Hollow World (5 page)

The atmosphere had become eerily quiet and still, and John once again spoke to the bewildered detective: “Are you enjoying yourself, detective?”

“Fuck you,” Charlie shot back.

“Language, Detective Walker, language! There could be children around!”

“We both know I’m the only one in this goddamned auditorium. Are you going to tell me why you have taken my family, or did you just bring me here to show off some fancy technological tricks?” Charlie asked, losing his patience completely.

“The reason you are here, detective, is that I wish to test you,” John stated plainly.

“What kind of test? What does this have to do with my family?”

“Tests, Charlie. Plural,” said John, coldly.

“What do I need to do?” Charlie asked. Any other questions would simply be a waste of time so he thought it better not to waste any more time being rebellious.

“Simply survive. Here’s the deal, detective: survive my tests and your family will be returned to you, completely unharmed. Die, and I will be sure to dig a grave deep enough to accommodate four bodies,” stated John. Never before had Charlie thought that this Audio-Animatronic, which has brought a smile to his face so many times and for so many years, could seem so menacing—but he experienced it now, and it made his blood run cold. Something about the familiar voice delivering such horrible threats made an involuntary shiver work its way through his body.

“What do you get out of this?” Charlie asked. “I mean, if I don’t succeed, what do
you
have to gain?”

“It’s hard for you to turn off being a detective, isn’t it?” John asked, his mechanical jaw moving slightly out of sync with his words. “Searching for my motive, are you? Fine, I’ll bite. What I gain is simple. Should you complete the tests and survive, then I will have finally found the one mind that can best my own. Should you die…well, then I get to live out the rest of my days, comfortable in the knowledge that no other could successfully challenge me.”

“
Challenge
you?” Charlie asked. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“All things will become clear in due time, detective,” spouted John, his hands still mimicking the act of preparing Christmas dinner. “If you’re as competent as my studies have led me to believe, you will discover all that there is to know. Trust me—I am on your side. I’m really rooting for you, but I cannot break the rules—the game must be played.”

Charlie’s head was spinning. First, this maniac threatens him and his family, then—moments later—goes on to say that he hopes Charlie will succeed. Never had he encountered such a personality as this in all of his years on the force.

“Trust you?” he snapped. “How can I trust you when you snatched my family from under my nose not even thirty minutes ago?”

“Well…you can’t,” stated John. “Not necessarily. I do give you my sincere word on the matter though. I am nothing if not a man of my word.”

 “Fine,” he conceded. “What do you want me to do?”

“Return to your resort and get a good night’s rest,” said John, simply.

“What? Are you kidding? What about my family?” Charlie shot back, starting to get irritated that he was having this conversation with a robot and not the coward that was controlling it.

“Don’t worry, Charlie,” John assured him. “Your family is on their way to some pretty swanky lodgings as we speak. Unfortunately, we’re running short on time. You will be contacted again before long.”

“No!” he shouted. “That can’t be it! I want proof that my family is safe!”

“Now is certainly not the time to make demands, detective, but in the spirit of Christmas, I have left a gift behind the seat to your right. See you real soon, Charlie.”

Immediately after this sentence, the attraction’s signature song blared over the speakers and the theater began its final rotation of the show. Charlie reached behind the seat and, as promised, there was a small box wrapped in Mickey paper with a green bow atop it affixed to the seatback. Shredding away the paper and tearing open the package, Charlie found a sleek new Blackberry inside. As soon as he removed it from the box, the device vibrated. On the screen, there was a notification that he’d received a picture message. Unlocking the device, he found a close-up shot of Katie’s face, and she was sleeping peacefully. It wasn’t much proof, but it was the best he could hope for right now.

Deciding to explore the phone for anything helpful, he tried to exit the message, but found that he was unable to access any screen save the one he was currently on. He even attempted to shut the device down and power it back up, but it still returned only to the current message window. No names or phone numbers were displayed with the message. This man was careful, resourceful, and clearly well-funded. If he had the technology and manpower to orchestrate all of this, then Charlie knew he must not underestimate him under any circumstances.

