Button Hill

by Michael Bradford

  Dekker stumbled after him. “I never knew you could talk.” His heart lifted. Maybe I’m dreaming, and when I wake up, none of this will have happened.

  The dog answered without looking back. “I could always talk. But in the borderland, you can understand what I’m saying.” The dog spoke in a strange accent. The trees seemed to tilt from side to side, as if they were being buffeted by waves, but the dog’s tail was steady in front of him, and Dekker followed in his wake.

  Soon they were back at the house. Dekker collapsed on the front step. “Good boy, Ranger.” He stretched out his hand to pat Ranger’s head, but the dog sat back and thrust his snout in the air.

  “Ranger. That’s what you called me in Dayside. But a ranger is a land-bound thing. My name is Captain Tom. If you scratch my belly, you get to ask three questions. You’ll soon have to be on the move, but I think we’ve got a few minutes at least before they arrive.” Captain Tom flopped down beside Dekker and wriggled onto his back.

  Dekker scratched absently at Captain Tom’s belly. “That sounds like a pirate’s name from a story. But dogs can’t be pirates. And they don’t talk. How did you get here anyway?”

  Captain Tom sniffed. “Dogs have their own right of passage through the borderland, don’t they, Mr. Know-It-All,” said the dog. “Just followed my nose through a crack into Nightside, quick as you like. Before I was a dog, I was a sailor. I left my home for the sea as soon as I was strong enough to climb the rigging. I eventually became captain. Sea Tramp was my ship, and a finer companion I never had. I can’t say how I became the handsome dog you see now, but I consider it my reward for a life well lived.”

  “You like being a dog?” asked Dekker.

  “Aye, lad. Dog dreams, it’s like havin’ the best o’ both worlds. You can hardly tell the difference between waking and sleeping. When I dream, I’m on the deck, bound for uncharted waters.” Captain Tom squirmed back and forth in the dirt. “It’s way better than your lot. What’s your final question?”

  “But I haven’t asked my first one yet.”

  Captain Tom rolled to his feet and shook the dust from his fur. “You asked me how I got here and how I liked being a dog. Polite of you to spend two questions on me, though a bit reckless, all things considered. Since you’re likely to be killed in the next few hours, and in recognition of your service over the years, I’ll try to answer if you do it quick-like.”

  “But that’s not fair! I didn’t know we had started!” said Dekker. The dog just looked up at him with big brown eyes and wagged his tail. Dekker took a big breath. “Okay, fine. What is this place and how do I find Riley and how do we get out of here?”

  “Well done, lad. You invited this when you wound the clock and locked young Riley in the cellar. And Cobb was there waiting to bring her into the borderland.” The dog sniffed Dekker’s hand. “That mark on your hand. You touched the clock again, did you?”

  Dekker nodded glumly.

  “And was the boy Cobb marked too?” When Dekker nodded again, the dog wagged his tail. “Well, there’s that, at least.” Captain Tom sat down at Dekker’s feet. “The clock you wound is a Nightclock. I’ve seen one before, on an island in the Mediterranean. Nightclocks govern the passage between Nightside and Dayside. An old power. Folk who believe in that kind of thing say they keep the living and the dead running on time. Thing is, that particular clock hasn’t run in years.”

  Dekker nodded. “Aunt Primrose must have known. She told me it was cursed, and she freaked when I touched it.”

  The dog wagged his tail. “Aye, the clock’s scent was all over her. She must have been its caretaker when it worked. When you made the accord with Cobb, I think you restored it, at least partway. And you gained some of its power too. I don’t think he expected that.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Dekker.

  The dog started scratching behind his ear. “Well, lad, it’s simple. Part of you belongs to Nightside now. The Nightclock’s marked you for death.”

  “What?”

  “Relax, you’ve only got half the mark. Cobb must have the other half. That means only one of you must die.”

  Dekker covered his face. “It’s hopeless.”

  “Cheer up, things could be worse. Think on Riley—she’s like buried treasure. All you have to do is search. She’s bound to be somewhere nearby. This is your world too now. As for how to get back to Dayside, safest thing’ll be the train, if you can get the conductor to take on a living passenger. Train’s the main way the dead and those from the realms below travel in these parts.”

