The Kingdom of Childhood Read online

  Zach jabbed an elbow into Scott’s side and grasped his wrist. But Scott—in a blatantly illegal move—jerked Zach’s head back and threw him to the ground. Zach broke his fall with his hands and coughed reflexively. Before he could gather himself Scott was on his back, holding him down with his body weight. He locked his arm around Zach’s neck again and jerked his arm behind his back, sending a lightning bolt of pain from Zach’s wrist to his shoulder. Scott was taller, heavier, and—Zach understood—angrier. He held on.

  “Get him off the damn floor, Scott,” Temple yelled.

  “Let him up,” urged Fairen. “That’s disgusting. There’s glass.”

  In the darkness, the others couldn’t tell that Zach could barely breathe. He felt Scott twisting him against the gritty floor and desperately coached his own mind. Scott’s fighting skills were shit. His own were superb. He wasn’t being overcome; he was being psyched out.

  “Stop playing, you idiots,” said Fairen.

  Zach gathered what little oxygen he could and surged up from the floor, throwing Scott to the ground and, at long last, rising to his feet. He took two steps back as Scott got up and squinted when Temple shone a flashlight on them. Scott walked back to Tally, leveling a cool-eyed gaze on Zach. This time Zach understood that what he felt was not paranoia. Scott knew.

  He returned to Fairen’s side, recoiling as she reached for his hand. His wrist felt as though it had been crushed beneath a school bus. She touched his shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  They followed the others around the staircase and entered a long hallway. The light from their Maglites was entirely ineffective. Circles of brightness swirled on the walls, bringing out hanging black wires and inkblots of mold, crumbled plaster and more loosened flaps of sickening green paint. When Temple’s light turned onto a broad doorway, they passed through it into a cavernous room.

  “Is anyone keeping track of the way we came in?” asked Kaitlyn.

  Fairen said, “I’ve been dropping bread crumbs all along.”

  “That’s not funny,” Kaitlyn replied. Her voice wavered.

  “There’s something stuck in the bottom of my shoe,” whined Tally. “Can we stop for a minute?”

  Scott shook his head. “Don’t pull it out. It could be glass and cut you. Or a nail with tetanus.”

  “Tetanus?” asked Tally. Her voice had risen by an octave.

  They shone their lights on the walls. Graffiti was everywhere: trios of meaningless letters, curse words, the occasional swastika. The room was empty of furniture except for a desk that sat askew beside the farthest wall. But the floor was littered with napkins and fast-food containers, a filthy blanket, two garbage bags and a snow boot.

  Scott focused his light on a wall. “That looks like gang graffiti.”

  In a disparaging voice Fairen asked, “Scott, what would you know about gangs?”

  “He grew up on the mean streets of Sylvania,” Zach said.

  His wrist pounded as though his heart had been relocated there. “The Waldorf thug life.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” said Scott.

  “Damn, Scott, chill out,” said Temple.

  “I don’t like this,” Tally informed them, her voice wavering. “I’m going back out to the hallway.”

  “Hang on a sec,” said Scott, looking over the graffiti.

  Tally turned. “I’ll meet you out there.”

  “That’s not the way,” Fairen called. She shone her flashlight on Tally’s retreating back. Suddenly Tally vanished, and screamed.

  “What the hell!” yelled Temple.

  Scott ran across the room to where she had disappeared. He stopped at the doorway and leaned into the blackness. She was still screaming.

  “It’s an elevator shaft,” he said. His voice was hard but framed by panic.

  “Oh, Christ,” said Zach.

  “Get me out of here!” shouted Tally. “Get me OUT!”

  Temple began tearing around the room, presumably looking for some sort of rope. Zach dared not approach Scott.

  “We’re getting you out,” said Fairen. She sounded confident and comforting, like a nurse. “Don’t freak out. Just take a deep breath and hang on.”

  “There are needles down here!” Tally cried. Then she screamed again. “Get me OUT!”

  Temple returned to the group. “I don’t see anything around here. I’m afraid to go into those bags.”

