As he stared at the church, the double doors banged open. The interior of the place was as black as a moonless night. A weird yellow-scaled gorilla stood in the doorway and stared at Drew with hate-filled eyes.
Drew ducked his head and punched it. No doubt he saw me that time. LaBouche… What the fuck is he doing here?
15
LaBouche had learned not to argue with his intuition, so when he felt the need to go have a walk outside, he did it without pause. Leaving Becky moaning and bleeding—dying, most likely—he tossed the coat hanger back into the brazier full of burning coals and then slammed the door of her cell. He walked to the front of the building and shouldered the double doors open with a bang.
A little red BMW idled in front of the door. It was the same car he’d seen earlier. The car he was half-sure Dr. Reid had driven from Rochester. He looked at the driver. It was Dr. Reid.
When the driver of the car saw LaBouche, the man’s face turned pallid, and he froze for a moment. Then, in a cacophony of whining turbo-chargers, the car sped off. Half of LaBouche was amused, the other, enraged. He watched the car slide to a stop at the intersection of Main and Union and then speed away to the north.
LaBouche’s rubbery lips pinched together, and the corners of his mouth turned down. With a snort, he closed the doors to Play Time and took all three steps between the entry and the sidewalk in one wide step. Easy breaths whistled through the the two slits over his mouth that served as his nose.
There was a lightness in his chest and warmth suffused his limbs. But also, his stomach fluttered, and his mouth dried out a touch as he thought of what it would take to get another one like Becky back to his lair. It was always the same when he’d finished one of his projects—when he’d used his pet human up. And, like always, the need to get to work on his next pet screamed in the back of his mind.
He turned toward Main Street without another thought about Becky Lewis. One of his kin would take care of what remained of her, and even if they didn’t, no one would look for her at Play Time. No one.
His cell phone buzzed again, and with the start of a tension headache pounding behind his eyes, he took a deep breath and accepted the call. It was Lewis, of course. “Partner,” he said, forcing his voice to be pleasant, warm. “How’s your Saturday, Scott?”
“Where the hell have you been, Lee?” Lewis demanded.
The substantial muscles of his jaw knotted and his gripped tightened on the phone until the plastic and metal case creaked at Lewis’ tone. “Well, it’s our day off. I’ve been—”
“Never mind the bullshit, Lee. I need your help. It’s Becky—” Lewis snapped his mouth closed on the last syllable. He took several rasping breaths, each one sounding harsh and loud in LaBouche’s ear.
“Wait, wait,” said LaBouche. “What are you talking about, Scott? What’s happened to Becky? Is she hurt?”
“No,” sighed Lewis. “It’s worse than that.”
“She’s… My God, Scott, is she dead?” In the background, he heard Jenny Lewis sob. He let the line hiss for several heart beats. LaBouche was a connoisseur of human emotion, and he knew how to play this, how to extend the moment, to get the most out of Lewis’ reactions. It was like dessert.
“I… No. I don’t… There’s nothing to…” Lewis’ voice shook, and LaBouche could imagine him standing there, expression slack, eyes wet and dull.
“Tell him, Scott!” Jenny shrieked in the background.
“Help me, Lee. I’ve got to…I’ve got to find my baby girl, Lee.” His voice was flat, torpid.
LaBouche licked his lips, savoring his partner’s grief. “We’ll find her, Scott,” he said. “It’s not too late.” He smiled at the memory of Becky’s cooling body in the old church behind him. “The only problem is…I’m not in Rochester at the moment.”
“Well, where the hell are you, Lee?”
LaBouche grinned like a predator and suppressed a chuckle. “Day off, remember? I took a day trip to Hammondsport.”
“Hammondsport…”
“Hey, I like the scenery.” The line hissed and spit static in his ear.
“How…How fast can you get back here?”
“God, I have no idea, Scott. Couple of hours?”
“How long did it take to get down there?”
“I was enjoying the drive. Paid zero attention to clocks and speed limits both.”
“Well, get back here as fast as you can. Okay?”
