21. weird, world.
“I’d say ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this’, but we all know what saying shit like that aloud does.”
“Tempt the universe to prove you right?” Annie said with a cheeky smile. She straightened the doll’s dress and patted its dark curls. “I bet you’ve been places that are loads scarier, Charlie. I mean, you stabbed a Shadow!”
“Yeah, because it was about to kill my brother. And that’s high up on my list of things I never want to repeat.”
“Well, let’s not dwell on what might be,” Alberto said calmly, leaning back against the railing of the trajinera and tilting his face up to the sun dappling through the swaying tree branches. “Just enjoy the quiet ride and how pretty it is here.”
“It is beautiful,” Akiko said quietly, looking out over the rippling water at a flock of red and yellow birds chirping and squawking amidst the emerald leaves. “It’s good to be away from the crowds.”
“And my uncle,” Alberto agreed emphatically.
“Was he really all that scary?” Charlie asked.
“He was totally intimidating,” Annie said. “If Al hadn’t been right beside me, I’d have been properly terrified.”
“And then she shoots her mouth off at him,” the Alligator Boy said with a snort. “You would’ve been proud, Charlie. It was just the sort of brazen, bullheaded thing you would’ve done.”
“Atta girl,” Charlie grinned, punching her shoulder. “Gotta let the bastards know you’re no mouse.”
“A mouse squeaks loud enough, the lion’ll swallow it in one gulp,” Alberto cautioned wryly.
After the noise and press of the city, this boat ride was positively idyllic. Their trajinera, the arching roof painted in bright reds and greens, yellows and blues, slipped smoothly through the canal, passing by others so closely at times that the reedy man steering the boat would often lean over and exchange slaps and greetings with the other boatmen. The trajineras they passed were often bigger, carrying more passengers and sometimes even full mariachi bands, food laid out across the long tables in the center of the flat-bottomed boat.
There was no refreshment service on this particular ride, though-Alberto had had to cajole the man to even take them to La Isla de las Muñecas; the man had argued that it was far too late in the day for such a trip and that they wouldn’t have time to enjoy the sights before the approaching darkness made them turn back. After hearing this, and the suggestion that they return early tomorrow to make a full day of it, Robbie had shook his head. “I appreciate your concern,” he told the man, Alberto translating. “But we would like to do this sooner rather than later. Time’s of the essence.”
And the man-so thin and weathered by the sun that his skin looked like polished teak, the corded muscles of his arms standing out like rope against his bones-had clucked his tongue and shook his head for a moment before finally agreeing. “I don’t understand the hurry,” he’d said mostly to himself, but loud enough for them to hear. “The island will still be there tomorrow, and all of those dolls, too.”
But for all of his hesitancy in taking them, Señor Escarrà was friendly and cheerful, whistling and singing in a beautiful baritone as he punted them through the murky green water. He wore a large straw hat that had faded plastic flowers glued around the brim. A red beaded rosary hung around his neck, the large silver cross at its end flashing against his bared chest with each movement of his arms. They were the only passengers; a trio of tourists had thought better of joining them when they had heard their intended destination.
“Do you take a lot of people to the island?” Charlie asked him, trying out her newly learned Spanish. Rosetta Stone sure did deliver on its promises.
“Oh, dozens,” he replied easily. “Every day. Tourists such as yourself and teenagers from the city, looking for a cheap and spooky thrill. The island has become a very popular attraction in this area, especially since old Julian drowned. First that girl, and then Julian-people say there’s a curse on anyone who stays among the dolls too long.”
“Do you think the place is cursed?”
“Ha!” Escarrà grinned at her and winked. “Between you and me, not so much. I’m not so superstitious. But a good curse always brings in money, so I’ll play along with the thrill-seekers if it’ll pad my pocket a little more. The little girl-well, that’s not so strange. The canals can be dangerous, especially for children, and plenty drown here every year. And Julian, well, he was an old and lonely man who spent too many years alone. He went funny in the head and having all of those nasty dolls around him surely didn’t help at all. I saw him a couple weeks before he died and he didn’t look good. Too thin, too tired, like he hadn’t slept in days. I wasn’t surprised when they pulled his body out of the water. It was a shame, but hardly the work of ghosts or demons.”
“So you think he killed himself?”
