The Doll Maker

Alex Krycek wandered trough the streets of the small town. He had never heard of this town before. And now, of course, he was lost. Why had that stupid, old bastard send him here? The assignment had been childishly easy. It had only taken him five minutes to break into the house, open the vault and take out the papers he needed. The residents hadn't even woken up.

And now here he was, in some town with a population of 3740. He had walked down those forsaken streets a million times. The town wasn't that big. So why couldn't he find his car back? He couldn't even find back the street where he had parked.

Aimlessly he walked down another street. What was there, under the lamppost? Alex thought he saw a man there. He took a closer look. Yes! There was an old man standing there, checking his old-fashioned pocket watch.

Alex walked over to him. "Excuse me?"

The old man looked up. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if you could help me," Alex said.

"What seems to be the problem?" the man asked.

"It's kind of embarrassing," Alex said, looking at his feet. Come on Alex, get a grip, he told himself. You're a cold hearted, ruthless killer. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Besides, it's not like anybody here knows you and you're most likely never to return here anyway. "I seem to have forgotten where I parked my car."

"Well then, laddie, that's not such big a problem, is it?" the man answered. "Do you remember the name of the street you parked in?"

"Yes, Rosenberg Lane," Alex said.

"Rosenberg Lane?" the man repeated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Alex answered. "I always remember the names of the streets where I park my car. I'm sure the sign said Rosenberg Lane. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Well, it's just..." the man said. "I guess you noticed our fine town isn't that big?"

"Yes," Alex answered. "How could I not."

"You see, I've lived here all my life," the man told him. "And I've never seen a street called Rosenberg Lane..."

Okay, now Alex really started panicking. Had he really been thinking about the wrong street name all this time? No, that was impossible. He remembered quite distinctly that he parked his car next to a big building and on the wall had been a sign saying Rosenberg Lane. It had to be here. He had been out of D.C. the whole week, and he knew exactly where every street in D.C. was. And there was no Rosenberg Lane there, he was sure of that.

"Tell you what," the old man said, after looking at Alex's worried face. "Why don't you come with me to my house? I have a map of the town there. We can check every street there is. You tell me all you remember about the street where you parked and I'm sure we will find your car back."

"All I remember is parking next to a big building," Alex told the man as he followed him. He noticed the man walked quite fast for his age.

"The only big buildings we have are at the edge of town," the old man said. "That won't be difficult to find."

Alex looked at the streets they were passing. He thought it was very strange that he didn't recognize any of them. He probably had crossed the whole town like six times the last two hours. It was impossible he hadn't been through every street a couple of times. How many streets could this town have? Suddenly he got this weird feeling. Like something, or someone, was watching him. He looked around him, but the streets were as desolate as they had been when he first got here. The old man didn't seem to have noticed him looking around. Or if he had, he didn't show he had. The man stopped abruptly and Alex almost bumped into him because he was so deep in thoughts.

"Here we are," the man said and opened a door.

Alex followed him inside. "This is where you live?" he asked.

"I know it's not much," the man answered, "but it'll do. I don't need much room."

He went into the kitchen and motioned for Alex to sit down at the table. He rummaged through some drawers, then produced a map. The map looked pretty worn down and showed tears where it had been folded. He unfolded the map on the kitchen table. The old man's finger hovered over the map, while his eyes searched for the big building Alex had told him about.

"There," he suddenly said and his finger came down heavily on the table.

"Is there the Rosenberg Lane," Alex asked.

"No, no, no," the man answered. "Here are the only big buildings we have here." He looked at Alex's face. "What?"

"There's something nibbling on my toe," Alex answered. But instead of answering him the old man started laughing. Alex carefully looked down. There was a big cat lying on the ground, by his feet. It had somehow managed to pull Alex's boot of his foot, without him noticing it and was now trying the taste of toes. Alex pulled his foot away from the claws of the cat. Undignified it looked up at him and Alex got the feeling of déjà vu.

"Greebo?" he said, looking at the scarred head of the cat.

"How did you know my cat's name?" the old man asked. "You probably saw his name on his collar?"

Alex looked at the cat again and saw it had a collar with his name on it. He thought it was very weird, to see the cat here. But then again, everything about this town was weird. So he said: "Yeah. Yeah, I saw the collar." It was a big, fat lie, because he had known the name before he saw the collar. The cat looked exactly the same as miss Gretta's cat and not because they both had scarred faces. The scars on this cat were in exactly the same places as on miss Gretta's cat.

"Tell you what I'll do," the man said. "I'll draw you a map with directions to the building where your car probably is. I still think you got the street name wrong, but anyway, that's where your car should be. I'll also draw a map from that building to the edge of town, with details. You won't have any trouble finding your way out of town."

"That would be great, thanks," Alex said. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"No, not at all," the man answered. "Down the hall, the door on your right."

The old man started scribbling on a piece of paper and Alex left him there to search for the bathroom. He took the door to his right, used the bathroom and washed his hands. When he got out of the bathroom, he saw the door opposite was ajar. He looked at the kitchen and saw the old man had his back turned at him. His curiosity won and he gently pushed the door further open. It was dark, but Alex could just make out there was a flight of stairs leading down right in front of him. He carefully walked down. He looked around, but couldn't make out anything. He felt something on his forehead. Thinking it was a cobweb, he wiped it away, but it came back. He grabbed it and upon closer look saw it was a small rope. He pulled it and a light went on.

And Alex wished he hadn't gone down the stairs...

... the whole basement was filled with shelves... filled with dolls. All around him, there was nothing but dolls. There even was a workbench, where there lay half-finished dolls. A body that was lying on the workbench turned around, picked up a head and put it on its shoulders. Then it looked at him, with the same even grin as the dolls in miss Gretta's house. Now Alex knew where miss Gretta had gotten her dolls. Well, one thing was for sure. Alex wasn't staying around to find out how many dolls would attack him. He turned around and ran back up the stairs. The door was closed. Alex knew for sure that he had left it open. He grabbed the handle and pushed... the door wouldn't budge. He threw his full weight against the door. It didn't budge. The doll, which was still looking at him, thought Alex was acting silly. It had seen Alex push the door open to the inside. So why was he now trying to push it open to the outside?

He felt something on his leg. Looking down, he saw one of the dolls hanging on his jeans. He tried to kick it, but a second one grabbed his other leg. When he tried to move, he tripped over the first one and fell down the stairs. Dazed, he kept lying there, at the bottom of the stairs. Which was a mistake because the dolls had taken the opportunity to climb on top of him. Alex tried to get up, but the dolls were so heavy. They all had that wild grin on their face. Some of them bared their sharp, shiny teeth. He held up his arms to protect his face, when he felt the first bite in his ankle. Then, everything went dark...

Tring, tring. Tring, tring. Tring, tring.

Carefully, Alex opened one eye. Had he died and gone to hell? He couldn't get that ring out of his head. He opened his other eye and saw his cell phone. At the same time it stopped ringing. He now looked around him and saw he was sitting in his car. Looking around, he saw he was parked next to a big building, with a sign on the wall. It said Rosenberg Lane. Without hesitation, he started the car. When he put his right leg on the peddle, a stinging pain made him wince. He looked down and saw there was blood on his jeans. Pulling up his jeans, he saw the little teeth marks on his ankle...