Link to part 2
https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/10phn14/the_big_rock_candy_mountain_part_2/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
It was a flight for our lives and a walk of shame all at once. We realized we were in the clear eight blocks away from the park, no sight nor sound of the hatters.
We took shelter in a bus stop, the grey, ghost like figures around us paying us no heed. With every hour in this place, the real world seemed farther away, less consequential.
“Don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock? “ I say, breaking the silence.
“A skill I’ve always wanted to pick up, but never knew anyone to teach me. “ the old-head replies.
“Heard of a way of kicking the cuffs against cement, friend of mine was always going on about it. “ I offer, trying to start the ball rolling on a solution.
“I’ve heard about that trick a few times. Even saw a guy try it once.
Didn’t break the cuffs, but it did skin him from wrist to palm. Had a stroke from the pain I think, looked like it at least. “ The old man is dismissive, his tone sets me on edge.
“Okay, then what do you fucking suggest? “ I spit.
“First, I suggest calming the hell down. This problem isn’t complicated, it’s just labor intensive. Phrase my parole officer loved to use.
We find a hardware store, get a hacksaw, or an angle grinder if we can find one, and we cut the chain. It’s not gonna be fun, but it ain’t rocket science. “ Now that the danger is over I notice a collected edge to Rabbit. The guy might be a little prone to freaking out, but it’s caution, not cowardice.
Rabbit’s predictions ring true and his plan works. With 8 hours of work, and a few dozen hacksaw blades, we manage to free ourselves.
I’ll leave out the part where I spike up, giving only the most casual of wipes to my grime and metal shaving encrusted arm, while rabbit takes shaky pulls off an object that is often titled “Glass flower holder” in shady corner stores. It’d kinda spoil the wholesome bonding vibe.
And so began my first week, on the path, with rabbit.
I had a lot of questions, about him, the path, the mountain, everything. And to be honest, a lot of them were pretty stupid, just me flailing around in the dark for something that would help me.
Eventually Rabbit summed things up in the most accurate way possible.
“Kid, trying to make a game plan in this place is dumb as hell.
If it’s not some rule of nature not working, it’s some rule from here working against you.
If it’s not the lunatics trapped in here with us, it’s some creature sticking it’s hand out of a shadow.
And if it’s none of the fucking above, it’s going to be some brand new hair-in-the-joint you Didn’t see coming.
It’s all about being adaptable. “
I’m not going to give you a comprehensive list of every thing rabbit showed me in that first week. If you’re looking for some droning list of spooky rules, I’m sure you know where to find one.
But I will go over a few of the more important, or interesting elements of our situation.
First, time is pretty stable on the path, but space is a whole different matter. Miles seem to sneak by, I realized this one night, walking along what started as the 401 highway in Ontario , after a night of stimulants and walking which wouldn’t have brought us even close to the next town I realized we were on the outskirts of the city of New York.
Second, some objects were from the path and others belonged to the real world. This doesn’t really matter much except for certain things , mainly food and water. After a while, eating or drinking anything other than items from the path ( Sorting them was a process of trial and error at best.) would lead to starvation, dehydration and more, esoteric consequences .
And last, but certainly not least was the thing that brought me here in the first place. Drugs.
When I first got into this shit storm, I thought it was going to be one massive life fucking bender where the pot of gold at the end of the organ failure rainbow was waking up in Shangri-La.
Shows how much I know.
It’s more like a tightrope walk of debauchery. If we use too little, we begin to fall off the path.
Happened to me once when we were being followed by something long, feline and with a piss and butter reek to it that made my skin crawl and my heart hammer in my chest.
Didn’t want to be distracted and I gritted my teeth through a day of the shakes to try and keep a clear head. It started with a feeling like a strong wind, but one that was blowing through me. And progressed into a sense of dissociation, of being spread so thin, in body, mind and soul that I couldn’t exist.
Luckily Rabbit was there with a rig and some life experience. Too much party fuel? Well… fucking drugs man. Can’t fight when you are on the nod, too much blow and you stop eating, track marks turn into sepsis, all that shit that makes being a waste of space unpleasant has lethal consequences here. And as far as drug supply? Every day some bag of powder, bottle of booze, or foil of tar shows up in a pocket, Rabbit’s backpack, or even just laying, untouched, on the street. Like the universe loves watching us destroy ourselves.