  Captain Tom bristled and turned toward the house. “Something’s coming. Find your sister, and whistle if you need me.” He growled and stepped forward as the front door banged open. An army of small sharpened soldiers surged out of the house, but just before they reached him, Captain Tom let out the loudest bark Dekker had ever heard.

  It rippled the air like water and scattered most of the soldiers. The three closest to the dog crouched low and advanced, trying to punch their sharpened arms into his paws. He bit their heads off, but more soldiers funneled out of the house. In moments the dog was surrounded. “Run!” he yelped. Dekker took off as the soldiers began to swarm up Captain Tom’s legs.

  Six

  Dekker raced through the backyard, along the path that led to the garden. In Dayside, the garden had been fenced by prickly raspberry canes. Here, a black wall of vines towered above the ground. Cruel-looking thorns curled between the leaves. It reminded Dekker of the way sharks’ teeth angle inward, so their prey can move in but not out. He sidestepped carefully through the gap in the hedge. White hoarfrost clung to the plants inside the garden. Icicles hung from the sunflower heads, and the flowers along the path seemed frozen in place. In Dayside, the garden had seemed quaint and normal-sized to Dekker. Here, it was huge like a city park, a couple of blocks long in every direction.

  Dekker walked quickly along the path until he reached the pool. It was covered in a thick sheet of ice. And in front of Dekker stood a girl with her back to him, sobbing quietly. Her black jeans had a weird oily sheen, and her white tank top had ridden up, revealing the tattoo of a raven perched at the base of her spine.

  “Harper? Are you okay?”

  “Oh!” Harper whirled around. Her bright eyes gleamed in the hint of moonlight. She turned away and muttered, “I can do this, I can do this.”

  Dekker waved. “Are you all right?”

  “Shhh!” she said without looking. “You’re not real. You’re a dream. It’s bad luck for a dream to talk to things in the borderland. This one book I read said you could get trapped here forever if you do.”

  He walked over to her. “Well, it’s a bit late for that, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Stay back, monster!” She spun around to face him, her face twisted with rage. He blinked at her, not moving. Harper swung a fist at his head. The punch connected with his cheekbone, and he stumbled back, more surprised than hurt.

  “Ow! What did you do that for? Hey!” He dodged to the side as another fist came flying toward his face. “I’m not a monster. It’s me, Dekker.”

  Harper leaned in and looked at him, her fists still raised. “Huh. It is you. Sorry about that. I thought you were the thing that’s chasing me. Your hair’s the wrong color though.”

  He rubbed his face where she had hit him. “Well, I’m not.”

  “What are you doing here then?” She tucked her dark hair behind her ears.

  “My dog said this is the borderland between Nightside and Dayside, a sort of place between places.” Dekker thought of Cobb’s army swarming up Captain Tom’s legs on the front porch, and he glanced nervously over his shoulder at the entrance to the garden. He would be trapped here if Cobb arrived now.

  She arched her left eyebrow. “Your dog told you. He talks to you?”

  Dekker shrugged. “Here he does. I’m looking for my sister. This freaky kid named Cobb took her. Long story. We should get out of here.”

  Harper bit her li
p. “I’ve met him too. I don’t think Cobb is a kid. More of a Nightside creature.” They started walking. Grass crunched underfoot as they stepped through the frozen landscape.

  Dekker showed Harper the burn on his palm. Its edges seemed more defined than before. She cringed. “Harsh.”

  “Captain Tom said I restarted the clock somehow when I touched it.”

  “The Nightclock? You should be worried about that mark then. Nightclocks are unpredictable. Don’t look at me like that—it was in a bedtime story.”

  Dekker frowned. “What kind of bedtime story has a Nightclock in it?”

  “You should pay more attention to fairy tales. Lots of them are gruesome. When I was little and living with my mom, she told me stories. One was about how Nightclocks govern the passage between the lands of the living and dead, and the places in between. Cross the borders at Eventide, dream of death by your side. That’s from the story. It must be Eventide now. That’s why I thought you were a monster come to get me.”

  “Is your mom in Nightside too?” asked Dekker.

  She nodded. “In Understory, a city in one of the realms below. Don’t worry—it was safe! For me. When I was little…” Harper’s voice faltered as Dekker’s eyes widened.

