FicWad

“Do you think we made a mistake?” Andy asked as he paced the living room of Joe's apartment.
“Letting him go or coming here?” Joe asked with a helpless shrug only barely visible from his position on the deep leather couch.
“Coming here?” Andy asked, somewhat puzzled by the suggestion. “Why would that be a mistake?”
“Well, in case he comes back but goes to the studio,” Joe explained simply.

Andy shook his head with surprising certainty. “Nah, they found Pete and Patrick easily enough, I'm sure they can find us… if he even tries.”

“If he doesn't come back, we're going to have to report this to the police and we're going to have to decide what we say,” Joe rolled his eyes as he thought about how they would even begin to file a police report.
“What you mean decide between lying and getting ourselves both committed to a psychiatric hospital?” Andy replied with a slight smirk, despite their situation.

The smirk was contagious and Joe couldn't help but smile in return. Their situation was ridiculous. No one would believe them if they told the truth and they could never be found if they lied; it was a real no-win situation.

“Yeah,” Joe took a deep breath as he replied. “Basically, we're in deep…”
“Look!” Andy cried, his eyes wide and his hand frantically waving and pointing at the door to the dining room.

Turning, Joe saw what he hoped he would see - the formation of one of the voids that Mr Sandman had returned through with Patrick. Now waiting with baited breath, Joe and Andy stared, almost without blinking, at the forming black shape. Finally as it reached roughly five feet in length, they saw the first of two shapes emerging - Patrick and Mr Sandman. Still in awe of the void, despite having seen it before, Andy and Joe stared silently as the newly emerged pair launched immediately into their efforts to convince the two friends to accompany them back to Carousel.

“Andy! Joe! We need your help, you have to come with us,” Patrick rushed his explanation. “Dr Benzedrine's in trouble and we have to help him.”
“Why?” Andy asked suspiciously. “Are they forcing you? Are you okay?”
“No… er… yes, we're fine and they're not forcing us, we offered to help. But we don't have time to argue, Dr Benzedrine…”

As Patrick had been speaking, a deep, uncertain frown had formed on Joe's face. He glanced briefly at Andy moments before asking his question.

“How do we know that you're Patrick? You could be Dr Benzedrine posing as Patrick to capture us and take us back there.”
“Joe,” Patrick's brow furrowed. “It's me.”
“Joe's right,” Andy chimed in. “For all we know, you've got Pete and Patrick locked up somewhere and you're trying to trick us!”
“In that case, I'm pretty hurt that you're not trying to rescue us!” Patrick pouted.
“I should have thought about it,” Sandman nodded. “You should have stayed behind and I should have come with Pete, then it would have been obvious.”
“Tell us something only Patrick would know,” Andy suggested.

Patrick's shoulders sagged; did Andy not realise just how tall an order that was? Something that he knew, that Andy or Joe also knew that couldn't be discovered using a search engine.

“You can't, can you?” Andy remarked pointedly after a few moments silence.
“No, I can't!” Patrick protested. “It's not that easy, you know!”
“What did we talk about last week?” Andy finally asked after much consideration.
“Oh, please!” Patrick flapped his hands at his side. “Do you even remember?”
“No,” Andy admitted, “but I might if you said.”
“Patrick,” Sandman interrupted quietly. “We don't have time for this. He's in real trouble, we have to go now! With or without them.”

The look of desperation on Patrick's face as he tried to remember something that he and Andy had spoken of earlier did more to convince them that he was the genuine article than anything else. Finally giving up, he nodded to Mr Sandman.

“Okay,” he sighed, “let's get ba… hi-hats!” he yelled triumphantly as he turned quickly back to Andy. “You're considering getting new hi-hats!”
Andy grinned. “Why are we helping? I thought…”
“We got off on the wrong foot,” Patrick explained briefly. “We'll explain when we get there. Come on, he's in real danger!”

Following Patrick to the still open void, Joe held back momentarily.

“What happens when we go through?” he asked, with a little uncertainty.
“Oh! He's right, it's a long way down and then Donnie will need time between…”
“Donnie'll be fine!” Sandman offered a puzzled frown. “There are only three of you!”

*

As Benzedrine reached the end of the corridor he jerked his head around nervously as the lights behind him dimmed and flickered. As he turned, the bulbs died one row at a time starting with those nearest to him. As the last bulb switched off, the long corridor was plunged into absolute darkness and Benzedrine was forced to extend his hands to feel for the wall. Instead of a solid wooden panelled wall, Benzedrine's fingers landed on something soft and spongy. Recoiling immediately, Benzedrine cried out in shock as a pair of hands snatched at both his wrists gripping them so tightly as to drain all the strength from his lower arms. Setting his balance and digging his feet into the floor, Benzedrine pulled back with every ounce of effort he could muster. Only then did he feel more hands snaking their way across his face, down his arms and legs, and across his chest and back.

“No!” he whimpered, still trying to pull free as the hands either dragged, pushed or steered him down the corridor and off to the left.

There were only two possible destinations from the corridor - the Hall of Mirrors or the Maze. The Maze, he knew in this nightmare would be ever changing, and would never allow him to leave. Inside he found himself praying for the Hall of Mirrors, but he knew, without too much deliberation, that either choice would be fraught with danger.

Finally all of the hands released him at once and simply disappeared. A blinding white light filled the room causing Benzedrine to shield his eyes. Even so, a flash of pain behind his tightly closed eyes dulled to a mild headache as the light dimmed to a much more bearable level, although still overly bright. Either side of him, lining the walls were a variety of different shaped mirrors. Benzedrine choked back a sob as he realised that somehow these innocuous objects intended for amusement would, in some way, try to kill, trap or torture him.

Stepping forward gingerly, he reached the first mirror, trying hard, despite his deep anxiety, not to look at it, perhaps hoping that if he didn't, it couldn't affect him. Nothing happened. Taking a few more steps forward, still nothing. His heart raced as he reached the centre of the room, almost hyperventilating, he stopped dead in his tracks as all the mirrors suddenly shifted into an almost complete circle around him. He could see reflections of himself all around the room, each one twisted into a grotesque form caused by the positioning and shape of each mirror. All the blood drained from his face and he felt light-headed and faint as, one by one, his reflections stepped from the mirrors, retaining their twisted, bloated or emaciated forms. Benzedrine trembled with terror as slowly they closed in on him, their eyes vacant and their arms extended, hands ready to seize him. There was only one escape route - through the middle of them and out the other side. Finding his strength again, he bolted forward, hearing Nightmare Sandman's cackling laughter as he ran.

“Don't let them catch you, Silas!” he taunted. “If they get you inside a mirror, you'll never escape!”