Becoming...

by Jacob Rayne

  The clown pulled the blade loose, smiling as he brought it down again, further widening the severe wound that he had created. Warm blood sprayed her face and chest.

  One by one, Rhonda’s senses shut down. Her smell was first to go, the scent of blood suddenly disappearing.

  Her touch was next, it felt like she was floating, numb.

  The taste of blood faded, shortly followed by her hearing. The clown’s mouth moved in a silent laugh.

  She saw the black crosses around his eyes, saw the immense black grin, then she saw nothing at all.

  Chapter 3

  The man known as Alfred Wright (soon to be dubbed Mr Chuckles the Psychotic Clown by the press) woke the next morning with a sense of calm.

  He showered – somewhat reluctantly as he enjoyed the feel of dried blood against his skin – then dressed. While he ate breakfast he relived the events of the previous evening.

  The man, woman and teenaged boy had been a welcome bonus. All he’d really cared about was getting to the Williams’ snotty daughter and teaching her a lesson. She and her friend had had it coming.

  Alfred had loved working as a teaching assistant in Marshton’s combined primary and secondary school. The money wasn’t great, but Alfred felt that doing something he enjoyed was indeed a rare thing, so he’d cherished his job.

  He had loved being around the kids. Not in a creepy way, just he identified more with them than he did the adults who shunned and mocked him.

  He’d never liked life as an adult; life as a kid was much better, they were encouraged to free their imaginations and chase their dreams instead of doing jobs they hated just to earn a living.

  So when Hannah and that little bitch Jane Miller had accused him of touching them in the toilets after school, his world had fallen apart.

  The headmaster had been supportive, but couldn’t be seen to be taking a soft approach to such a serious accusation.

  After a few weeks of humiliating questions, Alfred was told that unfortunately he wouldn’t be kept on at the school.

  At first Alfred had been philosophical, reasoning that it had all happened to teach him a lesson, but then the abuse had started. His home had been broken into and ‘Kiddy fiddler’ had been spray-painted on his wall. His possessions had been trashed and dog shit rubbed into his bed and clothes.

  His beloved wife told him that she could no longer tolerate the stigma of being married to the man who had been branded a pervert and a clown.

  If the cap fits, he’d thought with a grin the night before he decided to break into the Williams’ home.

  He had lost everything because of a vindictive lie two snot-nosed little kids had told. He’d shown Hannah. Smashed her head right in with a claw hammer.

  Jane would get the same treatment, once the hysteria had died down a little.

  He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the little bitch and teach her the lesson she sorely needed.

  A smile crossed his face as he thought of Hannah’s splintered, bleeding skull. He was going to make even more of a mess of Jane’s head. He couldn’t wait to shut her smart mouth once and for all.

  Chapter 4

  Mike Miller laid on his horn as the driver in front ground to a halt for no apparent reason.

  ‘Come on,’ Mike shouted, waving his arms in an attempt to communicate the urgency of the situation.

  The man in front got out of the car, showing a complete lack of embarrassment for his shit driving. He ignored Mike and resumed chatting on his mobile phone.

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Mike shouted, slamming his hand into the horn.

  The man ignored him.

  Mike looked for a gap in the traffic but it seemed none of the bastards were going to let him out.

  He felt suddenly, irrationally, terrified. He had to pick up his son, Luke, from school, and didn’t want to be late, especially given the recent murders in town. Mike’s daughter, Jane, was going straight to a friend’s house, so he didn’t need to pick her up.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of the killer getting his vile hands on Luke.

  No fucking way was he going to let that happen.

  He slammed his foot on the gas. Steered hard right onto the other side of the road.

  The prick on the phone leapt out of the way, a comical expression on his face. Mike took his wing mirror off as he drove past.

  A car on the other side of the road brayed his horn. Mike returned the horn and flashed a middle finger.

  ‘Asshole,’ the other driver shouted.

  ‘Fuck you,’ Mike roared, pulling onto the correct side of the road once he’d passed the arsehole on the phone.

  He checked the clock.

  Five minutes to cross town in rush hour.

  He groaned as he realised he had no chance of making it.

  Chapter 5

  Alfred approached Marshton’s school on foot. As it was almost Halloween, he found he could get away with wearing his fiendish clown makeup. Some of the other parents were dressed up too, clearly picking up their children for Halloween parties.

  The school bell sounded just as he reached the school where he’d spent so many happy working hours.

  He strolled up to the gates, marvelling at the laziness of some of the parents who couldn’t even be bothered to get out of their cars.

  He nodded a greeting to a man dressed up as an undead Michael Jackson and waited by the gates.

  His heart thudded against his ribs, partly at the fear of being discovered, but mostly through excitement of what he was going to do to Jane when he had her to himself.

  Alfred smiled at the parents as they took their kids. Within a few minutes most of them had gone. It became clear that the three remaining kids weren’t going to be picked up any time soon.

  None of the trio was Jane, but one was her younger brother, Luke. He would have to do for now until Jane showed up. Hell, maybe he could hurt the little boy and send photos to Jane, really fuck with her mind.

