It's Somewhere Beneath Us

I Often Look Back

The door swung into a dark room lit by fake candles on the wall. They were large and exaggerated, the kind you would see in a cartoon castle. It took me a moment before I realized I was standing in the library I had seen moments ago on the monitors. I looked to where the camera would be but saw nothing. It must be very well hidden, I thought. Across the room, I saw a set of double doors that led back into the main hall of the playhouse. I stepped forward to make my way over, then stopped. Being rash would get me nowhere. If I wandered around this place without a plan, I would get myself caught, and then there would be no rescuing the others. Instead, I turned and shut the door, holding it and making sure that it didn't entirely close all of the way. There had to be some way to open it from inside. It was clear that this place was meant to mimic a studio, which meant there had to be some way for the actors to not only get in but back out as well.

Looking at the now shut door from my side, it just looked like part of the bookshelf. The books that rested on it were all made of felt and had no actual pages to them. They simply sat on the shelf for display alone. I skimmed the surface, looking for some sort of hidden knob or lever, but found nothing. I began pulling on the "books" as well, but they were all bolted in place. All except for one, a blue book with two gold squiggles for trim along its side. I gripped the top lip of the thing and pulled, and to my surprise, it slid out about an inch from its spot before stopping. I held my breath, then pushed the shelf completely shut. If this wasn't actually the latch to open it, then there was a good chance I was stuck in here. I pulled the book once again and heard a slight click!

The shelf swung back open into the recording room.

"Thank God," I muttered.

Just then, I heard a familiar laugh coming from the door behind me. I whipped my head to see the clock on the wall with its eyes open, smiling. Not wasting a second, I spun around and slipped through the crack, then slammed the door shut. Stepping back behind the monitors, I watched from the screen as two birds entered the room. They bounced around the space searching for their trespasser, checking every corner eagerly as if it were some sort of game to them. My heart pounded as one passed by the shelf. I kept one eye on the door and the other on the monitor, prepared to bolt if needed. To my relief, however, the bird skipped on by without a second thought. They didn't know about the secret passage. Before they left, they stopped just before the exit. One of the things reeled its head back and opened its beak wide. Its stomach started throbbing as it bobbed its neck up and down. From its mouth, I stared to see a wooden stick appear. When it was out far enough, The bird wrapped its hands around it and yanked the slimy pole out. It raised the post over its head and whacked at the clock viciously. Through the wall, I could it scream horribly. The fact that it was so human sent a chill down my spine. After that, I watched in disgust as the bird painfully shoved the stick back into its gullet.

Once they had gone, I sat staring at the screen, trying my best to formulate a plan. It was clear that entering the playhouse for more than a few minutes would result in me getting caught one way or another. There was really nowhere to hide once I was in. I could always drop in from one of the open ceilings and try to get my friends out of the library door. That way, I didn't risk having to travel the same path twice. However, finding the right window would be hard. It seemed that once you were in the bird's company, you were always under their supervision. I glanced back at Bea, Ethan, and Dan in their cage, then to Larry on the floor.

Shoot. Larry.

I had almost forgotten about him amidst my frantic thoughts. He was another problem I would have to account for. If the other creatures didn't kill my friends, then He certainly would. I highly doubted that he had forgiven us for what had happened back at the house all that time ago. How had he even survived for so long down here? He seemed to be healthy despite his rough appearance, well-fed and somehow bathed. The idea that he had been living with these creatures seemed ludicrous; however, it also seemed like the only possible explanation. If that were the case, that eased some stress off of my shoulders. That meant I had more time to plan. To observe. Not a lot more, but at least some.