No Strings Attached

Chapter 2

Author's Note: Setup chapter, sorry.

No Strings Attached

II

Somehow, despite the fears that plagued her, she laughed at the boy's observation. This was too strange to be anything other than a dream. So why was she unable to wake herself? When something bumped into her, she jumped and her heart leapt into her throat. That should've woken her up.

"Sorry, it's dark in here," the boy apologized. She said nothing; it was fairly dark but it wasn't pitch black. He should've seen her just fine. As he pushed past, his hand grazed hers again. Cold and wet with sweat, it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. Silently, she continued to watch him. His head twisted and turned as he tried to take in details around them, his eyes squinting every time they saw something new.

There was nothing to see, really. Door after door, all appearing the same. The boy halted in front of one, tempted to open it. For the first time, she allowed herself to truly study him in a feeble attempt to identify him. He was a tick taller than her, short hair astray from just waking up, his PJs clinging to his lanky frame, his shoulders slightly slumped. He reached his hand toward the mysterious door handle, seemingly determined to figure out where they were.

The moment his hand touched the knob the door flew open. Nearly falling flat on his face, he was stopped only by a fist that flew out and struck him on his nose. He stumbled backward, his balance never returning as he tumbled into another door across the hall. The load crack of his head snapped his neck forward. For a moment there was no noise from anywhere or anyone; the boy just cradled both his bleeding nose and sore head as he tried to gather his wits.

The origin of the fist – another young boy – poked his body outside his room and quickly, nonchalantly said, "Sorry. I thought you were someone else." The sound of another's voice broke the girl from her daze and she watched as the newcomer helped his victim to his feet. "I'm Pudge. What are you doing here?" he said.

The boy with blood flowing freely from his nose managed to accept the awkward hand up and introduced himself as well. "Isaiah. And where is here?"

Pudge raised a brow, confused, then darted his eyes around the hall. His entire body tensed once he realized they weren't at his home. For a moment it looked as though he wanted to retreat back into the room he had emerged from, but he held his ground.

Aware that he wasn't about to get an answer, Isaiah turned his attention away from Pudge and focused on the blood that was finally slowing down. The girl, having watched all this silently, decided it was time to speak up and step in. Three steps toward Isaiah and she was close enough to touch him; a light hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her, squinting again. "My name's Miranda. Let me look at your nose to make sure it isn't broken," she said.

"Thanks."

He allowed his hands to leave the damaged nose and fall to his sides as she grabbed his face and twisted it around, checking every angle. If it hurt or made him uncomfortable, he said and did nothing to show it. The silence was awkward, however. She decided small chat would help calm them down. She said, "I have a brother that's always getting into fights. So don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

She punctuated it with a wink. Fleeting eye contact was made long enough to realize the action had made Isaiah uncomfortable, but he carefully buried any of that before she could apologize. Swollen and bleeding but not broken, it appeared as though Isaiah's nose would heal just fine. Indentations on the bridge of his nose had her ask, "You wear glasses?"

"Yeah."

"That explains a lot," she said out loud. Then she let go of his face, allowing him to move freely again. "Your nose looks fine. The bleeding's already stopped."

He wiped his hand across his face a few more times just to be sure. Pudge and Miranda were already moving on, having taken a few steps down the hall. Satisfied that his nose was fine and not wanting be left behind, Isaiah turned to follow them. He was about to catch up when a shrill of a voice stopped them all dead in their tracks.

"Isaiah!"

He spun around just in time to get nearly bowled over as yet another child joined them. Desperately she clung to Isaiah as though he were the only lifeline in the world. Despite not having his glasses, he recognized this girl immediately. He returned the enthusiastic embrace and said, "Carrie! Where have you been?!"

It was a stupid question according to Pudge. Obviously, she'd been here, wherever here was; this strange dreamland of a million doors down a never-ending hallway, lit by small nightlights on the base of the walls. When Carrie didn't answer – in fact, she made not another noise – the other three kids tensed. Their reasoning for the sudden anxiety was unknown. Perhaps the silence was more deafening than any shriek could have been.

It tougher for Isaiah, who held in his arms his cousin that no one had heard from or seen in months. One day she had just vanished. Extensive searches were conducted by the town, the authorities, and total strangers willing to help… no one found even a drop of evidence. Suspects were questioned, tips poured in, nationwide alerts were sent out and still not a word. Yet here she was, in this weird world, clearly frightened, tired, and hurt.

A fresh cry from someone else caught Miranda's attention and she looked down the hall where Carrie had appeared. A young boy, probably no older than eight or nine, was standing alone with tears rushing down his cheeks. Red in the face and gasping for air with each new sob, he looked absolutely pitiful. Miranda carefully approached him, knelt next to him and placed a comforting hand around the boy's shoulders.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" she asked.