“Yeah, no problem, Scott. I’m almost to my car.” LaBouche stretched his back and smiled up at the sky. “Oh, shit…”
“What? What is it, Lee?”
“What now?” wailed Jenny.
The blind panic in Lewis’ voice was like whipped cream and a cherry on top of ice cream. “Oh, phew!” he muttered. “No, it’s nothing, Scott. I couldn’t find my keys for a second, but they’re right here.”
“Christ, Lee. You almost gave me a stroke.”
“Yeah, sorry, buddy. Don’t worry. I can see the car, and I’m on my way.”
“Is he coming?” Jenny said in a lifeless voice.
“Yeah, honey. Lee’s on the way.”
“Fuck,” LaBouche muttered. He waited, letting the silence stretch.
“Lee? What is it?”
“Fucking flat tire, man.”
“Lee…” Lewis’ voice had a distinct edge to it.
“Don’t worry, Scotty. It won’t take me a minute to change. I’ll be there soon. You and Jenny try to relax.” Lewis didn’t answer, and LaBouche tilted his face up to the sun, reveling in the rejuvenation, the satisfaction he’d sucked out of Becky.
“What the fuck, LaBouche? Are you humming?” yelled Lewis.
LaBouche brought his hand up to his throat. “Uh, sorry… I wasn’t…I didn’t—”
“My daughter’s missing, and you are motherfucking humming?” Lewis’ voice shook with fury.
“Scott, it’s just the stress of the moment, man. It…it doesn’t mean anything.” LaBouche had to suppress the urge to yawn. The strength of it caught him off guard.
“Are you…are you playing with us, Lee?” Lewis’ voice had gone from fury-filled to frigid at the speed of light.
“What? No. No, Scott. It’s just the stress of Becky being…well, you know.”
“Get here, Lee. Get here, now.”
“On my way, partner. Don’t fret.” LaBouche couldn’t believe his control had slipped to the point that he was now on the defensive. It would take real effort to work Lewis past that little slip. “Look, Scotty, I’m really sorry, I—” The line went dead. “Fuck!” he hissed and stomped toward his car.
16
Tobias walked down the middle of the long, institutional-gray corridor, ignoring the other patients, the seclusion rooms lining the left side, and the patient rooms lining the right. As usual, the corridor smelled like old urine and unwashed bodies. The florescent lights buzzed behind the protective mesh screens and the sound of it made him want to shove a pencil in his ears.
The staff pretended not to hear it, of course—said it was just his imagination, but that’s what they said about everything. That’s what they said about the creep in the woods and the eyeless freaks…the dog-things. And the tree.
The tree full of screaming children.
Tobias shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself and squeezing tight. His friend had learned how to derail such thoughts—such memories—but Tobias had never learned the knack. He needed a distraction, and quick.
He walked down the length of the corridor to the nurses’ station. Another corridor stretched off on a ninety-degree tangent, and like the corridor he lived on, ended with a thick metal, electronically-locked security door. The door to the nurses’ station was a Dutch door, and except late at night, the top part of the door was always open. A thin counter top had been attached the bottom half of the door, and Tobias rested his forearms on it.
“Hey,” he croaked, his voice sounding like a rusty old saw.
An orderly with his arm in a sling and two
black eyes glared back at him, some unidentifiable strong emotion burning in his eyes. Tobias cleared his throat. “Hey,” he tried again. His voice sounded better, and it didn’t hurt as much to speak. Now, if he only had something to say.
“Get off the door,” Old-black-eyes snapped.
Tobias stood up straight, taking his arms off the counter and letting them fall to his sides. It hadn’t been hard to talk to Mike the other day, but then again, Tobias had known Mike Richards for as long as he could remember. He wracked his brain for something to say.
“You want to talk now?” the orderly snapped. “You want my help with something?”
Tobias cocked his head to the side, feeling like he was missing the essential part of the conversation, but not having a clue what it was.
“It was your own fault, Sam,” a tanned nurse chided. “We all told you Tobias doesn’t like company, but you wouldn’t listen.”
