The Fastest Boy Alive

The Hammonds Ski Lodge, a romantic mountain getaway that was later featured on Wednesday Wendy's evening broadcast, was an unsupervised little boy's dream. The fancy glass cases in the lobby looked as shatterable as ever, the golden handrails to the third floor were slick enough to ride, and the hallway Charlie reluctantly followed his parents down was long enough that he could run forever. The size of the window at the end of the hall never changed.

There had been one too many times now that his mom, Harriet, had strolled in at a quarter past nine. His dad always sat on the third step, a book in hand. She said the same apologies, placed her purse in the same spot, and kissed Oliver on the same cheek. He would take a deep breath, peek underneath the collar of her blouse, and make a mental note to rifle through her pockets in the morning.

This summer trip was Oliver's last-ditch effort.

Charlie wiggled each brass doorknob as he trotted down the long hall of wooden doors. The golden doily design running on either side of the stained red carpet faded at each doorstep.

“Don’t do that,” his father said, not bothering to turn and face him. “You’ll walk in on something you don’t want to see.” Charlie wiggled a few more, pushing his luck, before skipping to catch up with his parents. Where’s the fun in that?

When they finally stopped at door 327, his dad pulled an old ornate key from his pocket.

“Why are we walking all this way if we are the only ones in this damn hotel?” Harriet huffed as the door swung open, sending a musty stench

(I know a place filled with fun!)

that caused a shiver down Charlie's spine.

He turned to his mom. “Where?” he asked.

“What?” She looked down at him, her clean brows furrowed. Charlie admired her yellow sundress and the makeup that was heavier than usual. She dressed nicely for the occasion.

He looked away and bounded into the room.

The musty stench was worse inside, most likely from the melted snow of previous seasons. This was the hottest summer New Mexico had ever seen; he remembered the pretty lady on the news saying so. A faded floral pattern adorned the pillowcases, and the comforter was

(Perfect for jumping!)

most certainly felt like straw. Tacky wallpaper covered the space with birds and pine trees, and was peeling at every corner of the room. Through purple velvet curtains, he could see the empty ski slope.

Charlie's eyes snapped to the bed again. He pondered it, the voice sounding like his mom's, but she’d never let him jump on the bed. The thought was fleeting as he continued scanning the room for more fun things to do. On the dresser facing the bed was a TV he had never seen before. He ran up to it and heard a sizzle as his sticky palm met the gray glass.

His father set their suitcases on the plush red couch. “This is a vacation for me and mom, okay?” Charlie removed his hand from the TV and turned around.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Can you keep yourself occupied elsewhere?” His father asked. “This is a big hotel with a pool downstairs.”

(The Basement!)

“I can go to the basement,” he replied. He was in fourth grade and basically an adult.

His father kept his gaze on Charlie, making him squirm. Finally peeling away, he went and tossed Charlie a pair of orange swim shorts.

Charlie made his way to the bathroom, opening the door to a whiff of bleach. The light flickered as he turned it on and closed the door behind him. The tub was deep but seemed clean enough, and he had used enough toilets in his life to know that this one worked well. Once dressed, he looked in the mirror. His blonde hair was wild, and he stuck his tongue out and stretched his mouth apart with his fingers. He giggled.

His parents stopped muttering as he left the bathroom, leaving his shirt, pants, and underwear on the blue tile floor. “Can I go now?” He asked.

“Yes, just come back if there's not a lifeguard there, okay?” His mom said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He nodded, ready to get out of the stinky room to a place much more fun.

Charlie eagerly emerged into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. The carpet felt rough on his feet, and he could feel sharp bits digging between his toes. He thought about going toward the lobby, but he had already seen that stuff. He wanted to see if there was funner stuff. He turned right and sprinted toward the never-changing window.

He was the fastest kid in fourth grade, so much so that it impressed his secret crush, Sally Bennet. Though she turned up her nose every time he went to talk to her. It was what girls did to cool boys.

Finally, the window became larger and larger before he almost tumbled through the glass. He always underestimated how fast he was. He could see how empty Highway 65 was and the rolling forest nestled the lodge in a green embrace. Beyond it, the jagged peaks cutting through the sky were gray and snowless.

