Nowhere Blvd: A Horror Novel (13 page)

Second, supplies.  Just like camping, he’d need a flashlight (soon to be the only one in all of Nowhere Blvd.).  His dad had them in all shapes and sizes, and to Spencer’s delight even had a pair of night vision goggles.  No expense spared for the businessman hunter. 

Food and a canteen for water of course, but only enough to keep him going for a short time.  If he couldn’t save her fast, then it wouldn’t matter what happened after that.  His dad had a wealth of other supplies, many that were hard to turn away.  Tents and camouflage and cooking gear and binoculars (he packed instead his trusty telescope, which he had kept in his room).  But he needed to travel light and fast, saving weight for the two heavy items.  One being the red plastic container sitting by the lawnmower.  A gallon of gasoline should be plenty for what he had in mind. 

And the other being something special.  Something Spencer had wanted to give back to Jack for a while now. 

His dad came home and caught him by surprise as he was packing a lunch in the kitchen.  He looked at the hunting knife on Spencer’s belt, then at his son's eyes.  They glinted back like steal.  Spencer thought he nodded slightly, but his exhausted eyes and stricken features said nothing.  Spencer was worried that his parents would interfere with what he needed to do to prepare, especially with so little time until nightfall.  But instead they avoided him.  After a while he wondered if it might be because he reminded them of what they had now instead of their
good
child.  And how surely they had lost her forever.  Even if she ever did return, she would return like Spencer.  Broken and crazy. 

It was for the best that they stay out of his way, whatever the reasons.  He couldn’t afford not to be ready.  Because he knew he needed something besides the hunting knife for when Smiling Jack came for him.  Even with a gun he wouldn’t have been really confident, not with the way Jack could move.  His only hope was lethal surprise, like the Rejected Thing which had got a piece of Jack so long ago.  Spencer tied to plan more cleverly than he used to, to think harder.  He tried to plan like the heroes on TV, always outsmarting their foes when they couldn’t out fight them.  Finally he opted for something simple.  Something hard to screw up in the panic of the fight.

When night came Spencer didn’t know what he was more worried about, that Smiling Jack would fall for the bait or that he wouldn’t.  Even more than that he was worried his parents would interfere with what he was planning.  He had no idea how to explain it to them, even if he did try talking.

It turned out not to be a matter.  His father passed out drunk before it was even dusk.  His mother asleep on more pills beyond any chance of waking.  Spencer was truly on his own, he couldn’t expect any help this time.  He was used to it, but part of him wished it were otherwise. 

All too soon the sun set and light fell from the world, it was now or never. 

He went to Suzie’s room, shutting the door behind him.  The room seemed as if it had somehow been empty for years.  Reminded him for the first time how it had been before she was born, when his parents were just beginning to prepare it.  He set his backpack in the corner, closing the doors to the wardrobe and placing his supplies on top of it then climbing up after them.  From up high he used the knife to reach the light switch, flicking it off and leaving the room in pitch dark save for the sliver of light coming from under the curtains.  He slipped on the night vision goggles and activated them, illuminating the room in grayish green.  Crossing his legs so they wouldn’t dangle over the edge, he waited knife in hand.  Not for the first time he wished both to see and not see a monster.

*   *   *

It was after three A.M. when it happened.  Spencer had begun to doze off.  All his fear and anger and anxiety about what was being done to Suzie were no match for the exhaustion he felt, especially when coupled with sitting still in a dark quite room for hours.  He was expecting some sort of sensation when it happened.  Was expecting to somehow sense a hollowness appear in the wardrobe beneath him when the shadow path opened.  Instead his first warning was almost too late.

The wardrobe tipped a bit as the doors opened and
it
stepped quickly out.  Spencer was so surprised that he almost blew the whole thing by standing up where he was, negating the whole advantage of the night vision goggles that let him see his enemy.

But it wasn’t Smiling Jack that came out, it was Mr. Buttons.  This was hardly the best case scenario, but it was one Spencer thought might happen.  It left the plan essentially the same, except for one difference.  With Mr. Buttons being so much shorter than Jack, he would have to dive off the wardrobe in order to land the surprise weapon on it, leaving him exposed down on the floor, within range of a lucky strike from those claws. 

