by Liliana Hart
He sniffed again, this time long and slow. It was cookies, all right. Chocolate chip. His favorite.
He took another step, then another. No one was in the school. The smell of cookies didn’t belong here.
He kept moving, even though every step felt so shaky he thought he might lose his balance.
He’d always liked his last year teacher who used to work in this school, Mrs. Edwards. She was a little weird, just like him, and wore funny t-shirts on Fridays. And sometimes when she laughed real hard, she made a funny, snorting sound.
Maybe Mrs. Edwards was the one baking.
He wasn’t sure that made sense, but he liked the idea. It made him feel less like turning around and running home.
Mrs. Edwards could be here, couldn’t she? She’d given him a homemade cookie once, when he’d forgotten to bring money for the library bake sale.
He kept his feet walking forward, concentrating on the memory.
The cookie she’d given him had been the best ever. It really had. And if it was her, she’d probably give him one now. Maybe even let him lick the beaters.
The deeper he went inside the school, the darker it got. Shadows cupped the wooden shelves stretching along the halls where all the kids had hung their coats. A tiny scratching sound came from his old classroom, and he jumped.
“Mrs. Edwards?” Josh called out, a little ashamed at the quaver in his voice.
No one answered. Nothing but the cookie smell, growing stronger.
By the time he reached the lunch room, he was more nervous than hungry. He peaked inside anyway, hoping to see Mrs. Edwards or even the lunch lady’s friendly face, even though he knew they probably weren’t there. But the room was as dark as the rest of the school, and as he got closer to the kitchen, the cookie smell went away.
The book. He needed to get the book and get out of here. Forget the cookies and stick to the plan.
But as he left the lunch room and walked back into the hall, the cookie smell came back. Except for the kindergarten classrooms, all that was left this way was the gym… and the library. Was that where the cookies were? Cookies and books, his favorite things of all.
Or would he find whatever it was that made Ian Buchner stare? That made him not able to talk?
He passed by the gym and reached the library’s big double door. Bracing himself, he leaned against one side and gave it a giant push. The door opened, and light streamed out.
Not just light.
Light, the mouth-watering smell of cookies, and a deep laugh. And then Josh saw who was there waiting. Not Mrs. Edwards or the lunch lady, but someone he thought he’d never see again.
Josh wasn’t even ashamed when the tears started streaming down his face.
“I’m so glad you made it, Josh,” his dad said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter Two
“Gone?” Rachel Meier frowned down at the eight-year-old neighbor girl her son had befriended. “What are you talking about, Gertie? Where did Josh go?”
The girl twirled a hank of dark hair around her index finger. “It’s all my fault. I made him.”
“Made him do what?”
Her gaze dropped to the apartment hallway’s worn gray carpet. “Go in the school.”
For a moment, Rachel didn’t understand how that was possible. Both Josh and Gertie attended third grade clear across town. There was no way they could have ridden their bikes all the way there and back in the hour they’d been out playing.
“Our old school,” Gertie clarified before Rachel could ask. The girl peered past Rachel, focusing on the sliding glass window at the rear of the townhouse. Just past that window, through the postage-stamp yard and on the other side of the fence stood the kids’ former elementary school, closed the previous summer due to budget cuts.
“It wasn’t locked?” Rachel asked.
“Not the door by the swings. Last night I dreamed it would be open, and it was.”
“And that’s why Josh went inside? Because of your dream?” As strange as this seemed, it didn’t surprise Rachel. There was something… otherworldly about this little girl. And Josh had confessed that Gertie told him she’d dreamed Steven fell the day before the rangers had found his broken body on the rocks.
Gertie nodded, her dark hair swinging forward, curtaining her pixie face. “I didn’t know he would get lost.”
“How do you know he’s lost?”
The girl shrugged.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Another shrug. “He didn’t come out, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Rachel let a touch of sternness creep into her tone. Gertie was a nice girl. She and Josh had played together since they’d first moved in to the townhouse. If she felt guilty about something it was only a matter of time before she blurted it out.
“It was my dream,” she finally said.
“What about your dream, honey?”
“Nothing. A feeling he got lost for a little while is all. Before he saved the books.”
Rachel waited, although the thought of Josh lost and needing her had her heart pounding hard enough to crack a rib.
“But I’m kinda worried the faery got him.”
Josh’s favorite book had been a thick, leather-bound tome of faery lore he’d found in a box of Steven’s old things in the basement. Rachel had read it to him every night before bed, giving both of them a feeling of connection to Steven that had helped soften the pain of their loss. Gertie had been fascinated with the book, too, and last year, figuring he was getting too old for faeries, Josh had lent it to the school library to share with the other kids.
“A faery didn’t get Josh, Gertie.”
“It didn’t?”
“No. Why don’t I walk you back home, then I’ll go find him, okay?”
“I can help.”
Rachel smiled into those big, sincere eyes, even deeper brown than her son’s. “If I need you, I’ll send you a text.”
Gertie beamed. Her parents had just bought her a cell phone when her mother had returned to work full time, and the little girl was very proud. “Okay.”