  “Just tear them open, man,” Scott ordered.

  Temple raised his eyebrows. “You want ’em open, you do it. I’m not coming out of here with six kinds of hepatitis. Have at it.”

  “Then go downstairs,” Scott told him. “Take Kaitlyn with you. See if there’s an opening down there.”

  Tally began to sob. “I don’t want to die here,” she cried. “I don’t want to die.”

  “Calm down, Tally,” said Fairen, her voice echoing in the shaft. “Nobody’s going to let you die.”

  Scott squatted down and leaned into the hole. “I’m here, baby,” he called. “Temple and Kaitlyn are coming down to let you out.”

  Fairen looked over her shoulder nervously at Zach. Scott caught the look and twisted on the balls of his feet to face Zach. “Go find help,” he said. “Just in case.”

  “You mean leave the hospital?”

  “Yeah. The place is crawling with cops. It shouldn’t take you long.”

  “Temple ought to go,” said Zach. “He’s got the car.”

  “That’s why he needs to stay. If we get her out of there and she’s injured, how else are we going to transport her?”

  Zach stalled. He looked around the room and said, “Why don’t we give Temple time to find her a way out of there? He only just left, and if I bring the cops back, we’ll probably all get arrested.”

  Scott sneered at him. “Quit being such a pussy and find a goddamn cop.”

  “I’m not being a pussy,” Zach argued, his voice rising. “I’m being logical.”

  “Oh, is that right?” Scott retorted. “I guess you get real smart when you hang out with teachers in your free time. You ought to be Albert fucking Einstein by now. Who do you think’s smarter, you or Fairen? Let’s ask her.”

  Zach felt his stomach go cold. He glanced at Fairen, but she was leaning into the shaft again, cooing to Tally.

  He took off.

  The beam from Zach’s flashlight shivered against the floor as he ran down the hallway and into the center hall. Glass crunched beneath his feet. He paused just outside the main doorway and shone his light around, looking for police. Seeing none, he considered his path—back through the woods toward the town houses, or deeper into the hospital complex where the police likely were? He swerved his light toward the woods and recalled the journey through them: two blocks’ worth of underbrush and deadfall, with only the narrowest of paths marking the travels of derelicts like him.

  He turned and ran along the access road toward the children’s hospital. The weather had turned cold, and his down vest, unzipped, provided only thin protection from the chill. His right hand grew slippery with sweat and he tried to switch the flashlight to his left, then immediately regretted the attempt. Even the small weight of the cheap plastic light sent hammering pain through his wrist. He stopped at a sharp turn and peered into the darkness, then looked down and shone the light onto his wrist. It was beginning to swell. The back of his hand looked pink and puffy beneath the glare. He stepped off the shoulder into the road, shone his light in both directions, and saw nothing but the low mist they had seen on their first visit. That, and black looming darkness.

  A terrible thought occurred to him: what if the police presence was an urban legend, and the Bunny Man was real?

  You’re losing it, Zach, he thought.

  He looked in the direction from which he had come. The hospital was a fair distance away now. Somewhere in there was Tally, present state unknown, and Fairen, unprotected, and Scott, who might at any moment get fed up with Zach’s failure an
d start running his mouth about—about what? How in the hell had he found out?

  Zach blocked it all—the pain, the fear—and began running again, up the road and past the children’s building. Beyond that were a series of decrepit outbuildings—staff quarters, laundry, a heating plant. No cruisers anywhere to be found. An access road looped past the heating plant and toward another large structure; maybe the cops congregated over there, where they would be less visible between the buildings. He held his left arm against his stomach and ran up the access road. Trying to hold his wrist motionless didn’t help much, and the darkness still offered no sign of help of any kind. Between the buildings he stopped again and set the flashlight between his neck and shoulder, cradling his wrist in his right hand. His nails were filthy from scrabbling around on the floor with Scott, and for a moment he thought of that creepy guy Judy had described. Der Struwwelpeter, here he stands, with his dirty hair and hands. And Zach was a monster indeed, in Scott’s eyes at least. That much was certain.

