CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alex woke up to the sound of shouting. It was The Man. He was banging on one of the doors in the corridor. Alex couldn’t make out what he was saying. It didn’t really sound like he was saying anything at all except for cursing and spitting and then banging his fists.
Alex curled into a ball and he backed into the farthest corner of the room. He turned and faced the door. He was expecting The Man to burst in at any second and attack him, just like he’d done that other time. He didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t look away.
The thoughts he had in his imagination were far worse than what he could see before his eyes so he watched below the door for the shadow of shuffling feet and he listened for the slight turn of a key, but it didn’t come.
Instead, there was just constant and unrelenting banging and then what sounded like a child screaming. Then Alex screamed and The Gruff jumped out from his clutches and stood before him with his chest puffed out. He rushed towards the door and he banged against it with one hand, pounding his clenched fist.
“Leave them alone” he shouted.
His fist was pounding on the door. As he yelled, his frizzy hair frazzled. It spun around in little spirals and it bounced back and forth like little springs. Alex would have laughed were he not so hung up on what he thought The Man might be doing to another child and would then do to him.
“Stop it!” The Gruff screamed.
The pounding stopped.
Alex could hear the echo of his heart beating out from the tip of his tongue. It carried on every breath that escaped with fright from his trembling chest. And the silence made it all sound louder than it really was. He felt as if his racing breath might give him away. And so he tried to hold it, he tried to keep it in.
The Gruff was fuming. He had one hand open and resting against the door. It was holding his weight as he leaned forwards and listened through the silence for the retreat of The Man. The spirals in his hair were spinning out of control. It looked as if they might shoot out from his head like missiles.
“What happened to your arm?” asked Alex.
The Gruff lifted his arm. He opened his palm and turned it towards him. It was shaking from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. But there was nothing outside of a few red marks where he had beaten against the door. He lifted his other arm. He opened his palm and turned it towards him. But he saw nothing but the ground beneath his feet.
The Gruff turned to Alex with a look of disbelief. Alex turned to the other wall where there was a stack of games, an old radio and a newspaper. And beneath the stack, something was twitching and something was turning.
Alex looked back at The Gruff. He was still staring at the floor and he still had a look of disbelief. He was clenching his fist as if it was there. He was turning his arm as if it was there. He was feeling his arm move and feeling his nails digging into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fist as if it was there.
But his arm wasn’t there. It was hidden under a stack of games and an old radio and a newspaper. It was twitching and it was turning and it was still getting every order that The Gruff was sending.
Its fingers were clenching and its nails were digging into the thick skin on its palm. The arm, it was twisting and turning and trying to lift itself. It was acting as if it was still attached. But it wasn’t. It was sitting under a stack of games and The Gruff; he was by the door, now rubbing the empty groove where his arm should have been.
Alex was too scared to move. He was watching the arm on the far end of the room moving and twitching by itself and he was watching The Gruff; standing in front of him, crying as he forced his other hand in and out of a hole on his side of his body.
He wanted to do something, but he couldn’t move. He looked to the left and the arm was twitching by itself. There wasn’t any blood. The Gruff didn’t have any blood. But it was turned now so its palm was flat on the ground and its fingers were stretching out like an octopus’ tentacles and it was dragging the arm out from underneath the stack of games.
Alex turned but saw The Gruff, a small doll with springy spiral hair, cursing horribly as he ran his two middle fingers along the sides of the hole where his arm should have been. Alex wanted to close his eyes, to imagine something else but when he did, in his thoughts, he saw only The Man and he imagined him bursting open the door and rushing in with a knife or an axe or scissors and doing the same thing to him; cutting off his toes or his ears or all of his hair.
So Alex turned to the things that he could see the things that he might have to outrun. He stared at the arm as it crawled out from underneath the stack of games and into the light. Its nails clawed into the ground and helped to drag the rest of the arm along. He could see every muscle in every finger flexing and it scratched and scurried its way across the floor stopping only once as the hand turned and the index finger lifted and pointed straight at Alex, who pushed himself back in the corner.
