Anna Peregrine--A Map of Days

Chapter Thirteen

We stopped looking for a loop. Now we just wanted a hospital.
We got off at the next stop and hurried up the steps, me, Emma, Noor, and Jacob carrying Bronwyn whilst Lilly held on to Millard's arm and Enoch ran with us. We ascended into a bustling Manhattan, and right away we started looking for a hospital. Jacob pulled out his phone to call 911 and Enoch started asking people for a hospital.
Kind enough, a woman told us where the hospital was. She asked us if Bronwyn was okay, and Jacob quickly said that they were joking. She stormed off, and I felt bad that Jacob said that, but at the same time I was glad he did. I did not feel like memory wiping today, let alone I didn't have any peregrine feathers on hand.
We hurried towards the hospital, and we could see the sign a block away. And then the richest smell of cooked food reached my nose, and oh my bird, I never wanted food more in my whole life.
"Do you smell that?" Enoch asked as our steps slowed. "That's rosemary toast and goose liver pate!"
"No way, it's shepherd's pie," Emma said.
"I'd know that smell anywhere," Noor said. "Dosas. Paneer masala dosas."
"No, that's afternoon tea! Oh, all those tea cakes and sandwiches, oh my bird, that is amazing!" I said.
"What are you guys talking about? And why are you stopping?" Lilly asked.
"She's right, we have to get Bronwyn to a doctor," Millard said. "Although that might be the most aromatic coq au vin I've ever laid nostrils on . . ."
Our progress had been completely stopped, we were brainwashed by the smells of our favourite foods. We were standing in front of a store that looked like it may be a restaurant, but all the shades were drawn. There was a placard though that read OPEN ALWAYS AND ALL ARE WELCOME.
"You know, I feel okay," Bronwyn said. "A bit peckish, though, now that you mention it."
She didn't seem okay though. Her speech was slurred, and she was leaning heavily on our arms, but I didn't really seem to register that.
"She's bleeding!" Emma said. "And the hospital is right there."
Bronwyn looked at her shirt, "Not bleeding much."
The red patch was spreading.
My mind was split in half. There was one voice saying "Get her to a hospital now." But there was another, that oddly sounded like my mum's voice that said "Anna, time for dinner! I think you should try some New York cuisine whilst you're here, don't you?"
We all agreed except Emma and Lilly, but their objections quickly faded. Jacob pushed the door open and usher all of us inside. It was a restaurant, like it just came out of 40s or 50s.
There were chequered tablecloths and cane backed chairs and a soda fountain along a wall. Behind the counter there was a waitress in an apron and a paper hat, smiling like she'd been waiting for us. We were the only ones there.
"You kids look hungry!" she said.
"Oh, we are," Bronwyn said.
"In fact, you look like you're downright starving."
"Yes. Starving," Enoch said in a monotone voice.
"What kind of restaurant is this?" Noor asked. "I thought I smelled paneer."
"Oh, we've got everything," Bernice said. "Everything you could ever want."
Okay, how the hell did I know her name?
I started to block out the voice that objected the idea of continuing here, along with Lilly's objections. The last thing I heard her say was, "You guys can stay here if you want, but I'm taking your friend to the hospital!"
However, her efforts to drag Bronwyn away were hopeless, as Bronwyn was glued to where she stood.
"We don't have money," Jacob said.
"It just so happens we're having a special promotion today. Everything's on the house," Bernice said.
"Really?" I asked.
"That's right. Your money's no good here."
We all went to the counter, sitting on the fixed plastic stools. There was no menu, but Bernice told us to just tell her what we wanted before yelling it to the kitchen in the back. A short time later, a bell dinged, and she began to bring out plate after plate of food. A rooster cooked in wine for Millard. Paneer masala dosas and a mango lassie for Noor. A lamb roast trimmed with mint jelly for Emma. A double cheeseburger and chips, I'm sorry, fries, and a strawberry shake for Jacob. A lobster for Bronwyn, complete with a shell-cracker and a bib with a picture of a lobster on it. A steaming Korean bibimbap with an egg cracked over it for Lilly. And then a proper afternoon tea for me, complete with all the tea cakes and tea sandwiches I love.
Don't eat that.
You should leave.
This is a bad idea.
Stop now before it's
Too late.
I don't remember eating anything I ordered, but the next thing I knew, my whole tray was gone and my head was heavy.
"Oh, honey! You look beat!" Bernice said to Jacob.
"I'm so, so, so tired," I said.
A murmur of agreement went throughout our friends.
"Why don't you head upstairs and catch a little sleep?" Bernice suggested.
"We have to go," Noor said, trying to go, but couldn't.
"Do you? I don't think you do."
"Jacob," I whispered to him, sounding so drunk. "We gotta go."
"I know."
We had been hypnotised, I knew we had. Just like what almost happened at the Mermaid Fantasyland, but we fell for it this time.
"We've got room upstairs with beds all made for you. Just through here . . ."
I stood up, we were all standing. Bernice was pushing us towards an exit, into a strange tunnel painted with red and white stripes.
I turned around to see Bernice barring Lilly's way with her arm, "Hey. Be nice to her."
Lilly was speaking, her mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear her.
"We'll be back soon, Lil, just wait here," Noor said.
