Toymaker, page 15
“Slow down, darling.” Mom held up a hand, her brows pinched. “Take a breath.”
“There is a room full of things in Nana Rai’s room,” Avery said slowly, “that are also in the Hunt.”
“Like what?” Mom said.
Avery couldn’t remember what, exactly. She didn’t know why she was even telling them about the room. She just needed to tell them everything, confess to it all. So she just started naming things, like a leather book and a gingerbread house and feathered quills and a box of rocks. None of those things, she realized, was in the Hunt. But she kept naming things, hoping something would make sense. Avoiding what was in the backpack.
“Hon,” Dad said, “your nana travelled the world.”
“Your father’s right. She has storage rooms all over the house; some are so full you can barely open the door. What does this have to do with Bradley?”
Avery was laboring. Her head was going to float off her body. The bacon was burning. Or maybe it was her brain.
“Everything all right?” Aunt Mag entered, tying her hair back.
Avery took a deep breath. “I took the elevator down to the—”
“What?” Mom said.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Avery said. “Jenks said Nana only locked the room because Flinn and Meeho played in the elevator too much.”
Mom looked worried and slightly embarrassed. “Avery—”
“You don’t get it! Nana Rai has—”
“Avery.” Dad turned on his dad voice. Watch your tone.
Avery paced to get blood pumping through her legs, to stay ahead of the fluttering in her stomach. “I know I shouldn’t have, but it was open, and I just… it goes down to a big room, the one behind that weird castle door. She used to have a library in there; that’s where all the books came from. She donated them to that new wing so she could build a virtual studio with integrated treadways. Bradley said he’s never seen anything like it. The walls are, like, hyper-conductive with some sort of—”
“Bradley went with you?” Mom said.
“I took him there. I followed him into the Hunt. He was pulling clues from—”
“Wait, wait,” Dad said. “You followed him? But you don’t have—”
“It was the hiwires Nana Rai gave me,” she said. “They’re special.”
“Did you know about this?” Mom asked.
Aunt Mag shook her head. “You sure about this, Av? The rooms are locked. We’ll need a locksmith to open them. And I don’t know anything about a-a virtual studio. How did you open the door?”
“I wasn’t dreaming. I can take you.”
“No,” Aunt Mag said. “I don’t want you on the elevator anymore. Whatever’s down there can wait until after the ceremony. We don’t need any more distractions. How did you even get to it?”
Avery swallowed. “Jenks showed me.”
“Jenks?” Mom said.
“Hugo’s son.”
“Hon.” Aunt Mag shook her head. “Hugo doesn’t have a son.”
“He’s adopted. He’s about my age, wears glasses, always has a stocking cap. Always dresses the same, takes his shoes off in the house.”
“He’s been in the house?” Aunt Mag said.
“He comes to help Hugo, but most of the time he’s hiding. I don’t think Hugo treats him well, so he stays out of his way. I was talking to him that one day in the shed, Mom. He was hiding. I didn’t want to get him in trouble.”
“The shed?” Aunt Mag said. Mom hadn’t told her about that.
“The one in the woods, near the stream.”
“How did you get in there?”
“It was open, I swear. There were just crafty things in there, like a workshop. A bunch of stuffed toys and this.” She held the marble out. It was warm. It was always warm.
Mom and Dad were confused. She was holding a shiny metal ball like evidence. It was just a marble. Avery dropped it in Aunt Mag’s hand. Aunt Mag seemed to weigh it, looking into her palm. A smile softened the hard wrinkles around her eyes.
“Where’d you find these?”
“They were on the bench,” Avery said. “In a jar.”
She worked the marble around her palm. “She would use these to warm her hands, said it eased her arthritis. She’d roll two of them in one hand, I think they’re called Baoding balls, and rock in a chair. I haven’t seen these in a long time. I thought they were lost.”
“The jar was full,” Avery said.