“Maybe. Or else he just got sick, and careless, and stepped off his pier one night in the dark and didn’t have the strength to climb out. These woods can be very frightening at night, no ghosts necessary. There’s always sightings of jaguars in the trees, and crocodiles cruise through the canals after dusk-you see the red glint of their eyes reflecting off the water. Plenty of noises to give you the shivers and make your imagination run wild. I know I don’t like to be out on the water after dusk. I’d much rather be home in front of the TV, or at my brother-in-law’s bar with a bucket of Coronas, than out here at night.”
“Mmm, beer does sound good right now…”
Robbie and Akiko sat at the opposite end of the boat in bright yellow chairs; he had the journal in his lap, finger tracing the ballpoint pen ink imprinted across the page. “What do you think it could be?” he asked her in an undertone.
She shook her head slightly. “Gold? Precious jewels? I always thought the Order wanted the book because it revealed too many of their sins.”
“Like those ledgers mobsters keep tucked away in safes,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “The records of all their dirty dealings, information that would put them away forever if it fell into the right hands.”
“And the intrepid gumshoes inevitably get ahold of it in the third act, and threaten to go public if the mobsters don’t cut them a square deal.”
“Just so.” He closed the journal and pushed it firmly back into the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Something tells me, given everything we’ve learned about the Order, that whatever this journal leads to… It has to be something really dangerous. Something even… world-shattering. Not to be melodramatic, but if the Order already has so much power and they’re still so set on getting this book, whatever this leads to must be particularly nasty in their hands.”
Akiko nodded silently before glancing behind them, eyes roving over the trajineras following their wake. She tilted her head, as if trying to catch a distant sound, and a faint furrow appeared between her eyes.
“What is it?”
“I… Don’t know. Back at the market, I thought I caught something, and just now…” She took a deep breath and pressed her eyes closed. Straightened her shoulders and began twisting the amethyst ring on her hand. “It’s… Interest. Curiosity. Focus. Patience. There’s something… watchful-protective, even.”
“Is this a good protective?” Why couldn’t bad guys always wear black-people calling themselves the Order of the Dragon should stick out of a crowd like neon warning signs, draped in robes or carrying obvious standards emblazoned with the bloody reptile of their namesake.
“I can’t tell. I’m not even sure if it’s directed at us, if the person I’m sensing has anything to do with us-I have to work harder at focusing my gift.”
“Just don’t push yourself too hard,” Robbie said firmly.
“Here we are,” Escarrà called cheerfully. “Right around this next bend. Isla de las Muñecas.”
For all of its hype, Charlie expected something far more gruesome. As the little patch of land came into view, the dilapidated shack was the first thing to catch the eye, leaning unsteadily on cracked boards. Then the eye began to pick out the smaller details, the little specks of color strung up between the trees, hanging from clotheslines and wires strung between posts. Tiny figures swayed in the breeze that rippled the still, muddy water around the small pier. “It doesn’t look so terrifying,” she said, disappointment audible. For all that she had griped about being forced to visit someplace oft described as ‘nightmare fodder’, a part of her was frustrated that this one didn’t live up to her expectations.
“Ah, but you haven’t seen anything yet,” Escarrà promised. “And with this island, it’s all about the details.” The trajinera bumped against the pier and Escarrà quickly looped an anchor line around a post. “There’s a donation box at the shack-but as you’ve brought a doll, you’re not obligated to give.”
“The donations go to buying more dolls?” asked Annie, looking askance at a decapitated baby doll hanging upside down from a nearby tree, leg nailed directly to a branch.
“Mmm-hmmm. One of Don Julian’s relatives owns the island now-a nephew or a cousin, I think. He doesn’t come out here more than once a week, to collect the donations, but apparently Julian’s will demanded that he continue to leave dolls for the girl.”
“Who was this girl?” Alberto asked. “I’ve never heard the story, beyond the bit where Julian found her body in the canal.”
“There’s not a lot else to tell,” Escarrà said. “As far as I know, there isn’t even any official record or evidence that the girl ever existed. Some people say she was a product of Julian’s loneliness-that he imagined finding her body and hearing her ghost in the night. Some claim she was his illegitimate daughter; that they came out here to live away from prying eyes and she slipped away one day when he wasn’t watching, only to drown. Others say she was just a local girl, or maybe belonged to some day trippers enjoying the canals. According to Julian, he found her right there-” he pointed to a spot beside the pier. “Already dead. Perhaps she had floated down the canal. He told the next boat to pass by, gave them her body to take back to the nearest town, and that night he began to hear her crying. So he bought her a doll. Left it on the pier, only to wake the next morning and find it on the table beside his bed. He became obsessed with finding her enough toys, convinced that she was unhappy because she had no one to play with.”