Rabbit and myself had been taking shelter in an old abandoned apartment building for a few days, New York was a good place to learn the ropes, and while we Didn’t actually have to worry about being found or kicked out of anywhere ( at this point civilians, people from the real world, were nothing more than barely visible ghosts.) trying to relax when you’re constantly being walked through is a hard thing to do.
We had a small fire, and the party favors for the evening were mason jars of an extremely hard liquor neither of us recognized, and a sandwich bag full of some kind of benzo ( Fucked if I know which one, I’m a junkie not a pharmacist, and besides, I’m not writing the jolly Roger cookbook for stoners. This shit kills you, avoid it.)
Earlier in the night I asked Rabbit what brought him to the path, why he wanted to get into the mountain, and after a few days with the old guy, his answer shocked me.
“I did something awful. No excuse, no justification. The type of thing that in any kind of a just universe would be a one way ticket to hell.
I know I deserve it, but what can I say, I’m a coward. And if you make it to the mountain, it voids your expiry date. You play by the rules there you don’t have to see what’s on the other side of life and death. “
And yeah, I pried, tact isn’t my strong suit. And the old-head told me, no I won’t tell you.
Not because I think you can’t handle it, shit, if you are reading this, you are the type of person to seek out the most brutal things you can find.
And not because I want to protect rabbit. For what it’s worth I agree with him.
It’s because I want you to understand how bleak my situation is, if only in a tiny way.
I want you to feel what it’s like to have to grab on to any piece of wreckage just to avoid drowning.
So don’t worry about what he did, he could be the worst person in the universe, but sometimes you have to let someone’s history start the moment they meet you.
The mood was dark, and I tried to lighten it as much as I could.
“Okay, so, elephant in the room.
What is with the Alice in wonderland bullshit? “ I say
Rabbit laughs and shakes his head.
“Wondering when you’d ask that, pun completely fucking intended. “ Rabbit raises his jar of not quite clear booze for a toast, I oblige, “
It’s just that, bullshit.
Hell from what I hear hasn’t even always been Alice in Wonderland.
C. S. Lewis characters before that, Tolkien before that, you get it.
Happens back in the real world too. I remember back in the early 90’s every guy who thought he was a Scary mother fucker called himself ‘Freddy Krueger ‘, if you asked why, he’d say something about how he collected his debts when people were sleeping. Just some stupid barely connected reason to have a spooky nickname.
People want to be scarier than they are, but 99% of them don’t want to put any effort into things. So they find something everyone knows, slap a cheap coat of paint on it and try and claim it. “
Rabbit looks like he has more to say on the subject, but we both go silent as we hear it.
The tapping seems random at first, gaining volume as whatever is making it gets closer.
“Is that… “ I say as I recognise the tune.
The voice screaming the words is full of bass and rage, so loud it damn near shakes the thin tenement walls.
**One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small… **
My heart begins to pound, I have a sinking, nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach that has nothing to do with the mystery booze we’ve been pounding back.
Of course, I’m the first to stick my head out.
**And the ones that mother gives you, don’t do anything at all… **
“It’s fucking him. “ I I growl at rabbit, my voice a low whisper.
“What do you think he wants? “ rabbit says, fumbling around a pocket and producing a two barrel derringer so small I think it has to be a model or cigarette lighter.
“Considering he is wearing a God damned costume, nothing good. “ the tension in my voice is obvious, fight or flight makes me shake, demanding I make any decision other than just standing here.
The night is late and the hallway is dark, but just to be an asshole about things the full moon backlights The Sadhatter through glassless windows, showcasing him as the avatar of dementia he seems to be.
His costume is Buster Keaton by way of home depot. Telling a story only obvious to rabbit and myself.
He took the clothing of the hatter’s he’d killed and using whatever was available, (by the looks of it mostly thin metal wire and rusted industrial staples) fashioned it into something that seemed just as much of a weapon as the black steel cane he tapped against the wall.
The bent and mottled top had seemed to be adhered to his head, not moving an inch as he stalked down the hallway.
If I said he painted his face, you’d picture some kind of smeared clown warpaint. But this guy wasn’t some Juggalo, he used what appeared to be engine grease to create intricate, overlapping shapes and swirls on his egg shell white skin, lines clean, points looking as sharp as the homemade knife hanging from his belt.
His overcoat was studded with small nails, overlapping layers of cloth and leather that dragged, fraying on the floor, slaves stained with crimson and grime.