(the BASEMENT!)

Right, he forgot. His mom wouldn't want him just standing in the hallway. She said to go to the basement with the pool.

He pushed hard on the stairwell door, its clang echoing through the steamy concrete box. His stomach lurched as he peered down, gripping the railing tight. This would not be fun to slide down. Charlie began bounding down the concrete steps.

He was dizzy, but he made it to the bottom. He leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. In front of him was the bronze plaque he’d eagerly been waiting for.

(Basement and Pool!)

He barged through the door, the dense smell of chlorine stinging his eyes. The long hallways were bare, and he traced a lazy finger along the rough cinderblocks as he turned and turned. When the chlorine smell was almost too much, a long window looking into blue-green water came into view.

Finally!

The door was light, and the chlorine smell became euphoric. To his left, three lounge chairs were missing one or two slats at the headrest, and each held a neat stack of crisp white towels. On the opposite side was an empty, rusted lifeguard stand.

Empty.

The bright red floatie clipped to the side taunted him. His mom would be furious if he swam without a lifeguard.

(Go swim!)

He looked at the numbering on the side of the pool. If he stayed in the shallow end, his head and neck would be above water. There’s no way his mom would be mad about that. She was so proud of him for growing so much lately. He couldn't help but grin as his feet met the cool white tiles around the pool's edge. The silver railing warmed his hand as he dipped a toe.

The cold water bit at his skin as he slowly sank deeper, step by step. By the time he reached the bottom, he was a miserable, shivering mess.

“Where are your parents?” Charlie jumped at the voice coming from the lifeguard chair. He looked to see a young, brown-haired man sitting casually, a red floaty lying across his lap.

“They’re upstairs,” he said through chattering teeth. A lifeguard here was less fun, but safer. He could now go in the deep end if he wanted.

“Do your parents fight a lot?” The lifeguard asked. Charlie thought for a moment at the odd question.

“Uhm, sometimes. Mom gets home late a lot.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Charlie smiled at the new question. Now this was something more sensible to talk about.

“My favorite color is orange because it's fast. I also like red for that same reason, but I think orange is faster. Yellow is secretly a slow color. It acts all fast, but it's actually not. Only slow people like yellow.”

The lifeguard nodded. “Do you want your parents to stop fighting?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and pondered. “I mean, I guess, but I can do whatever I want when they fight. Sometimes I go eat dessert before dinner.” He began to wade deeper in the pool. All grown-ups do is talk about boring stuff.

“Does it make you sad when they fight?” A pang rippled through Charlie's gut that he knew wasn't from the cold water. When he visited friends, their parents were always so happy and giggling and having fun. When was the last time all three of them had fun? He didn’t know, and that made him sad. He looked down at his feet wiggling in the water.

“What if I told you I could make your parents stop fighting?” The lifeguard stepped off the chair and moved toward the broom closet in the corner of the room.

“Really? Like, they would always be happy?”

“Yes!” The lifeguard said brightly. “You came to the right place. You see this closet? Go inside, close the door, and make your wish.”

Charlie began to shiver again, from cold or excitement; he did not know.

“Here, I’ll get you a towel.” The lifeguard strode toward the pile of towels on the lounge chair as Charlie slowly waded out of the pool. When the lifeguard was upon him, he couldn't help but admire how tall he was.

Charlie took the towel and wrapped it around his body, shuffling over to the broom closet.

“How long will it take?” Charlie asked, turning around to face the lifeguard again.

“It won't take long. Just go in the closet.”

Barely turning the knob, the door swung open, almost hitting Charlie in the face. Inside was not fun. An empty bucket and a few mops and brooms leaned against the wall next to a stack of soiled towels. The moldy dampness overpowered the smell of chlorine. He stepped inside and looked back out into the pool area.

The lifeguard stared at him hungrily, and for the first time, Charlie was scared. The friendly demeanor had left the now Strange Man’s face, and the tallness of him was intimidating.

Charlie thought about his parents as he slowly closed the door and let the darkness swallow him.

Just close your eyes,

(MAKE A WISH!)

and don’t be a weenie.

