Nowhere Blvd: A Horror Novel (5 page)

But no one followed.  No one. 

So Spencer left, feeling betrayed and scared and alone.  He didn’t go towards the mansion, even a split seconds thought of it was too much to bear.  He went the opposite way, deciding the amusement park would be best for what he had in mind. 

By dawn he had found several hiding spots amongst the rides he knew would be perfect.

*   *   *

The second day back at home with his parents he woke with the sun, moving his bed back into place quietly so no one would question where it had been.  He got dressed in some new clothes, all a bit too small, and stared out the window at the street.  He listened to the birds and watched cars go by, both strange and hard to get used to.  After a while he heard a furtive sound behind him and turned to find Baby Suzie opening his door to peek in on him.  He wanted to tell her to
go away
but wouldn’t say the words.  At this point he wasn’t sure
why
he wasn’t talking.  He couldn’t think of any good reason to stay silent now that he was back.  It just seemed somehow like the thing to do. 

Staring at Baby Suzie, Spencer decided he couldn’t hide in his room all day and so edged past her into the hall.  He heard the sound of someone in the shower and wondered briefly if he should take one.  His first shower in years had only been a couple days ago, attended by two strong orderlies and a power hose at the hospital.  He decided to skip it and went downstairs. 

In short order he decided there were at least two things about the real world that weren’t a disappointment.  The first was water.  Of course he’d had water in Nowhere Blvd, of a sort.  But clean water on tap was a God damn miracle.

The second was TV.  It took him a while to figure out the remote.  When trying buttons like
power
and
play
didn’t do what he wanted them to, he began to doubt his ability to still read.  The puzzle only made him want to figure it out more though, and eventually he found the right combo to turn on the right devices to actually get a picture. 

“Dora, Dora,” said Baby Suzie, walking in front of him a moment later and poking at the remote.  Spencer actually remembered Dora the Explorer from before he left, and wasn’t any more interested in it now than he had been then.  He considered hitting her with the remote to get her to shut up.

“Suzie, we’re going to let Spencer watch what he wants today,” said his mom from the kitchen before he could make up his mind on it. 

“Mom, Dora,” said Suzie looking sullen.

“Come in here and help me make breakfast Suzie,” said his mom with faked enthusiasm.  Suzie followed obediently. 

Spencer flipped through the channels, trying to find if there were any new action packed cartoons he’d missed while away.  Before he could find the Cartoon Channel though he stumbled upon a show about a man demonstrating how to survive in the woods by putting himself in dangerous situations. 

This guy doesn’t know the first thing about how to survive in the woods,
Spencer thought disdainfully. 
I could show you how to really survive in the woods.  Those aren’t even real woods he’s in
. 

But after a few minutes he realized to his surprise that he was wrong on both counts.  These
were
real woods.  Actual green woods with real animals in them.  If anything the woods in Nowhere Blvd were the fake ones, locked in perpetual Autumn as they were.  And beyond that, whoever this guy was he was using a series of survival tricks that Spencer (who thought he had living in the woods mastered) had never even
thought
of.  He watched in fascination how the man made fishing tools and animal traps and shelters, almost entirely out of things at hand. 

It was a revelation.  All this time he had thought himself so clever, and yet now he saw how
stagnant
his thinking had been.  He had never thought much beyond basic survival, had never tried new things after finding the first thing that worked.  And yet this guy was showing the audience so many survival techniques that Spencer could hardly keep up.  It was a bit humbling, but he guessed it made sense that one kid wasn’t going to be able to figure out more than all the survival experts in the world sharing their knowledge with each other. 

He was hooked.  He watched the rest of the show, and the one after that on surviving in the desert, and the one after that on surviving in the arctic.  He barely paid attention to the blueberry pancakes his mom had brought him to eat on the couch.  There was no question about it, television was better than the real world.  Or any other world he’d been too, for that matter. 

*   *   *

Despite his hopes, even after the last of the children that had come over with Spencer were gone, they did not stop searching for him.  He heard the patrols of the Hollow Men (sometimes lead by Smiling Jack or Mr. Buttons) from his hiding spot in the amusement park.  He shivered quietly with the cold, venturing out only rarely for brownish water from an old rusty tap, presumably used for cleaning.  And never in the daytime, during which he grew parched in the heat of his cramped quarters.  He waited and waited, lonely and missing his parents.  He waited and wondered why they hadn’t looked in the closet for him.  He had fantasies of his dad showing up with a gun and shooting Jack, of the police coming and calling for him and him running out of his hiding place to meet them.  He thought how he would cry with happiness as his dad picked him up, and cried for real when he thought about it.

More than lonely, he was afraid.  And more than fantasies of being rescued, against his will he daydreamed about what would happen when Jack finally caught him.  Had the twins survived their operation, he was sure they’d be
far
from “perfect” by any standards.  He had nightmares both sleeping and waking of Jack pulling him apart limb by limb like a fly.  All the while staring up at Jack’s true face, the hook smile pulling back the dead flesh till it bled. 

But even more than cold and loneliness and even fear, he was hungry.  He had heard that a person could survive a month without food, and so was amazed at how hungry he could get in just a few days.  The thought of food consumed him.  The stomach pains were like knives, he legs and arms were getting weak.  He would have been happy to eat rats, or even bugs, but Nowhere Blvd didn’t seem to have either.  He thought about going to Nanny Gurdy both for food and for help.  Thought maybe she would hide him from Jack in her house.  Except what if she didn’t?  Adults always kept secrets from kids, and when there
was
a secret they were usually all in it together.  Still, some nights it was a close fight between his caution and his hunger.

Like any animal, it was that same hunger that finally drove him out of the safety of his hiding place. 

