backup plan. No offence.”

  Evelyn pushed closer to keep them from getting separated by a passing family.

  “Kevlar?” she asked.

  They nodded.

  “As in bulletproof?” she asked.

  “And stab proof,” Nadya added.

  “Where would you even get those?”

  “Internet,” they replied in unison.

  “Okay, whatever, let’s just get–”

  Her words clogged in her throat as goosebumps spread out across her skin and ice lined the pit of her stomach. It was the same sickly sensation she had felt in the elevator. Quickly, she scanned the crowd, easily spotting the only stationary figure. A man in a baseball cap. He no longer made any attempt to hide his face. Vlas stared at them, smiling when he noticed he had Evelyn’s attention.

  She blindly reached for the twins. “We need to go back.”

  “That’s a dead end,” Ivan protested before he caught sight of his brother.

  He grabbed his sister's hand and tugged, forcing her faster, leaving Evelyn to hurry behind. The three of them were in front of the games area when they once again jerked to a stop. Vera stood before them in the center of the hall.

  “They’re herding us back down the hall,” Nadya said, the first traces of fear seeping into her voice. “The chapel. No one would be there this time of night.”

  Evelyn pulled the kids closer, trying to position herself between them and the hunters. But even as they closed in, Vera and Vlas placed themselves with care. Keeping track of one put the other out of sight. They took advantage of the constant flow of people that passed between them. Edging in closer every time Evelyn’s view was obstructed.

  “There’s an emergency exit at the back of the maze,” Nadya said. “Red room. Take the ladder up to the catwalk.”

  “Try and keep up,” Ivan said.

  Small hands gripped her arms, yanked once, and they were gone. Evelyn spun, running before she was able to catch sight of the twins again. Small as they were, the other guests were willing to give them the right of way, allowing them to pull ahead. She lost them again as they passed through the towering threshold. But the entrance to the maze stood before her, huge and neon, and drawing a crowd.

  A ticket taker stood to one side, with a velvet rope stopping anyone from cutting the line. With an amused smile, the man watched the twins slip under the rope.

  “Just make sure Alex settles the bill later,” he called after the children.

  “Promise!” Nadya said.

  Ivan ran backwards for a few paces, just long enough to point Evelyn out of the crowd. “She’s our babysitter!”

  The ticket taker waved Evelyn through with a jerk of his chin.

  “Ya better hurry up,” he teased. “They’ll disappear in there.”

  Evelyn wondered how many times the twins had done this to leave everyone so accustomed to the action. She hurtled the low hanging rope, tossing back a ‘thank you’, and ignoring the angry protests of those waiting in line.

  A heavy plastic sheet hung down across the entrance, the shredded strips drifting in the air-conditioning. Evelyn pushed through, unprepared for the violet light that assaulted her eyes. Florescent paint covered the pillars that stood at random intervals, glowing in the manufactured darkness. Strangers ran about in contained chaos, their gleeful laughter turning into shrieks as they set off a series of motion sensors. Smoke machines spewed a dense fog from the walls, pressurized air shot out in puffs, and robotic aliens dropped down from the ceiling.

  Pushing up onto her toes, Evelyn searched for the twins. A glimpse of thei
r backpacks had her running to her left. Pain exploded across her face as she collided with the mirror. A few people laughed around her, and someone spared her a sympathetic pat on her shoulder as they passed. Biting back curses and tasting blood, she smacked her hand against the polished glass. Having the chilled glass under her palm helped her to judge the angle it was set on. The little tricks that kept her from being able to see her reflection as she approached. The image rippled, and she looked over her shoulder, noticing the curtain that hid another passageway. Guests flooded through the gap in the fabric, making the material sway and allowing her glimpses of the complete darkness that lay beyond.

  Fearing that she had completely lost track of the twins, she hurried to follow. The moment she forced her way through the curtains, she froze. She wasn’t in the dark. The maze was gone, replaced by a brightly lit hallway. Her blood felt too hot for her veins as she recognized the space. Her old family home. The place she had lived before her father had joined the fire department. When they didn't have the money or health insurance needed to properly care for her mother. Back when it was a constant struggle to afford her mother's medication.