Aunt Mag nodded. Avery felt relief. She wasn’t in trouble after all, maybe. But there was still one more thing. She reached into her backpack. The wood blocks knocked against each other. She latched the eyebolts together, held it by the head. A line was drawn for a mouth. A line that, in the Hunt, she’d seen open and close when it talked.
“Huh.” Dad took it from her, the appendages swinging loosely. He rubbed his thumb where the red heart had been painted. “Where’d you find this?”
“It was in the shed.”
“What is it?” Mom said.
“It’s the guide in the Hunt.” He held the puppet by the head. “It goes by BT.”
“Bad Toy,” Avery said.
“I hadn’t heard that one,” Dad said. “What was it doing in the shed?”
“Hugo,” Aunt Mag said. “He still goes back there, something to do with Nana’s network. He was sort of Nana’s surrogate the last several years, doing things she just couldn’t do anymore.”
“But the puppet is old,” Avery said. “I cleaned the dust off. It had been there a long time. Way before the Hunt.”
“That is odd,” Dad said.
“I think…” She searched for words. “Bradley told me about these veils, in the game. Nana Rai wrote about them, too. One of her books had all these stories in it, stories she said are really true, like they exist beyond the veil. Bradley thinks they’re real, too.”
“What kind of stories?” Mom said, her brow digging in again.
“Elves and reindeer. Santa Claus.” She looked at her dad. “I think Bradley’s in reality confusion, Dad. I know Avocado has a protocol for this, that you have to be tested when you work with virtual realities. And this Hunt, I’ve been there. It’s so real, Dad. He’s got to stop playing. He needs help.”
Mom and Dad shared concern with unspoken glances.
“Look, he stays in his room all night,” Avery said, “in the Hunt. That’s why he’s so tired. He believes these fantasies are true, that dreams can come true. He told me about his-his-his drum set, how he dreamed about it when he was little; then Nana sent him one for Christmas.” Avery looked around the room. Frowns deepened and aimed at her. “He believes Santa Claus is—”
“Good morning, family!”
Bradley startled everyone. He entered with his arms raised, wearing a smile reserved for morning talk shows and beauty pageant contestants. His shirt, without wrinkles, was tucked into pressed khakis with a thin belt. He inhaled deeply.
“Do I smell bacon?” Oblivious to the puzzled looks, he went to the stove and peeked under a grease-soaked paper towel. A strip of bacon crunched between his teeth. He moaned. Actually moaned. “Why is everyone so glum? It’s a beautiful day.”
It was overcast and windy.
“Your sister is worried about you,” Mom said.
“Why is that?”
“She’s afraid you may be suffering from reality confusion.”
He looked at Avery and snapped his teeth. It wasn’t threatening or even intentional. More of a reflex.
“Dad,” he said, “you want to administer a test? I’d be happy to take it. If it comes up positive, I’ll submit to reality therapy right now.”
“How about starting with no more engagement,” Dad said, “in the Hunt.”
Bradley nodded, chewing. He left the kitchen without a word. The spiral staircase creaked loudly. Avery’s parents and Aunt Mag muttered to each other. Bradley returned with the surfers in hand. He put them on the counter, lenses up.
“Done,” he said.
They stared at the sleek gear like, at any moment, they would hop up and dance.
“Done?” Dad said.
“It was a waste of time, Dad. All that research a total waste. I’ve prepared a report. I’ll submit it after you and Mom have a chance to look it over. In a nutshell, the Hunt was what you suspected: data harvesting. But I believe its primary directive was distraction. I think whoever it is wanted to slow down our projects, send us down a dead-end street.” He snuck another slice of bacon.
“Is that it?” Mom said.
“I’ve got some ideas on how we can mirror the technology, integrate it into the Apricot project.”
He smiled brightly again, dark flecks stuck between his teeth. He peeked out the window and inhaled deeply.
Mom turned on her X-ray vision. “Are you feeling all right?”
He looked around, seeing the worry bunching on their brows. “Honestly, everyone, I feel great. I think it was just jet lag. And, you know, when I get tangled in a project, it weighs on me.” He nodded at the surfers. “I decided last night there wasn’t anything there. It feels like a lead blanket has been lifted. I’m good now. And ready to eat.”