Remaining in his seat, waiting for the show to end, Charlie felt helpless for the first time since he had been a child. There was nothing he could do; all he had to look forward to was a night of helpless waiting and intense worrying—and this worrying had begun to manifest itself as physical pain in his chest. How could he be expected to simply return to his resort and go to sleep? He had no idea whether his family was safe or not. The picture of Katie hadn’t necessarily been taken recently; his enemy was resourceful enough to have been able to snap that photo any time. The pain of worry in his chest became so intense that for a moment he thought he was having a heart attack. Slowly, he realized these pains were the telltale signs of a panic attack and that shock was setting in quickly.

After the attraction finished, the half-conscious, dazed Charlie Walker meandered out onto the Tomorrowland concourse, worried sick about Meghan and the girls. Within a few minutes, the figure of speech had become a reality and Charlie had barely enough time to make it to a restroom before spewing his expensive Le Cellier dinner all over one of the stalls. After the violent sickness had passed, Charlie stumbled over to a sink where he rinsed out his mouth and splashed cold water across his face. He straightened up and turned to look at his reflection in the mirror.

The Charlie Walker he saw looking back at him looked nothing like the happy, optimistic man he had been just that morning. His world had come crashing down around him and every fiber of his being was stressed to the breaking point. His face was ashen; his eyes bloodshot and glazed. Detective Charlie Walker was a broken man and looked every bit the part. Slowly, he made his way back outside as the fireworks were nearing their finale.

Escaping the park without incident seemed to prove more difficult for the distraught and tense detective than it should have been. Charlie’s trek back to the park exit was a long blur of shoving people out of the way and murmuring halfhearted, half-heard apologies. Inevitably, he lost his cool during an instance in which a young man in his late teens came rushing through the crowd and screamed, “Yeah, bro!” directly into his face, then broke into a chorus of loud shouting. Charlie tried to shoulder his way past, shoving the man aside several times, but he was persistent, constantly putting himself in front of Charlie, pounding his chest and screaming, “Come at me bro!” between fits of laughing like a lunatic.

Not himself in the least, Charlie snatched the young man by the wrist, spun his arm behind his back and shoved him to the ground in an artfully executed police takedown, firmly pressing his knee into the man’s back and maintaining a hold on his wrist. As soon as Charlie had done it, he regretted it immensely. He saw dozens of people staring at the mild spectacle occurring in the large crowd. This is no way for a park guest to act, let alone an off-duty police officer, and Charlie mentally kicked himself for being so erratic and impulsive.

Thinking quickly, Charlie shoved his badge in front of the man’s eyes.

“Undercover police,” Charlie declared. “Have you been drinking?”

“No! No, sir, I swear!” the man promised, his attitude entirely changed in a millisecond.

“Do you have any drugs on you or anything else I should be concerned with?” Charlie asked, in the most official tone he could manage under the circumstances.

“No!” the man replied again, his breath short due to Charlie’s knee pressing down on his back.

“Any weapons?”

“No, sir! I promise!”

Charlie put away his badge and lifted the man to his feet.

“I suggest you reevaluate the way you interact with other people in public. I wouldn’t want to have to have this talk with you again,” Charlie warned.

“Of course not,” the man agreed, politely. “It’ll never happen again.”

Charlie nodded and moved away from the man, but not before a few onlookers applauded. The boy’s friends began pointing and laughing at him as they disappeared into the crowd. The last thing Charlie needed was to be detained and questioned by Disney Security. He had no doubt he would be released after they ran his credentials, but the delay would not help his situation. He quickened his pace and exited the park without drawing more attention.

Charlie soon found himself waiting at the back of a long line at the crowded bus stop. After three buses had come and gone, Charlie had made it to the front of the line just as a fourth bus was finishing loading. By this point, over forty-five minutes had passed, full of waiting, constantly being slammed into by uncontrolled children and given dirty looks by their parents when he didn’t find them to be the world’s most adorable little monster. He figured if he didn’t make it on this bus, he would either snap or give up and attempt to walk back to the resort.

