Moon's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Moon hung upside down from a dead security wire and counted the pizzeria's empty rooms. He needed the right one. Somewhere in this dark building slept the last child who still hummed his lullabies. She had stopped answering him. If he found where she once slept, he could reach her again. But the power had died months ago, and his memory had died with it. He swung across the ceiling on his silver arms. His golden bell rang once, then he pinched it silent. Below him stretched the giant playroom, a tower of colored slides and tunnels under a rainbow arch. Plush foxes and bears slumped in the dark. A ball pit sat below, its bright plastic balls faded gray. Moon dropped to the top level and crouched. He had painted himself into this place years ago, half his face a white crescent, half of it black. Children used to nap here after the pizza ran out. But which nook was hers? He had known once. He did not know now. He crawled through a yellow tunnel and found a nap mat. He pressed his red eyes close. Nothing. He tried a second nook near the sun mural. Nothing. Panic climbed his wires. Time was leaking. Each night she forgot more of his voice. Then he saw it. Tucked under the third slide, half-hidden behind a stuffed fox, lay a small blanket. Yellow stars covered it. The same stars stitched on his own cap. He had made that blanket for her. He remembered folding it here, tucking it around her shoulders while he sang. Moon lifted the blanket. Beneath it lay a child's drawing. A tall jester with a crescent face. A moon in a blue cap. Her hand had drawn him. This was her spot. He was certain now. He pressed his palm to the mat and began the lullaby, soft and slow, the one she used to sleep to. He aimed it at the room, hoping the walls still held her. A sound answered. Not a voice. A wheel, turning somewhere below. Then a red light blinked to life across the playroom, high on a security camera he thought was dead. Something else lived in this building. Something had heard him sing. The camera swiveled and fixed on Moon. Its lens whirred, focusing. A speaker crackled near the ball pit. A low voice spoke his old show name, the one only the pizzeria's system knew. Moon clutched the star blanket to his chest. He had found her room. He had found her spot, her drawing, her song. But finding it had woken something that guarded this place. Whatever now watched him stood between Moon and the child he meant to win back. He backed into the shadows above the rainbow arch and held still. The red light followed him. The chase for the child had a new rule now: he was no longer alone in the dark.