a deep breath and finally felt the hissing lady’s presence. But she wasn’t in one place. She was everywhere. Whispering inside everyone’s head. For a moment, Christopher thought she was hissing into his mother’s ears. He could smell his mother’s perfume and feel her warm hand on his chest. His mother was there. Somewhere. The hissing lady poisoning the town around her. If he didn’t get out, she would be surrounded by them all.
“I have to get out of here and save my mother,” Christopher said.
“Follow that thought,” the nice man said. “Follow your mother.”
Christopher did as he was told. He closed his eyes, and the light danced behind his eyelids like stars. The thought brought a memory, warm and soft as bread. His mother was driving him to the first day of school. They were in the old land shark. They pretended their address was different, so he would go to a great school. That’s how much she loved him. She would do anything for him. She would die for him. Christopher’s eyelids fluttered, and he saw the school in his mind’s eye. Big and bright.
“Your eyes just twitched. What did you just see?” the nice man asked anxiously.
“My school.”
“Come on,” he said.
“Is that where the hissing lady is?” Christopher asked.
“I don’t know. I just know we have to go there.”
The nice man began to move down the street. Quickly and quietly. Always on alert. Always listening. Hunting her. Or being hunted. Christopher watched him crouch behind trees and bushes, studying every inch of the road, looking for a trap. But no trap came. Just two words written in blood on front doors and highway pavement. Two words scratched into cars.
TICK TOCK
The nice man led him up the hill to the school. They went to the boys’ bathroom window. The nice man put his ear to the glass and listened to the sounds inside the school. Christopher thought he felt something inside. Cold and evil.
“Stay behind me,” the nice man said. “If it’s an ambush, you can still get away.”
The nice man opened the window with a crrreak. He climbed down from the window and landed on the cold tile. The nice man studied the darkness like a soldier. Listening with his eyes. Seeing with his ears. After a long minute, he looked up and gave Christopher the nod that it was safe to follow.
Christopher climbed down, and the two walked through the boys’ bathroom. Dark and dripping with water. The nice man opened the door and peeked down the hallway. Empty and quiet. They tiptoed past the metal lockers. Still and cold. Like vertical coffins in a mausoleum. Christopher remembered that first nightmare. The children coming to eat him alive. Christopher saw a familiar sight at the end of the hallway.
The library.
They walked toward it. Christopher could feel his heart in his throat. The nice man put his ear to the library door and listened. No sound. He opened the door slowly. The room was dark and seemingly empty. Christopher remembered talking with Mrs. Henderson in this room. She told him about David Olson’s favorite book, then went home and stabbed her husband. Christopher tiptoed over to the stacks. To that one familiar shelf. To that one familiar book.
Frankenstein.
Christopher opened the book, and he smiled when he saw what David Olson had left them on the imaginary side.
Another Christmas card.
The two stared at it in silence. It was another message. Another clue from David. The front of the card was a picture of a beautiful home with a white picket fence covered in snow. Christopher opened the card, but there was no personal writing from David. Only the card’s original inscription.
Over the river
And through the wood
To grandmother’s house we go.
Christopher looked at the message again. He was puzzled by it. It didn’t mean anything special to him. He studied the front picture. The white picket fence. The red door. Then, he turned to ask what it all meant. That’s when he saw the nice man’s expression. It curled Christopher’s toes.
The nice man was terrified.
“What’s wrong?” Christopher asked.
“I know where she’s going.”
“Tell me,” Christopher said past the lump in his throat.
The nice man took a moment, then he whispered,
“Christopher, have you ever woken up from a nightmare that was so terrifying you couldn’t remember anything about it?”
“Yes,” Christopher said, already dreading where this was going.
“That’s a place here. It’s where she took you for six days.”
Christopher took a long, hard swallow, trying to summon his courage. He tried to