  The home was just as she remembered it. Everything was larger than it should have been. Oversized. It’s not bigger, a voice whispered in the back of her head. I’m smaller. All the proportions resembled a child’s perspective. The thought hit her like a blow to the gut. She couldn’t place her finger on it, or pinpoint the reason behind it, but something on the edges of her awareness whispered that she knew this day. And that she didn’t want to remember it. Whatever moment the Furies were going to use against her was better left to the oblivion of early childhood.

  She turned to flee back the way she had come, but the curtains were gone. Replaced with the narrow doorway of their rundown apartment. Her mother stood before her. Towered over her. She looked wrong. Her fingers were as long as an arm, each digit withered and bony, resembling her distorted neck. It was the expression that made Evelyn retreat a step. Dark eyes wide with fear. Smile forced and tight.

  It’s not real. It’s not real, she told herself. I’m in a maze. There are people around. This isn’t real. None of her assertions made any difference. Evelyn was a child again, shrinking under her mother's unblinking gaze.

  “Come here, darling,” her mother purred. “We have to be quick. They’ll stop us if we're not quick.”

  Evelyn shook her head, her mind slipping. Her conviction of reality crumbling under the weight of her senses. The scent of rose moisturizer wafted around the woman before her. Mixed with the wet, musky smell that seemed to forever cling to the walls of the apartment. Somewhere in the distance, a pot was boiling over, the lid clattering against the base and the hotplate hissing as the water dripped onto it.

  “Eve,” her mother said, her face still locked in her twisted expression. The floorboards groaned as the woman took a step forward. “It won’t hurt. Mommy’s going to save you.”

  Dark shadows rose up from behind this macabre apparition of her mother. A thousand, spindly arms that ran along the wall, growing, thickening, and reaching for Evelyn. She ran. The corridor of the house was large. The world from a child’s eyes. Her feet slapped hard against the floor as if she couldn’t quite work her aching legs. No matter how fast she pushed herself, her mother’s whispering voice was forever in her ear.

  “Evelyn. Come to mommy. This is for your own good. I wouldn’t let the monsters get you.”

  Memories swirled in her mind like fog. She couldn’t recall exactly what had happened but she knew that she had done this before. Lived this exact moment in time. That she was playing out an event she had fought hard to forget. Hurling herself into her bedroom, she slammed the door shut, pressing the small button on the metal door handle to engage the lock.

  Mother has the key. Even the voice in her head had returned to its childish origin. Hide! Hide! Hide! There wasn’t anywhere to hide. The box bed sat flush against the floor and the windows were sealed by a half-dozen metal bars. Hands trembling and at the point of hyperventilation, Evelyn spotted the closet. A series of shelves created a ladder to the top, where a thin space stored all the winter blankets. It looked as tall as Everest to her. An impossible summit.

  “Eve, you open this door right now! You’re being very naughty!”

  Spurred on by the rattle of the door handle, she hurried to the cupboard and scurried up. Her foot hit a music box and pushed it over the edge. It smashed against the floor, the metallic tune clicking to life.

  Swan Lake, her dying adult mind recalled. The box played Swan Lake. She felt weak and small as she scurried up the makeshift ladder. Stretching until her joints throbbed, she managed to reach the top. The blankets scratched her palms as she tugged at them. She pushed and shoved, creating enough room for her to crawl inside, burrowing into the layers of soft material. They smothered the light, tainting it with a purple hue, trapping her humid breath against her face. She wiggled and squirmed until she was completely hidden. Until the back of the closet kept her from going any further.

  Don’t stop! Mom will get you! The thought made her ill. Wiggling and squirming on her stomach, Evelyn worked her way to the corner furthest from the shelves.

  “Eve!” the scream was interrupted with the sound of the door crashing into the wall. “Mommy won’t hurt you. Mothers don’t do things like that!”

  It’s not real! She gripped tight to the words. Held onto them like a lifeline. A new memory emerged into her awareness, battering against the gnarled shreds of her mind. Her father’s voice. The words that he had spoken in reprimand. With fondness. In approval. As a shared joke between them. Words don’t mean a thing if they aren’t followed by action.

