No Way Out Page 3

  “What are you doing, Poppy?” asked Dash.

  “Getting ready. Keep going. Don’t miss!”

  The thing outside the tent began to move around the walls, battering at the thick canvas. But Azumi closed her eyes again and flung another ball up the Skee-Ball alley.

  Ding! Ding! Ding!

  Another bull’s-eye!

  “Good job, Azumi!” Poppy called out.

  The cage shifted a few more inches upward and the rabbit, bear, and cat swelled further—their weight pulling on the cords they were hanging from, jouncing the other stuffed animals so the entire wall of prizes was suddenly frenzied, as if it were alive. Poppy braced herself. She realized that if the barrier opened at the same time the Specials grew to their full size, the three might come through at once, and she couldn’t take them all on by herself.

  Azumi seemed to be doing well enough, so Poppy called out to Dash, “Would you help me out?” He rushed over, and she handed him the deflated football. “We need to be ready,” she said, and he nodded. “Azumi, keep it up!”

  Azumi groaned and then let another Skee-Ball fly. It bounced on the edge of the ring and Poppy felt her rib cage tighten—but it hit the target. There was another blast of bells and flash of lights, and the cage opened wider.

  The cords holding the animals squealed as the Specials started to burst at their seams. Poppy tried to reach for the cat, which was closest. Her fingers brushed against the dangling plush feet, but she couldn’t grab hold. “Poppy, be careful!” shouted Dash.

  There came a loud whomping sound as whatever was drumming on the tent began to attack the spot behind the wall of prizes. The stuffed animals jittered and shook. Suddenly, from the upper left corner, the rabbit fell to the ground. Wide-eyed, Poppy stuck her head through the gap and bent over the counter. She grasped the stuffed animal and yanked it up as Dash pulled her back out of the booth. It took a second before Poppy realized what—or who—she was holding in her hands. Aloysius. The orphan who hadn’t been able to speak. Who had loved candy until Cyrus had started giving him sweets that had made him sick.

  The rabbit was heavy, and he slipped quickly through her fingers and landed at her feet with a thump. The strings of light flickered overhead, making the rabbit thing appear to squirm. Or maybe he really was squirming …

  “Azumi, wait!” Dash cried out, but it was too late. She rolled another bull’s-eye and the cage opened all the way. The cat and the bear also dropped from their cords, falling behind the counter.

  Poppy didn’t hesitate. She bent down and clutched at the stuffed rabbit’s head, digging her fingers into his stitching. She shoved away thoughts of real skin and bones as she wrenched the fabric apart, revealing the plastic rabbit mask that was hidden inside the stuffing.

  The pounding behind the wall of prizes grew louder and a scraping noise began, as if whatever was out there was now trying to tear its way in.

  Poppy yanked the rabbit mask away, tossing it into the shadows near the edge of the tent. A pale face appeared and stared up at her in surprise from within the cushioned white head. The boy’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped open, the dark stain around his mouth and neck fading as he caught his breath. “Aloysius,” said Poppy, tears welling in her own eyes. “You’re going to be okay. We’re here to save you.”

  Dash and Azumi were each bent over one of the other Specials. Dash grabbed at the bear mask and Azumi took the cat, and soon Irving and Matilda were revealed, wearing shocked expressions, their eyes pooling with relief and fear.

  The boy by Poppy leaned forward, struggling to sit up inside the cocoon of stuffed animal. She held his shoulders as he stretched out his limbs and then burst through the rest of the stitching. The costume tore away with a satisfying ripping sound and revealed his gray-and-white Larkspur uniform. He opened his mouth as if to say thank you or hurry or watch out—but nothing came.

  Poppy trembled, remembering the candies she’d meant to give him. She retrieved them quickly from the counter by her shoulder. Their cellophane wrappers crinkled in her palm. “These candies are what Cyrus stole from you,” she explained. “Take them so you can leave this place.”

  Dash helped Irving out of the bear trappings, the chains around Irving’s ankles rattling like the musical chimes that had come from the prize booths. He handed the boy the deflated football. Matilda stood up, clutching the doll that Azumi passed to her; then she turned her piercing blue eyes toward Poppy.

