Nowhere Blvd: A Horror Novel (15 page)

Much of the amusement park was made of wood, but the roller coaster was the tallest point.  He used half the gas can on it, spreading the noxious liquid evenly amongst a few supports.  It was exhilarating, the grand carnage he was about to reek.  It made him giddy, a somersault in his stomach.  Two years in Nowhere Blvd. and he’d only rode that roller coaster a few times in the early days. 

What a waste,
he thought.  Though a smile was upon his face as he thought it.

The second half of the gas he used to prepare a trap he wasn’t at all sure would work.  The approach to the roller coaster was made along a wide corridor of games and prize booths and carnival stands.  There were paths between them that were pretty easy for a kid to slip through, but too narrow for the wider gait of the Hollow Men.  At the far end of that corridor he created a barrier made of various stuffed animals from the booths.  A barrier that would be very easy for the long legs of a Hollow Man to step over on the way to the roller coaster.  Then he soaked the barrier with the rest of the gasoline, choking on the fumes. 

The plan was to light the roller coaster on fire and set a fuse on the barrier, hoping to trap the Hollow Men between two walls of flame when they came to try and put out the roller coaster.  The fuse would be another trick he’d seen on TV, a cigarette placed sideways in a book of matches.  The cigarette burns down after a while and when it reaches the matches the whole thing goes up, lighting the barrier along with it.  The Hollow Men didn’t have expressions, but just the same he wised he could be here to see them when they realized the trap they had stumbled into.  He hadn’t had a chance to give the matchbook trick a test, but was sure it would work.  After all, he figured, it worked on TV. 

He’d decided it would be best to set the fuse first, since once he lit the roller coaster he would have to run fast so as not to meet with any Hollow Men who happened to be closer than he thought.  He pulled the cigarette and matches from his pack, lighting the cigarette with one of them and taking a puff on it to get it going.  An action that sent him into a coughing fit and left him feeling twice as nauseous as he had from the fumes alone.  He carefully slid the cigarette into position and closed the matchbook around it.  The gold leaf letters on the cover caught his eye. 
The Glen Carrig Lounge
.  His dad’s home away from home, if he remembered right. 

As he moved close to carefully slide the matchbook into place under the edge of the barrier, the fumes of the gasoline were overpowering. 

Maybe I overdid it
, was his last thought before the explosion. 

Waking up after what must have been only a few seconds, head ringing and vision blurred, he heard a strange roaring sound and his feet were very very hot.  As consciousness made its way back he realized what was happening, jumping up and away from the heat.  He almost fell again as his feet stuck to the ground, the rubber soles of his shoes half melted.  Backed away from the fire, coughing on the poisonous thick smoke of burning plastic and stuffing. 

He was thoroughly confused and off balance, was stuck between making a run for it and staying to assess the situation.  He felt like a little kid who has broken a vase and is trying to decide whether to distance himself from the crime or try and hide the evidence.  He had the absurd desire to go to his room and try and think up a backup plan.

He looked at the wall of flame, tried to think for a second as he breathed through his shirt.  His face felt like he had a fresh sunburn and his eyes stung from the smoke.  He saw by the firelight that all the hair on his arms had been singed off.

Fuck fuck FUCK,
he thought as he realized how completely ruined the plan was. 
Can gas catch fire just from getting a match close to it?  Fuck.

Spencer'd successfully blocked off his only access to the roller coaster.  At least his only easy and fast access.  The fire as it currently was might catch no ones attention at all, and on the other hand might have a complete robotic fire brigade on the spot within sixty seconds, perfectly willing to tear apart Spencer piece by piece as part of the job.  He looked over at the pile of flaming rubbish.  He could get close to the edge of it, for a second anyway...

He rushed in and grabbed a partially burning stuffed animal from the pile, darting back away quickly.  Looked down to find he was holding a pink bunny, the manic smile on its face being quickly consumed by yellow flames with a greenish chemical tinge.  Tossed it on the roof of a nearby prize stand and scrambled up after it. 

He took the bunny’s leg in his right hand, holding tight with the paw that covered it.  Remembering the little league games his dad had always demanded he win.  Remembering the way his coach drilled him to throw.  He took careful aim and launched the bunny as hard as he could.

Dad would have been proud
, he thought, for the arc of flame as the bunny flew across the night sky was truly a thing of beauty. It landed just where he’d aimed, at the base of the gas soaked roller coaster supports.  For a moment he was afraid nothing would happen, that the bunny would just burn itself out down there.  But then the flames began to slowly spread upwards, and he knew it would be enough.

He wanted to wait, to stay and watch it.  The fire was beautiful...entrancing.  But time was short, even in these last few moments he felt there was a giant clock ticking its way to alarm somewhere, and he had to beat it.  Hopped down from his perch and ran north, skirting around the edge of the town.  Moving faster than ever without the weight of the gas can at his back. 

*   *   *

As Spencer re-entered the town around the area of Mr. Buttons’ tree house, he could only hope that the Hollow Men had by now all made their way south to fight the fire.  He didn’t know if they really had any programming for that, but felt certain at least Jack would have directed them that way.  The glow in the south was more than plainly visible, it was unavoidable from the entirety of Nowhere Blvd.  If you couldn’t see it, you’d surely smell it.  In fact Spencer began to wonder if, given his theory that Nowhere Blvd was completely enclosed underground, whether they would all suffocate from the smoke.  There was always the possibility too that the fire would spread to the forest or the rest of the town, which would truly be the end of them.  Although he didn’t think it very likely, given that Nowhere Blvd. didn’t have any wind.

Some deaths are better than others,
he thought.