Charlie hopped over the railing of the trajinera onto the pier. “I dunno, if I was a little girl, I’d be pretty fucking terrified by this spectacle,” she said thoughtfully, stepping closer to a doll missing one arm and one eye. Something huge and black and related to the cockroach family was currently clinging to its face, antennae waving gently.
“Time passes. The dolls fall apart. No one cares enough to repair them, or take them down. And hoodlums come out here sometimes to deface them further. There’s been all sorts of graffiti sprayed on the shack.”
“And Don Julian chose to live out here? By himself?” Annie asked.
“He was always an odd bird. Never felt comfortable around people. Very much an old soul, even when he was a young man. Preferred to live simply, without any of the amenities of today. No electricity, no running water. Just a hearth and a pot to boil water in.”
“With jaguars and crocs and huge swarms of bugs. Muggy heat and no bathroom.” Charlie shuddered. “God, no fucking thank you.”
Robbie followed her onto the pier, one hand tight around the strap of his messenger bag. He hesitated before stepping fully onto the island, head cocked and back stiff. There… was something here. Something very faint. A sort of… beeping? Like sonar, or Morse code. But muffled, as if it was buried under something. He didn’t feel the telltale cold of a full spirit-there was no lost soul trapped here, looking for a door that had not yet been opened. But there was a deep sadness that had sunk into the very ground. Even into the trees that tilted and leaned drunkenly, overfull with their rotting doll-shaped fruit. There had been something-or someone-here at one time. They had walked in such repetitive circuits around this tiny speck of land that there were emotional grooves carved into the grass and dirt.
“Ugh ugh ugh!” Annie said suddenly, stepping past him. “As if the dolls weren’t creepy enough, it looks like half of them are full of bugs!”
“Not a bug person?” Alberto teased.
“Depends on the bug-I’m fine with fireflies and butterflies and dragonflies. Praying mantises and earthworms. Roly polies. But beetles and mosquitos and maggoty things? No thanks. It’s probably a good thing we didn’t eat anything on the way here.” She ducked around a mildewed ragdoll, button eyes hanging down from loose thread and red ants boiling out of a gaping seam.
“Well?” Charlie said to Robbie in an undertone. “See anything?”
“No…” he whispered. “But I can hear something…” He started forward, hand flexing unconsciously at his side.
“Any place in particular we should leave our doll?” Alberto asked Escarrà.
“Anywhere you can find room, I suppose,” the man chuckled, absentmindedly fingering his rosary while he leaned against his punting pole. “Most of the obvious, prime locations are probably claimed by now. Didn’t bring a hammer or some nails with you, did you?”
“No. And I’d rather not nail a doll to a tree.”
“More than a little disturbing, hmm? People bring these human-shaped offerings for a dead girl, and then they essentially crucify them.”
“I’m going to follow Robbie,” Akiko said. As she walked, she batted at the air, as if swatting insects away from her face. A plausible explanation, given the steady thrum and hum of multi-legged life in the trees. No one else could have known she was brushing away the invisible tendrils and webs of deep, lasting heartache, a sorrow that had practically cocooned the entire island. How did one speck of land become so soaked in pain? It was a wonder she didn’t hear the sobbing, echoing through the years, frozen and fixed at this spot like flies trapped in amber…
“Don’t get too caught up,” Escarrà warned. “The sun’s starting to set, and we’ll need to head back in a few minutes. I told you there wouldn’t be enough time for a proper look-see.”
“Hear that, Rob?” Charlie asked, stepping over a fallen branch, broken dolls scattered around it like victims of a terrible explosion. “We’re sort of on a tight schedule here.”
“Shhh,” he said sharply. “Let me listen…”
“Al, help me find a place to put our doll,” Annie suggested. “Maybe near the shack?”
While Escarrà fanned himself with his straw hat and Robbie began weaving around the trees, Annie hesitated in the sagging doorframe of the shack that had once been Don Julian’s home. Even with the sunlight streaming through the glass-less windows and gaping cracks in the walls, the interior was dim and musty. There was a heavy smell of some kind of animal musk, of general decay and the dampness of swampy land. “I wonder if it looked better when that man was alive,” she said to Alberto, who had stepped up behind her. “If he kept it nice and tidied, with patches over the holes. Or if this was what it was like when he lived in it…”
“Imagine having all of those eyes staring down at you,” he replied, glancing askance at the dozens of toys affixed to the walls with bits of fraying rope and rusted wire. “It would make the most balanced of people come unhinged, I think.”