  The scratching outside the tent went on. The other stuffed animals continued to shake and dance. Several of them tumbled to the ground.

  Aloysius stared at the candies in his hand. “Go on,” said Poppy, nodding encouragement. “Try them.” She suddenly remembered Ms. Tate telling her Never take candy from strangers, and she felt her face flush with embarrassment. He quickly unwrapped one of them. The hard little black nugget looked like the plastic eyes of the stuffed animals on the tent’s wall. Aloysius closed his own eyes and popped it into his mouth, and, with some difficulty, swallowed it down. They waited.

  Poppy took a step back. Something was wrong.

  The tent had gone quiet. The scratching at the canvas had stopped.

  Then, with a loud belch, black liquid spouted from Aloysius’s lips and leaked from his nose. He opened his mouth as if trying to speak. “Agghhh,” he moaned, doubling over in pain, the poisonous goo dribbling onto the ground.

  Poppy glanced over at Dash and Azumi, who were standing with Irving and Matilda. Neither of the other Specials was reacting in the way she expected them to. When they’d given Randolph and Esme the items that had set them free—the harmonica and the notebook—the effect had taken place almost immediately. They’d smiled—looking as if they’d rediscovered a former best friend—and then disintegrated into a sweet and peaceful nothingness. Irving and Matilda stared at her, brows furrowed, looking as confused as Poppy felt.

  “Why isn’t it working?” asked Azumi.

  “Where did you get these objects?” whispered Matilda, her voice buzzing.

  “They were in a filing cabinet in Cyrus’s tower,” said Dash. “They’re yours, aren’t they?”

  Hearing Cyrus’s name, Irving dropped the football.

  “These aren’t ours anymore,” Matilda said. “They’re his now.”

  Aloysius retched, shivering as he hunched over, and Poppy cringed, guilt gurgling in her stomach. She reached out to rub his back, but he flinched from her touch. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, glancing around the frightened group. There was little difference between any of them. Everyone was terrified. “I messed up.”

  “It’s happening again,” said Matilda, touching her own face.

  Aloysius stood up, black tears now streaking his cheeks. He pointed at his mouth and moaned again. “It’s my fault,” Poppy whimpered. She wanted to grab him and give him a hug, but she knew that in only a few moments, his mask would begin to grow back and he’d not be so innocent anymore.

  All of a sudden, the wall behind the prizes trembled. An earsplitting sound echoed through the tent as the canvas tore open and the rest of the stuffed animals tumbled to the ground. Two flaps swung back, revealing a shadowy tunnel of stripes that led back up the hill toward Larkspur House.

  OUTSIDE, LIGHTNING FLASHED and thunder rumbled. The house’s roofline lit up, all spikes and spires.

  “Is someone out there?” Azumi asked. Dash shushed her.

  Poppy moved closer to them. To her surprise, the Specials followed, seeming to tremble as they too stared out into the darkness.

  “It’s the house,” Dash whispered. “It wants us to go back.”

  “No,” said Azumi. “Larkspur can’t make me do anything anymore. I won’t let it!”

  Poppy sniffled. “We’ve got something more important to deal with right now.”

  Dash widened his eyes. “More important than getting away from the house again?”

  “Or figuring out what’s out there?” asked Azumi. “Something tore open the tent.”

&nbs
p; Aloysius groaned again, more black goo running from his mouth.

  Then Dash and Azumi realized what Poppy meant. If they didn’t figure out how to release the Specials, their enemy would be back—closer than before.

  Poppy couldn’t let that happen. “We’re going to help them,” she said, reaching into her messenger bag again. Her fingers closed upon a small, crinkly object she’d forgotten was in there. She opened her hand, showing Aloysius the last cherry cough drop she’d brought with her from the city. His eyes grew large. Poppy wasn’t sure if it was because he was surprised, or if maybe the rabbit mask was transforming his features again.

  “It’s not candy exactly,” said Poppy, “but it’s sweet. Cyrus never touched it. It might make you feel better.”