There was nowhere for him to run. The finger looked at him. It turned in tiny little circles and Alex followed with his eyes. The other fingers were tense. They looked like a spider, ready to pounce.
Alex looked at The Gruff. He was still looking at the hole in his arm. He looked back at the hand and the finger was still looking at him. But it turned. It pressed back on the ground and the nails; they clawed back at the ground and they dragged the arm along until it stopped by feet of The Gruff.
The Gruff looked down. He saw his arm lying by his feet. The fingers were twitching and dancing by his toes. The index finger was looking up at him. The Gruff looked at Alex; his face white painted with fear. And then he looked back at his arm and he leaned down and he picked it up. He held it against his body. He tried to pretend it was still attached.
But it wasn’t.
“What happened?” asked Alex.
The Gruff was walking towards him. He was holding his arm like an infant.
“He did it,” said The Gruff.
Alex looked at him. His eyes were soft. They were filling with tears. And he wasn’t crying because he feared The Man might tear off one of his arms, he was crying because he was sad. And he was sad for The Gruff.
“Does it hurt?” asked Alex.
The Gruff gave him a mean look. It wasn’t an unfamiliar look. He’d gotten it from someone before. Someone he looked up to. But someone that he couldn’t remember, not at the moment. He just saw it on The Gruff’s face and he didn’t feel like The Gruff was gonna shout or hold him down or slap him or anything. Just that it was probably a stupid question.
“I’m gonna need your help,” said The Gruff.
Alex felt important. It might have been the first time he had ever really felt like that. He squinted his eyes and he straightened his mouth. He made his serious face.
“What do you need me to do?” he said.
“Get dressed first. I’m gonna need to you push my arm back in. Can you do that?”
Alex looked at the hole in his body. He could see straight inside of him. He was all dark and hollow. Then he looked at the arm. The index finger was staring at him. It could have been a finger on a teacher’s hand.
It had the same manners.
Alex went back to the corner and he dressed. He felt nervous getting out of the towel in front of other people. The Gruff wasn’t looking, though. He was lining up the stump of the arm by the hole in his body.
But Alex still felt uncomfortable. The index finger was watching him. It was moving up and down as he took off the towel and cringed by the corner of the room. Alex tucked his body tight. He covered all his private parts as he leaned to the ground and picked up the white pants that were folded neatly on the floor. The index finger was watching him, still moving up and down. It looked like it was choosing something from a menu.
But it wasn’t choosing.
It was just playing.
Alex closed his eyes but again his imagination was haunted by The Man. He had to keep them open. He looked to the floor and he quickly pulled the pants up over his legs a
nd around his waist. He took the white shirt that was folded on the floor as well and he quickly put his arms through and pulled it over his head.
The clothes were light.
But they were warm.
“Ok, you ready?” asked The Gruff.
The Gruff’s hand was clenched. It was preparing. The Gruff too was scrunching his face up. He was expecting the pain to be unbearable. Alex turned The Gruff so his left shoulder was against the wall. Then he pressed his left hand on The Gruff’s shoulder and his right hand down by the wrist.
A shiver ran up his spine.
He could feel the index finger picking at the fold in his pants.
“Do it” shouted The Gruff.
Alex threw all his weight onto his left and he forced as hard as he could. The Gruff flew back against the wall. He lifted up a bit in the air. But Alex was pushing with all his might. It was like he was breaking through a wall or pushing down a door. He didn’t stop. He just kept forcing the arm into place and The Gruff, he screamed as loud as he could as the arm, it jilted and it jolted.
And Alex, he didn’t give up.
He pushed and he pushed and he forced and he forced and with all of his might and all of his fight, he pushed and he pushed for the sake of his life. He dug his left leg into the ground. He bent his knees. He twisted and turned his hips and he twisted and turned the arm.
And the index finger, it gripped against the fold in his pants.
