D Gillespie - The Toy Thief

“And you had the bear with you?” he asked nervously.

“Yes ,” I said in frustration. “I already told you.”

He ignored my tone and kept looking at the wild tangle of trees and ferns. It was dark overhead, the looming clouds threatening to soak us at any minute. The darkness gave the entire place an even more ominous look, as if the creature wouldn’t think twice about leaping from the shadowy thicket to rip us to shreds.

“You think… it’s in there?”

I shrugged, not wanting to answer either way. “Dunno. I don’t think so.”

It was true. I wasn’t just trying to convince myself. The way he responded to light, sound, people. He was skittish, the type of creature that would hide in a cellar, a mausoleum, maybe even a burrowed hole in the ground. Something dark, cool, and musty.

“You sure about that?” he asked, still staring at the horizon.

“I’m not sure about anything. I just know it hates people. There ain’t many here, but there are some.”

He nodded, clearly agreeing with me.

“I think we’re good. But I also think you’re right. It smelled your bear. It had to pass through here.”

He swung the machete nervously and said, “All right. Just wait here,” and he marched in.

“No,” I said, grabbing his shoulder. “We have to at least have some kind of plan or something.”

He brushed me off. “This is how we make a plan. We have to check things out first. See if we can track it. See if we can learn anything about it.”

“I know that,” I said, having to step in front of him to keep him from entering the Trails. “But we need… I don’t know… a method or whatever.”

He reached into his backpack and retrieved a giant grocery bag, which he shook just in front of my face. “See this?” he asked. “This is my plan.”

I peered in, squinting at the multicolored contents before frowning in confusion. “Jelly beans?”

He smiled.

“Yep. Dad’s Easter presents. Haven’t eaten them for probably three or four years. I kept throwing them in one of the drawers in my room. I’ve told Dad a couple times that I hate them, but he just forgets, I guess. Either that,” he snorted, “or they’re just the cheapest thing he can find.”

The frown on my face didn’t lighten in the slightest. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, he has to save money somehow, and I guess—”

“No,” I blurted out. “Not how expensive they are. I mean, the jelly beans. How the heck are jelly beans going to help?”

“Oh,” he said. “They’re markers. See…”

He took a few steps toward the Trails and dropped one. Then a few more steps, and another jelly bean, then another. Finally, I figured out what he was up to.

“It’s such a maze in there,” he said. “There has to be some way to mark where I’ve been. And these are pretty damn easy to see. Whenever I start down a trail, a few jelly beans here and there will let me know it’s good to go.”

“Sooo… we’re like Hansel and Gretel.”

“If that helps you,” he replied sarcastically. “And who’s we? I told you to stay out here.”

I glanced around the darkened field and the sky above, billowing with clouds that seemed to grow more impatient by the second.

“Nope,” I replied. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together.”

“Fine,” he said, his voice like a deflating tire. “Just stay close to me.”

The Trails were as tight, confusing, and awful as ever, and we made our way through the tangle slowly and methodically, stopping every few feet to drop a jelly bean. Luckily, Andy’s bag looked like it held hundreds, maybe even thousands, so we were never in much risk of running low. Before long, we were doubling back on ourselves, the ground lit by the multicolored markers. I’d been in the Trails plenty of times, but I’d never really studied them before that day. There was more to see than I ever realized or wanted to. We weren’t in the wild, not really, as the fields that surrounded the trails were no more than a quarter of a mile away from a home, an easy sprint for a kid. Still, it felt like a desert island, a place so very far removed from the world of authority that it could have been Mars.

One trail led us to an open grove where dozens of baby doll parts were strung from threads that dangled from the low-hanging branches. I gasped when we stepped into it, certain that this must be the entrance to the Toy Thief’s lair. Then we started seeing the pentagrams carved in the wood, and the truth became clear, though still frightful in its way. This was the work of teens, probably bored metal fans who thought this would be a funny way to scare one of their friends.

“It’s fine,” Andy said, poking at one of the dead-eyed faces with his machete. “Just wannabe devil worshippers.”

I wasn’t so convinced, and with one last glance at one of the eyeless heads, I ventured back into the brush. Once, we stumbled across someone’s stash, a hastily covered-up trove that consisted of a single, half-full bottle of brown liquor, a pack of Vantage 100s, and half a dozen Hustler magazines. I watched Andy’s reaction as he placed the cardboard and leaves back into place, and I was certain that he would make a trip back by himself whenever he had the chance.

“Shit,” Andy said as we rounded a corner, tripping on a loose root. I could see it coming, almost in slow motion – the bag of jelly beans tumbling out of his hands, followed by the inevitable shower of rainbow colors. I must have been laughing, based on the way he turned his red-cheeked face toward me, eyebrows arched.

“Shut up,” he said, shoveling handfuls of jelly beans into the bag. “Quit laughing and freaking help me.”

I knelt down, and we both pawed around in the mud. Andy stood up a few moments later, and the candy spilled back out of a hole in the bottom of the bag. Once again, I laughed hysterically as he scooped them into the pockets of his cargo shorts. He was just about to say something back when he cocked his head and held his hand out toward me, trying to shush me.

“Quiet,” he said, his own voice dropping, and all at once, I heard it too. I locked my hand onto Andy’s shoulder and pressed a finger to my lips. Both of us froze, listening to the sounds of the woods and the strange noise that was drifting through it. It was a panting sound, a deep-breathing moan that my mind translated instantly to be the voice of the Toy Thief, no doubt in the middle of killing his latest victim. Andy’s furrowed brow evened out as he listened. Then a half smile rose on his lips. With a single finger, he motioned for me to stay put as he glided soundlessly forward for a closer look. I refused to let him out of my sight, following along about ten yards behind, but Andy either didn’t notice me or didn’t care. Then, all at once, he held up his hand for me to stop, which, for once, I did without question.

The breathing was louder now, and I watched as Andy peered through a line of trees, out into a small bare patch. From where I stood, I couldn’t see a thing, but Andy was apparently close enough to see it all. He stared for ten seconds, maybe less, and then turned back to join me.

“Let’s go,” he said almost silently in my ear.

“What is it?” I whispered back.

He placed an angry finger onto his lips and then pointed toward the trails behind us, motioning back the way we’d come. I pushed back against him, me being bullheaded for no real reason at all, and the two of us were locked for a brief moment in silent combat. Somehow, I lost my footing and stepped off the trail, onto a dried handful of branches. Andy grabbed my arm, helping to steady me, but it was too late. The crunching echo of branches rang through the Trails like an alarm being sounded, and the steady breathing stopped.