Chapter 7: The Cage

His heart has settled at last. The panic can only hang on for so long. He is exhausted and hungry and wants his mom, voice an airy wheeze, like his grandfather's just before he died.

Cole doesn't want to think about that.

It's dark and smelly and he's forced to hunch over or sit down because the top of the cage is too low for him to stand. That's what he's calling it to himself. A cage. A whole lot of thin metal bands welded together, some of them sharp. The cut on his thumb still smarts.

Shaking them as hard as he could didn't do any good, just got him cut. Cole's hand lifts to his mouth, but the smell of rust keeps him from sucking on the drying blood.

He snuffles back the remains of his tears, feeling like he's been in here forever.

When he woke in the dark, his eyes stung and his lungs hurt from the stinky stuff still clinging to the insides of his nose. He tried to get up, but fell down when his legs wouldn't hold him, face-planting into a wretched pile of old straw, recoiling from something hard reeking like dog poop.

That's when he found out about the cage. He crashed into it, hair catching on one of the joins, tearing free a clump when he pulled away. The trembling made it hard for him to find the spot with his fingers, but he didn't feel any blood.

The dark. Cole hates the dark.

He stayed where he was for a while, not sure what to do. Then, he forced himself to do a careful examination in a shuffling crawl. He quickly found one exit and the big padlock on it. Of course, he could only tell by feel since the place remained as black as ever.

He choked on a ball of terror in a horrible moment of understanding. He was trapped. The dark. Not a scrap of light. Not a notion of anything. His heart sped up again. Beyond the confusion and fear of why he was there and who took him, Cole's fear of the dark was the worst.

The first time he heard his neighbor move, he jumped so much he hit his head on the cage again.

"Hello?" His voice was wavery, soft. Emmy said he had a mouse voice.

Tears stung his eyes at the thought of his sister.

No one answered. Cole returned to the cage door and did the bravest thing he had ever done. He stuck his hand through one of the holes and slid his arm outward, reaching as far as he could.

He met empty air.

Are you sure? His mind asked. Cole snatched his arm back. Who knew what was out there ready to grab him if he wasn't careful? He knew. He was starting to get it. Of course he was in the black. The one who took him... it had to be the thing he dreaded every time he went to sleep.

It only made sense.

Someone sighed in the dark. Cole choked back a sob of fear. He crept to the back of his cage as far from the noise as he could get and pulled his knees to his chest.

His mom always teased him for his overactive imagination. He hated sleeping with the lights out. Ever since Charlie Bigum told him about the Boogeyman, Cole had a light on all the time. Not that he needed Charlie to tell him there was evil in the dark. He just gave that evil a name.

And now Cole knew. The Boogeyman had him. And he would keep Cole in the dark forever, just like Charlie said. Feed on his soul until he was nothing. Until he was dead.

That's when he started feeling the Dark Man near him, getting closer. The black pushed down on him, squeezing the air from his body, soft whimpers from his throat. Did the Boogeyman have claws? Of course he did. Was that a whisper of them against the side of his cage? Had to be. Those claws hovered in the darkness, drawing closer and closer. Cole forced himself farther back, made himself into a ball. A breath of air against his cheek, foul and filthy, finally set him off.

He screamed until he couldn't anymore.

Now, he is still. Spent. There are no claws, no stinking breath. His bladder aches. Embarrassed and afraid he has as yet to empty it. What if someone is watching? Cole has no choice in the matter, refusing to wet himself. He hasn't done so for years. He finds the nasty spot where someone else has done their business and reaches for his zipper. It is loud in the stillness. He opens it one clasp at a time, body clenched against the need to pee, finally pulling it down all the way with a sigh of relief.

Everything sounds so loud in the dark. Echoey loud. When he is done, he returns to his spot and his huddled position, not sure what to do.

"I hate the dark," he whispers, more to himself than to whoever is watching and waiting outside his cage. "Can I have a little light? Please? Just a little."

There is a shuffling sound, like a shoe on stone.

"I don't have any," a voice whispers back.

Cole sighs. Whoever it is sounds like a kid. Like him.

"Who are you?"

Pause. Then, "Gavin."

"I'm Cole. Sorry about the, you know." He is embarrassed again, this time about his fearful outburst. Now that he knows Gavin is just a boy too, Cole hates he heard Cole lose it.

"It's okay. I did it too."

"Where are we?" Cole's heart clenches. He is remembering bits and pieces. The park. The woods. A stinking wet cloth. Strong hands...

"Hell." Cole wasn't allowed to swear, but he did sometimes at school. Usually hearing a bad word made him giggle.

Not this time.

"But, why are we here? Who... who took us?" The Boogeyman looms.

"You'll see." Gavin's voice is so soft Cole has to creep toward the other side of the bars to hear him. "He'll be back soon."

Fear, instant fear. "I want to go home." More tears, more snuffled snot.

"Me too."

Cole sighs and leans against the front of his cage. "I was at the park."

"I was walking home from school."

"Did... was there a smelly cloth?"

"Yeah. I dropped my soldier."

Cole remembers.

His ball. His favorite because it was super bouncy and bright blue and no matter what he did to it, it always came back to shape. The perfect ball.

The cloth. The hands. Being lifted and carried. Jarring him so much from the speed he felt ill. His hand spasmed, the ball fell. Hit the pavement and bounced, bounced, bounced... his last memory was it rolling down the block and out of sight.

"I lost my ball." So much regret for a silly toy he is really too old to care about. And yet, a tear finds its way down his cheek.

Silence. Understanding in the quiet.

Cole breaks it. "I'm thirsty."

"He might bring water," Gavin says. "If we're good." Muffled sob.

"I'll be good," Cole whispers to his new friend. "I promise."

Gavin sobs harder.

Vibration above. Cole freezes. Gavin wails then falls still.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Rattle.

The sudden light is so piercing Cole cries out. He scrambles to the back of his cage and cowers, hiding his face in his knees. He peeks out just as the light goes away. It comes from above, cut off by a hatch or a doorway. As the dark returns with a heavy thump, Cole's panic grabs him by the throat and shakes him.

Just before the black closed in he saw him. A shadow on the stairs near the light.

The Boogeyman has returned.

A thin beam pierces the darkness. Low on the ground, shielded. Cole sees boots and pant legs and nothing more. He wonders why the Boogeyman is dressed in such ordinary clothes. Then, the boots pause by his cage and all thought disintegrates. The light swivels toward him. Cole holds his breath, squeezing his knees so tight he can't feel them anymore, can't feel anything but overwhelming terror. He shakes, the bars behind him rattling with the force of it. The light lifts, shines in his eyes. Cole sobs and ducks his head again. He will not watch. Can't.

The light leaves him. Swivels to the side. Cole pants his fear through his mouth and risks a look.

Gavin glows in the faint light. They could be brothers, but Gavin is filthy. And terrified. More, he looks beaten, like there's no stuffing in him, just a hollow boy. He stares up at the Boogeyman and cringes, but doesn't move. The lock on his cage rattles. The door opens. Closes. Gavin whimpers.

"Please." Whispered. Desperate. Hopeless.

The light goes out.

Cole covers his ears against Gavin's cries and the low, deep grunts of the Boogeyman. He can't bear the sounds, the wet tearing noises, the rustle of straw like a struggle.

The claws. That must be it. He is hearing the sound of them ripping flesh. He was right all along. And those claws will come for him.

It's only a matter of time.

***