The boy didn't answer. It was Carrie that said something. She pulled herself away from Isaiah long enough to explain, "He was here before me. His name is Thomas."

Armed with his name, Miranda softened her voice even more as she spoke to Thomas again, "How did you get here, Thomas?"

Thomas wiped away some of his tears, but still sniveling he could barely answer. "I-I-I… I was…I was taken by uh, uh… a clo… clow –"

"A clown," Pudge finished for him. Finding everyone's eyes on him, Pudge crossed his arms protectively over his chest. He looked away when he said, "Well, am right, aren't I? All of us were nabbed by a clown. Great. My parents are gonna whoop my ass when they find out about this."

Miranda wanted to lecture Pudge about his language but realized it wasn't a good time. Instead, she focused her attention on Thomas. She gave him a reassuring squeeze and said, "Don't worry. We'll get you back home."

"We will?" Pudge questioned with his voice a tad hostile. No one responded, so he took it as his cue to keep going. "We don't even know where we are so how can we get back home?"

"We can't stay here forever," Miranda argued. "We'll find a phone and call for help."

By this point, Carrie had managed to gather herself. Isaiah kept his hand on her arm, afraid to let her out of his sight. "We can't find a phone. We can't even find the door out. And… and we weren't the only ones…"

Her voice faded and her body began to quake as a new emotion gripped her. Isaiah squeezed her arm attempting to console her but it was futile. Pudge wanted more information – her mental state be damned – so he turned to face her properly and demanded, "Where are they? The others? How did you get separated?"

Isaiah got defensive but kept his cool. His free hand was raised to Pudge in an attempt to silence him and keep him away. Pudge got the hint and softened his posture, yet was still impatient for an answer. Carrie found her voice and choked out, "They're gone."

"Gone? Where did they go? Did they escape?"

"Pudge."

Isaiah's voice was stern, so this time Pudge apologized. That one, harsh utterance of his name and Isaiah had given Pudge all the lecturing needed. In an instant the boy knew that Carrie did not need to be pressured to give details and that she needed time and space to process everything. No more questions – for now.

"Now that the cast is together, it's time to play!"

The loud, booming voice caused every child in that hallway to jump. Thomas clung to Miranda, and the girl knew she needed to remain in control of the situation. If not for herself, then for the little boy that relied on her at least. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to stay there for long.

The disembodied voice rained down when it said, "First, a costume change!"

Miranda felt her entire body go numb; before panic could hit everything faded to black. When she blinked, she found herself in a new location and alone. Dazed, she tried to take in her surroundings. It was a brightly lit but small room, with a lack of anything on the wall. Even the light source, which appeared to come from the ceiling, couldn't be seen. All around her she could find dozens of outfits for all types of children in all different sizes. It was though someone had placed her inside a walk-in closet.

Something flashed next to her and she spun to see what it was. She turned just in time to spot Pudge fading in next to her. Confused and panicked, the boy screamed, "What the hell just happened?!"

The presence of Pudge did nothing to ease Miranda's quickened heartbeat. Apparently, her mind had already been made up whether she was going to like him. Based on the look he held in his dark eyes, he wasn't too fond of her yet, either. Once he realized he was alone with her, he turned his head away and muttered, "Great."

With his back turned she observed him; how he was shorter than her, smaller than her, and definitely not fitting of the "Pudge" name. Scars along his back and a fresh bruise on his side caught her eye and she couldn't look away. He must have felt her eyes on him, because she could see his back go rigid and he barked, "What?"

"Nothing. Sorry," she said. Suddenly she realized that he was only in his underwear. A glance down at herself and she discovered that she was wearing her typical night attire, a baggy shirt that once belonged to her brother. Somehow, that had gone unnoticed up to this point, and she chalked it up to the pure confusion of the entire ordeal.

Before she could suggest anything, Pudge had started rummaging through the clothes scattered in that bland room. She joined him, and after checking the size on a few things she was ready to put something on that made her feel more protected. Pudge had already thrown on a pair of jeans and was wrestling with a shirt.

"Um, can you… turn away?" she timidly asked.

He stopped, eyed her for a moment, and then quickly spun around. Red stained the tips of ears, indicating he was aware of their situation. Hurriedly she tossed on the shorts and shirt she had selected. Covered once more, she said, "It's okay. You turn back now."

He did just that, but still didn't look directly at her. Pushing past, he decided to take charge. There was only one door in that room which meant only one way out. Courageously he swung the door open, ready to face whatever weird event may happen because of it.

Ahead of them lay the same hallway they had just been transported from. Simultaneously, Isaiah stepped out of a room across from them. Waiting in the middle of it all, Carrie and Thomas refused to look relieved at their reappearance. Based on the dread they carried in their expression, no one should be happy about anything at that moment.

"Much better! Now, let's play!"