The next stop was the visiting children in the log cabin.  Like Spencer before them, most only half believed what their friend Smiling Jack had told them about the monsters in the woods lurking about at night.  But they started screaming anyway when a large rock flew through the window while they slept, followed by a shadowed figure whose claws glinted in the moonlight.

The screaming surprised Spencer, set him to glancing at the mansion nervously in hopes no one there was listening.  For a boy used to wearing stealth as a second skin, a smash and grab job amidst a panicked mob was way out of his comfort zone.  There wasn’t any help for it at this point so he turned on his flashlight and played it across the terrified faces of the children in their beds (and a few under them). 

No Suzie. 

His hopes fell.  He hadn’t really thought she would be here, but it was the best case scenario.  The only other place was in the mansion. 

Well not the
only
place,
he thought. 
I didn’t really check the bone pile for anyone new, or look closely at the faces of The Rejected...

He tried to push the thoughts from his mind.  He knew where he had to go.  He started to climb back out the window, then a thought struck him and he took a backward glance into the room of now mostly whimpering children.

“Smiling Jacks a murderer,” he said.  “If I was you I’d run for your lives.”

With that he slipped out the window and headed up the hill.  He didn’t even think of looking back.

*   *   *

The basement window was there waiting for him a third time.  It was locked now, but easy enough to pry open with knife and claw.  He played his light along the floor to check for traps, but saw none.  Just in case, he shone it across the whole room as well, looking for ambush.  Satisfied that no surprises were waiting for him he jumped down. 

With the flashlight he could see the room better than ever.  It really was amazing.  The priceless collectibles and nightmarish antiquities strewn along the plain wooden shelves like disused power tools were truly unbelievable.  In just a glance he saw a few things he hadn’t before.  Like a spider’s head every bit as large as his own, encased in formaldehyde and with red eyes still glinting out from the yellow liquid.  And an old tri-bladed dagger that might have been made of gold and had a hollow tube running down the center, laying on top of what looked like a generator with a crank on the side and a giant switch in the middle. 

He glanced at these and more in passing, but didn’t stop to look closer.  Instead he headed down the hallway towards the operating theatre.  He felt as he moved that there were two crushing and opposing forces pressing on him.  From behind came the force of panic, the fear of being caught and the need to hurry before it was too late.  From before pushed back the terror and memories of what he might find, that it might be too late.  He couldn’t breathe for the weight of it.  His steps were unsteady and faltering.  His heart beat against his chest like a fist and he moved forward by momentum alone.

Finally he stood frozen just at the edge of the room to his left.  The “waiting room.”  This, and not the operating theatre, was the deciding moment.  If Suzie wasn’t in the one then she must be in the other.  He decided that if she was lying on that metal slab that had known so many horrors, whether dead or still half alive, he would burn the mansion to the ground with the both of them in it.  They’d be the last victims of Smiling Jack.

Please please please
, he prayed to no one.  There was no one left to pray
to
.

Finally he forced himself to take a step forward, holding his breath in anticipation.  He shone his flashlight across the waiting room, examining the small school chairs one by one.  He was so anxious to see her that each shadow seemed for a moment to be her shape.  Until there...

There she was.

For the briefest of moments she just lay there limp in the chair, and Spencer felt sure she was dead.  When she opened her eyes at the glare of the light and started to scream he could physically feel his heart begin to beat again.  It was only a second before he realized though that he must absolutely shut her up as soon as possible. 

“Suzie, it’s me.  It’s Spencer,” he said while shining the flashlight at his own face.  He wondered how she would react, given that he had never actually spoke to her before.

She stopped screaming and instead started sniffling, large tears running down her cheek.  He went over to her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her so tightly that he heard the breath get squeezed out of her in a huff.  He realized belatedly that he had never hugged her either.  He’d held her and carried her as a matter of course, but never actually hugged her.  It was probably the best moment of his life. 

He tried to lift her in his arms but was stopped by the shackles chaining her to the floor.  Short work was made of them, though.  Spencer had not neglected to bring a hacksaw.

*   *   *

Spencer carried Suzie up the stairs and through the kitchen and down the narrow hallways.  The wyrd witchlight of the house illuminated his path as before, meaning he had no need of the flashlight.  Suzie still whimpered despite his best attempts to keep her quiet.  He’d learned many times that telling Suzie to shush was an extremely temporary solution at best, and yet he wished just this once she would cooperate and be still.  As he moved down the corridors on his way to the entrance hall he paid even less attention to Jack’s ages old artwork than he had the last time.  He didn’t need to use them as landmarks, he remembered his way perfectly.  As he always did.

Reaching the grand entrance hall with its black tile floors and black wood stairs sweeping off to either side, he felt the exact same trepidation he had before.  Crossing the open space, no where to hide should someone happen to show up at just the wrong time.  If anything he was even more nervous given that last time that was exactly what had happened.  Spencer glanced down at the paw that was his right hand, a fleeting sense of something like deja vu passing over him. 

He paused only long enough to glance at as much of the room as he could see, then moved as fast as he could while still keeping his footsteps perfectly silent.  An almost jog that had him across the room and up the stairs in less than twenty seconds.  As he passed into the long hallway he glanced down at the front door, but didn’t pause.

Quietly he shut the door to the long hallway behind him, moving fast towards the Grand Closet.  Was a good halfway down the hall and finally letting himself feel a sense of relief, but froze when it spoke behind him.

“Speeeennnnnncer.”

There was no denying that voice, no questioning it.  He turned, holding Suzie’s head against his shoulder so she couldn’t see.  At first confusion, because the door to the long hallway was still closed.  But then in a beam of moonlight streaming in from the high windows he saw.  Smiling Jack was rising to his feet from amidst a pile of ventriloquist dummies sitting in the corner.  Spencer had walked right past without seeing him.