Despite everything, he’d had the presence of mind to notice a few things about the Hollow Men.  They made noise when they moved, squeaking and clanking.  Sharp spines for legs clicking along the concrete.  They moved loud, while Spencer could move very very quiet.  Smiling Jack’s hard shoes normally made a pretty distinct sound as he walked, but Spencer was sure Jack had the gracefulness to move quietly if he wanted to.  In fact he was pretty convinced he could walk right up behind you in the dark and you’d never know he was there.  But he always seemed to stay with the Hollow Men, fortunately. 

It was very dark at night in Nowhere Blvd.  The moon's never moving aspect had lead Spencer to decide early on that it was only painted onto a high ceiling up there.  The sun maybe too, since it didn’t move either (but it did cast heat so he hadn’t really made up his mind on it).  Both just faded in and out at dawn and dusk.  On top of that the air was always stale, never a breeze.  Not like a real town in the woods, more like a place called Mammoth Cave his family had visited once.  Much bigger, but still like a cave.  He imagined if a helicopter flew up into that sky it would crash right into it, chipping off the beautiful bright blue paint in the process. 

He thought that the Hollow Men might have some kind of night vision, or maybe super smell like a police dog.  But if they had either they would have found him already, as close as they had come.  So mostly they had to just see and hear, same as Spencer.  If he was careful he could avoid them in the dark, unless he turned a corner and ran right into one.  If that happened, he’d find out whether those metal manipulators were cold and dead or hot and hungry.

Nanny Gurdy’s house was an obvious choice for food, thinking back to all the delicious meals they’d had from her kitchen.  But besides the fairly heavy Hollow Men patrols, Gurdy lived there.  And as nice as she seemed, there was no question she worked for Jack and knew what he did.  This place was the embodiment of the “adults vs. kids” ideology that every kid had always expected ran the world.  Them vs. us and the “them” were winning one hundred percent. 

The snack shop was the better bet.  Spencer couldn’t remember if there had been locks on the door, but he couldn’t think of any reason why they would bother locking the shops.  No kid would dare wander at night here.  Just him.  And if it
was
locked, the whole front was made of glass.  Anything could break glass.

Finding his way in the dark proved more difficult than he thought at first.  Everything looked different at night, especially the kind of night he’d only seen on camping trips to the deep woods.  You had to get pretty close to things to know what they were, to plan each move.  It required paying a lot more attention than he was used to, but was doable if he tried hard to remember where things were.  Across from his hiding spot was the Ferris wheel.  Across from there the bumper cars.  From there across the field to the eastern most shop, then shop by shop from there. 

At first he stuck to the shadows, slinking crouched over from wall to wall on tiptoes.  After a while he grew bolder and walked upright, steady but still careful.  Not for the first time he was glad Smiling Jack provided socks and tennis shoes to his guests, instead of leaving them barefoot in pajamas like they'd arrived. 

To his surprise and relief he didn’t see any patrols the whole way there.  When he finally got there he prepared to rush in then paused, thinking for the first time of the possibility of a trap.  His dad left out food in the woods to trap bears, and here he was at the honey pot itself.  He looked around and through the windows, wishing his eyes could pierce the darkness.  All he could see was the candy on display, and only barely.  His mouth watered so much he kept having to swallow.  He had to go for it, and did.  Opened the door slowly, cautiously. 

Slowly, but not slowly enough.  The tiniest
ting
sound came from above the door.

The BELL!
he thought frantically.  He had forgotten about the silver bell that hung above all the shop doors.  Spencer froze.  Had anyone else heard it?  He waited, watching the darkness and listening intently.  His nightmares came true as a sound echoed down the lane.

Tap tap, tap tap.  A Hollow Man was coming. 

In or out, in or out?!
he asked himself.  He was too afraid to think clearly.  If he moved that bell would ring again, if he stayed like this it would see him.  He made an impulse decision, one he would regret.  He ran into the store, letting the door close behind him.  The bell rang even louder this time, there was no question the Hollow Man heard it.  He had to hide.

Behind the counter?  Under the desk in the office?  In the bathroom?

No, the back door, every place had a back door!  He ran to it, finding it in the only place it could have been, at the end of the short hall past the bathrooms.  He twisted the knob, knowing it would be unlocked.

It wasn’t. 

It wouldn’t even turn.  Maybe wasn’t even a real door, he couldn’t tell in the near pitch dark.  He froze again for a moment, despairing of the short time to find another spot.  Wanting to curl up in a ball and just hope the monster ignored him.  Then he thought of Jack and his workshop and ran into the storage room instead, praying to find a real hiding spot in there. 

He did, and fighting claustrophobia wedged himself in as tight and deep as he could.  He would have gone deeper to make sure no part of him showed, but didn’t have the time.  He heard the bell ring again, and knew he had to hold perfectly still and perfectly quiet. 

Tap tap, tap tap
it went from room to room.  He could see the creature in his mind's eye as it searched behind the counter, under the desk in the office, in the bathroom.  Finally it came to the storage room where he hid.  He was sweating and painfully cramped where he had wedged himself in.  He was running out of air in the pocket made by his hunched over body.  Worst of all he started itching, right in the back of his neck.  The itch grew and grew, till it was worse than pain.  He listened as the Hollow Man searched behind the shelves and took the lid off each box and barrel to peek inside.  Close it came, inches away.  He would have smelled its oil if he had access to air.  And all the while his hands twitched to just scratch that itch, to take the chance. 

And then, just like that, it left. 
Tap tap, tap tap
out the door with a twinkling of bells.  Spencer knew it could be a trap, but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t wait any longer.  He stood up, pushing past all the candy he had burrowed beneath inside the barrel.  He gasped for air, reaching for the back of his neck to scratch an itch that wasn’t even that bad anymore.  He reached down and grabbed one of the candies in the dark, tossing it into his mouth to find out what it was that had saved him.