“I’ve always hated those,” Annie said with emotion, pointing at a particular doll sagging forward in its restraints, its bald head stippled with holes that had once held plastic hair. “The ones that blink when you tilt their heads back and forth. I had one as a little girl, and one of the eyes always stuck. Like it was trying to wink at me. But it gave me the creeps. I used to have nightmares about it coming to life and creeping into my bed-especially after David let me watch Chucky.”
“That movie never scared me-I used to laugh at how ridiculous it was. I mean, being killed by a doll? What an embarrassing way to go. But after seeing all of this… I’m surprised no one’s made a horror movie about this place.”
“There are some things too disturbing even for the movies. Hey, there’s a bare patch of wall. Let’s just leave this leaning against it. That’s good enough, don’t you think?”
“Suits me just fine.”
Annie moved quickly, careful not to brush up against anything as she stood the stiff doll in its white dress, black curls cascading over its shoulders, in the corner. There were several other dolls lining the wall, some fallen over to rest facedown on the floor like tiny drunks, that looked newer and cleaner-fresh replacements from recent visitors. “There. Let’s catch up to the others.”
Alberto stepped aside to let Annie escape first and sternly told himself that it was nothing more than an uncanny valley disquiet that was making his skin crawl-all those human faces staring at him, blank and malformed in ways that were even more unsettling than his own unusual features in a mirror. There was nothing here but insects and the decay of time. The tiny bodies surrounding him were not alive. Had never been alive. If they moved now, it was only with the wind or because of the small creatures that had turned their hollow heads into nests…
The dolls were not blinking at him-that was just a trick of the mellowing light that shone through the cracks.
He was panting slightly when he caught up to the others, and at Annie’s questioning glance he merely shook his head and fixed his eyes firmly on Robbie, who stood frozen in front of a large tree. Charlie stood at his right, Akiko to his left, and directly before him was a jagged crack in the bark that revealed a hollow and rotten space in the trunk.
“Rob?” Charlie prodded impatiently. “Robin?”
“He’s just been staring,” Annie whispered to Alberto. “Like he’s watching something we can’t see.”
“Akiko, are you getting anything?” Charlie demanded.
“Sadness. A very deep, chilling sadness. Layers of it-from several people. Someone sat here once, at the foot of the tree, and did something-a ceremony. And then they left something here. It holds their pain. And there was fear, too, a choking fear that-”
Robbie moved sharply, thrusting his hand into the crack without hesitation and making Charlie hiss between her teeth. “Are there scorpions around here?” She turned to look at Alberto. “Poisonous spiders or snakes?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
“God damn it, Rob, you don’t just go sticking your bare hand where creepy crawlies might be!”
He braced his other hand against the tree and leaned forward, reaching deeper into the hole. Annie saw his face as he tilted it, and the glassy gleam in his eyes made her shiver. She remembered watching Uncle as he sank into trances, as he Walked the spirit paths and prayed to the gods. There was always something disquieting about a person’s face when they were in the grips of the Other World. She did not envy Robbie his visions-even imagining them terrified her.
“Hurry, hurry, my friends!” Escarrà called just out of view, voice echoing off the water. “I will be shoving off soon, with or without you! And this is not a good place to spend the night!”
Robbie grunted softly as he drew his arm out of the tree. Something was in his hand-a beautiful porcelain-bodied doll in a rotted, filthy dress-and something else was crawling up his arm. Charlie quickly smacked the giant centipede away, face screwed up with revulsion, and made a show of rubbing her hand clean on her jeans. “Ick ick ick,” she muttered, as Robbie stared down at the doll. “If that thing bit you, I hope you’re not allergic,” she said grimly.
“This was Patricia’s,” he said, voice flat. He tried to straighten the dress, only for the fabric to fall apart in his fingers. Despite the state of the dress, the doll beneath it was still intact, the gorgeous paint detailing its face still bright and glossy. “It was her favorite. She had it with her, during her last fever. She never let Maddy go. He told their mother that they should have been buried together-that Patricia would miss Maddy-but she couldn’t bear to part with it. It was the last thing they had to remember her by, since the fire destroyed the pictures-”
“Robbie, I think it’s time to come back now,” Charlie said firmly, hand closing around his wrist. “Can you hear me? Come back now, follow my voice back.”
“…Red?”
“Yes, babe.”
He blinked, as if the waning light had blinded him, and shook his head sharply. “God. It’s been a while since-not since Las Vegas.”
