Darkborn (19 page)

“Shit,” he said.

What happened next happened fast.

Tim went to the door. He grabbed the bone. He threw all his weight against it, pressing hard, flush against the door.

There was a splintering noise. Then the metal bolt flew off one door and slapped against the other. The heavy lock dangled, useless.

The door creaked open a few inches. And Will smelled something inside, a warm, sweet smell.

Tim tossed the bone back into the street, where it landed with a dull sound.

A wave broke. Closer, closer .
 
.
 
.

“Now let’s get the fuck inside,” Tim said.

And — for some reason — it seemed like a better idea than standing out in the street.

* * *

15

Tim pulled open the door. The bottom edge ground against the sidewalk, and the hinges creaked, and more of that smell gushed out.

Old wood, Will thought. That’s what the smell is.

And Tim disappeared into the building, into the darkness.

Kiff followed him. He made a spooky owl sound.

“Ooooooo!” he howled. Narrio and Whalen crept in.

Another wave broke as if lapping at the boardwalk.

And then Will went in.

It was pitch-black.

“Pull the door shut, doofus!” Tim said to him. And Will reached behind him and grabbed at the metal handle.

The handle was cool, a curved piece of metal maybe a hundred years old. How many hands have grabbed that handle? he wondered. And how many of those people are dead?

“What now?” Will whispered.

Tim answered in a full voice. “There’s no reason to fucking whisper,” he said. “Who the hell are we going to wake up?”

“Maybe there
are
guards,” Will said. “Or dogs.”

“Christ,” Whalen said, “he’s back on that again.”

“I see another door,” Tim said.

Amazing, Will thought. Because I can’t see anything. To prove that fact he held his own hand out in front of him. And he wriggled his fingers.

Nada
.

But then-while his hand was still suspended in front of his face — he did see something. His fingers were catching some light.

Light that came from ahead.

“No,” Tim said. Will heard him take a step.

“This is really creepy!” Kiff said.

“Not a door. It’s a stairway, leading up.”

“Great!” Kiff said. “It will take us to the amusement area … the slides .
 
.
 
. all that neat stuff.”

Will didn’t see anything amusing about their current position.

Now, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could barely make out Tim, Kiff, and the others, shuffling toward the stairwell, pale gray in total blackness.

“Anybody bring a miner’s hat?” Whalen quipped.

Everyone laughed.

That’s nervous laughter, Will thought. I know fucking nervous laughter when I hear it, and that was it!

Then he heard steps. Tim going up the stairs. Then the cautious, trudging steps of the others. And Will wondered — banging his foot into the first step, waking up his injured ankle — is it such a good thing to be bringing up the rear?

Is that a good thing?’

He remembered the old Abbott and Costello film where they meet Frankenstein’s monster, and Dracula, and just about every other monster. There was a scene where they’re all in a line and one by one they get snatched.

Will let his hand flail out behind him. He groped around.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest.

He licked his lips.

And then he had a weird thought. I’m scared. Sure, I’m scared half crazy. But then .
 
.
 
. I’m also excited. He felt the thin handrail as he went climbing up, his hand sliding along the metal.

This is damned exciting!

And it was getting lighter and lighter. Less black .
 
.
 
. more gray.

Somewhere, right above us, there are windows, letting in light.

It’s just there, Will thought. Just ahead of us.

“Holy shit!” he heard Tim yell.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Kiff squealed.

Will grinned.

This isn’t so bad, he thought.

We’re inside.

With no dogs. Not even the smallest yelp.

Inside the great Steeplechase building.

“C’mon,” he said, nudging Narrio, just ahead of him, to keep going up the stairs.

Not so bad at all .
 
.
 
.

In fact, it was marvelous.

The roof was mostly glass, an endless checkerboard of glass and wood. A cloudy light, more of a glow, filtered down from there, a mixture of the streetlights and the dull shine of what must be the moon hidden behind clouds.

It was just enough light so Will could see where they were.

He looked around, soaking up the very strangeness of the experience. To his left he saw the great open barrels that spin around. And he thought; I’ve been through them countless times. To his right were the spinning disks, different sizes, designed to spin at different speeds. You tried to hold on until the centrifugal force sent you spinning away, laughing, holding on to the legs of a perfect stranger.

If you were lucky, a girl rolled on top of you.

And further away, Will saw the outline of a rope bridge that shimmied and shook, left and right, trying to knock you over the side into a pool of foam rubber.

Will was grinning from ear to ear.

Who cares if the place is closed and dark?

“This is great,” he said.

Except — everything was quiet now. Usually there were the voices, the sounds of a thousand people. Laughing and screaming. And the engines were quiet, the big machines that made the barrels turn, and the wooden dishes spin, and the bridge shiver.

Now there was no sound.

“Sure is quiet,” Will said.

And — in answer — Kiff hooted and ran into one of the barrels.

But it was no challenge.