“Your sister told us about the elevator,” Mom said, “and Nana Rai’s library.”
Bradley nodded thoughtfully. Looked at Avery with a hint of sorrow and admiration. “It was impressive, wasn’t it? Nana had some real skills. You need to look at it, Dad.”
“Not now,” Aunt Mag insisted. “Whatever’s down there can wait.”
“Agree,” Bradley said with a smile. “But wait till you see it, Dad. It’s on a level with Avocado’s lab. I can see why she was hiding it. A rig like that and everyone would want a piece.” He pointed his last bite of bacon. “Nana was probably a little reality confused herself.”
“You think she was in the Hunt?” Mom said.
“No.” Bradley laughed. It was piercing and loud. “Wait. Are you serious?”
“What about this?” Dad held up the puppet. The limbs knocked together.
Bradley snapped his teeth. He took it from him carefully. Like a child holding a puppy. “Where did you find this?” he said.
“It was in the shed,” Dad said. “Out back.”
“Huh.” That was all he had to say. He had answers for everything else. He shined the painted heart with his thumb.
“You think he’s real,” Avery said.
He held the puppet up. “Him?”
“The Toymaker. You told me so. You believe he’s here. That’s why you talked Dad into coming early, to find him. You didn’t want to win the game, you wanted to find the Toymaker. You said that, Bradley. Don’t lie.”
Bradley listened patiently. He laid the puppet on the counter, gently, and put his hands on his hips. Stared out the window. He was touching his fingertips together, like they felt funny.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Fear spread through Avery’s stomach. She didn’t know what he was about to admit. But then he said, “I was caught up in the game. I think, for a moment there, I wanted a reason to keep doing it. But, I swear, I never believed it was real, Av. It’s just a game.”
“And the veil?”
“Stories.” He turned. “That’s all.”
She waited for him to rub his head, anything to give away his bluff. But he looked so genuine, soulful. Almost guilty. For what, she didn’t know. Misleading her? Was he just messing with her, and now that she’d told their parents, he had to pretend it was something else? They’d be beyond worried if he admitted what he’d told her.
“Give me the test, Dad. I’ll do whatever it says. I feel fine, but I know reality confusion can do that, too. I just want to be here. Honest.”
Avery wanted to believe him.
“Let’s all just let the day play out.” Mom picked up the surfers. “I’ll hang onto these.”
“Absolutely,” Bradley said. “Lock them up. We’ll turn them over to Avocado when we get back.”
Mom pointed at both of them. “No more elevator or opening locked doors until after the ceremony. Agree?”
Bradley held up three fingers, as if he were ever a Boy Scout. He hugged Mom, then Dad. Aunt Mag, too. Then he hugged Avery. Arms at her sides, she felt strange.
“Is that bacon?” Uncle Sage entered the kitchen, rubbing his hands. “Please tell me it’s ready.”
Aunt Mag ushered him to the side till the hugs were finished. Then they grabbed plates. Dad began serving mounds of scrambled eggs, hash browns and piles of bacon. Uncle Sage wasn’t surprised when he heard about the library being turned into a virtual lab. Nothing Nana did was surprising, he said.
“Mom, I wanted to talk to you and Aunt Mag,” Bradley said with his mouth full. “I have an idea about the hike.”
14
The doorbell played a merry tune. Avery was halfway up the spiral staircase, debating whether to answer it. The celebration committee was in the round room. Certainly, they’d heard it. There had been more laughter that afternoon than the past three months.
Avery stared at a painting. It was a white landscape beneath a white sky, the horizon delineated by the promise of morning light that would never arrive in the Arctic winter. Tracks dotted the landscape, leading to a lone figure in a barren world.
“Hello, welcome.” Bradley answered the door, the wind whistling into the house. There was polite conversation. He introduced himself. “My sister’s around here somewhere.”