  Tentatively, Aloysius took the drop and unwrapped it. He glanced nervously at Matilda and Irving, as if for permission, but they were distracted, writhing in pain. Aloysius popped it into his mouth and his face immediately changed. Dimples creased into his cheeks as his smile grew. He opened his mouth, and this time, the only thing that spilled out was laughter. A soft breeze blew through the tent, and then the boy was gone.

  “It worked!” Poppy cried out. Matilda and Irving pulled themselves away from their torment, hugging each other tightly. Poppy realized how horrible it must be for them to see one another suffer, unable to do anything about it throughout decades as captives of Larkspur.

  “What else do you have in that bag, Poppy?” Azumi asked.

  Before Poppy could answer, another streak of lightning spread in a ragged arc across the sky. Several yards up the path, five figures lit up. The plaster clowns. The one in the center stepped into the glow from the lights hanging in the games tent. Its dark, frowning lips immediately stood out against its pale face.

  Azumi shuddered and then tripped backward into Poppy’s arms. “I’m not crazy,” she murmured, as if to herself.

  “Dylan!” Dash shouted. “Is that you?”

  The clown threw its head back and chortled. It then tore away its indigo costume and Dylan’s red-and-black plaid shirt appeared underneath, along with his shorts and sandals. His features transitioned—the red from his clown mask blooming like wounds on his nose and mouth.

  “He was watching us the whole time?” asked Azumi. “Beating on the tent like that?”

  “Trying to scare us.” Dash nodded, squaring himself against his twin. Poppy couldn’t help but think of dueling gunslingers.

  “But it’s not Dylan,” said Poppy. “We know now. It’s the house. It’s always the house.” She glanced at Matilda and Irving, who were clinging to each other a few steps farther inside the tent, their faces panicked.

  And then they started to change.

  Their skin grew waxy. Little plastic ears rose up from their heads. Eye sockets darkened and sank into their skulls. And their mouths pulled back in awful grimaces, this time showing sharp white teeth. Their spines straightened and their limbs stiffened and twitched.

  “No, no, no,” Poppy whimpered. “It’s my fault. I was wrong. Don’t do this to them.”

  Azumi grabbed Poppy and Dash and pulled them away from the two remaining Specials. The three now stood between two dangers: the ghostly orphans in the tent with them, and Dylan, who was laughing with glee from several yards up the new midway outside. And beyond him, from up the hill, Larkspur House, with its darkened windows, seemed to watch with cold confidence, as if it had known all along how this would play out.

  “Come on,” said Azumi intensely, tugging at her friends’ arms. “We need to run.”

  “Where?” asked Poppy. “There’s nowhere to go.”

  “Sure there is,” said Dash, pointing up the hill past his brother and the other frozen clowns. “We go forward.”

  Poppy blinked. “But the house—”

  Matilda and Irving raised their arms, reaching for the group. Poppy spun to find Dylan steadying himself.

  All at once, Dash and Azumi leapt over the prize counter and then bolted from the tent. Poppy slipped on the grass as she tried to keep up. “Wait!” she cried. But thunder rolled across the meadow again, drowning out her voice. She felt fingertips slide down her spine as Matilda and Irving ran after her, clawing at her tank top, monsters again. She scrambled to her feet and then swung her bag around onto her back.

  Ahead, Azumi skirted around Dylan as he jolted toward Dash. “Stay together!” Poppy called out. Dash ducked into his brother’s leap, shoving his shoulder into Dylan’s gut and throwing him to the ground. It was a vicious move. Poppy cringed.

  Azumi headed toward the four clown figurines who were blocking the path farther up the midway. There was no space between them and the tents on either side. The only way through was a gap in the middle where Dylan had stepped forward.

  Poppy could hear Matilda and Irving scrambling across the grass behind her. Only a few feet ahead, Dash struggled to stand up as Dylan flailed his arms from the ground nearby, trying to snatch at his brother. Poppy careened toward them, reaching for Dash’s shoulder and using her momentum to bring him up.

  Dash grunted a thank-you. Then he yelled, “Azumi, watch out!”

  Poppy watched the four clowns turn their heads toward Azumi as she crossed through their barricade. In an instant, they were grabbing at Azumi. “No!” she squealed as they pulled her down to the ground.