  Around the side of the furnace building, he heard the snuffling and footsteps of an animal. The shock of it jarred him, and when he snapped his head to look toward the sound, the flashlight clattered to the ground and rolled away. He scrambled after it. Sweat stung at the corners of his eyes. The footsteps came closer, and as Zach groped for the light and pointed it in the direction of the noise he saw a tall grayish-white figure, much larger than a human, with a glinting blackness perched behind it. He screamed, pure fear pumping into his veins, heart accelerating so rapidly it thudded in his ears. His feet at first refused to obey his mind’s frantic command to move, but as he collected himself enough to take two steps back, the light shifted, and staring back at him were a mounted police officer and his very unimpressed horse. “Son,” said the officer in a low drawl, “what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Zach exhaled, all at once, all the air left from his screaming. “Jesus Christ. I thought you were the Bunny Man.”

  The officer smirked. “You wish.”

  “You are such an idiot,” said Fairen. “I can’t believe you mistook a horse for the Bunny Man.”

  She was sitting on the molded plastic chair beside him in the orthopedics unit of Holy Cross Hospital. The slow-ticking clock said it was two in the morning. His left arm lay swaddled in a black splint. They sat waiting for his discharge papers, and Fairen had just now dared to ask him for the details.

  “I was freaked,” Zach replied. “Sometimes when you’re looking for something, you know, you just see what you’re expecting to see instead of what’s really there.”

  “But you were trying to find a cop.”

  “Yeah, but I was pretty disoriented.”

  “I’ll say.” She traced a finger along his good arm. “We’re damn lucky they’re not charging us with trespassing, especially with you coming on like such a goober.”

  “Hey, I got help for Tally. Cut me some slack.”

  “I am cutting you slack. You have no idea how hard I’d be razzing you if you hadn’t helped Tally.”

  Someone from the nurse’s station called his name, and he was handed a packet of papers. Fairen had called his father, and he was on his way. In the meantime there was nothing to do but wait, with Fairen to keep him company. He could think of worse ways to spend an evening.

  “Your shoe’s untied,” she observed as he sat down.

  He held up his splinted wrist helplessly.

  “Oh, yeah.” She bent to tie it for him. “Does it still hurt pretty bad?”

  “Not as bad as before. The Percocet helped.”

  “What’s Scott’s beef with you, anyway? The way he went off on you was completely mental.”

  “Beats the hell out of me.”

  “I swear, he and Tally are made for each other. Between him coming after you like a pro wrestler and Tally hallucinating she saw needles in that shaft, they’re like the king and queen of overreactions. This was just supposed to be a simple tour of a historical site, for research purposes. It’s not even their project, and they had to go muck it up.”

  She traced the Velcro bands of his splint, lightly, where it rested on his leg. He said, “Thanks for everything. For taking me to the hospital and calling my folks and all that. And for doing three-quarters of the project. I guess I should mention that part, too.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “Well, I won’t forget it. I’ve had better nights than this one, that’s for sure.”

  She ran her hand along his inner thigh. “Me, too.”

  For what seemed like the first time in hours, he smiled.

  “What are you doing Monday night?” she asked. He glanced at her, and she added, “The school’s doing Advent Spiral tomorrow, but I thought maybe you and I could do something over break. Not with the whole crew. Just us.”

  “I don’t even now if my folks will let me go to the Spiral, after this. I’ll probably be grounded.”

  “I doubt that. I already covered for you. Told your folks it was all Tally’s fault. She called Scott in a panic from the elevator shaft and he dragged us all there to rescue her. You’re a hero.”

  He laughed. “That’s awesome. I hope they bought that.”

  “They did. Monday I’m supposed to be going to the Wicker Man Festival at the lake, with my cousin. Celebrate the start of vacation. We already have tickets, but I can get you an extra one. I have connections.”

  “That sounds cool.”