Rachel grabbed her fleece jacket and her own cell phone, then stepped out onto the front step. She glanced to the left, focusing on her neighbor’s front bay window, hoping for a chance to ask him to accompany her to check out the school. His car wasn’t in the driveway, his black cat peering at her with yellow eyes. From all appearances, Nate wasn’t home.
“Are you scared?” Gertie asked.
Rachel gave a little laugh, even though the question wasn’t particularly funny. “Scared? Of what?”
“Faeries. They aren’t very easy to get along with sometimes.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about faeries. You know how many times I read that book? I think that qualifies me as a faery expert.”
“But you want Mr. Welks to go with you.”
Rachel held out her hand for the little girl. “We’d better hurry, Gertie. We don’t want Josh to miss dinner.”
She walked with Gertie to the unit next door, and Gertie stopped with her hand on the knob and glanced back. “Maybe you should take a nail.”
“A nail?”
“In case the faery is there. They don’t like iron and steel. They can’t put the come hither on you if you have a nail in your pocket.”
Rachel had forgotten that part. Some faery expert. She gave the girl a smile. “I’ll be fine, sweetie.” And as she watched Gertie let herself into the townhouse, Rachel couldn’t help but wish that something as simple as a nail would solve all the problems she faced.
It didn’t take long for Rachel to slip through the gap between fences and cross the weed-choked soccer field. The cool, October wind tossed her shoulder-length hair, the same wheat-brown shade as her son’s, although his was always unruly. She dug in her pockets for something to keep it out of her eyes but came up empty.
Josh’s bike was lying on the edge of the playground, as if he’d let it fall instead of
taking time to prop up the kick stand. But even though he often abused it this way despite Rachel asking him to be more careful, he would never leave the playground without it. He must be still inside. She just prayed he was busy playing on the gym equipment or lost in library books himself and not lying somewhere hurt. A boy from down the street had gotten injured at the school just two weeks ago.
The late afternoon sun hunkered low in the sky, the days growing shorter and shadows longer as Halloween approached. She peered through the glass doors. The school was relatively dark inside, windows blocked with sheets of cardboard in an effort to discourage vandals. Rachel pulled her smart phone from her pocket and called up the flashlight app then grasped the door handle. It was unlocked just as Gertie said, and Rachel pulled it open and stepped inside.
“Hello?” Rachel called.
Silence.
“Josh? Are you in here? Anyone?”
Again, not a peep.
Unlike her son who was a great student, Rachel had never enjoyed school—not the academics nor the rule following nor the social jungle—and her stomach quivered a little as she stepped inside, memories of childhood torments clinging to the edges of her mind.
Since Josh had attended school here just last year, the building’s layout was familiar enough. The entrance led into one of the side halls that fed into the main corridor. A shelf ran on both sides, hooks to hang coats and snow pants underneath, a place to toss hats above. But even though the surroundings were familiar, the air felt different. Dead and unused, it smelled of waxed floors that had grown dusty.
She took the tributary to the main hall, moving from memory as much as by her phone’s light and the slight glow from glass doors at the ends of the halls. The last time she’d been here the walls had been festooned with student artwork, positive motivational messages hanging from dropped ceiling tiles that were decorated with the handprints of each kindergarten class from the past thirty years. Now the walls were stripped, the ceiling tiles gone, only the motivational placards remained, their cheery memes feeling a little surreal in the abandoned halls.
BE A BUDDY, NOT A BULLY.
BELIEVE & ACHIEVE.
SCHOOL: YOU GET OUT ONLY WHAT YOU PUT IN.
Calling out Josh’s name, Rachel ducked in one classroom after another, sweeping her light under stacked chairs, tables, and desks. But though she was relieved not to find her son lying injured under a collapsed pile of furniture, she felt increasingly panicked over hearing no answer, not even the slightest sound.
She needed to check his classroom from last year, the gym, the library.
She walked faster, sweeping the hall with her light, the glow flickering as if her phone battery was running out.
She’d just charged it, hadn’t she?
She stopped in the middle of the hall to check, when a drop of something cold hit her face. She wiped her cheek then studied her fingers.
Water?
Another shot hit her, this time larger, splashing her shoulder, drenching her hair.
She spun around, zeroing in on the bubbler tucked into a side hall next to the girl’s bathroom. “Good one, Josh. You scared me. Now come on. It’s late. Let’s get out of here.”
Silence answered her.
“Josh? No more jokes. Let’s go.”
She saw the stream of water this time, arcing toward her. She jumped back, and it hit the tile short, splashing the hems of her jeans.
“Josh. Stop. Josh?” In the feeble light coming from the far door, she couldn’t see any sign of her son.
Any sign of anybody.
“Once was funny. Now the joke is worn out. If you’re in here, I need you to answer. Right now.” She was rarely stern with Josh, she rarely had to be, but she let her voice get firm now, echoing off bare walls.
Still no response.
Rachel walked back toward the bathrooms. Even in the dim light, the closer she got, the clearer it was that no one was there.