This man was death, he was fear, he was a walking weapon that we left for dead.
Rabbit is running down the hallway a full second before he looks back and screams “Run! “, I’d be angry, but my mind has no focus other than getting away from this slasher villain We’ve pissed off.
**And if you go chasing rabbits, and know your gonna fall… **
The Sadhatter’s tone is manic, almost joyful in a sick way. He makes this ancient lyric seem like a personal threat, spurning Rabbit and myself faster down the hallway.
As I see rabbit fall forward, I realize this was part of his plan.
I hop over the trip wire, losing my balance, I stumble, letting my momentum carry me into the wall at the end of the hallway, intending to use it to stop myself and sprint toward the stairwell.
A dozen bursts of pain light up my left side, as I rip myself from the wall, I see the dozens of sowing needles, nearly invisible jammed into the wall, a good portion of them now dripping with my blood.
I realize this means The Sadhatter must have been in here with us for a long time. Completely unnoticed.
Rabbit’s eyes are wild, I see the web of fishing line and metal scrap in the door of the stairwell before he does, but my shouting does no good, drowned out by the maniac chanting of killer hunting us. Rabbit hits it at full speed, becoming hopelessly tangled in an instant.
The Sadhatter points his mace like cane at me.
**Tell them a hookah smoking caterpillar, has given you the call… **
His grin, that fang toothed, bloodletting grin makes my next decision for me.
I duck low and cover my face, running into rabbit with every bit of force I can muster with a body practically crumbling from abuse.
But it’s enough, the line snaps, and we hit the ground in a tangled sprawling mess. Bleeding, and bruised, but alive.
“We need to hide. “ rabbit whispers, practically leaping down the flight of stairs to the next floor.
I don’t disagree. There is no knowing how long this guy has been here with us, and no way to know how many more surprises he’s set up.
We can’t fight him, we can’t outpace him, the only option is to try and wait him out., Hope finds some other slight or shiny object to fixate on.
It’s not a plan with much hope, which seems par for the course on the path.
We slink through the hallway, trying doors until one finally swings open.
The furniture is sparse and rotted, useless for barring the door. He creep to the furthest bedroom, slowly closing the crumbling plywood door.
The building is silent, dust and mold floats down like January snow, catching the moonlight.
Terror is wondering what is going to happen, horror is when it does.
Rabbit and myself are terrified as we crouch down, trying to listen tor any sign of this not-quite-clown we have been cursed with.
We are both overcame with horror as one of the thin drywall walls explodes, The Sadhatter bursting between two studs to stand looming in the small room, in the midst of a swirling vortex of drywall and asbestos.
I’ve lost all sense, I fall to my back and scramble backwards to the far corner of the room, trying anything, no matter how futile to get away from this monster.
Rabbit is screaming, , waving his peashooter in the general direction of The Sadhatter and myself. His hand shaking so badly he’s just as likely to hit the ceiling.
I try to stand, but this Impending Doom of a person drops to his knees, face inches from mine.
I see deep gin blossoms in his crimson painted nose, bloodshot eyes run wild with anticipation and hatred. His breath is an astringent fog of alcohol and spoiled food, I feel death close in as he begins to speak.
“An alcoholic and two worthless fucking junkies walk into purgatory.
Know what this joke is missing, Kev? “
The Sadhatter let’s this hang for a moment, before moving even closer.
“A punchline. “
The first blow is hard enough to put my head two inches into the drywall behind me. It’d have turned my nose to pulp had there been a stud behind my head.
The rest come in a five second wave of violence so painful and overwhelming I wouldn’t know where to begin in describing it. I’m left on my side, vainly trying to cover my face, blood pouring from my nose and lips, everything from my ribs to my nuts aching and bruised.
I try to calm myself, I know this is it, there is nothing I can do about my situation. I wait for the blow that splits open my skull, or spills my guts to the floor.
But it doesn’t come, what does is a small, almost gentle kick in the stomach.
“So, I’m pretty much done, you can get up if you want. “ The Sadhatter says, his tone casual. Somehow this emotional turn on a dime scares me even further.
I spit out a tooth, getting to my knees. I keep expecting a knife in the stomach as I slowly stand, but it never comes.
The Sadhatter pulls out a dirty white handkerchief and starts to wipe the blood from his hands, Rabbit is still mumbling threats and waving his gun.
“You always leave someone for dead when they save your life? “ The clown says.
