Chapter #5The Great Escape by: Seuzz   "Help me lift the bed," you tell Lucy. She looks at you like you're crazy. "Look, you wanna get out or not?" You don't have time for her modesty, and rip the sheet off her and pull her from the bed.
That seems to rouse her, and though she isn't enthusiastic, she does help you lift the frame and lean it upright on the wall under the window. It doesn't appear to be strong, but it only has to be strong enough. You climb up and balance on it, which brings the windowsill to the level of your chest. Unfortunately, it opens at the top, and when you pull it you find it opens by only a few inches: not enough to squeeze through even if you could get atop it. "Hand me the pillow," you order her as you close it again.
"What are you going to do?" she asks.
"Bust us out of here." You grit your teeth, grab onto the window frame with your free hand, and with the other punch hard at the window, using the pillow as a cushion. The bed groans threateningly, but after three hard blows the window shatters. You use the pillow to clean as much glass out of the frame as you can. "Mind the shards," you call below, as you hear the tinkle of glass falling back into the basement.
Now comes the horrible part. You have her hand you the sheet, and you wrap it around yourself as best you can. The window is narrow; for the first time in your high school career you are glad you are narrow-shouldered and skinny. You wriggle through carefully, worming your way onto the dirt that comes right up to the windowsill. You don't feel any punctures, but that doesn't mean you aren't cutting yourself all over.
Finally you are free and look back down into the basement. "Think you can make it?"
"I'd rather try the stairs."
"Hang on."
Treading carefully on your bare feet, you trot around to the other side of the house and to the stone shed you saw earlier. It gleams faintly in the deepening dusk, and you shiver when you realize that it's actually a mausoleum. The door is unlocked, and you feel around, shuddering when your hand brushes over a dusty bier. But luck is with you: Blackwell apparently does use it as some kind of storeroom, for you are able to lay hands on a crowbar. Back at the basement window you have to work long and hard, but you manage to bust the window completely out of its frame, giving Lucy a safe, wide exit.
You both retreat to the darkened front porch, where there is less chance of hurting your bare bodies, and take stock: two naked people, replaced by evil duplicates, at the house of a magician. "You feel up for a little light burglary?" you grin at her.
"It's your adventure," she says. "I'm just along for the ride." You try the front door, and are surprised to find that Blackwell has left it unlocked. "This place is even creepier when he's not around," Lucy says as you step into the foyer.
She's right, but it must just be nerves. "First, let's get cleaned up and get some clothes," you say. "They'll fall off us, but I'm sure you'll feel better even dressed up like a hot air balloon." You run upstairs and look behind all the doors until you find Blackwell's bedroom. In his private bath you examine yourself in the mirror: only superficial cuts, it appears, easily cleaned. "Will you stop making noise?" you call to her in the bedroom. "He's not here, but still."
"I was about to tell you the same thing," she retorts.
You return to the bedroom to argue, but forget it all when you find her dressed up ridiculously in too-voluminous trousers and draped with a shirt that is more like a poncho on her slim frame. But you can't criticize her fashion sense after pulling on some of his clothes yourself. "Cool! Wallet and keys!" you exclaim as you scoop them up from the nightstand. "Come on, let's see what else we can lift."
"Let's just get out of here," she says nervously. "This place is making weird noises." As she speaks, the ceiling groans and creaks. You both look up at it.
"You don't suppose he has, like, a crazy wife up in the attic, do you?" you ask.
"I don't want to find out," she shudders.
"No, let's see what else we can raid." You pocket a cell phone that sits on the dresser.
Out in the hallway you turn on the light, but it glows only feebly. At the other end of the hallway is a small staircase leading up. She clutches you with one hand as she holds up her pants with the other, and tries to tug you back as you climb them. There is nothing at the top except an open door; turning on the light reveals it is some kind of workroom.
"Fucking A, jackpot," you murmur. On the work table are two objects that look like masks. "I bet these are the things he's using to duplicate people."
"Leave them alone," she implores.
"No, these could be useful. I mean, he's got doubles of us out there. We may need disguises of our own. Here." You hand one to her. "Now, what else have we got?"
"What's that?!" she exclaims, and clutches at you. From downstairs comes a flurry of hard rapping sounds.
"He's back?" you suggest. "Come on, we'll get the jump on him."
As reluctant as she was to go upstairs, she is even more reluctant to go down again. But the hallway is empty. Slowly you creep along, being careful to not fully put your backs to any of the bedroom doors. "Did we turn on all the downstairs lights?" you ask: lights are flooding up the main staircase. She shakes her head.
At the head of the staircase you look down into the first floor. Lights blaze up, but it is empty. As you puzzle over this, you feel Lucy tightly grip your arm. You turn, and see her staring back into the upstairs hallway with an expression of sheer terror. You follow her gaze.
The hall is empty, but along each wall long shadows stretch, like arms unfolding toward you. They end in grasping hands. You've just time to register that one of the hands has six fingers before you grab Lucy and hurl yourselves downstairs, out the door and along the walk until you are panting outside the front gate.
* * * * *
"At least we've got wheels," you say, trying to replace the horror of the house with a sense of optimism. "Where to?"
"Home?" she says hopefully.
You shake your head. "You heard what he said. He can fool our families perfectly. I mean, if we have to, we can challenge them to a game of 'Spot the Imposter,' but I'd rather take him out quietly."
"That's dumb. We should just go to the police."
"Why, you want to become a CIA test subject or something? This is some fucked up shit he's dealing with, and if government agencies get involved, who knows what they'll do to us."
"You've been watching too many Bourne movies," she retorts, but doesn't argue further.
"Okay, I know," you say turning the key in the ignition of Blackwell's car. "I've got a hiding place we can hang out at."
"So do I."
"Well, we should go to mine."
"Why? He knows about it, so it can't be much of a hiding place."
"Well, he knows about yours, too."
"But he's inside your head. He's got some other ... thing ... pretending to be me."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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