“You good now?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked down at the doll again, brushing away the last fragments of the dress. “I’ll explain later.” He opened his messenger bag and quickly shoved the doll inside beside the journal. “We can go now. We should go now.”
“Sure it’s not bad luck to take a doll away from here?” Annie asked, glancing around as if half-expecting the other toys to reach out and stop them.
“There’s no ghost here to be angry about it,” he said firmly.
“Just sadness,” Akiko said. “The sadness of loss. I think there are a lot of grieving parents that come here, to leave mementos from the children they’ve lost.”
“Yes. And this isn’t an ordinary doll. We can’t leave it here for you know who.”
“Well, well, how did you like the island?” Escarrà said cheerfully as they climbed back aboard. “Was it macabre enough for you?”
“Oh, it’s plenty gruesome,” Charlie agreed. “Imagine I’ll be having some nightmares tonight. It’s the bugs that really make it.”
“So, will you be heading back into the city proper tonight? Because if not, I would like to recommend the Hotel Rosario, just off the docks-my sister owns it, and there’s a very nice bar attached to it that her husband runs. Buckets of Coronas for only 65 pesos! And last summer they had a new big screen TV installed-there’s bound to be a good game on tonight.”
“Sounds charming,” Annie said with a smile. “Does it have a view of the canal?”
“It does indeed, and if you keep your windows open you can even hear the mariachi band that plays on the square every night. There’s dancing, good food-a perfect capper after a day on a trajinera, if I do say so myself.”
“Just out of curiosity, Señor Escarrà, do you happen to get a commission for every referral to your sister’s hotel?”
The thin man laughed until his rosary bounced against his chest. “It’s so miniscule as to be invisible, I assure you, and the hotel is actually very nice. A bargain, given how popular this area is for tourists.”
The Hotel Rosario was positively quaint, a converted, slightly worn three-story house that had vines crawling up one wall, red awnings stretched above the doors, and multi-colored flowers growing in a garden that curved around the front. There was indeed a renovated bar built on as an addition, with a plasma screen TV currently playing soccer, iced buckets full of beer, and plates of nachos as big as your head, the peppers and salsa piled high atop the cheese and chips.
Annie and Alberto tucked in with a gusto, Robbie sandwiched between them at the long bar. Charlie gave him firm instructions to start eating while she nipped off to the restroom: “If there’s not a noticeable dent in that plate by the time I get back, I’ll start force-feeding you,” she promised. It was important for him to ground himself back in reality after using his abilities, and if he didn’t eat soon a migraine would set in.
When she stepped out of the restroom, still buckling her belt, she glanced down the hallway. The door had been propped open to let the cooler evening breeze in. And leaning against one of the posts supporting the red awning was Akiko, arms wrapped tightly across her chest.
“Not cold, are you?” Charlie asked, bracing her arm against the opposite post as she crossed one foot over the other.
“That island lingers,” she replied. “Sometimes it takes me a while to pull away from things, or people.”
“Rob has the same problem. He’ll be a sleepwalker for a while yet, unless he gets a good jolt of adrenaline. It’ll be interesting to hear what he saw.”
Akiko nodded as the breeze tugged at her ponytail. “Charlie, I think we’re being followed.”
“Beyond the obvious, you mean.”
Another nod. “Some people have very distinctive emotional auras, for lack of a better term. I could pick you out of a crowd if I needed to. Annie, too. And this one… It’s like a radio signal that fades in and out: one moment it’s loud and clear, the next it’s so faint I can almost think I’m imagining it. Someone is following us and they’re trying to hide, trying to mask their attention.”
Charlie’s hand rubbed against her belt buckle, a seemingly unconscious movement. “A baddie?”
“I don’t know. The emotions I’m picking up aren’t negative, per se. But who else would be following us, if not one of the Order?”
“All sorts,” Charlie said casually, though Akiko knew her tone belied whatever she was thinking-she’d begun to go red at the edges with anger and frustration. “Could be a thief thinking we’re stupid tourists and easy pickings. Could be one of the men that works for Alberto’s uncle. If Al’s truly his favorite nephew, he could have assigned us a bodyguard regardless of what Al agreed to. Just keep an ear out for this stalker, and let me know if you get anything more definite on them.”
“I will.”
“And in the meantime, come inside and eat something. There’s no use standing out here and getting sucked dry by the mosquitoes.”
Akiko glanced over as Charlie flashed her a quick smile before turning and stepping back inside.