“We were in handcuffs man. “ I say, showing him the metal bracelets still attached to our wrists. “We only managed to get the chains cut a day later. “
Rabbit goes silent, cocking back the toy-like hammer of the miniature pistol.
“And what do you think I was doing when I was rummaging through the pockets of those edgy little shit heads? Finding the keys Kev.
And Rabbit, I replaced the cartridges in that pellet gun with Good N’ Plenties last night, you two sleep like the fucking dead.” There is no mistaking the warning in the killer’s tone.
Maybe it was panic, maybe it was stupidity, but rabbit pulls the trigger.
Two muffled clicks show our tormentor to be telling the truth.
His face goes dark and he spins around in an instant, he grabs rabbit with his left hand and holds his lethal looking cane poised to strike in his right.
“I hate someone who doesn’t understand an eye for an eye.
My buddy Kev here, he got me fucked up, so I fucked up him up. Now it’s over. Now, we get along just God damned great! Don’t we Kev?
You though, you seem like the kind of slimy little fucker that never forgets a punch in the face, am I right?
You hold on to that shit, you let it stew, you’d never forget the ass kicking that’d make us even, and one night I’d find myself with one of those tiny bullets in the back of my skull.
So what do I do Rabbit?
Cards on the table, you two seem like the most trustworthy of the scumbags around here. So killing you is kind of a waste.
Fun, but a waste.
I could take your hands, you’d probably survive, but It’d be a pain in the ass down the road.
Or, you could understand something.
If you hesitate for a moment to help me, if you question one order, if I see one look I think means trouble, I don’t just kill you, I turn you into a goddamn totem.
I take you apart, and I do my level best to keep you alive when I rearrange the pieces, and display you like a fucking Christmas tree. With the way things are around here, the clout that’d give me, probably worth more than whatever you have to offer anyway. “
I’m silent but internally I’m screaming at rabbit to lower the gun, to give this fucking madman the submission he wants.
The old head is a survivor, he puts away the useless weapon, and nods to the Urban Legend who holds his life in his hand.
With a flick of his wrist The Sadhatter embeds his cane into one of the rooms mold ridden walls.
His grin seems genuine now, despite being robbed of none of it’s danger. He holds out his hands, still blood damp, “The name’s Mike by the way, this whole ‘Sadhatter’ Thing, it’s to rile up the edgelords out there.
Fuck me, I hate Manson, I really do, but the little hobbit got one thing right. You have to be a little witchy when you kill, or no one takes notice. “
And with that, we were saddled with a psychopath. A dangerous hanger on who we didn’t dare try and escape.
I try to see some kind of silver lining to this situation, to see Mike as some type of bodyguard, or mercenary, but he isn’t. He’s no Ronin at our beckon call, he’s a curse we brought upon ourselves.
I’d call him a monster, but we met our first true monster walking down a vacant city street none of us recognised.
“But how does that explain how I got here, trust me, when I get wasted it’s not with the intent to end up in a fucking German art film. “ Mike says to Rabbit.
“I don’t know everything Mike, I pick up bits here and there, and I give them a pass through the old bullshit detector.
I’m sure there are more ways to get on the path, but I sure as hell don’t know anything about them. “ Rabbit replies.
The three of us stop, smelling something none of us have inhaled in a long time, tobacco.
For all of the hard drugs, all of the eighty proof booze, I haven’t seen one pack of smokes. Every store is bare, not so much as a stray butt on the street.
The smell of the one vice that seems forbidden to us takes our focus to a small alley, nothing more than a ten foot deep cubby between black windowed buildings.
At first he seems no more strange than any of the other soul crushed wanderers we have found on the path.
Six feet tall, wearing a long brown trench coat that would seem at home in any film noir. The figure is bent over a garbage can, cigarette hanging from it’s puckered toothless mouth, a strange light coming from within the refuse bin.
“We need to go. All I know about those things is that they steal kids from the real world for God knows what, can’t be hurt, and don’t take kindly to people who distract them. “ Rabbit says in a whisper, already looking around for a clear exit.
Mike rolls his eyes, “ Jesus rabbit do I have to do everything myself? “, he says before turning away from us and closing his eyes.
The killer stands, silently for a moment, when he opens his eyes he is clearly seeing someone Rabbit and I aren’t.
“Okay, so you’re saying the chances are about 50/50?
Whatever, I want that coat. “ I don’t like the implications of Mike’s one sided conversation.