The heavens momentarily smiled upon him, as it seemed he would get one of the three remaining seats on the current bus. Unexpectedly, the front doors closed and his attention was drawn to where a woman, not much older than him, was approaching the rear door of the bus on a motorized scooter. Assuming she was handicapped, he kept his calm. He watched as the final three seats were folded away to accommodate her scooter. Charlie had a friend on the force who used one of these scooters due to a gunshot wound that had left him paralyzed from the waist down, so giving up his seat to someone in need did not bother him in the least.

Much to his surprise—and ultimately his dismay—once the woman’s scooter was secure on the bus, she easily raised herself up and stood next to it, a hand lightly resting on the overhead bar for balance. Charlie could see her casually tapping her foot to the steel drum music as the back door closed and the vehicle pulled away. Sighing, Charlie placed his hands on his head and pressed deeply into his temples, trying to relieve the coming migraine. There was absolutely no way he would rest tonight.

With ever dwindling patience, Charlie waited for yet another bus.

The man laughed out loud as he watched Walker’s patience wearing dangerously thin; the detective’s stress was clearly visible even on the small monitor. The young adult that accosted Walker near the park exit was entirely unexpected, yet blissfully entertaining and fit extraordinarily well into the man’s plans. The completely healthy woman on the scooter that had taken the final seats on the bus had played her part perfectly—her timing couldn’t have been better. The effect her actions had on the young detective were blaringly apparent and gloriously successful. She had earned her pay and greatly satisfied her benevolent employer.

The current phase of the man’s plan was to simply spend rest of the night breaking the young detective’s spirit. The older man’s mind was sharp as a razor in any situation—especially under stress, annoyance, anger and despair—and he intended to fry the nerves of the detective in order to learn whether the young man could work as well under similar circumstances. Everything was going according to plan—perhaps even exceeding expectations.

For the first time in a long while, the man began to feel a rush of pleasure. Yes, he’d challenged other promising minds but ultimately they’d failed and all were crushed beneath his massive intellect. They were mere distractions as he’d patiently waited for the main event. During his time studying the Walkers, he’d still felt the need to test his mind, and a Rubik’s cube simply wouldn’t cut it.

For instance, the man had spent time tracking and profiling criminal minds in the Greater Detroit Area and contracting them to help with the minor details involving the surveillance of the Walker family. Little did these men know that if they succeeded, they would die. And if they failed? Well, they would still die, but at least the deaths of those who succeeded were quick and clean. There could be no loose ends.

The man thought back to a specific time when one man in particular had spectacularly failed him, and in turn had met with an equally spectacular end.

•••

One morning, a couple of months previous, Detective Walker was working a case away from home and his daughters were at school. Meghan Walker had arrived home early from one of her lectures. Later, the man had learned that the lecture had been canceled without prior notice—something about a water pipe breaking near the classroom.

As it turns out, the man currently had one of his new playthings—a despicable wretch called Eddie—inside the Walkers’ house, wiring up a system of extremely small, extremely expensive surveillance cameras in the living room. Seeing Meghan heading for the front door, the man contacted his subordinate by radio.

“Out of the house, back door, now,” he said calmly. “The wife has arrived early.”

“I’m finished anyway,” came Eddie’s reply. “Lemme stay and have some fun with her.”

“Exit the house via the back door now or forfeit your pay,” he demanded.

“Fine,” said the gruff criminal.

Within a few moments, the criminal came out of the backyard with a meter-reading device in his hand, and he proceeded to walk down the block and around the corner. The man waited for a few minutes until he was sure that his employee’s work had gone unnoticed by Meghan Walker. Finally satisfied, he pulled his van away from the curb and followed the other man’s route.

Upon reaching his subordinate, he slowed and allowed the man to enter the van. The younger man sat in the passenger seat, with Jeremy silently in the seat behind him.

“I got a little surprise for ya,” claimed the criminal.

“Explain,” commanded the man sternly. Jeremy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Remember how you wanted the cameras in the living room?” he asked. “Well, I found a
much
better place for them. I also got us a little somethin’.”