Spencer moved quickly but quietly, taking only a second to grab the bucket next to him.  He hesitated a second longer, looking down on Mr. Buttons as the bear looked around the dark room.  The back of his mind tried to warn Spencer of the dangers of attacking the most savage creature in two worlds straight on.  God but the thing was scary. 

One wrong move...

But he moved anyway.  Diving off the wardrobe straight at Mr. Buttons.  Arms extended, he landed the bucket hard over its head.  A bucket Spencer had filled with the houses entire supply of shampoo and super glue, with broken beer bottles mixed in for texture. 

Mr. Buttons swung a claw at Spencer fast, faster than he had expected.  But Spencer was already on the ground and rolling low, the claw passing over his head and gouging tracks in the wardrobe.  He rolled to his feet as far away from Mr. Buttons as he could, then before he turned to look sidestepped again to keep moving.  He spun to face the beast as he whipped the hunting knife from its sheath. 

Mr. Buttons swung wild again and again, frantic.  Spencer didn’t see any opening to move in on, one swipe would be the end of him.  But if he waited until Mr. Buttons took the bucket off he would miss his chance.  The thought of it made him careless.  He lunged in as Mr. Buttons completed another wild swing with his right paw, this time ripping off the top of one of Suzie’s bedposts. 

He stabbed the hunting knife towards Mr. Buttons’ gut, but before he made it he got caught by the back swing of its paw.  He got his arm up in time to block it, knocking him across Mr. Buttons to the other side of the room.  He landed hard, smashing the night vision goggles into his face and sending him into darkness.  He jerked them off his head, seeing the room now in the faintest of sodium orange streetlight coming from under the curtains.  His right arm was stunned from the impact, but hadn’t dropped the hunting knife. 

Spencer stood and made for the light switch, but stopped himself just in time.  Though he might get it turned on and kill Mr. Buttons before it could get the bucket off, the light would close the shadow path to Nowhere Blvd.  Instead he stood very quiet, and very still.  Watching the direction of where he’d last seen Mr. Buttons, trying to pick out what details he could with his ruined night vision. 

He heard a sucking sound, then a kind of plop.  It was the sound of Mr. Buttons pulling the bucket from its head.  Spencer had hoped it wouldn’t be able to, that the claws would slip off the bucket the same way they had slipped on the doorknob in the closet.  He regretted not covering the outside with cooking grease, a move which he thought might jeopardize his ability to hold it and the knife. 

He listened carefully for the sound of claws clicking towards him over Suzie’s hardwood floor.  Soon his night vision adjusted enough so that he could see the light faintly glinting off the pieces of broken glass stuck to Mr. Buttons head.  He saw the  impression of moving shadows as Mr. Buttons reached up his arms to wipe away the sticky sharp goo from its button eyes.  Eyes that were facing the window.

Facing
away
from Spencer. 

Spencer moved fast.  Maybe under better circumstances Mr. Buttons would have been able to hear the two whisper quiet footsteps and the leap. 
Maybe
. 

But the beast
didn’t
hear them.  Didn’t hear as Spencer flew through the air, both hands clenched on the knife raised above his head.  The next sound either of them heard was that of a terrible ripping as Spencer rammed the knife into the base of Mr. Buttons’ neck.  Holding onto it with his full weight and tearing it all the way down Mr. Buttons’ back, opening the beast from stem to stern.

Why Mr. Buttons didn’t scream then, Spencer didn’t know.  He didn’t know why there were no cries of rage as he reached into Mr. Buttons’ insides and began tearing out whatever he could get his hands on.  Clump after clump of bloody stuffing he ripped out, while Mr. Buttons just stood there twitching and trying weakly to reach around behind itself.  The claws were as sharp as ever, but Spencer made no effort to dodge away this time.  He knew bears couldn’t reach their backs.

It took a while to finish the job.  Spencer kept yanking out what passed for Mr. Buttons’ guts long after it had collapsed to the floor.  By the time Mr. Buttons stopped twitching the floor was covered with wet balls of bloody cotton and gristle.  The remains of Mr. Buttons were half collapsed in on themselves, the soft brown fur almost hollowed out by Spencer’s efforts.  Whatever blood alchemy had created Mr. Buttons and sustained it Spencer couldn’t guess.  He’d always half-expected to find a kid inside, the starting point for so many of Smiling Jack’s creations. 