Water hit her again, a stream from the fountain.
Huh?
She’d been looking right at it, and no one had pushed that button.
Rachel forced her feet to remain still. She refused to let a simple plumbing problem freak her out. But what really had her worried is that if Josh hadn’t been operating the bubbler, then he could still be trapped somewhere, hurt.
Where was he?
Unless…
Scooping in a deep breath of dead air, she approached the offending fountain. She checked the boys’ bathroom first. The room smelled of stale urinal cakes. Cold light glinted off fixtures.
“Josh? Are you in here?” She flashed her light under the stalls.
Not here.
She would be shocked if he was hiding in the girl’s bathroom. Ever since he turned two, he’d refused to step foot inside, preferring the men’s room or a family bathroom with a male figure accompanying the female figure on the door.
She checked anyway, pushing the girl’s room door open. Strange. The light was on in this room, and here she’d assumed the electricity was off all over the school. “Josh?”
Rachel stepped inside and slipped her phone into her jacket pocket. Pulling her hair back out of her eyes with one hand, she bent low, the bathroom’s fluorescent light illuminating beneath the partitions.
No feet.
A sound come from the end stall, soft mewing like the cry of a kitten… or a child.
“Josh? Are you okay?”
The crying hiccupped, and then it grew louder.
She hurried down the row, following the sound. The closer she got, the less it sounded like Josh’s cry. But there was a child there. Sobbing now. A girl. She was sure of it.
She passed one stall door. Then another.
Kept walking… and walking.
The bathroom was small, only four stalls. It should take seconds to reach the end, but the faster she walked, the longer the row of blue doors seemed to grow.
Something was wrong here. Very wrong.
She launched into a run. Her heart raced, her breath coming hard and fast, footfalls echoing off the tiled walls. The crying grew louder, the distance longer. As if a nightmare was swallowing her up.
But this was no nightmare. She was awake, she was sure of it.
Without slowing, Rachel pinched the back of her hand. She felt it, all right. Felt her feet hitting the tile. Felt the breath rushing in and out of her lungs.
Then suddenly she was there, her hand on the door’s latch. It swung open easily, not even waiting for her push.
Empty. The stall was empty. Then the light switched off, and blackness engulfed the room.
“Josh? Somebody? What’s going on?” She fumbled for her phone, pulling it from her pocket, finding the on button, swiping the open the screen, and stabbing the flashlight app with an index finger.
Light illuminated the stall, still empty. Heart pounding, she spun around, ready to head back outside.
Hands curled around her arms. Fingers dug into her biceps. Her attackers behind her, unseen. Then more hands, capturing her wrists, her ankles, making her face the toilet, pushing her forward.
“Help!” Her voice echoed off tile. Her cell phone clattered to the floor.
Laughter surrounded her. Female voices, straight out of her nightmares. The hands forced her forward, long fingernails stabbing into her back, pushing down on her head.
“No!”
They drove her forward, tipping her off balance.
She ripped her own hands free, splaying them in front of her. Her palms hit the toilet. Her knees struck the floor.
She gripped the seat with both hands. A strangled sound burst from her throat, unintelligible, more a scream of animal distress than a voice.
This had happened to her before. Many years ago. But she remembered the pain, the fear, like it was yesterday.
She straightened her arms, like two steel rods. “No, no, no!”
The force from behind swamped her, overwhelmed her, beating her down. Her elbows buckled. H
er head dipped low. Closer and closer to the water.
It was no use. Whoever had her was bigger, stronger, meaner. There were more of them. She could hear so many girls’ voices, feel so many hands, too many to fight.
She gasped in a deep breath then another. Her palms slid on the plastic seat. The last of her strength crumbled under the downward pressure.
Her face hit the water, cold as a slap. Then the force pushed her deeper, and the toilet flushed.
Rachel struggled, straining to pull her face from the whirlpool, but hands clutched the back of her neck, holding her down.
So strong. So many.
Seconds ticked by, dragging like hours.
Her lungs screamed for air.
Another flush.
Her body panicked, frantic and unthinking, taken over by the visceral need to breathe.
Another flush.
Darkness edged her mind, sharp and hard. She couldn’t hold out. Needed air.
Rachel opened her mouth and gasped in the cold water.
Chapter Three
Nate was not ready for this. Not in the least.
He raced down the dark halls of the school, peeking in classrooms, listening for any sign of life.
Rachel was here. He’d seen her cross the soccer field when he’d first arrived home from the supermarket. By the time he’d thrown the hamburger in the freezer and followed, she was nowhere to be seen. But her son’s bicycle lying abandoned in the playground, and no sign of either of them, suggested the worst. When he’d tried the school’s closest door and found it unlocked, he figured they must be inside.
Nate had to get them out of this place before something terrible happened.
He’d detected the distinctive energy surge with his equipment two weeks ago, and he’d had a bad feeling he knew the cause. Even now, he could feel reality shift around him. His senses untrustworthy. His feet unsteady. He understood what was happening, expected the sensation. But Rachel? She had no idea what she faced. And Josh?