“Stop” shouted The Gruff.
But Alex wouldn’t stop. He was going to do it. He was going to save The Gruff. He forced as hard as he could and then he found the strength to force harder. The Gruff screamed out loud. The pain was unbearable, more than he had imagined.
But his screaming gave Alex more strength. And he pushed and he pushed until finally the arm, it popped into place. The Gruff fell sideways onto the floor. Alex fell over him, crashing onto his belly. The Gruff’s arm stayed right by his side.
They’d done it.
They’d reattached his arm.
“You are friggin unstoppable. God damnit” The Gruff shouted.
He was ecstatic. He was jumping around the room. His colored hair was spinning and springing back and forth and it was turning orange and red and even green. He hugged Alex and then ran to the locked door and kicked it with his feet and then punched with his two hands.
“You don’t scare us” he shouted through the door.
He was sticking his middle finger up and he was cursing so loud.
Alex sat in the corner looking at his index finger and wondering if it ever watched him or touched him while he was sleeping.
“Poker?”
The Gruff was standing in front of Alex with a deck of cards in his hands.
“I don’t know how to play. Is it hard?”
The Gruff looked a little frustrated. The kid would never get it. He tried to think of another game, something with cards. He went through everything he knew. He listed them all but every name drew a blank look on the child’s face. His frustration turned to irritation and this made him mad. But when he got mad, his face scrunched up and the funny looking hair, it spiraled up and down and the colors changed from red to orange to green and to Alex, it looked kind of funny and so Alex laughed and then The Gruff got madder. And the madder he got, the funnier he seemed.
“What about snap? Have you heard of snap?”
Alex had. He’d heard of it before. He’d played it before. The name of the game was familiar. He just couldn’t pick where he knew it from. But it would probably all come back once he played the first hand or so.
The Gruff laid down the first card. He was tense. He looked like he might scream at any second. He was rocking back and forth on his bum and he was watching Alex’s hand like a horror movie as if the card under his finger were the young camper, going out alone to the lake for a midnight swim.
And his index finger that was sliding the card back into sight was the deformed woodsman, unsheathing his jagged blade. And The Gruff, he watched Alex’s hand and then turned to watch the pile on the ground and then returned to watching Alex’s hand again as his finger slowly peeled back the card and then he looked back at the ground again to see his own and to remember its suit. And then he turned to Alex and he saw that he had been watching him the whole time.
The Gruff held his breath.
His eyes were sworn to Alex’s stare.
His nerves rattled.
His throat parched.
His hands readied to sprint.
Alex smiled.
He didn’t feel afraid.
He didn’t seem a prisoner.
He had a friend.
He’d saved him once.
He’d saved him twice.
He could close his eyes.
He didn’t see The Man.
Alex lifted his finger.
He turned the card.
It touched the deck.
“Snap!” he shouted.
The Gruff lifted his hand.
And Alex’s was there.
“God damnit. God friggin damnit. Fucking… Fuck! Stupid fucking game. God damnit” he screamed.
The Gruff jumped up and he kind of bounced around the room. He looked like a spaceman who was walking on the moon. He jumped around on both feet and he splashed down really hard and then he jumped up again. If he wasn’t cursing and using so much foul language, anyone would think he was having the time of his life. He’d probably be mistaken for the winner.
And that’s what made The Gruff so unusual. He got really angry, angrier than anyone Alex had ever seen before. And he said such really bad things. He said things that sounded horrible but that Alex didn’t know what they meant but he guessed they must be pretty bad.
But when he yelled and shouted like any other angry person, his hair changed colors and it sprang in and out and the angrier he got, the more the colors blinked and the faster his hair sprang. And then when he really got mad, he would jump up and down on the spot. And when he was really really really mad, he would put his arms out and he would jump and spin in circles. When The Gruff was super mad, he didn’t at all look like he sounded. And that’s what made Alex laugh.
It’s what used to make The Man laugh but for some reason it didn’t anymore.