Spencer looked into the dead black button eyes of the thing.  He had an idea.

*   *   *

The Hollow Men stood watching as Mr. Buttons came walking through the door of the Great Closet.  Their machined eyes held no expression, but if anything could be read by the tilt of their heads it might have been expectation.  Or perhaps even confusion.  Mr. Buttons certainly didn’t look itself today.  A little shorter, a little less filled out.  The backpack it wore only partially covered the large vertical gash running along the once-great beast's spine.  Its walk was unsteady, the bears balance precarious as it took the heavy object from the backpack and left it inside the Great Closet before carefully shutting the door. 

If they were at all suspicious of him, Spencer couldn’t tell it from the limited view offered by two eyeholes he cut in the back of Mr. Buttons throat.  He tried his best to maintain his balance as he walked past the Hollow Men down the long hallway.  It wasn’t easy with the blood soaked fur squishing under his feet.  The furry cottony “skin” itched so bad it could have been used as a torture device.  It was as hot inside Mr. Buttons as it would have been in a real bear.  He hadn’t cut a separate air hole and breathing was becoming difficult, like when he used to try and hide under the covers from the boogie man.  The only good thing about the situation was that the inside of the bear suit was almost entirely without scent, something he doubted would be true of a normal corpse if you decided to wear it out for a walk.  Just the same, Spencer was worried he would pass out before he made it out of sight of the Hollow Men, who were luckily the only guards in the long hallway. 

As Spencer reached the end of the hallway (the Hollow Men luckily not following), he paused for a moment at the door.  He was afraid when he opened it that Jack might be standing there, smiling down in the rays of sunlight beaming down from the high windows.  He’d actually been expecting Jack when coming out of the closet itself, or perhaps Nanny Gurdy entertaining a room full of new children.  He knew the disguise was pretty poor, and had only a very slight chance of fooling Smiling Jack.  Still, some chance was better than none and he’d noticed long ago that the Hollow Men seemed incapable of complex thought. 

Spencer opened the door to find no one, not on the landing or anywhere in the entrance hall that he could see.  Then made his way carefully down the stairs, holding onto the rail for balance.  He thought about searching the house now, finding Suzie and making a run for it.  Only if he ran into Smiling Jack before he was ready, it would all be for nothing.  He had to take the chance of waiting. 

Without glancing back he went out the door, squinting in the bright sunlight that proved once again that Nowhere Blvd. was not on the same day night cycle.  He headed east, towards Mr. Buttons’ tree house.  It was a long walk in the growing heat of the suit and he began to feel himself getting dizzy, mentally weighing the odds of getting caught if he took it off now.  The tree house itself didn’t have any means for human entrance, having neither a rope ladder or stairs.  Mr. Buttons had simply climbed the tree with his claws.  So instead he walked past it to his true destination, the Rejected Woods. 

Not for the first time, he kept feeling someone might grab him from behind as he walked.  He couldn’t turn his head far enough to see behind him, and had no peripheral vision through the eye holes.  But the walk to the woods went without incident, and soon he was inside their protective cover.  It didn’t take long at all to get far enough in to be completely cut off from the mansions view.  He began stripping off the bear suit as fast as he could, breathing a great gasp of air as he pulled his face free of it. 

It didn’t come off easy, kept sticking and sucking at him.  Like trying to peel off wet jeans, but worse.  In fact, to his horror he couldn’t get his right hand out at all.  He pulled hard, yanking with increasing panic.  He even went so far as to pull the suit inside out for better leverage on it.  But it wouldn’t budge, and yanking it
hurt
.  It was like the paw had grown into his own flesh, and one wouldn’t come off without the other.  He worked at it for several minutes, even trying to work the knife blade in there.  But the  process proved to painful to continue.  Finally he had no choice but to compromise, cutting the suit around the area where it was stuck to his arm.  It left him looking like a boy with a bears arm.  He looked down at his new hand/paw, wiggling his new claws.  It cost him about as much dexterity as a pair of heavy gloves, but at least it was a weapon he couldn’t drop.  His left hand could still hold the hunting knife after all.