The Hollows, page 13
The boy laughed again, this time closer. Then through the merriment, she heard him singing, “The itsy-bitsy spider, climbed up the water spout!” and laughter commenced again.
The moth sprung from her shoulder and fluttered away around the corner.
“Hello? Is there anyone here?” The girl asked, trying to keep the shakiness from coming through.
The boy stopped laughing, “Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.”
She turned her head to listen closely, “I saw blood, are you hurt?”
“Down came the sun and dried up all the rain,” The boy said.
Turning the last corner, she found herself in an opening quite like the one she had fallen into. The girl tip-toed into the room, looking around wildly only to see herself. The blood droplets were gone but the smell remained attached to the air.
The girl could not hide the nerves from her voice any longer, “I c-can help you. If you’re hurt. A-are you o-k-kay?” She pushed herself further into the room with hands in front of her, reaching out for the reflections of herself.
“And the itsy-bitsy spider went up the spout again,” He whispered from behind her. She looked ahead to the mirror. Over the shoulder of her reflection, she saw a boy, a familiar boy, crouched in the corner between two sharp angled mirrors. The moth high in the air, a slowly circling vulture.
She whipped around, “Hey, are you-”
The boy rocked back and forth, “The itsy-bitsy spider…”
His clothing. His hair. His tucked position. She recognized him from before, recently. Her skin felt the air temperature drop, bringing goose-bumps down her extremities. Her indrawn breath was broken involuntarily with shallow and bated pants. She took a hesitant half-step towards him, but nothing more.
“You were with the other boys,” The girl said, “Brendon?”
The boys head twitched.
“Brendon, right?” As she spoke, the moth grew frantic. It flapped wildly above him, swooping downwards and upwards in a spastic dance, a hurricane of black and brown patterns.
The boy could not be older than the age of seven. She looked over him from where she stood and could not find any outward signs of abrasions or wounds. His muscles were moving, twitching; not in reaction to the cold as was her body, but spasms deep under the skin of his arms, legs, and jaw.
She could see her breath, pale against the reflections.
“Brendon?” The girl strained.
The boy raised his chin. His head lulling to the side but keeping his eyes unfocused on the shattered floor, “The itsy-bitsy spider, climbed up the waterspout.”
The girl felt something wrong in the boy’s speech. His voice was calm and even lacking shreds of emotion. The deadpan tone too low an octave for a boy his age.
She backed away, pulling a foot backward and pressing the ball against the glass behind her.
Brendon rose from his crouched position, keeping his arms tightly across his chest. When he looked up into her eyes it sent a cold chill down her back followed by a cool, uncomfortable sweat. His eyes are wrong, the voice in her head said. The disorienting view of his pupils were like sliced black balls, stacked on small sets of mirrors that only one of her eyes could see. They were bloodshot with absence of all color around the pupils. Brendon tilted his head to the side studying her face, then trailed down the length of her dress. Her body felt stabs of ice over every inch the boy scrutinized, from her neck to her chest and down to her bare, dirty legs. Then they snapped back up, meeting her eyes directly.
Her lips quivered, “Brendon?”
His mouth started to bleed. Small drops of black and maroon trickled down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. Her eyes widened, realizing that it was coming from his smile. The further his grin widened, the further the cracks and splits in his lips stretched. A rumble came from inside him, turning into a slow, methodical laugh. Blood spurted from his mouth as he opened it wider to chortle, splitting his skin from the corner of his lips up his cheek close to the crinkle out the outside of his eyes. The whites of his teeth appeared through the divide and gore, gushing down his cheeks and chin onto his now fully blood-soaked t-shirt.
The girl’s chest tightened to a hard knot that sunk to the pit of her stomach, churning its contents. A swarming sickness settled in the back of her throat as she watched a large, bulbous mass force its way up the boy’s throat from the inside, swelling the esophagus to a rolling bulge up to his jaw.
Piercing out from his teeth was something thick, hairy and large starting to protrude from his tongue, jetting out to the side of his face.
She barely registered her own scream.
Another extension fought its way through the small, yet widening hole in the boy’s smile. She turned to run, but even the reflections in front of her gave her the view of the boy’s face finally splitting open with strain. A large eight-legged demon replaced Brendon from the bloody remains.
The girl’s feet came underneath her. They clouted the floor with a force as she sprinted, rounding corners and bumping into the glass, pushing her way back through the winding, mirrored maze.
She heard a heavy footfall behind her, breaking the mirrors beneath its weight. The Iktomi had continued its hunt and found her defenseless.
Flight around another corner made her nearly smash head on into another mirror. Her body abruptly stopped within inches of a collision. She was about to continue when she stood for a moment looking at a reflection of herself but surrounded by cobblestone and buildings. She could see herself in the streets of The Hollows. She pawed at the glass, but it didn’t give way, taking another second to register that her reflection was not following her body movements. It just stared at her, bewildered. The dress was cleaner. The hair not matted with dirt and the feet not speckled with blood. The scratch on the arm as gone.
“What the f-”
Footsteps fell behind her, jolting her back to flight. She turned away from the girl that looked just like her, leaving the curiosity behind.