  “Maybe we can use the clock to get back—you know, if it controls all the travel,” Dekker said.

  But Harper shook her head. “Part of the story is that Nightclocks are old beyond reckoning, and the knowledge of how to control them has been lost.” She bit her lip in frustration. “We’re in the borderland between Dayside and Nightside. If I had my music box, you could maybe use it to open one of the cracks this close to the surface. We’ll have to find the train station and see if we can get passage on a train bound for Dayside.” The pit in Dekker’s stomach grew as he imagined what living here would be like and what kind of creatures would live even farther down. A question started to form in his mind about where exactly Harper was from, but as they circled the frozen pond, he noticed a pink, frost-covered lump nestled in a small bush. He pulled it out; it was a small backpack. “Oh, no.”

  “What is it?”

  Dekker’s voice cracked. “It’s Riley’s backpack. She had it with her before she disappeared.” He started rooting through it. “Her stuffed cat, some comics, candies and the other handset to my walkie-talkie. It’s her boredom-attack pack. She’d never leave it behind on purpose.” He took the other handset out of his back pocket and placed it in with Riley’s things, then slung the bag over his shoulder. He motioned toward the path. “Let’s get out of here.” They started to move toward the gap in the wall of vines, but a troop of sharpened soldiers marched through the opening, blocking their way.

  A moment later, Cobb appeared behind the line of soldiers. The blond boy surveyed the scene and chuckled. “It seems our game is going to end more quickly than I imagined. Unless, of course, you managed to find your sister?” Cobb clapped his hands, and his teeth glittered.

  Dekker raised his voice. “You said I had until midnight. That’s not fair.”

  “You do have until the Witching Hour. But I never agreed not to try and stop you.”

  “You haven’t caught us yet,” said Dekker. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

  Cobb looked behind him, but nothing was there. He sneered. “Oooh, you whistled. You almost hurt my ears. You weren’t trying to call that pathetic dog, were you? Yeah, I don’t think he can hear you anymore.”

  Dekker’s stomach clenched. First Riley, now Captain Tom. What else can go wrong?

  Harper glanced at Dekker. “Any other ideas?” she said.

  “Run!” He grabbed her hand, and they took off toward the frozen pool.

  “After them!” Cobb pointed, and his army of sharpened soldiers fanned out to either side. As they ran, they grew until they were the size of toddlers, and they wrenched their boots off their green plastic bases. They bared sharp green teeth and snarled as they charged around the pond. Dekker searched the ground for anything he could use to protect himself, but all he saw was a fallen branch. As he picked it up, an electric spark jumped into the wood from the mark on his palm, and the stick crackled with energy. The first soldier lunged at Dekker with its arm like a bayonet, and Dekker slapped the soldier on the helmet with the stick in an effort to push it back. As the stick made contact with the helmet, the soldier’s green plastic flesh began to melt. The smoking soldier stumbled back, arms up in front of its face. In moments it had disintegrated into green ooze. The other soldiers moved back, snarling but less certain.

  A flash of inspiration hit Dekker, and he turned to Harper. “The mark on my hand powered up that stick somehow. Quick—the backpack!”

  Confused, she reached into the backpack and pulled out Cuddles, Riley’s well-loved plush leopard. “This stuff is useless.”

  “No, it’s Cuddles, Riley’s favorite stuffie,” he said. He grabbed the toy and squeezed it around the middle. He felt a little spark of energy jump out of the dark mark on his palm. “Grow, Cuddles, grow!” shouted Dekker. Sparks ran up and down the leopard’s paws, and it let out a low growl as it began to swell. Dekker dropped the stuffed animal, and in an instant a lean jungle cat with huge paws and razor-sharp claws stood beside him. It hissed at the sharpened soldiers, who started to back away. Harper gasped.

  Dekker pointed. “Cuddles, attack! Defend us from those soldiers.”

  The cat looked at Dekker—its eyes were still the button eyes of a toy—then bounded into the middle of the soldiers. It was a biting, scratching, twisting, lashing death machine. Green arms and legs flew everywhere. The soldiers were suffering heavy casualties, but they continued to advance slowly. One swerved past the cat and lunged at Dekker. Dekker ducked to the side, and the soldier landed in the thorny hedge. The hedge shuddered, and the thorns hooked into the soldier, drawing it into the bush. Its green plastic boots vanished completely beneath the rustling leaves.