  His grin widened as he explored this possibility.

  He went over to the three kids and smiled. Luke was the smallest of the three, probably eight at the very oldest.

  ‘Hi, there, Luke,’ he said, flashing his big clown’s smile.

  The boy smiled back.

  ‘I’m a friend of your daddy’s,’ Alfred continued.

  ‘Don’t listen to him, Luke,’ said Melanie, a sullen and much less trusting little girl who was also waiting to be picked up.

  ‘I don’t have to listen to you,’ Luke told her.

  ‘That’s right, you don’t,’ Alfred said. ‘Don’t listen to her. Your dad said I was to take you to a Halloween party. He said we were to go and get you a costume first. Then we’ll go and get ice cream and head off to the party.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ Melanie said.

  ‘You’re just jealous cos I’m going to the party,’ Luke said, sticking out his tongue.

  He walked off hand in hand with the man that he believed was his father’s friend. He didn’t see anything wrong with this; after all, clowns were happy people who always made other people smile.

  Melanie ran back into the school to tell a teacher about the scary clown who had taken Luke.

  Chapter 6

  Mike pulled up outside the school and saw one small boy waiting. He wondered why there wasn’t a teacher with him, especially with things the way they were in Marshton.

  Where was Luke?

  His heart picked up a little when he realised that his son wasn’t waiting outside.

  He dived out of the car and ran over to the kid.

  ‘Where’s Luke?’ he asked.

  While Mike waited for the boy to answer, the school doors burst open and a teacher ran out with a little girl.

  ‘They went that way,’ Melanie told the teacher, pointing to the path that led onto the estate.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Mike asked, fear already starting to consume him.

  ‘We’re not sure,’ the teacher said.

>   ‘The scary clown took Luke,’ Melanie said.

  ‘Shit,’ Mike shouted, making both Melanie and the teacher jump. ‘Why was no one watching him?’

  The teacher shifted from foot to foot, staring at the floor.

  ‘What did he look like?’ Mike asked Melanie.

  ‘A clown,’ she said. ‘He had black crosses over his eyes and a big black grin.’

  ‘If he hurts my son…’ Mike said, glaring at the guilty-looking teacher.

  The teacher was still staring at the floor when Mike ran in the direction that Melanie had pointed.

  Frantic, Mike scanned the estate. He couldn’t think straight. Shit, they could be anywhere by now.

  Why hadn’t Luke listened when he’d warned him about strangers?

  He ran farther into the estate, unable to escape the growing feeling that he may never see his son again.

  Mike spent the next half an hour in sheer despair. The realisation that the stranger could have taken his son anywhere by now had begun to sink in.

  The cops had made an appearance and were assisting in the search, knocking on doors with photos of Luke and an artist’s impression of the clown based on Melanie’s description.

  They were getting nowhere.

  No one wanted to be the one to tell Mike the bad news, but, by his broken expression, it was clear that he already knew.

  Unless they had a miracle there was no way they would find his son.

  Chapter 7

  Alfred flinched as there was a knock on his door. He locked the kid in the bedroom, made sure he had washed off all of the face-paint with a quick look in the mirror then answered the door.

  ‘Hello, Sir, we’re investigating the disappearance of a child from the local school,’ the well-dressed man who was obviously a plain-clothes policeman said.

  ‘Oh, how terrible. I’ll do whatever I can to help.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir. This is the child,’ he said, flashing Luke’s photo.

  Alfred’s brow furrowed as he considered the picture carefully. He paused for a few seconds then shook his head. ‘Nope. Can’t say I’ve seen him, officer. Sorry.’

  ‘What about this guy?’ he asked, holding up the artist’s impression of the clown.

  Alfred stared at the inaccurate picture and frowned in concentration. ‘Yeah, I think that’s Eddie,’ he said.

  ‘Eddie?’

  ‘Yeah, Eddie. Don’t know his surname. He lives out by the edge of town.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Not at all. And I hope you find the missing kiddie.’

  As he started to close the door, a knocking sound came from upstairs.

  Luke had been a bit scared when he’d seen the huge, forbidding house where the clown was leading him, but he hadn’t been too frightened until he’d been locked in the bedroom.

  For the first time he began to suspect that the clown wasn’t who he said he was. He’d remembered what his dad had told him about the man who had been killing people in town.

  Another warning from his father flashed into his head – something about not going near this house because bad things had happened here.

  The photo of the clown holding a meat cleaver on the bedside table led him to the conclusion that he had been taken by the killer.

  Screaming, he beat his fists against the locked door.

  Chapter 8

  The cop put his hand in the door to stop it from closing.

  ‘You mind if I take a look inside, Sir?’ he said, suspicion obvious on his face.

  Alfred mentally cursed.

  ‘Course not,’ he said. ‘My kid’s a fucking nightmare at the moment.’ He tried on a smile but it didn’t quite fit.

  The cop seemed to sense his deception.

  Alfred looked down at the cop’s belt. No gun, just a cosh. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

  ‘Please, come in,’ he said, shutting the door behind the cop. ‘He’s upstairs. Second door on the right.’