Don’t look back. Never look back, she told herself.
She rounded corners, not stopping to consider what might lie behind them. Not stopping to consider the distance put between her and the Iktomi.
Glass burst out in all directions, shards raining down on her head, body, and feet, leaving them bloody as she dodged the impediments and raced forward. Heavy footfalls and shattered glass, heart racing and mind panicking, she could not find another door, just cracking and falling reflections of a scared girl about to die.
She could feel the massive spider growing closer, hearing him pounding behind her and collapsing the walls between them. The corners of her eyes only saw the shards of glass, spectacularly frayed and spitting like a million falling stars at night in the dark room. Her chest ached and her body recoiled, pulling her to a stop. Her hands were at her ears, and her eyes were pinched shut while falling to her knees. Nothing mattered anymore but the fear.
She pinched her eyes to a painful close. Her voice left claw marks on her throat, “Let me out!”
All sound ceased to exist.
Chapter Eight:
When Shadows Starve
“Hello Cassandra,” I said in the most pleasant tone I could muster. Sevens was not nearly as inviting. He leaped past me, nearly knocking me over, and pressed all seven limbs down on Cassandra, pinning her to the wet cobblestone.
“Ack!” She screamed and looked up at into his seven eyes, “release me now, pretty hound, and I’ll let you live, and your death be sound.”
“Stop with the rhyming shit, Cassandra. Control yourself and he’ll let you up.”
Her pupils were completely black and her face had broken into veins. If her eyes could kill, Sevens and I would be bleeding in our own entrails. She visibly relaxed her body and closed her eyes, the pale skin regaining color, and the veins receding. When she looked back up, her eyes were the brightest green I had ever seen.
“Tell your bitch to let me up.”
“His name is Sevens,” I said, “And he’ll let you up after I figure out what to do. You knew what was behind that door, somehow. Why didn’t you warn me? Do you know what the fuck I just went through to get out? What I had to do?”
She smiled, “I take it he let you leave. Curious, he’s never been that pleasant before.”
“He didn’t let me go. I broke his dolls against the glass wall and climbed out.”
Her eyes went wide, “You did what? How?”
I shrugged. Something moved at the corner of my vision at the end of the alley, but when I looked it was clear, “It was simple enough after I saw the two-way mirror.”
Her eyes looked around in wild patterns, casing the door behind me and back to Sevens, “That’s not possible.”
“Well, his dolls’ heads were hard enough to break it. It took some work, though, let me tell you.”
Tears filled her eyes, “You used the dolls?” and after I nodded, “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“I set free those little girls he stole, kidnapped, and did whatever-the-hell else too. You left me there to die!”
She pushed Sevens from her with more strength than both of us thought she had and rose to her feet from the flat of her back, “There was nothing I could do. I tried the door, but it was already latched closed. You should have died.” Her matter-of-fact tone was the template for truth, “No child has escaped there, only the ones he rarely lets go that do not fit his idea of perfection. Breaking out, until now, was considered impossible for The Collector.”
Cassandra looked me up and down, from the tallest untamed hair to the chipped painted toes, “What are you?”
I took a step forward, looking up into her eyes and setting my jaw, “I’m fucking pissed, that’s what I am.”
Her body went rigid and she backed away, leaving all pretense of fear and hatred behind. I looked at her as her demeanor shifted to a childlike confusion, somewhat curious, but otherwise numb. Her fingers went to her mouth and she chewed nervously on the tip of her nail, muttering to herself, “That’s not possible. No. Wrong.”
I thought I saw someone standing at the end of the backstreet, but it was gone just like the last one. I guess I was seeing things after being locked in such a disorienting room. I shrugged, shaking the cobwebs out of my head and relaxed.
Cassandra’s eyes were still wild when she muttered, “You need to go. Right now.”
“Go where? I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.”
“I do not care where you go. Just stay away from me,” She backed away.
“Look, I left Day with Mordecai. Can you just point me in that direction?”
Cassandra’s eyes were open and wild with confusion. She shook her head and looked in all directions.
Sevens moved in the middle between us, back arched protectively. My head tilted, “I don’t know what makes me consider the idea that of following you anywhere. But I need your help. Maybe my head must be fucked eight different ways, but you are the only familiar sight other than Sevens that can tell me where to go.”
She grew very serious to the point of shutting me up, “I cannot help you.”
“Fine, you go find Day and I’ll just follow behind you. Once I get back with him, you can be on your merry way.”
Hesitation clouded Cassandra’s mind until she saw no other option presenting itself. “Fine, we will find Day, immediately. He will know what to do with you.”
I gave her a tilted smile, “In that case, Day is with Mordecai.”
“That fucking do-gooder,” She sneered, “Always thinking he knows best.”
“Well, he can’t tell a lie, so that kind of makes him an expert,” I said.
“Follow her. She’s sane. She’s nice. We should run. We should make friends. We should have tea. We should play dress up,” Sevens said.
“I’m not running. And play dress up? Have tea? Really?”
Sevens shrugged three of his limbs.
“Would you even know how to find them?” I asked.
She nodded her head but kept her eyes averted, deep in thought.
