I ran a hand over the top of the cage, shivering just to touch the doll legs and arms that lined it. I was expecting to find a heavy padlock, but all I could feel was a series of tightly wrapped coils of metal wire. I knelt down, investigating the bottom of the fence, and I found a hinge that would drop the front of the cage down to the ground if the wire was unspooled. Could it be that easy? I tested the wires and found that it wasn’t quite as simple as I thought it might be, so I turned my attention to the stone table and began searching for something to get Andy free. In the clutter of dismantled toys, I found a pair of pliers that looked like they might do the job. I was just ready to go to work when my eyes came upon the faded photograph that was stuck under a rock on the back of the table. It was so out of place in this horrid hole that it caught my attention at once. It was of a boy, no more than eight, posing next to his mother. It was summertime; she was in a 1950s-style one-piece bathing suit, he in a pair of checkered swimming trunks. They were both smiling, she the sweet, caring smile of a mother, so very proud, and he the forced, slightly silly grin of a boy who doesn’t want his picture taken. Before I realized it, I was holding it in my hand, staring at the fraying print, enthralled by the strangeness of it. Without another thought, I slipped it into my pocket.
I went straight back to work, bearing down on each wire until it snapped free with a little plink. After the first one, I stopped, waited, watching the box full of stuffed animals, certain that at any moment, the calm surface of cotton would open and he would spill out. He never did, so I focused on the cage, snipping each and every wire without delay, refusing to look back because I knew that would be the end of it. If I had seen so much as a single toy shift in that pile, my resolve would have broken. One after another, the wires fell away, until after one last snip, the front of the cage fell down onto me. It was heavier than it looked, but I caught it in the crook of my arms and gently set it down.
And there he was. Andy. My Andy.
His legs were covered in the red handprint sores, and I was almost afraid to wake him because I knew how badly it must hurt. Even so, I couldn’t wait, not any longer, so I leaned into the cage and brushed my hand against his cheek.
“Andy,” I whispered.
Once more, he moaned, and I instantly had a vision of the creature shambling out from his hiding place. I dared a single glance back, seeing nothing but shadow.
“Andy,” I said a bit louder as I cupped my hands around his face, shaking him as I covered his mouth. He tried to twist away from me, and I pressed my fingers tighter against his mouth. It wasn’t working, this back and forth, and both of us were making too much noise. I had to end it, had to get us out of there, so I mashed my right hand against his mouth and grabbed his ear with my left and began to twist it. His eyes shot open, and I tried to silence him as quickly as I could. It was only half a scream, and all I could do was pray that the droning toys were enough to cover it. There was fear in those eyes, the terror of someone waking from a nightmare only to find they were still dreaming. Then his gray eyes refocused, found mine, and began to water. I took my hand away from his mouth.
“Jack,” he whispered.
“Shh,” I said, motioning to the room around us.
I helped him sit up, and I realized, for the first time I could remember, my brother was crying. “How?” he said. “How did you find me?”
I didn’t have time for this, neither of us did, but I dug into my pocket just the same. I found the orange jelly bean and held it in front of his eyes, a tiny pearl in my hand. He took one look and nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks. Then he buried his face in my shoulder and began to softly sob.
“Andy,” I said, finding the sides of his face with my hands. “You have to listen to me. We have to get out of here. We’re not safe. You’re going to have to walk—”
That was all I got out before the pain took over and the ground dropped away under my feet. It was an instant agony beyond compare, a pain in the roots of my brain, like my skull being ripped apart. I couldn’t see. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus on anything other than the pure misery. There was a laugh somewhere in front of me, and I caught a glimpse of the Thief standing upright, peering down into my face with a grin. The metal crown was gone now, as were the glass lenses, and his blank, pink eyes leered into mine. I realized where the pain was coming from. He was lifting me off the ground by my ponytail, his toothpick arms stronger than I could even begin to comprehend, as he held me like a fish on a hook. Who knows how long I would have stayed there, dangling and kicking as my scalp ripped free from my head, but a voice, weak but resolved, ended my misery.
“Put her down.”
It was Andy. I couldn’t see him. I could barely see anything, but his voice somehow reached me, brought me back from the awful brink of misery. Then my feet found the floor, and I fell, dropping like a bundle of clothes. My eyes were pricked with tears, but when I glanced up, I saw enough through the blurry haze to catch a glimpse of Andy, holding something out in front of him as the Thief loomed over him, covering him in a gaunt shadow. I squinted, unsure of what he held in his hands. Then the light caught it, and I knew. Andy had snatched up the globe that the Thief had set down, and he clutched it to his chest like… like a child with his own toy.
“You want it?” Andy asked, and the ghoulish thing began to reach forward. “Don’t move!” Andy screamed. “You take one step and I swear to God I’ll fucking shatter it, you hear me?”
My eyes were clearing, and though the back of my head felt as if it were bleeding, I found my footing and stood back up. I still had the pocketknife, and I almost, in a fit of silly anger, lunged forward and began stabbing the Thief. One look at Andy told me how foolish my plan was. We were in control, but only just. Any wrong move and we might not ever see the sunlight again. Far off, I heard the rolling bass of thunder, and the Thief cocked its head, seemingly hearing something that I couldn’t. Then he turned his pink rat eyes back toward me, his brow furrowed as if he were considering his chances. Andy read the whole scene like a page from a book.
“Try it, motherfucker!” he screamed as he held the globe aloft. “It’s yours, ain’t it?” he asked, shaking it lightly. Flutters of light caught in the center, and all at once I realized it was a snow globe. “It’s important to you, huh?”
The Thief nodded slowly.
“Just like that Superman. It probably wouldn’t have looked like much. I mean, a burglar would have just gone for a TV or jewelry. But you. You knew. Somehow, you knew.”
I slid next to Andy, quickly putting distance between me and that thing, and the Thief made no move to stop me. We had him now. As absurd as the whole thing seemed, we had him. He was as much our hostage as Andy had been his, all because of that simple white globe. I still didn’t know as much as Andy did, but I was certain that toy would be our ticket out of this place. All we had to do was play it smart.
“Let’s go, Andy,” I said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “While we can,” I added in a whisper.
“No.”
I was already backing away when I heard it, when the enormity of what he had said set in.
“Andy. Let’s go. Now. Right now.”
He turned, stared me in the face, and repeated, “No.” Then he took a step toward the lanky ghoul. “We’re not going anywhere until we get back what belongs to us.”
“No,” I said in his ear. “We can’t stay here, do you hear me?” Another low rumble shook the ground.