From his satchel, Eddie withdrew a small bundle of red and pink cloth and pressed it to his face, breathing in deep. When he unfolded it, the older man noticed that it was actually several lacy pairs of women’s underwear. He instantly realized that this criminal had stolen Meghan Walker’s dirty laundry. This was absolutely unacceptable. The man pulled the van back to the curb and looked Eddie dead in his eyes.

“You do not understand what you have done,” he said calmly.

“Of course I do!” replied Eddie. “Check out the camera placements. You can thank me later!”

The older man removed a tablet computer from his bag and switched to the surveillance feed from the Walkers’ house and scrolled through the different cameras. He watched with disgust in high definition as a completely nude Meghan Walker bent over before them and turned on the shower; several different cameras looked upon the striking woman’s nude form from every conceivable angle. This imbecile had placed the cameras in the master bathroom. This is the price one must pay for not divulging the purpose of his quest to the ignorant hired help.

“Nice! You really know how to pick ‘em boss!” the perverted criminal exclaimed, gazing at the beautiful woman’s exquisite form, oblivious to his master’s deadly gaze.

The man took a single deep breath.

“Jeremy,” he spoke, calmly pinching the bridge of his nose.

Jeremy lunged violently forward in his seat and plunged a needle into the neck of this half-witted criminal. Before Eddie could react, the idiot fell forward in his seat, unconscious, and Jeremy savagely dragged him into the back of the van.

Later that night, Eddie awoke on his back, naked, and bound at the wrists and ankles. It was dark, and he could feel that he had been laid upon cold steel. He was disoriented and couldn’t see; his brain was still foggy from the chemical used to incapacitate him. Suddenly, bright lights flashed on and blinded him with searing whiteness. He heard a voice.

“Eddie,” spoke the gentle, calm voice. “Eddie, you have failed me.”

“No! I didn’t re—”

“Silence,” demanded the voice. “You will now learn that there are consequences for your actions.”

The criminal heard the metallic roar of a massive machine whirring to life not far from where he lay. The surface beneath him began to violently tremble. After a moment, he felt strong hands on his shoulders as he was pushed across the cold metal surface. Suddenly, the hands were removed from his shoulders and he could feel nothing but the white-hot pain in his feet. He could smell blood; he could feel the hot spray splashing his face, yet he refused to believe it belonged to him. The unimaginable pain relentlessly crawled up his shins, past his knees, nearing his waist. The criminal finally and mercifully lost consciousness from shock and blood-loss as his body was dragged ever forward.

Thirty feet away, Jeremy and his cold, calculating employer watched as the pervert was pulled into the spinning maelstrom of steel that was the mouth of an industrial wood chipper. They were unfazed as the pulpy, near-liquefied remains of this disobedient miscreant were sprayed into the Detroit River. When the final bits of the man had been processed through the machinery and there was no trace left of him aside from the grisly scraps left in the end of the chute, the older man turned and walked back toward the van.

“Jeremy, I trust you will take care of this?” he asked, motioning to the machine.

“Of course, sir,” Jeremy obediently replied.

“And will you please remove the cameras from Mrs. Walker’s shower and relocate them to the living room? At your earliest convenience, of course.”

“As soon as the house is next empty, sir,” assented Jeremy.

•••

The man quietly laughed at this recollection, also remembering Jeremy’s earlier discomfort at the strategic mention of the wood chipper.
You’ll never work a day in your life if you do something you love,
he thought, and laughed again. This night was turning out to be more glorious than he ever could have imagined.

The man noticed Walker had finally managed to board a bus, thus leaving a few minutes of free time before he would need to initiate the next phase of his plan. As a treat, he leaned back in his seat and pulled out a remote control. Pressing a button, the interior of the villa was filled with the frantic, yet beautiful, music of Franz Liszt. Closing his eyes, gently humming along to the classical piece, the man visualized the things he had in store for the unfortunate young detective.

It brought an even bigger smile to his face.