She was as still as a mouse. Not a single creak from the steps. Listening to the guests shedding their coats, the casual banter and soft footsteps in stocking feet. The smell of Dad’s award-winning three-bean chili. There was a rise in voices and greetings of friends. All mourning seemed to have passed. Christmas was nearly here. Exactly what Nana wanted, her mom had said.
Avery climbed the stairs unnoticed.
She slid across the third floor, muting much of the popping sounds the boards would make, and opened Bradley’s room. The bed was made. The shirts folded in drawers; laptop stored in its case. She resisted snooping through his briefcase.
She went back to her room. She’d kept her promise. It had been two days since she told her parents. Not once did she use the hiwires or even try to open Nana’s room. They’d been on the desk for two days, same spot. Never moving. She stared at them. Something was wrong.
The lenses are up.
She slid them on and entered a neutral virtual space, pulled down a menu and searched the history. No one had logged on since she used them. She was certain, mostly, that no one else could use them anyway. They were keyed for her eyes only. But if anyone could find a workaround, her brother could. And he would erase the log if he did.
The history was intact: where she’d gone, what she’d done. The last time she used them was with Bradley. She watched the recording of that day: standing at the tree, a clue springing from the gift. Bradley opened a map. The terrain highlighted possible treks to a cabin. The cabin.
“Avery?” Dad’s voice echoed in the empty space.
She stripped off the hiwires. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. The stairs were creaking. Quickly, she lay on her bed. Her dad knocked softly.
“Hey.” He peeked in. “Lunch is ready.”
“Okay.”
He nudged the door. “You all right?”
“Fine. Just tired.” She sighed. “It doesn’t feel like Christmas.”
He didn’t disagree. This was a traditional Christmas with snow and cold. Just like home. Temperate holidays and blinking palm trees were all she knew. “Why don’t you come down, get something to eat. Everyone’s in the spirit.”
“Maybe later.”
“You feeling sick?”
“No. I just need a nap, that’s all. I’ll be all right.”
He wasn’t buying it. The edge of the bed sank under his weight. He felt her forehead like she was a child pretending to be sick from school.
“Bradley seems fine, trust me. I’ll insist he get tested, but he’s not showing any symptoms.”
“That’s great.” She tried to smile.
“Don’t worry, Av.” He kissed her forehead. “Christmas is coming.”
She felt a chill. He used to do that when she was little, kiss her on the forehead on Christmas Eve, when she was snuggled up and excited. His whiskers sharp, his smell comforting. But he never said that. Christmas is coming.
She listened to his footsteps fade, the stairs creak until there was only the distant sound of merry laughter and the wind outside. She waited a bit longer, then grabbed the hiwires. She slid down the hall, pausing at the steps. Nana’s room opened like always; the green smell of the strange tree and old things wafted out. She quickly closed it behind her, let the strangeness wash over her. Gray light tossed filtered shadows, turned objects into lurking ghosts. The elevator was open. It hadn’t been open all the other times.
Round, black rocks were on the floor.
The last time she was there, she’d put them back in the box and set them on a small wicker table next to a pail of paintbrushes and feathers. Someone had knocked it over. Am I imagining that? She wanted to find proof something was wrong. What did her psychology teacher call that? Desirability bias.
It occurred to her that Mom might come up, especially if Dad said Avery wasn’t feeling well. Avery rushed down the hall, put pillows under the blanket, then stuffed one in a stocking cap to make it look like she was nestled in. It could work if Mom only peeked into the room. Still, she’d better hurry.
When she returned to Nana’s room, the door rattled in place. It was locked. She tried again, then stepped back and approached slower, not sure what it was she’d done to make it open. It was still locked. What’s different? Her hands were empty.
The hiwires.
They were back in the room. She’d put them down when she stuffed pillows in the bed. Bring your hiwires, Jenks had told her the first time. She went back for them, pausing at the steps. Conversation had grown louder. Plates clattered on tables. She approached the door, gripping the hiwires in one hand.