"It's just upstairs," Bernice's voice echoed as we approached a staircase.
We dragged ourselves up the stairs, allowing her to control us. When we go to the landing, there were two little girls on their hands and knees, looking for something. When they saw us, they looked up at us.
"Have you seen a doll?" the older one asked. "Frankie lost one of her dolls."
"Sorry.", Noor said.
"We ordered a . . . sleep?" Millard said, confused.
"Through there," the girl said, nodding to a door behind her.
We walked past them and through the door to see a boy at a table and a man standing over him. There were puzzles and a little tower of blocks on the table. The man raised his arm and pointed to the next room, "Through there. Sanguis bebimus. Corpus edimus."
"Mater semper certa est. Mater semper certa est," the boy replied.
"'The mother is always certain'.", Millard translated.
The man straightened and banged on the wall, "Keep it down in there!"
He didn't shout at us, but we came into the next room to hear a tuneless voice moan, "Happy biiiiiirthday, dear Frankieeeeeeee . . . haaaaaapy biiiirthday to youuuuuuu . . ."
I couldn't move any faster. There was a male singer in clown makeup and a white wig. He was sitting on a daybed bellied to a small cocktail table, pouring a drink. He turned to us and raised his glass, "Chinchin! Happy birthday, Frankie!"
"Happy birthday," Jacob said.
The clown freezed.
Let
me
sleeeeeep
"Come in here!" a voice yelled from the next room.
We walked into a bedroom filled with dolls. My bird, my mum would be having a heart attack. She hated dolls. She was terrified of them since she was a kid. Her mum used to set them up in her room like an army of play friends. My poor mother, and then she had a daughter that loved them, and more peculiar girls who wanted them. However, the ones she got for us weren't really creepy, and she would play with them with me when I was younger.
On a bed in the room, there was a girl who was surrounded by them, I almost couldn't see her at first because of how many dolls there were.
"Siddown!" she barked.
We all sat down on the floor. Bronwyn groaned in pain.
"I didn't say you could make noise!" the girl said. "Well? Who are you?"
"My name is Jacob, and I come from a town in Florida–"
"Bored, bored, bored!" the girl shouted before pointing to Emma. "You!"
A jolt went through Emma, "My name is Emma Bloom. I was born in Cornwall and came of age in a loop in Wales and–"
"BORING!" the girl pointed to Enoch.
"I'm Enoch O'Connor, and we have something in common."
She seemed intrigued. She started to approach him as he continued. "I can make dead things move using the hearts of living things. I have to take them apart first, but–"
The girl snapped her fingers, and his mouth clapped shut. "You're nice-looking," she traced her finger along his jaw, "but when you talk it gets ruined." She smooshed his noise with her finger. "Boop. More for you later." She turned to Bronwyn. "You."
"My name is Bronwyn Bruntley and I'm quite strong and my brother, Victor, was also–"
"BORING!", she pointed to me. "You!"
My tongue unlocked, "Miss Anna Marie Peregrine, delighted to meet you. I was born in Cairnholm Wales and was recently promo–"
"BORING! POOP!"
Feet scurried to us. The man appeared in the doorway, "Yes?"
"I don't want any more dolls like these, Poop. Just look at them. Do they seem like they would be fun to play Monopoly with? DO THEY?"
"Er . . . no?"
"THAT'S RIGHT. THEY DO NOT."
She kicked a pile of dolls and they flew everything.
"Well, him I like," she pointed to Enoch. "But the rest are HORRIBLE and BORING."
"I'm very sorry, Frankie."
"What should we do with them, Poop?" she turned to us. "His name isn't really Poop. I just call him that because I can call anyone anything I like."
"Perhaps we should eat them," Poop suggested.
The girl sneered, "You always want to eat them. It's weird, Poop. Any anyway, that gave me a stomachache the last time."
"Or we could sell them."
"Sell them? To who?"
"To whom," the teacher corrected before putting a hand over his mouth, turning pale.
The girl went into a rage, "YOU. DO NOT. TELL ME THINGS."
"Yes, Frankie. Yes, ma'am. Mater semper certa est."
"That's right. That is extremely correct.", Frankie said as a small line of dolls started marching towards him. "Because you're so obedient, Poop, I'm only going to have them chew off one of your legs."
The man kept on repeating the Latin phrase over and over again, faster and faster until his words slurred together. The dolls swarmed him, grasping and clamping their porcelain teeth. I could only imagine my mother's reaction to it.
The man started to sob, but he didn't struggle. When he was about to pass out, Frankie spread her arms and brought her hands together, making all the dolls go limp and fall over.
"Oh, Poop. You're so funny.", she said.
He gathered himself, wiping his face, and wobbling to his feet, "Where was I? You could sell them to the Animists, the Menatats, the Weathermen . . . But, as always, the Untouchables are paying the highest rate."
"Blecch. I hate them. But as long as none set foot here . . ."
"I'll call them and arrange a sales meeting."
"I'm not selling him, though," she pointed to Enoch, and traced an U in the air with two of her fingers, making his lips curl into an exaggerated smile.
"That's fine, Frankie. That's very good."
"I know it's good. The rest of them, I don't care. I just have one condition. If whoever buys them does something nasty to them? I get to watch."