When he closed his eyes, the entire universe erupted in a dance. Sparks and stars flew in and out of his vision, all before a mesmerizing purple-blue sky. For a moment, he wanted to stay there forever. This weird, beautiful place looked like a crystal-clear night sky and reminded him of his favorite candy.

What was I wishing for again?

A thought passed through his mind and lips without stopping. “I want to be the fastest person on Earth.”

The moment the last syllable hung in the air, all the colors and stars disappeared, leaving an eerie black. He opened his eyes to see the light sneaking through the crack under the door. As he gathered his bearings, it swung open with a crack, and there the Strange Man was.

The black, fuzzy, multi-jointed limbs were no longer human. Its face melted away into a swath of gray flesh, and a red mouth with rows of hungry, sharp, gnashing teeth.

(DINNER!)

Run, run, run!

With a speed he had never known, Charlie made it to the pool entrance. The water behind him rolled back and forth, violently sloshing onto the floor. The Strange Man whirled, and Charlie rubbed his eyes, hoping He would go away.

But this was not a dream, and the Strange Man, who no longer even looked like a man, scuttled around the pool toward him.

Charlie ran out the door, his heart hammering like a hummingbird. The edges of his vision became dark as he found himself at a hallway crossing. He leaned against the rough cinderblocks and listened to a cacophony of far-away clicks that made his ears bleed.

If only Sally could see me right now, he thought, trying to remember which way he came from.

Not wanting to wait too long, he banked right, his surroundings hazy. He placed a finger on the wall, feeling the flesh burn as he grasped for any familiar bumps. Everything was crisp white until a blackness came over him with a vengeance he had never experienced before. He careened backwards, sliding across the speckled tiles like a ragdoll.

The breath left his chest so suddenly that he didn’t know what hurt more, his butt or his lungs. The dizziness took over, and he lay limp, looking up at the fluorescent lights now speckled with black. Tears sprang from his eyes, snot dribbling down toward his mouth and throat. He brought a shaking left hand toward his face. His pointer finger cocked at an odd angle, and the tip was bright red with the fingernail completely gone.

A spiny claw caressed Charlie's leg,

(GOTCHA!)

slowly moving upward.

He kicked his feet with all his might and heard a stomach-churning crack. He stood quickly, but fell against the wall, his legs barely keeping him upright.

“I’m no longer having any fun!” He shouted angrily at the Strange Man before bolting past him at a speed that made the building shake. Charlie couldn't tell if the blur was from how fast he ran or the tears streaming down his cheeks. His leg muscles cramped and twitched in an unfamiliar way as he sprinted.

Then he saw it.

The door.

Charlie skittered to a halt, smoke billowing from his feet. He swung it open, ran up the four flights of stairs, and down the hallway to Room 327 with lightning speed.

He slammed on the door so violently the knuckles on his right hand splintered open. Blood sprayed against the door as he dropped to his knees and sobbed violently.

His mom opened the door first, her brown eyes soft but wide. As fast as Charlie ran, his father was upon him, scooping him up in his strong arms. Charlie curled into the familiar chest, the gold chain cooling against his cheek.

His father laid him down gently on the bed. His mother was immediately at his side, brushing his blond hair from his face. The smell of her lavender lotion calmed him as his father handed her a wet washcloth. She carefully wiped the blood and sweat from his body. His father swallowed hard as he inspected Charlie's swollen hand and blistered feet.

Their touch in tandem lulled him to sleep.

~

Three days later, Charlie sat in his father’s cushy leather chair, his arm and feet wrapped neatly in beige gauze. The TV, a nice flat one, had on pretty Wednesday Wendy. Her cheeks were pink as she gushed about him.

“I just can’t believe he got away so fast!” She said. “We are so happy the little boy is safe, and we hope for a quick recovery for him.” Charlie grinned, hoping that Sally was watching.

His mother giggled, and Charlie turned to see his parents slow-dancing in the kitchen. A pot was bubbling on the stove before them. The smell of rosemary, butter, and beef wafted over, making his stomach grumble. He was so excited for dinner and to have dessert at the end.