FicWad

Despite his aching limbs and back, Benzedrine knew he had to get clear of the runaway merry-go-round bearing down on him at speed. Rolling to his right as fast as he was able, Benzedrine breathed a sigh of relief as the ride almost skimmed his back in a flurry of wind and thunderous noise. Pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, Benzedrine watched as the ride continued its way down the hill towards the river. Breathing deeply, he tried to settle his racing heart all too aware that he had come close to death and that what was trying to kill him was a twisted nightmare version of his own brother. There was one thing he had said that scared him more than anything - there was no one to wake him up. Only two people could end this. He was one of them, but he couldn't do it from within a dream. The other was Mr Sandman and if he even knew where he was, he wouldn't care. This was, as the creature was fond of saying, his dream come true. Why would he stop it? No, he was trapped. Trapped in a perpetual nightmare until the creature managed to kill him. The irony was that the story he had told Patrick to try to solicit his help against Mr Sandman suggested that this very thing would happen. Perhaps it was just punishment for lying? Perhaps Marcus had heard the tale and engineered it? There wasn't time to worry about why, he had to hide and figure out some way to escape.

There were only three buildings nearby - the Photographer's offices, his father's offices and nearest of all, adjacent to the rides, lay the Fun House. Benzedrine considered them all. The Photographer's offices were certainly out of the question. With a single flash of one of their cameras they could easily capture him and he would be Nightmare Sandman's easiest prey. That left only his father's offices and the Fun House, but neither sounded inviting. Nightmare Sandman knew his way around their father's office as well as he did, there would be nowhere to hide. Then there was the Fun House, but this was a nightmare, he knew what to expect, even stepping inside that building would be his greatest mistake. Heading towards his father's office, Benzedrine took a quick look around to check if he had been observed before slipping inside.

He was inside only a fraction of a second before the door slammed shut behind him. Row upon row of colourful bulbs flickered to life and a slightly sinister version of old-fashioned carnival music began, slowly at first as if being wound by a handle before reaching full speed. This was most definitely not his father's office building. Somehow he had been tricked or manoeuvred into entering the Fun House. Turning quickly, Benzedrine pulled hard on the door, but it was locked tight.

“This is a nightmare, Silas,” came a mocking voice behind him. “Nightmares never go your way.”

Benzedrine turned slowly to see Nightmare Sandman towering over him, blocking the long corridor that led to the Hall of Mirrors and the Maze.

“Let me out of here!” Benzedrine yelled defiantly, despite his terror.
“But of course, my dear Silas. I have no intention of damaging a single hair of your head.”

Benzedrine became suddenly aware that at some point since his capture, he had lost his hat. Glancing down briefly he saw that his long tailcoat was torn and dirty, one cuff ripped away entirely.

“Yes, not looking quite so golden now are you, Silas?”
“Let me go,” Benzedrine pleaded quietly.
“Will you leave The Hills and never return?”

Benzedrine lowered his eyes. It had once been his dream to leave The Hills. He had been much younger then and had wanted to travel and experience so much more than he ever could in this one tiny corner of the world. Donnie was going to travel with him but his father's needs had overshadowed his own and his dream had been lost. Even Donnie didn't seem to be around as much in recent decades, disappearing for long spells without any explanation of where he had been. Benzedrine knew only that Donnie now worked for his father, but he was often gone from The Hills, leaving him alone and friendless. Being the ruler's son and doctor and also the man who each morning tore people from their sleep was not the most popular of professions. It was the main reason he had developed the power to make people forget that they had seen him, that he was the one ruining their night's sleep and dreams. He had effectively made himself invisible to people, which may have saved him from hatred but offered only loneliness as a consolation. As to his question - would he leave The Hills? How could he, knowing that his father needed him? Besides, it was still his home.

“You don't understand, I can't,” he replied.
“I didn't think so,” the creature gave a knowing nod, without actually understanding the real reason for Benzedrine's refusal. Well, like I said, I'm not going to hurt you. The exit at the other end of Fun House is unlocked and open, all you have to do is get there.”

The corridor filled with Nightmare Sandman's cackling laughter as he disappeared slowly from sight, leaving Benzedrine alone in the gaudily lit corridor. Taking several deep breaths, Benzedrine took his first few steps down the corridor. It was clear to him that he wasn't expected to survive.

*

“Do we have time to get Joe and Andy?” Patrick asked as they left the room.
Mr Sandman turned a suspicious eye towards Patrick. “You want me to take you back home?”
“To convince them to help,” Patrick nodded.

“More help would be useful,” Donnie stressed as the small group came to a halt only yards from the door to The Guv'nor's study.

“I… I don't know,” Sandman replied with uncertainty in his tone.
“I'll stay while you go back,” Pete offered. “That's the problem, isn't it? You think if we go back we'll refuse to help you.”

Mr Sandman turned a pair of glistening eyes towards Pete.

“I don't deserve your help after what I've done to you.”
“Let's just say, you've grown on us. You're just like us, but in weird clothes,” Pete smirked.

Sandman allowed himself the first real laugh he had experienced in a very long time.

“What?” Pete queried.
“I was just thinking the same about you!”
Pete frowned, mildly insulted. “Go and get Joe and Andy… and get me some shoes!”
“Oh!” Sandman cried as a pair of Pete's own skate shoes appeared in his hands. “I borrowed these.”

At first taken aback by the display of Mr Sandman's powers, Pete hesitated before finally replying with a brief “Thanks.” He sighed as he took them and slipped them gratefully onto his feet. “Now, go, get Joe and Andy!”

“Thank you,” Sandman nodded sincerely before turning and repeating the action at Patrick. “Thank you!”