“Sevens?” He looked up at me, “If she does anything strange, kill her.”
“I’d turn him into a frog before a chance arose. And I’ll kill you slowly, your blood from warm to froze.”
“To froze? That’s not even correct grammar. Couldn’t find anything to rhyme with frozen quickly enough?”
Cassandra closed her eyes and settled herself again, “Be careful, child. Do not mock me.”
I stuck out my jaw, “I’m not afraid of you.”
“I know, and therein lies the problem,” she said, her eyes hinting at pity.
She turned and walked towards the mouth of the alleyway, not waiting to make sure that we were following because she knew, at least with curiosity, that we would. No more flashes from the corners of my eyes occurred while we walked silently in her footsteps, turning what seemed like random corners and going through one door that immediately had another door just behind it, ending up on a flat and polished concrete street.
We rounded a corner and Cassandra had changed again. She now wore functional black slacks and a matching black shirt and bright red sneakers. Her pace quickened now with the lack of high heels and tight skirt and any faster she would be jogging.
I looked down at my own dress and noticed the soot and dirt on it, “Any way you could clean me up? I look like shit.”
Without looking she snapped above her head. With a blink my dress was completely cleaned, my toenails repainted, and I was wearing flats that kept my feet from hurting against the ground, “wow, want to fix my hair, too?”
“I cannot mess with biological compounds unless I am the one that directly affected them in the first place. Sorry, kid, your hair will just stay looking like a smashed beehive.”
“Well, that’s rude,” I muttered, reflexively patting down my head and did a half skip to match her pace.
Cassandra came to a halt. I nearly knocked right into her, “Hey! What - “
She held up her finger to silence me and then pointed forward. I looked over her shoulder what I saw made my stomach churn. A tall, lanky man walked across the street. He was completely gray, dust color as if made from the ash of cigarettes. His head was completely bald that matched his lack of eyebrows or facial hair. He had a hawked nose, but was missing his set of ears; only holes were in their place. The mouth, though, will give me nightmares. There were no lips or teeth or gums, but two thin strips as though cut with razor blades. His arms were almost too long for his body and so were his legs and neck. Just below his Adams Apple was a full, three-piece, double-breasted black suit with a black button down underneath. He didn’t necessarily walk but seemed to float across like smoke. It stopped for the briefest of moments, turning its head to face us, then continuing on its way.
“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?”
Cassandra's shoulders slumped as the figure disappeared behind a building, “That was a Gray. We must never, I repeat, never come close to them.”
“That Gray looked different than the ones I’ve seen before.”
Cassandra scoffed, “Do all humans look the same? Do all dogs? Do all angels? Do all Lycans? No. Don’t be naïve, child.”
Feeling like a berated five-year-old, I shut my mouth and nodded. We waited another couple breaths before continuing on our way. The air seemed to gain warmth and humidity as we walked. The precipitation on the ground grew to puddles and stuck to our skin, eventually making our lungs thick and heavy.
The streets became increasingly more confusing. I was not able to predict what was going to be around the corners, but now things were just getting weird. During a particularly long stretch, the entire floor was covered in broken fingernails, but each one was painted dull purples, blacks, and red. Another was full of rotten food, peaches mostly, and maggots.
Cassandra and I soon passed by buildings, containing no structural designs, no pipes or pillars, but solid glass as though someone built it from one giant block of ice. Each panel I passed made my body look distorted in different ways. In one I was tall and thin, six feet tall. Another I was shorter than normal but grotesquely fat. The last one I passed did not even show the buildings behind me, but I was covered I dirt and grime and blood.
I stopped, but the reflection didn’t. It stepped closer to the glass, putting my palm against it, with concern and confusion spread on my eyebrows. She was me, but nothing of the same. Her hair was different, her dress was dirty, and her eyes were wild and scared. There was something behind her, just over her shoulder. A small boy that looked about the age of seven or eight. I saw myself turn around and look at him. She took a step forward and the child rose to its feet. My body blocked my view, but I was visibly frightened by whatever the boy was doing.
Then the body convulsed and screamed. She turned, looking back at the glass for a brief moment, and ran out of sight when the boy came completely in view. Legs were splitting him open and the body fell away to shreds as a spider clawed its way out of the flesh. Then, growing, it charged directly at me. When it got to the frame, the glass in front of me exploded outwards, sending shards of glass towards my face. Tumbling backward to the ground, I frantically looked around for the spider, but it was nowhere to be seen. The street was empty minus Cassandra, me, and the broken glass lying around me.
Cassandra was at my side in an instant, “What happened? What’s wrong?”
I shook my head and looked around, “The glass. My reflection. I saw myself.”
“Well, that’s typically what reflections do,” She said uninterested.
“No,” I shook myself trying to find the right words. “I saw myself, but it wasn’t me. It looked like me, but it was somewhere else! It was being chased or something. Then I saw a spider and then the glass just exploded on my face. It killed a boy, and it’s after her.”
“You aren’t making any sense, child.”
I pushed myself back to my feet, “I’m telling you I saw someone who looked exactly like me somewhere else being chased.”
