white wall, which has become like my own yellow brick road, without a comforting trio of friends or trusty dog to help me out. I snort for a quick second, imagining Hodee trying to keep up with Dorothy on his squat legs as she skipped and danced around in those red ruby slippers. Nope, Hodee wouldnât have made it past Munchkinland. On the flip side, thereâs not a flying monkey alive who could have lifted his roly-poly body off the ground. Toto 1, Hodee 1.
These images amuse me through several twists and turns of the maze until I finally reach a red button. I close my eyes and try to focus, ridding myself of Oz and dogs and other thoughts that might distract me from whatever comes next.
I push the button and step into the room, crossbow cocked and ready.
A face begins to appear on the white wall in front of me. Itâs a pretty womanâs face, pleasant and smiling and all-American, like the kind you see in TV commercials for Oil of Olay.
âCheckpoint complete,â she says in a soothing, robotic voice. âCheckpoint complete.â
Praise the Lord and pass the life hearts! Wyn Salvador actually included save points in this horrid little game. I will not have to face those stinking sharks again, let alone all the other creatures. Iâm so happy I could cry. I smile back at the nice checkpoint lady. Maybe sheâll take me to Wyn.
Only now her face doesnât look as pleasant as it did a secondago. Her eyes are turning red and her hair is turning white. Her teeth begin to . . . sharpen? . . . transforming her pleasant smile into a creepy, evil grin, as if she is now selling one-way bus tickets on the highway to hell.
I instinctively raise my crossbow, though she is no more than a projection.
The lights go out. I drown in the pitch darkness.
Panic freezes me to the spot until something in my brain kicks into gear.
âInventory,â I yell, and quickly access the night-vision goggles Dad had insisted I carry. âHeâs feeding on phobias, Nixy, and fear of the dark is a huge one,â Dad had said on the plane just a few hours earlier, though it now feels like forever ago. âRemember how you used to turn on not one but three night-lights in your bedroom?â
I didnât say so to him, but sometimes I
still
sleep with three night-lights. After today Iâm going to need four.
âItâs just a game, itâs just a game,â I repeat to myself as I slip the goggles over my head. Half of me canât wait to put them on so I can see what the hell Iâm up against. The other half doesnât want to know.
â
Fy fæn!
â I yell, and jump right out of my skin.
The hag is directly in front of me, her demonic face inches from mine. An icy coldness seeps from her body like a thick fog. I feel like Iâve just stepped into a deep freeze.
âRUN!â she screams, her hideous voice stabbing my ears like a dagger.
She doesnât need to tell me twice. I take off.
The door to the room is open and I run back into the maze, which is now steeped in darkness. The night-vision goggles turn everything a ghoulish green. I run wildly, terrified of what I might find ahead of me, but even more horrified by whatâs behind me. I risk a quick peek back and wish I hadnât. The woman is flying behind me like a ghostly white witch, her teeth bared in that horrible grin. Her long bony arms stretch out before her, and her hands, which look more like sharp talons, try to grab me. She starts to cackle then, louder and louder until the cackle turns into a high-pitched shriek that makes my head feel like it might explode.
I run left and right and this way and that, completely lost, completely out of my wits. I canât think straight, canât do anything but try to outrun her outstretched claws, her hideous shrieking. I make another left and hit a dead end.
I feel her icy hands scrape across my back. Her talons cut through cloth and
Bill Pronzini, Marcia Muller