“You’ve got to be friggin kidding me. Seven friggin games. You’re cheating. You’re counting cards.”
The Gruff was furious. His little beady eyes were spinning in circles and they were rattling. Alex tried as hard as he could to keep a straight face but it was impossible. He threw his cards in the air and he burst out laughing. He rolled around on the floor and he lay on his belly with his eyes shut, kicking his legs up and down and slapping his open hands against the floor. He hadn’t laughed like this ever. He wanted to stop. His stomach was hurting so much from squeezing in and out. He really wanted to stop but every time he looked over at The Gruff and saw his eyes spinning and his hair springing up and down, he burst out laughing even louder than before.
‘Wanna play again?” asked Alex.
“Of course” said The Gruff. “I was just warming up.”
“Oh, so this time you’re playing for real then?”
The Gruff gave Alex that look again.
He smiled.
It felt homely.
“I was just letting you have a few rounds. Making you feel good. Before I show you what I really got planned.”
The Gruff sounded sinister. Alex laughed though. He knew The Gruff was bluffing. The best he had, had been thrown into every hand. If he had any better, he would have used it by now. That’s the way The Gruff was.
Alex knew that.
He could read him.
The Gruff didn’t like to build towards anything. He preferred for you to know that he was the boss right from the get go. There was no subtlety or sleight of hand in what he said or into anything that he did. The Gruff was like a punch in the face. He wasn’t a sneering glance or wry smile. He wasn’t anything that had to be thought about, argu
ed or interpreted. He was a punch in the face, sometimes a kick in the nuts but most of the time, a punch to the face.
The Gruff sat down again and started to shuffle and deal the cards. As he cut the pack, both of them were startled. The two locks clicked on the door and they weren’t subtle, not at all.
Alex looked to the door. He looked white and panicked. He looked back quickly at The Gruff who was already standing with his chest puffed out. The door swung and The Man walked in. He was wiping something off his fingers. They were stained with something. Alex was trying to see but he couldn’t tell what, just that there was something he was rigorously trying to rub off of them.
The Man walked towards the middle of the room. He picked up the old radio that was sitting on the floor and he held it really close to his face. It looked like his eyes were really sad. He was turning the dial and looking at the different channels really closely and the radio was making a hissing static sound as it moved along with the turn of his finger.
The Man stopped on a station for a second. It was a news station. Alex recognized the sound of it. He didn’t know what station it was or who was talking, he just knew it was a news program because news programs always sounded the same. They were always so serious and their introduction song was always so dramatic, like those really old police shows from the eighties that were on late at night.
Alex wondered if he would hear his name.
The Gruff grumbled.
“Shhh” said The Man.
He had his ear to the radio and was listening to the broadcaster talk about a whole bunch of stuff really quickly like he was reading off a list or something. He talked about things that were stolen and who had stolen them and how the police had caught them and he talked about a war that was going on somewhere far away and he gave his opinion and then a caller called in and then he changed his opinion and then he talked about football and tennis and car races and the weather and the whole time, The Man had the radio pinned to his ear and the whole time, Alex was watching The Man with the radio and expecting to hear his name being spoken.
But it wasn’t.
Nobody said his name.
He wasn’t in the news.
Nobody was looking for him.
They didn’t know he was gone.
They didn’t even care.
He looked at The Gruff. He was his only friend. The Gruff had one hand on Alex’s shoulder and the other on his hip. He looked like he was about to save the day, any day really. You name the day and he would probably save it. No, he would definitely save it. And he was going to save Alex.
The Man turned the dial on the radio again. The static hissed like a snake as he rounded his finger back and forth over the dial until he gave up and he flicked the switch and turned it off.
“There’s never anything fun” said The Man.
He threw the radio against the ground. It broke apart and pieces flung across the room. A spring bounced past Alex’s ear. It almost hit him in the eye.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” shouted The Gruff.
