The Lemon Meringue Boy

Part 31

I stood with Bill outside the shack, shivering from cold and fear. The summer warmth did little to dry my soaked clothes. 

"Okay Bill. There's some rules to be laid out. First off, you stay in the basement. Preferably somewhere that can't be seen from the entrance. Second, you stay quiet. I know that's asking a lot considering you're...you, but sounds carry from the basement easily thanks to that vent you tried to climb earlier. Third, and this is important, don't be stupid. This incorporates the first two rules and anything else your annoyingly creative mind can come up with! This is literally a matter of life or death. You screw up, it's on you. Ready?" I was breathing heavily, shaking with anxiety. I hoped Bill couldn't tell.

"Are you?" He could tell. I took a deep breath, in my nose and out my mouth.

"Let's hope so." I crept up to the screen door on cat feet, careful not to drag my soles on the cement. I grabbed the handle and, as slowly as possible, opened the door. The door squeaked unexpectedly, almost causing me to jump out of my skin. The sound was shrill, and though it would most likely have been ignored during the day, the night somehow amplified it. 

My heart was a snare drum, its beats rumbling in my throat. I didn't trust Bill to go through the house on his own. I grabbed his wrist and yanked him up into my arms. It was awkward as hell, but it insured that he couldn't give us away. I typed in the vending machine code and when the door opened I threw Bill into the elevator. 

"I'm going to go shower again. When you get down to the basement, I want you to stay quiet and wait for me. No funny business." On normal circumstances I would never trust Bill with a job like that, but seeing his face, pasty and terrified, I knew he would do anything to stay undiscovered. The door closed and I went up to shower. 

I tried not to make too much noise, but now that I was alone it would be easier to make an excuse for being up. To my relief, nobody got up while I was showering. My nerves were still on end as I got dressed in new pajamas, even though the hot water had helped a bit. I crept silently back down the stairs in socked feet. 

When I reached the basement I saw Bill again. He was asleep. I hadn't considered the possibility of him dreaming. I quickly ran back up the stairs to get more unicorn hair, silently praying that I got back in time. I used the butter knife to once again dislodge a strip of crusty rainbow hair from the porch banister. Nasty stuff. I sprinted back to the elevator, almost tripping up on the rope of trailing mane.

 I watched the needle above the door slowly arch across the glass pane. I bounced up and down on my toes in nervous anticipation. The doors finally opened and I half-fell half-ran down the cement steps, hoping with all my soul that Bill didn't dream about fire. Or knives. Or poison. Anything that could hurt, make noise, or destroy the shack. Even if the results were undone when he woke up, the magic didn't wipe memories. I stumbled into the basement, preparing myself for the worst.

The blood drained from my face instantaneously, and my heart almost stopped. There was a kid standing in the basement. I wasn't able to recognize him, seeing that he had his back turned to me. He was blonde and, judging by his height and the width of his shoulders, about my age. Maybe older.

 The oddest thing about him, though, was that he didn't seem to notice me. Or Bill. Or anything. He was positioned in front of a mirror, obviously in awe of himself. A narcissist I guessed. What was he doing in the basement? How did he find this place? Before I had a chance to stew on the questions, I heard a familiar voice.

"Pine Tree?"

 It seemed to be coming from the kid, but that wasn't possible. That was Bills voice. Bill was asleep. Then the mysterious boy turned around. The first thing I noticed was the gleam of his glowing yellow cat eyes, and the perfectly executed bow tie that hung around his neck.

"Bill?"