He came running out and then pointed behind them.

“Hey,” he said, ‘‘I’m going to try the slides.”

Steeplechase was famous for its slides, giant wooden slides that gave you a nasty burn if you tilted to the side and let your arm drag all the way down. You could tell who caught a bad slide from seeing the kids with big red blotches on their arms and knees.

You could get hurt on the slides.

The stairway to the slides was barred by a small gate. But Kiff ran over and jumped the gate. He tore up the stairs. Narrio followed.

Will turned to Tim.

“This is great,” he said, “really —”

But Tim wasn’t there. Will looked around, expecting to see him running across the rope bridges or inside the barrels.

But he didn’t see him.

Whalen was grinning, watching Narrio and Kiff, now nearly at the top of the slide near the roof of the building.

And at the top, through the great glass panels of the side wall, Will saw shapes.

Horses .
 
.
 
. lined up, just beside the slide.

The steeplechase horses, ready to race on their rails, ready to gallop around the outside of the park.

“Watch this!” Kiff yelled. And then crazy Kiff took a flying leap off the edge of the slide, a full gainer, and he was rolling down the slide, spinning out of control.

Halfway down, Kiff’s smile vanished.

His arms were getting burned by the wood.

He landed like a human pretzel at their feet.

Will laughed. He looked around for Tim. But he didn’t see him. Where the hell was he .
 
.
 
. ?

Kiff popped up.

“Damn .
 
.
 
. shit .
 
.
 
.” Kiff said. Then, for good measure, “Damn!”

Now it was Narrio’s turn. And he went sliding down with a loopy grin on his face, his arms folded in front of him, squealing all the way.

He caromed into Kiff’s feet, nearly knocking him over.

“Hey, watch it,” Kiff said.

“Sorry,” Narrio said insincerely.

Maybe I should try the slide, Will thought.

But Kiff, rubbing at his wounds, ran over to the gate, wanting to brave it again. Narrio followed him.

And Will decided to just watch them one more time.

He watched them take the steps, two, three at a time. Right to the top.

When Kiff got to the top, he checked the slide, getting ready for his leap. Narrio was just behind him, right next to him .
 
.
 
. when he turned .
 
.
 
.

Narrio saw something.

“I’m all set,” Kiff announced, the fierce daredevil.

Narrio moved away from Kiff.

What’s he doing? Will wondered. And Will took a step closer to the small gate, to the stairway.

“Here we go,” Kiff said.

Narrio moved to the side. To a door. Leading out of the building up there, right by the Steeplechase ride, out to the horses .
 
.
 
.

Will heard that door pop open. And he saw that Kiff heard it too. Kiff stopped and looked at Narrio.

“Kiff,” Will said.

Then, turning to Whalen, he said, “What’s Narrio doing? Where is he going?”

“What?” Whalen said, as if he hadn’t heard or hadn’t seen Narrio.

Kiff looked back, ready to go on with his jump.

“One,” Kiff said.

But Will saw Narrio go through the door. There was a landing there, a platform next to the horses. Right, Will remembered. That’s where you got off the horses. And you came right into the fun house there. One breathless experience after another, one thrill —

“Two!” Kiff yelled.

Will took another step, getting a better angle. What’s he doing? thought Will. What the hell is Narrio doing?

Through the door. Touching one of the horses. Touching its head.

Climbing on top of a horse.

Will jumped over the fence.

“Kiff! Get Narrio the hell away from there. Stop!”

Did he say those words? Or did he just think he said them? Because Kiff just yelled, “Three!” and flung himself into space, onto the rolling, wooden hills of the slide, while Will ran up the stairs.

As fast as he could, the steps creaking, the wood of the slide squealing as Kiff slid by him going the other way, sliding down.

The creaking.

The clicking.

Will almost stopped.

Almost froze on the steps. Because here it was again.

The clicking, the chattering.

Like crickets, but only louder.

Sharper. Teeth.

First faint, but then louder and louder until it seemed as if the sound filled this giant room .
 
.
 
. as if the racket was echoing off every pane of glass.

Narrio was on one of the horses, sitting on it.

Will got to the top of the stairs. breathless.

You’re out of shape, Dunnigan,
Henkel yelled.
You’re out of shape! Drop ten. Do some laps. You’re disgustingly out of —

Will gasped at the air and ran up the stairs, toward the door.

He grabbed the handle.

To the door leading outside, to Narrio.

Narrio looked at him and smiled.

The door wouldn’t open.

Narrio, the little Italian cowboy.

Yippee-tie-yay.

Will grunted and pulled at the door.

“What’s wrong?” Whalen yelled.

The clicking grew louder.

Don’t they hear that? Will thought. Can’t they hear that sound?

What is it? he thought. What could it be?

The door was jammed.

Or locked.

But then — how did Narrio get out?

Narrio rocked on the horse.

And Will thought he heard a different kind of click.

His hand froze on the handle.