His voice wasn’t at all shaky. He sounded really mad. Alex could feel his little fingers digging into his shoulder. The Gruff was keeping a distance between Alex and The Man. He was acting like a buffer or a shield. And he was breathing really heavy and his hair was springing in and out and flashing all sorts of colors.
“You can’t come in here and do that” shouted The Gruff.
It sounded like he knew how to stop him.
“I just want to have fun” said The Man.
He was crying now.
“Get out of here. Let us go or leave us alone” shouted The Gruff.
Alex could feel something inside of him; a feeling in his chest that was burning and it was building and it was a pressure that was about to explode.
“You’ll never be special like me” said The Man.
He was looking straight at Alex. The Gruff was still grumbling and he was holding Alex back with his right hand. The strength in his fingers must have been feeding into Alex because he felt like he could shout back and he wanted to, but then The Man took off his shirt. And then he took off his pants too. And he looked at Alex displeasingly, but he was speaking to The Gruff.
“You see” he said. “I’m still a boy too. He’s not special. I’m still you’re special boy.”
The Man sat himself down on the ground. He crossed his legs and he buried his elbows on the inside of his thighs and he slumped his face on his clenched fists. And The Man frowned and his hands pushed his cheeks up high so it looked like he was smiling. But he wasn’t smiling, though. He sat there watching Alex and The Gruff and he started to whine.
“You’re ok,” said The Gruff to Alex.
He was still looking at The Man, but he kind of whispered over his shoulder. The Gruff could feel Alex’s shoulder tense as if he were about to shout out his name or punch through a wall, but he could also feel the cold shivers of fright from the young boy’s breath, falling upon his neck.
“What are you gonna do? You’re gonna just sit there?” shouted The Gruff.
The Man didn’t look at him. He was just staring at Alex. And he didn’t look like he wanted to hurt him as much as he might have wanted to be him.
“What do you want?” said The Gruff.
“I wanna play as well,” said The Man.
He was moping. He shoved each word out of his mouth as if he were pushing a heavy box up a steep hill. He sounded like a car that was spluttering on its last fumes.
“You can’t play,” said The Gruff. “You’re too big.”
The Man started to cry.
“I am not too big” he shouted, sounding out every word.
He uncrossed his legs and then kicked them up and down on the spot. Alex hadn’t done this sort of thing since he was four. He hadn’t seen a grown-up do something like that ever. And he didn’t seem as scary now as when he was sneaking around in the dark.
‘What are you playing?” asked The Man.
He had stopped his whining. Just like that. The crying and the sulking and the speaking as he was breathing in, it all stopped. It was like he just turned a switch and then he was happy again, as if nothing had happened.
The Gruff grumbled.
“Snap,” he said.
‘I like snap.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do. I do. You’ve just never seen me.”
“When the hell have you ever played snap? Do you even know what the hell it is? What is it? Come on. You play it all the time. Tell me rules big shot” The Gruff shouted.
“Are you…?”
The Man was starting to sniffle and his bottom lip rose.
“No, you’re not gonna do that. No, no, no, no.”
The Gruff jumped up and down on the spot. He was stamping his feet as hard as he could and hitting his two fists against his side as little pouts of steam spurted from his ears. The more he shouted and the more he cursed and the more vulgar his words became, the funnier he seemed.
Alex soon forgot about The Man who was sitting a few feet in away from him, naked and sulking. He even forgot about where he was and what that meant. He forgot about being scared. He forgot what that felt like. The only thing he could do was laugh and laugh he did. He rolled over onto his sides and he pulled his knees up to his chest and he laughed so hard that it felt like there was an alien in his chest trying to burst out. It hurt so much. And the pain he felt, it made him laugh even harder.
The Gruff, he was swearing so much and he was using really bad words and he was yelling about really gross things and he was using his fingers to make lewd gestures and he was swinging his hips back and forth and it looked like for a second that he was riding a bull or something and Alex had no idea what he was doing and neither did The Man but Alex thought it was hilarious and The Man sat there despondent, just wanting to play.