  “Eve!” the sheets moved against her as her mother tore at the blankets.

  It’s not real, Evelyn thought as she trembled, struggling to recall her father’s words again.

  “Come out! Listen to Mother!”

  Words don’t mean a thing if they aren’t followed by action.

  “It’s not real!” The words ripped from her throat as she bolted upright and threw herself over the edge of the closet, lunging for the monster in a blind panic.

  Darkness engulfed her. A small tinkle of laughter met her ears. Not a malicious sound, but one of happiness. Other voices quickly joined the first. Evelyn blinked, looking around to find herself curled up against a wall. One situated in a small dead end that splintered away from the main path of the maze. Slips of color and glowing bands of light passed by the mouth of the offshoot, but none of them stopped. Panting for breath, she realized that her scream, if it had truly passed her lips at all, had gone by unnoticed. The maze was filled with playful shrieks and dramatic cries, all the others followed with peals of laughter.

  The air-conditioning ravaged the cold sweat that had soaked into Evelyn’s dress, transforming it into a blanket of ice. Brutal shivers wracked her body. Each heaved breath almost split her in two. Her arms quaked as she pushed herself up onto her knees. The second her legs took her full weight, they buckled, and she slumped back against the wall. It was a struggle to get her feet flat on the floor. But it was worth it. Her knees felt like a barrier, protecting her from the people that raced past.

  Get up, her mind screamed at her. Find the twins. Move. Do something! But her legs were numb and her head was swimming in a churning sea of half-hidden memories, surrounded by delighted screams and raucous laughter that didn't spare her. The tune of the music box remained. Little pings of metal playing out the melody on an endless loop. Evelyn had forgotten the events of that day. Too young at the time for her brain to hold onto the details. But the fear had remained. And remembering it now made a dozen little things snap into place.

  The lingering dread she had always felt around her mother. The anxiety that no reassurance could tame. It’s not her fault, she recalled her father saying. Mommy’s ill. She acts out. But she loves you and would never, ever hurt you. Tears burned the back of her eyes as she tried to remember how the day
had ended. But there was only static. The memory lost to time.

  Had she hurt me? Had she tried to kill me? The questions whirled in her mind and she couldn't find an answer. She supposed it didn't matter. The damage was done. Over the years, with proper care and medication, her mother had vastly improved. She was in control. Pleasant, kind, and gentle. But Evelyn could never truly relax around her. She had thought it was because her mother was living proof of what Evelyn’s future could be. Only time would tell if she had inherited the genes, the alterations in the brain, the genetic fault that lead to madness. It crushed something fragile inside her to know the truth. I’m terrified of my mother.

  Evelyn drew in a deep breath and balled her fists, digging her nails into her palm. The small points of physical pain helped. It was a tether to reality. The Furies are still here. Get out! That was enough to get her moving. Bracing one hand on the wall, she pushed herself up into a crouch. The light shifted, dulling as a new shadow washed over her.

  She jerked her head up to see the outline of a woman. Slender but sturdy, she filled the narrow entrance to the small dead end, leaving only a few feet left between them. The colorful rotating lights flashed over the strange woman in intervals, illuminating the different shades that were carefully woven into her hair. Don’t show fear. She’s a coward. Don’t let her get comfortable.

  “Oh, great,” Evelyn huffed, immensely proud that her voice didn’t crack. “You’re here. Super.”

  Vera didn’t have Aleksandr's skill at concealing her emotions. Confusion and annoyance had their turns on her features before she replied.

  “You know who I am?”

  “Yeah, yeah, hold on. Let me get up.” Evelyn was grateful for the shadows. It helped to hide just how much she was looking around. “Is there any chance we could postpone this? I really need to get out of here. And not-for-nothing, but you should, too.”

  Vera’s shock helped to ease Evelyn’s nerves, allowing her to take more information in. The hunter was taller, and while fit, lacked Evelyn’s muscle. A runner’s body, Evelyn reasoned. A tracker. Not a fighter.