  Poppy wasn’t thinking as she slipped the strap of her messenger bag up over her head. “Watch out, Dash,” she said, shoving him out of the way. Poppy spun, catching the nylon strap as it slipped down to her hand, the weighted bag like a trebuchet sling as it rocketed around. The bag crunched into the plaster clowns, scattering their broken bodies into the grass around a wide-eyed Azumi.

  “Come on, Azumi,” said Dash. “Up we go.” Barely slowing, he scooped her under her arms to get her running again.

  Poppy swung the strap back over her head and across her chest and took off after her friends.

  Wind whipped through the corridor of tents as dark clouds swirled and flashed overhead. The spikes on the rooftop seemed to grow and sharpen like syringes. The house was furious with them, Poppy knew. They weren’t supposed to win these games. And though they’d just gained some ground with Aloysius and the cough drop, she couldn’t let go of how close she’d come to setting all the Specials free.

  Poppy’s lungs clenched painfully as she sprinted from the three ghostly kids. She almost slowed as she saw that the path only led straight back toward the house. But then she heard someone calling out her name from far ahead, beyond the place where Dash and Azumi were sprinting. Was it the wind? Or was the voice only in her head?

  Then she saw it. Several yards up the slope, one of the tent flaps on the right side of the midway was open, light emanating from within. “This way!” she called out to Dash and Azumi.

  “No way!” said Dash, when he noticed the direction she was leading them. “I’m not going inside again.”

  As they approached the triangular gleam that spilled out onto the grass, Poppy felt some tension melt from her shoulders. Within the tent, she could see several tall frames set up, glass glistening, reflecting a golden light. An electric sign over the flap flickered to life: Mirror Maze.

  As they came closer to the open flap, the image of a girl appeared, watching from inside one of the tall frames. She looked like a reflection of someone standing by the tent’s entry, but Poppy knew better. The girl wore a black dress with a white pinafore over it, wide pockets open by her waist. Her dark hair was tucked back behind her ears. The girl raised a hand and waved repeatedly, a desperate flicker that pulled Poppy forward.

  Poppy hoped Dash and Azumi now understood.

  The voice she’d heard calling to her from the midway hadn’t been the wind playing tricks. It had been her oldest friend, her Girl in the mirror, trying to save her one more time. “Look!” she yelled, her voice ragged from running. “It’s Connie! She’s found us another way out of here!”

  “POPPY, STOP!” DASH cried out. “What if it�
��s another trick—”

  But Poppy veered toward the open flap and the flickering red sign.

  Azumi chased after them. The Girl in the entry was waving, but Azumi sensed that something was wrong.

  Why was Poppy always the one calling the shots?

  Azumi glanced over her shoulder. The cat, the bear, and the clown were only several yards behind them. They snarled and leapt toward her.

  There was no time to waver. They either went with the Girl in the mirrors, or they kept running up the midway toward the house. Neither seemed like a very good idea.

  Poppy hopped through the entry, and Azumi had to follow.

  In the cramped space, Dash barreled into Azumi. All three knocked into one of the mirrors, which wobbled precariously.

  Outside, Matilda, Irving, and Dylan howled in anger, their voices rising like the wind. They raced forward, quickly closing the space between themselves and the mirror tent. Their heads were tilted back, their plastic mouths open wide now as if hungry. Azumi crouched down and covered her ears with her hands to block out the piercing noise. She didn’t want to see what was coming, couldn’t imagine what it would feel like when they came through the entry, but she was too frightened to look away.

  Hands clamped on her shoulders, yanking her backward as the tent flap dropped down, sealing itself to the ground. Azumi landed on her rear in the cool, soft grass. The canvas rustled for several seconds before stopping abruptly.

  Glancing up, Azumi found Poppy panting, staring at the wall as if the canvas might tear open.

  Seconds slipped by as Azumi held her breath. This tent was strangely quiet. Finally, when it looked like the Specials couldn’t get in, she stood. The tall mirrors on either side of the entry created the illusion of a tunnel stretching into the distance in opposite directions. In the glass were infinite versions of Azumi, Dash, and Poppy staring back at themselves, looking terrified and confused. A string of dim globes hung overhead. Reflected endlessly, they looked like millions of little moons.