  She smiled. “Awesome. It’ll be good to spend time with you again. On a regular date. Act our age this time.”

  He nodded and examined his wrist. “I can’t even tell you how good that sounds.”

  27

  When I came to bed late that night I sat on the edge of the mattress cautiously, as though Russ might flop over like a corpse in a movie, arms splayed, eyes fixed. But beneath the covers it was warm. I leaned over him and tipped my ear toward his face. He snored faintly, the same as always.

  I turned my back to him and bunched the covers beneath my chin. My scalp still felt sore where Zach had pulled my hair. My skin burned from the friction that had lasted just long enough to rub me raw. He was often rough, but normally a little apologetic about it, and when he took it too far I found subtle ways to turn it around. This time I didn’t dare, suspecting he was doing what he needed to do to make it work. I could bite my lip through an encounter that felt more than a little like rape, or I could have nothing.

  I took the rape.

  I thought of him out somewhere in the night with Scott, free-spirited and cheerful, the way he had been when I had first met him. I pictured him with his foot up on a chair in some fast-food restaurant, the razor-trimmed edges of his black hair framing his smiling face, purged for the night of all his tension. He was with them, but in some secret place in his mind he was remembering the moments with me. I felt perversely grateful for that.

  With Russ dozing peacefully behind me, I drifted off to sleep.

  And then the phone rang.

  “Why are you at the hospital?” I asked Scott groggily.

  He rattled off some story I could only understand in pieces: an elevator accident, Tally was a little bit hurt but hardly so, a police escort, Temple was in trouble.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “For bringing us to Pinerest Hospital.”

  “I thought you said you were at Holy Cross.”

  Scott growled into the receiver. “Damn it, Mom, I don’t think you listened to a freakin’ thing I said. I need you to pick me up. Do you get that part?”

  “Scott, there’s no reason to be surly about it. I can barely understand you.”

  “Yeah, story of my life.”

  At the hospital I found Scott easily, sitting in a molded plastic chair near the exit, alone. He didn’t look to be in any way injured, which relieved me, considering how little I’d managed to put together from his phone call. I asked, “Where’s Tally?”

  “Her folks picked her up.”

  “And they d
idn’t offer you a ride?”

  “They’re not exactly happy with me right now.”

  I sighed. “What about the rest of your friends? Was anybody else hurt? Does anyone need a ride home?”

  “No.”

  In the car I pieced the story together slowly, using yes-and-no questions that forced Scott to produce answers. Finally I asked, “So how did you manage to get help?”

  “We sent Zach out.”

  “Oh, so Zach was there.”

  “Yes, Zach was there,” he said peevishly. “Zach is always around when you need him.”

  I slowed for a red light. “Well, even if the police aren’t charging you with trespassing, I think we’ll need to have some consequence. You should have had better sense than to go to a place that dangerous.”

  “A consequence. Gosh, I didn’t realize you were still playing that game.”

  “What game is that?”

  “The mom game. You haven’t even asked for my grade report from last month. I got my SAT scores in October, and my boot is still sitting by the fireplace.”

  “Is it my job to put your boots away now?”

  “I put it there for St. Nicholas Day. It was over a week ago. I put out my boot for you to put candy in like you always do, and it’s still sitting there with nothing in it.”

  I chuckled, but an immediate wave of remorse seized me. Scott was right. Every year of his life I had filled his boot with candy and little toys, or, in recent years, a gift card or two. Always the candy was special and unusual: barley lollipops made in antique molds, hand-pulled candy canes, marzipan animals from Germany. It was the joyful, noncommercial version of Christmas that I delighted in more than the shock and awe of Christmas morning. This year it had not even entered my mind.

  But I turned to look at the tall boy beside me, with his five o’clock shadow and his broad shoulders, and I said, “I thought you’d gotten a little old for that sort of thing. You spend nearly all your time these days holed up in the den with Tally, and don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing in there. I don’t think that girl has ever bothered to say hello, but I’m hearing plenty from her, believe you me.”