So that’s it! Excitement bubbled through him as the memory of the orderly swam into his conscious mind. He remembered the guy trying to talk to him in the Activities Room. He remembered the guy introducing himself, but not the guy’s name. An image flashed through his mind: the orderly’s eyes huge like saucers, his arms up to shield his face. What does that mean?
“Tobias doesn’t even remember you, do you, Tobias? You can’t take it to heart, Sam.” The woman was older, nearer to the end of her career than the beginning—sixty years old or more. Her West Virginia twang amused Tobias, and he sometimes sat with her if she wasn’t too busy. She never pressed him, never invaded his space.
She was also the one who gave him the shots when he freaked out. He didn’t like that part of her, but everyone had their faults.
He refocused on the orderly and cocked his head to the side. “What…happened?”
The man scoffed but seemed less hostile. He gestured at his arm. “You hit me with a chair.”
He’s lying, sang a voice in the back of his mind. Tobias struggled to make his mouth work, croaking like a frog. “Why?” he asked.
Sam shook his head. “You got me, pal. I was just trying to be nice.”
Tobias shook his head, not knowing what to say. He took a step back from the door, fear suffusing his bloodstream.
The orderly stood and walked over to the Dutch door. He beckoned Tobias closer. “I can’t leave the station while my arm’s in the sling.”
Tobias looked at him, scared, not wanting to get within the man’s reach. Orderlies sometimes tried to get back at patients who acted out. The tan nurse got on them for it—when she caught them, but nine times out of ten, patients left those encounters with bruises.
“Aww, don’t be shy, Toby. I won’t hurt you.”
TOBIAS! He wanted to scream it in the orderly’s face, but he didn’t step closer. No way.
Sam glanced around and saw that the tan nurse was busy talking on the phone with a doctor. He turned back to Tobias with a sick grin on his face. “This ain’t my first rodeo, pal. Do you have any idea what I do about nut jobs like you?”
Tobias shrugged and took a step back.
“First thing you need to do is get into the Activity Room and look up the word: rhetorical. Once you find out what that means, this conversation might make more sense.”
Tobias’ gaze bounced from the door knob to the reinforced glass windows to Sam’s face and then away in the space of a heartbeat. He scratched his chin and then pulled his ear.
“You’ve been here a long time, Toby,” Sam murmured. “You know what happens when you mess with the staff.”
Tobias flinched and turned to walk away.
“Aw, don’t go, sport. I’ve got a message for you…from your old friend in the woods.”
Tobias’ gaze snapped to Sam’s face.
“He says he’s bored. He said you’d understand what that meant.”
For the briefest of moments, Tobias still saw the orderly, but then his features started to fade, allowing Tobias to see him—really see him—for what he was. He was some kind of monster wearing a man-suit.
He walked away as fast as he could, almost breaking into a run. He wanted to be as far away from the monster as he could get, but he didn’t want to trap himself in a place where the monster could get him alone. Darting looks over his shoulder every few paces, Tobias hustled to the end of the hallway. Patients were supposed to stay away from the doors, but the tan nurse often let him stand down there by himself.
He had his hands up next to his ears as if shielding his head. Thoughts swirled around like mad dogs chasing insane cats. He knows him! No way that was true, though. Herlequin was in the past. He was in Oneka Falls, nowhere near the hospital. There were no forests around the hospital, not a one. All farm land! But the orderly had been so cock-sure, and how would he know to say Herlequin was bored?
Tobias shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the thoughts, the fear, the memories. Herlequin can’t get to me in here. There’s no way. No woods, right? But Sam got to him. And once Owen Gray got out of Sing Sing, Owen would surely get to him.
Tobias scrubbed his hands through his hair hard enough to hurt. I’m no longer safe here! No longer safe! He did not understand how Herlequin had found him, but maybe because of his visit to Owen Gray’s cell. Or he’s always known, and this idea that I’m safe here is just another errant thought. The thoughts, the emotions, the memories, they swirled like leaves in a current, banging together, bouncing away. He didn’t know how to stop the circular argument or how to stop the panic. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to get out of Millvale. I have to hide! The thought galvanized him, quieted the turmoil in his mind. For the first time in years, a sense of purpose thrummed through him. Or better yet, I have to kill Herlequin.