  Alfred tried to remain calm but he had a feeling that he was in deep shit. He decided to wait before he made his move.

  The cop moved upstairs. Alfred followed a few steps behind. The braying and screaming became louder.

  ‘He’s got ADD or something,’ Alfred said.

  The cop couldn’t have looked more suspicious if he’d tried.

  They reached the landing.

  Almost time, Alfred thought. Soon as he notices the key, it’s time.

  ‘You make a habit of locking your kid up?’ the cop said, pointing to the key in the lock.

  The words were barely out of his mouth when Alfred’s fist smashed into his ear hard enough to knock him back into the wall. For a second he didn’t know where he was.

  His vision cleared to see Alfred waving a meat cleaver above his head.

  He went for his cosh, but the blade bit into his bicep, cutting him to the bone. Blood poured from the wound. His arm dangled, limp and useless, by his side.

  He had time to let out a cry of pain before the cleaver slammed into the side of his neck.

  The pain barely registered. He realised he was falling.

  Realised he was dying.

  Then he saw the man leading a wide-eyed child out of the locked room. Officer Kent had time to recognise the fact that it was the kid from the photo then life ebbed away from him in a crimson tide.

  Chapter 9

  Mike was across the road from Peth Vale, spinning aimlessly, hoping for the miracle that would bring his son back into his life.

  Halfway round his second spin, he saw a man rushing down the house’s long drive.

  It took him a few seconds to register that the man had a child with him.

  After another second he noticed that the kid was Luke.

  ‘Hey,’ he shouted.

  The man looked at him and picked up his pace.

  ‘That man’s got my son,’ Mike announced to anyone listening.

  He ran after the man who had taken Luke.

  Alfred cursed as he realised that he’d been spotted. Trust his car to be out of action too. Damn his luck. He’d have to steal the first one he saw and get out of town.

  Dragging the boy by the arm, he ran. The little bastard was trying to be awkward by resisting. He was screaming and crying fit to raise hell too.

  Alfred thought about it. Weighed up his options. He’d be much faster without the kid. He could always find him again. Or not, he was a fucking nightmare.

  ‘Fuck it,’ he muttered, slashing the cleaver across the child’s belly.

  Alfred shoved the screaming kid away, taking a brief second to admire the blood which was already soaking into the boy’s white t-shirt.

  Then he ran.

  Mike let out a cry of rage when he saw the blade dig into Luke’s belly. His son’s scream tore through him.

  The man took off, faster without his struggling, screaming burden.

  Mike reached his son and started screaming for help. Blood was pissing out of the wound.

  Mike pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

  He called for help again, praying that his son wouldn’t die.

  Chapter 10

  Alfred grinned as he ran. He’d known hurting the kid would stop the dad in his tracks, no matter how intent on retribution he’d been.

  Now he just had to escape the cops and get out of town. After that, he’d be home free.

  He had a friend in the next town who’d let him crash on the settee until the shit storm blew over.

  He ducked into a back yard as he saw a cop running down the alley towards him. Pressed himself against the wall until the cop had passed. Then he snuck out of the yard and set off for his friend’s place.

  The first cop to reach Mike called for an ambulance. He tried to keep his expression neutral but he figured the kid’s wound was fatal. He’d seen blood like that before and it had resulted in a one way ticket to the morgue.

  He hoped his face didn’t communicate this to the kid’s father. Poor fucker had bee
n through enough today without his son dying.

  It didn’t seem like the dad had seen him anyway; he was just staring at the kid.

  The kid looked pale and weak. He’d be lucky to survive.

  Chapter 11

  Alfred saw a group of cops by the edge of the estate. He felt sure they’d see him if he tried to pass them, so instead he looked for a hiding place. He saw a house with an open back door and darted inside.

  The blare of a TV came from the living room and he looked in to see an old woman reclined on the settee, her eyes closed, a paperback tented on her lap.

  He passed the doorway and moved upstairs, searching for a hiding place. There was a big wardrobe in one of the bedrooms.

  He’d hide in there later, but he decided he may as well be comfortable while he waited and lay on the bed, planning to move when he heard the old woman come upstairs.

  The ambulance took Mike and Luke to the hospital. Mike was beside himself at the thought of losing his son. He’d lost his wife, Laura, in a car crash the previous year. Luke and Jane were all he had.

  He paced back and forth in the waiting room, impatient to hear back on his son’s condition.

  Over an hour passed before Mike stopped his nervous pacing and sat down. A cop came in to see him.

  ‘How is he?’ the cop said.

  ‘Not good. He was bleeding really badly.’

  ‘He’ll be fine. If he hung on this long…’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  The cop gave him a smile that was meant to console. ‘I’m Sergeant James Hirst,’ he said, offering his hand.

  ‘Mike Miller. Good to meet you. You caught this freak yet?’

  Hirst tutted then shook his head. ‘Fucker’s disappeared. Don’t worry. We will catch him. He took out a cop earlier. Just before he left the house.’ Hirst sniffed.

  ‘You ok?’