“Who was that? “ I ask Mike.
The man starts a beeline toward the thing in the trench coat, talking as he goes.
“Either the ghost of Jack The Ripper, or a random voice in my head. Take your pick. Either way, he’s right most of the time. “ The fixated lunatic replies, offering no further justification.
Rabbit and I look to each other, we have a conversation without saying a word.
We don’t think the killer is going to survive, but we’re also scared shitless of the consequences of running if he does.
There are sounds coming from within the garbage can, things none of us have heard in a long time. The laughter of children.
It raises a hand over the portal, a whip thin skeletal limb, no muscle, no fat, nothing but bone and skin. It’s fingers twitching with greed it reaches down.
“Hey fuck face! “ Mike screams, hurling his cane end over end at the creature.
It faces us and any thought I had about it being human was proven wrong.
It has no eyes, it’s mouth a puckered sphincter lined with thin quill like teeth.
It’s a skeleton, covered in loose fitting flapping flesh, as I look closer I can see the coat is part of the thing, twitching and rippling like a bat wing.
The cane hits the thing, but thuds harmlessly into it’s hanging folds of Ill fitting skin.
Mike is still charging head on as the entity begins to take in a giant, heaving breath, and in a moment, all three of us are stopped cold.
Later I’d find out the thing was taking years from our life. It’s how they feed, and why they prefer to pick kids, more life to take.
We can’t breathe, we can barely stand, the creature advances on Mike, still inhaling, still taking some ethereal thing from us none of us even knew we had.
Mike is in motion as the creature starts to open its mouth, skin splitting and tearing, dripping grey blood. The thing is taken off guard as Mike grabs it’s thin wrists.
That feeling of being drained relents, and Rabbit and myself are left coughing and trying to collect our thoughts.
The creature is strong, Mike falters within a few seconds, arms shaking with the effort of restraining the creature.
“Little help boys! “ he screams at us.
It’s no sense of friendship that drives us forward, no, it’s pure coercion. To even call our relationship with Mike transactional, would be a massive overstatement.
I slam into the things right leg, it’s no thicker than a broomstick, but barely moves an inch. I dig my heels in, grabbing handfuls of skin and pushing with all my might, not even sure of the plan.
Rabbit gets around the thing, looping his ancient leather belt around it’s neck.
“No gas to siphon in my tank is there, ass-lips? “ Mike screams into the creatures face.
It’s ungodly strong, but as rabbit leverages himself, climbing the thing, using the belt to hang off the ground, it falls.
We all take some cuts and bruises as we hit the ground, the creature begins to thrash and fight, but it can’t get leverage.
Mike mounts the thing with the grace of a professional fighter, rabbit and I, cut, bleeding, and spending every ounce of our strength to help keep the thing pinned.
“We can’t hurt you, but we don’t need to, do we?
A little birdie told me that you need to do your little penny wise thing every couple of days, is that true?
Well, you might as well get comfy, because we have no where to fucking go, and right now, you don’t seem to be able to do shit about us. “ Mike’s tone is a weapon in and of itself, mocking the creature, enraging it.
I wish I felt as confidant about our ability to keep this thing here as he did. I can feel deep cramps in my thighs, and inch by inch my grip is slipping.
The thing laughs, a Hollow haunting noise, then there is darkness.
I come to for a moment, flying through the air, then again, crumpled against a wall, rabbit motionless beside me.
My vision fades in and out, the ground around me is soaked with something, not quite blood, but close.
The first thing I notice is the creature.
It stands twelve feet tall, a massive, black boned horror, it now resembles a hellish combination of stick bug and streetlamp, wicked pointed limbs protruding from it at random angles, it swings it’s spotlight of a face toward me.
I see Mike as a shadow, standing on the top of a building. He shrugs at me, “I tried, you guys are on your own. “ with a tip of his hat, and a grin that makes me want to break him in half despite my inability, he fades into the night.
I hear the thing behind me take slow lumbering steps as I try to wake Rabbit.
It’s no use, he’s out cold, or maybe dead. But the thing is, as much of a piece of shit as I am, I’m not that heartless jester on the roof.
I get his limp body over one shoulder and start to hobble toward a thin alley.
For all I know, this post will be my last, it’s being typed with my free hand as that thing closes in. But I’m going to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I bought the ticket, now I get to take the ride.
Link to part 4
https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/114dpv9/the_big_rock_candy_mountain_part_4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button