  Dekker pulled the comics from the backpack and pressed his hand against each one. “Comics, aerial attack. The leopard’s on our side.” The comics glowed briefly with his touch, and he flung them into the air. They spun out of control for a moment, then swooped forward awkwardly, pages unfurling like pterodactyl wings. The comics were erratic and began to burn as they landed on top of the advancing army.

  “How are you doing that?” Harper cried.

  “I don’t know, but it’s working! What else is in that backpack?” said Dekker.

  Harper rummaged frantically in the bottom. “Only these Pop Rocks.”

  “Gimme. I’ll unwrap, and you throw.” Dekker ripped open the candy packet with his teeth and squeezed the bag until the candy inside was crackling with energy. Harper grabbed the bag and launched a spray of the candy in a wide arc. There were loud bangs as the Pop Rocks hit the ground, and a plume of foam bubbled up wherever a candy landed. The surrounding soldiers were quickly swallowed up by the electric bubbles, with a sizzling, snapping sound like frying bacon.

  Cobb leaped onto the leopard’s back and plunged his knife deep into its shoulder. The cat screeched in pain and leaped high into the air, twisting madly. Cobb fell off, landing on the ice. Cuddles hissed and ran toward the gap in the hedge. Dekker scanned the garden frantically for a weapon. A long icicle hung from the head of a tall sunflower beside him. He broke it off and pressed the dark mark against it. The icicle crackled as it grew into a long, deadly spear. Bolts of blue energy jumped across its surface. Dekker charged past Harper onto the ice. Cobb flashed his knife, an arrogant smile on his face. But as Dekker gained speed, Cobb’s smile faltered. Dekker vaulted over the mess of fallen soldiers and thrust the spear into Cobb’s belly. The point snapped off and froze to Cobb’s skin where it had hit him. Tendrils of ice began to creep across his body. He dropped his blade and put both hands on the icicle, murmuring words under his breath that Dekker couldn’t understand. The icicle began to melt. A moment later, only wisps of steam rose from the place where the spear had stabbed him.

  The remaining sh
arpened soldiers had taken up positions behind Cobb, green slime dripping from their wounds. Cobb snarled, “Game’s over—you lose. Time to keep your end of the deal.”

  “No way. We still have time,” Dekker shouted back. “And what about Harper? Our deal never included her.”

  “I don’t think she’s in any position to bargain. Are you, Harper?”

  Harper moved to Dekker’s side.

  “If you won’t come nicely, I promise it will be painful.” Cobb motioned to his remaining soldiers. “Troops, prepare for assault and capture.”

  There was a loud bark, and Dekker saw a familiar shape appear in the hedge gap. “Captain Tom!”

  The dog growled as he approached. “Back off, Cobb. You’re in no position to give orders.”

  Cobb cackled. “You doubt me? You’re more foolish than I thought.”

  “No, I mean your position is terrible. You should move while you still can.” The dog looked at them and cocked his head. Understanding came to Harper and Dekker at the same time.

  “One,” said Cobb.

  “Two! Three!” shouted Harper. She flung the last of the fizzing candies down at Cobb’s feet. A noise like a gunshot filled the air as the ice beneath Cobb split open. Dekker leaped back as gray water rushed out of the pool, and Cobb and the rest of the soldiers disappeared under the wave. Harper grabbed Dekker by the hand.

  Cobb surfaced, screaming and clutching at his face. “My eyes!” Where his black eyes had been, only empty sockets remained. He thrashed about blindly in the water.

  “Now’s our chance,” said Dekker.

  Captain Tom barked and started ahead of them at a trot. “There’s no time to lose. We must flee before Cobb recovers.”

  At the border of the towering hedge, Dekker hesitated and looked back.

  Cobb was kneeling in the mud, his arms out in front of him. He clutched a dark marble in each of his hands. He swept them in a wide circle until they settled on Dekker and Harper. “Go ahead, run,” he rasped. “Once the Nightclock reaches the Witching Hour, you belong to me.”