Spencer realized they were at a standoff, one which would end when Mr. Buttons finally decided to ram the door open by brute strength. He looked around the room, but didn’t recognize it. There was only boxes around him, lit by a strange orange light coming through the window.
BANG, went the door as a massive paw was slammed against it.
BANG BANG. The wood was starting to splinter. Spencer hunched down and pushed like he was trying to force his shoulder through the wood. It wouldn’t be long now. He had to be ready to run.
And then the rooms other door opened, electric light from the hall outside blinding Spencer with its intensity. There was a frightening looking man standing there in t-shirt and jeans. He was pointing a gun at Spencer, who cringed with the expectation of getting shot.
Then the man turned on the room light and it stopped, it all stopped. Though he still held onto the closet door, he could somehow feel that it was empty on the other side now. That the light had closed the gap between worlds.
The man at the door lowered his gun. Though the bearded face looked very much different from the clean shaven business mogul Spencer had known before, he recognized the man anyway.
“Spencer,” his father said. “Is that you?”
In the first few days after her accident, Suzie fell on her caste and hurt herself no less than five times. Bringing about the dawning realization in Spencer that she was incredibly bad at taking care of herself. She wobbled towards dangerous places like the stairs or the street as if she had a death wish. She stuffed things into her mouth as if she was trying to choke herself. If he was going to help her out at all, securing her room was only the beginning. He began to take a much more active role in keeping her safe, in watching out for her.
In the following days he realized there really was no limit to the amount of time you could spend trying to keep a toddler alive. It was tiresome but at least it was distracting, even he could only watch so much TV. His mom focused in on his increased care of Suzie, bragging about it to his father as if she had found out that the family dog had proved not to have rabies after all. The sentiment bothered him, but at least it decreased the tension in the house.
At the same time he found himself getting stronger. His joints no longer hurt and the soars on his skin had finally closed. His gums barely bled at all when he brushed and his teeth weren’t loose anymore (though his parents continually warned of an impending dentist trip that would uncover no small amount of cavities). Even his muscles were getting stronger, he found that he could climb the tree in the backyard better than ever. It was no mystery that actual food (which started to taste normal) and vitamins were responsible for setting him right. It was ironic though that just as he was feeling stronger, in another way he could tell he was getting weaker.
He no longer slept with his eyes open like he used to. At night he noticed the hardness of the floor after the comfort of the couch whereas before he hadn’t thought about it. Used to be he could go days without eating before it was a problem, now he didn’t like to skip lunch.
His body was adjusting to the real world right on schedule, even if his mind was still stuck in the dark of the forest. There was no doubt that whatever his parents told themselves about him, it was not remotely close to what he really was. There was just no frame of reference by which they could understand. He still felt absolutely no attachment to them, only playing along with their parental game because he had no choice. And barely at that.
And Suzie, far from being a constant bundle of joy, at least she accepted him for who he was. Looking out for her gave him a sort of stake in the world, a reason to be in the game. A reason to get up and move around now that every moment wasn’t a fight for survival. He began to teach himself to read again, starting with reading her baby books silently to himself. Even began to think of what it might be like to go back to school.
It was funny, having a baby sister was the only thing he hadn’t missed about the real world, because he hadn’t had one when he left it. Now she was the only thing holding him to it.
The night Smiling Jack came for Suzie went like this. It started around ten or so, when Suzie had been asleep for two hours. Spencer, who no longer went to bed just when it got dark, was watching TV on the couch. His father was uncharacteristically sitting on the other end of the couch watching TV with him, a drink in his hand as usual. The sounds of the TV were accompanied by twinkling of dishes and a hush of running water from the kitchen where his mother was washing dishes.
Suzie’s scream of fear was piercing, unmistakable from a scream of pain or frustration. Spencer’s dad moved fast, dropping his drink and running with the look of a man whose just realized his nightmares have come true.
But Spencer was faster. He didn’t need to think about running when he needed to, didn’t need to decide to move. He just ran. He was up the stairs even as his dad reached the bottom. As he rounded on Suzie’s door he pulled the knife that he’d had hidden in his pocket. A fleeting ghost of a prayer shot through his mind that it would just be Suzie waking from a nightmare. Opening the door, he saw exactly what he thought he would see. Not Suzie’s nightmare, but his. A face he had only seen once before, and remembered every dark moment since.
Smiling Jack. But not with his mask, his true face. Dead flesh and black eyes staring back at him. The mask was gone, but the hooks were there. Pulling back the corners of his mouth as the metal wires cut into its cheeks. Oh yes, Jack looked very happy.
In his arms he held Suzie, too terrified to scream any longer. An imploring desperation in her eyes as she looked at Spencer. Jack was half way into the liquid darkness of the wardrobe already, sparing Spencer only a moments triumphant glance. Spencer shot for the light switch in a flash, flooding the room with light and sealing the gateway through to Nowhere Blvd. But Jack was faster, disappearing with Suzie into the dark. The wooden wardrobes solid backing the only testament to his passing.
Spencer’s father burst in behind him only a heartbeat later. But it was far, far too late.
The rest of that night was an endless torture, but Spencer felt none of it. He felt nothing at all as his parents desperately searched every nook and cranny. Police filled the house, questioning everyone a thousand times. His mother was hysterical, his father looked like a man who was trying to wake up but couldn’t. They wanted Spencer to talk, needed him to talk. To tell them where he had been for two years, where Suzie was now. He would have gladly told them everything if he thought it could possibly do the least bit of good. Telling them a monster took his baby sister through a hole in the wardrobe would be worse than nothing.
It was an environment of confusion and invasion and hysteria, but Spencer was only calm. What he had known would happen from day one finally had happened. Nothing else could have happened. If you weren’t strong enough to protect yourself, then Smiling Jack got you. No one could protect you from Smiling Jack.
The police scoured the house for clues, for fingerprints, but found nothing. They could see that the bars on the windows were intact, the security system undisturbed. The only clue being two pieces of a baby lock on the floor of Suzie’s room by the wardrobe, sawed in half. Not the work of a clumsy stuffed bear, but the work of clever tools and clever hands.
The way they questioned his parents made Spencer think the police didn’t believe it, any of it. If no one could have got in, than someone inside must have done it.