Eventually, The Gruff settled down. He huffed and he puffed and little tufts of steam and then black smoke listed from his ears. If
he was a kettle then the tea would be ready. He wasn’t a kettle, though. He was a little doll and he had funny hair and he could talk and he could walk and it seemed like anything would just set him off. He was highly strung and it was great to watch him snap.
“Alex,” said The Gruff.
He spoke politely.
Alex didn’t hear. He was rolling back and forth and when he did look to The Gruff, he just started laughing again and he couldn’t stop. The Gruff made him, though.
“Shut the fuck up” he screamed.
Alex stopped.
The Man looked at Alex and smiled. He wouldn’t have done that. He would have responded when The Gruff had spoken to him. He would have told The Gruff what he wanted to hear, spoken the way a good boy was supposed to speak. He wouldn’t have laughed at him, though. That wasn’t nice. And The Man didn’t laugh anyway. That part of him wasn’t there anymore.
The Gruff walked over to the center of the room where The Man was seated. Beside him, on the floor, were some other games and a newspaper. The Gruff took the newspaper and brought it over to Alex. He held up the front cover.
“What does it say?” asked Alex.
It was his picture on the front of the paper. It was a really big picture. It was from before they moved cities when he had that silly haircut. His mother made him grow it out. She refused to take him back to get it fixed. All the kids made so much fun of him over that haircut. And they’d probably be doing it again now, now that it was so big and it was on the front of the newspaper.
“I can’t read,” said The Gruff. “I’m a friggin doll, not a librarian.”
Alex stared at the picture of himself. It felt like he had stepped out of his own body and he was floating around here with The Gruff and The Man and there was probably no way he’d ever get home again. He didn’t feel sad. That part of him wasn’t working. He just felt estranged.
“I suppose you’re gonna hang it on your wall then,” said The Man.
He sounded bitter and jealous.
Alex looked at the photo. Then he looked at the walls, all of them. He looked left and he looked right. He looked up on the roof and he looked down on the floor. Everything was so plain. It was really clean as well. There weren’t even any hand prints at all. White walls always had some kind of scuff mark.
Alex looked to The Man.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m not gonna put it up. You’re not gonna be here long anyway” he said as if he knew something.
“What?” asked Alex.
“What the hell does that mean?” shouted The Gruff.
“The new boys they never stay long” he sang. “The new boys go far away. Far, far away. Best to dig another grave.”
Alex dropped the newspaper.
He turned to The Gruff.
The Gruff howled.
“You will never hurt another friend of mine. Not as long as I can help it” he shouted.
The Man smiled.
“Can I brush your hair?” he asked.
He stood up and he walked towards The Gruff. He had a small colored brush in his hand that he got from the pile of games. But when he got near, The Gruff spat in his face.
The Man jumped back.
He wiped the spit from the top of his brow.
“You’re fingers are too fat,” said The Gruff. “You’ll only knot it up.”
‘Why did you hurt The Gruff” asked Alex.
He didn’t sound scared anymore.
“You broke his arm off. That was bad” he said.
The Man looked at The Gruff who was rubbing his shoulder that was still tender. Then he looked at Alex who had fire in his eyes.
“I could have fixed it,” The Man said.
“But you didn’t,” said Alex. “I did.”
“Yeah but I could have” shouted The Man.
The Gruff smiled.
He looked victorious.
“Do you want to play with my hair?” he asked.
He was looking at The Man, but both of them knew he was speaking to Alex.
The Man threw the brush down on the ground and he ran out of the room with his hands over his face bawling. He rushed down the hallway and he was crying so loud that even when he slammed his door and threw himself under his blanket, his whining was still loud enough to make The Gruff mad.
“He left the door open,” said Alex.
The Gruff looked up. He was right. The Man had run off and he hadn’t closed the door. He hadn’t locked them in. They could escape.
If they wanted to.
Alex and The Gruff (A Tale of Horror) Page 17