At the other end of the hall, the orderly was leaning out of the top half of the Dutch door, flashing an evil grin at him and…leering. There was something in his gaze…something predatory, something hungry.
Tobias slumped against the door, his back resting on the cool metal. The orderly’s face filled with fury. “Get away from the door!” he yelled.
Tobias waved and stood up straight.
“Get down here away from that door, Toby!”
Tobias waved again and walked toward the nurses’ station. When he was about halfway down the length of the long corridor, he turned and sprinted toward the door, running as fast as his disused muscles would allow. He didn’t slow when the orderly screeched at him to stop. Twenty yards separated him and the door. He didn’t slow when the tan nurse yelled on the intercom. The door was ten yards away. He didn’t slow when someone rang the alarm, the bleeting sound that summoned the unit’s staff to the nurses’ station. Only six more steps! He didn’t slow, he lowered his shoulder, pulling his arm tight across his abdomen. The door loomed in front of him, filling his sight, and still, he didn’t slow. At the last second, he threw his shoulder into the metal door, and with a crashing boom, the door…popped open.
Shoulder on fire, Tobias hesitated. He hadn’t expected to get the door open, he’d just wanted another trip to the seclusion rooms…under the watchful eye of the security cameras. He’d wanted time to think, but now…but now…freedom beckoned, and the man the hospital staff knew as Tobias Burton smiled and sprinted through the door.
His grin stretched when he saw the door for the stairwell across the hall. He ran the three steps to the door and popped it open. When the hospital wide intercom crackled, and the tan nurse’s voice rang through the halls calling for security, calling for assistance, his grin stretched even wider.
He raced down the steps, flying from landing to landing. Above him, he heard the booming footsteps of a pursuer, but he didn’t know—or care—who it was. No one can catch me now!
When the stairs ended on the ground floor, he didn’t hesitate—he rammed the emergency door to the outside open with his throbbing shoulder and sprinted away into the dark Saturday night. Behind him, sirens and alarm bells rang. But there were no footsteps—he’d lost his
recalcitrant shadow.
He ran on, stretching his stride like he had as an eleven-year-old. When the pain came, when the cramps and stitches in his side came, he pushed through them, just like he had as a kid in the woods. He ran and ran.
Feelings of elation almost overwhelmed him. There is no fence! I am outside, and no fence stands between me and the world! He wanted to dance, to giggle like a schoolboy. He wanted to shout his victory from the rooftops of the world.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Because somewhere, out there in the darkness without a fence to keep him out, was Herlequin. And his fucking mutant dogs.
Chapter 5
1979
1
Toby Burton lurched out of the Thousand Acre Wood a few minutes before dawn. He was missing one shoe, and his skinned knees showed through jagged rips in his jeans. He had blood on the front of his shirt. His face was filthy and streaked with tears.
He staggered up the slight incline to the road and paused on the shoulder, bleary eyes straining to focus. He looked left and right, and then fazed-out for a while, standing like a statue on the shoulder of the road. His head cocked to the side as if he listened to something faint.
When he shuddered and looked around, the sun was peeking over the horizon, and he staggered to the left. Each floundering step looked like it cost him more than he had to give, but somehow, he kept going.
He passed the sign welcoming visitors to Oneka Falls without recognizing it. Cars zoomed past him heading out of town, but he didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t notice when Craig Witherson pulled in behind him, with the lights of his police cruiser spinning.
When Witherson blipped the horn, Toby didn’t acknowledge it. When the siren shrieked once, Toby cringed but didn’t stop teetering toward town.
Witherson goosed the cruiser out and passed Toby. He cut in a little in front of the boy and stopped. He got out of the car and sprinted to the rear, but Toby didn’t turn toward him.
Toby continued on until the physical bulk of the police car stopped his forward progress. Only then did he stop, but he still didn’t look at Witherson, or even turn. He just stood there.
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