by Joseph Kiel
Sitting on the cold concrete floor next to him was Eddie’s baseball cap. Larry picked it up and put it on his head; the raging volcano needed to be contained.
He noticed the icy-eyed thug was still standing by the pile of shredded flesh, leaning over it in fascination.
‘Relax, Zero,’ Floyd called out to him. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s dead.’ Giggling, he turned to Larry. ‘Not the sharpest blade him. Once took an IQ test and came out for a duck.’
‘It was difficult finding the wrong answer every time!’ Zero protested.
‘I don’t know. Never met anyone before who tried so hard to be a slob! You know,’ Floyd prattled on to Larry as he got to his feet, ‘if it wasn’t for me, this idiot would be sponging off society, collecting disability allowance and God knows what, and sitting on his arse all day watching Cash in the Fucking Attic. Now he’s doing something. So there’s some good I do do.’
‘Are we going to eat? I’m starving.’ Zero said.
‘You didn’t want any Shr-Eddies?’ Floyd giggled as he grinned at Larry.
The monster then walked off as Zero gazed down at Larry with his cold stare. ‘We’ll be back later,’ he said to him softly.
Part 14: The Clouds of Karma
Chapter 14.1
It was all candyfloss sweetness and dancing rainbow lights at Floyd’s public amusement park where Henry and his two Powers searched out the park’s owner. With every minute that passed, Henry was feeling his heart getting tighter and tighter in his chest, while Jake and Clint were like two lager cans shaken up and dying to be opened.
All they could find were normal people: hormonal teenagers acting cool in front of the girls, old women in beige cardigans eating ice cream as they vicariously enjoyed the rides, toddlers being pushed around in buggies by their mothers who looked like the most miserable people on the planet. Nothing out of the ordinary there.
No Floyd. No Devlan. They’d charged into Floyd’s office, but the only guy in there, a pale-faced chap eating a packet of Mini Cheddars while on his break from working the cash exchange kiosk, was clueless as to where his boss was. Even after Jake had grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against the wall, he had no information to spill on Floyd’s whereabouts.
They continued to patrol around the amusements and arcades as the minutes gradually accumulated into hours. There was nothing else they could do. Henry phoned Nigel at The Cheshire Cat every five minutes to find out if there’d been any more letters delivered, any phone calls, or if that elusive Vladimir had finally appeared.
As Henry got back inside the black Mercedes, he undid the top two buttons on his shirt and loosened his tie. He rubbed his chest. He felt so hot. Floyd was making him sweat, making him burn, twisting his nerves. If Henry had been more of a fighter back in the days of the Network, perhaps he may have got a knife and stabbed it in Floyd’s head, destroying the monster he’d allowed to live and to roam around in his town. If only he’d done something about it all those years ago.
Alan would have done it. Even without any first-hand experience of Floyd’s monstrosities, Alan knew enough that he would have organised his disposal. But Henry hadn’t gone for that. He’d been too afraid. Destroying The Harbour Master’s creation would have brought about serious repercussions.
‘What do we do, Henry?’ Jake asked as he sat in the driver’s seat. ‘Where can we go?’
Henry’s eyes focussed on the dead smears of bugs on the windscreen. No matter what, they had to find Floyd. Yet within these hours of fruitless searching the candle must have already burnt out. It was the same story for Henry. He never found what he searched for. ‘I don’t know,’ he muttered.
‘There’s no telling what Floyd’s going to do.’
‘My head isn’t in the sand now, Jake. Believe me.’
‘This shit goes way back, don’t it? Right back to Forseti.’
‘You know what happened.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ve been standing back ever since. All these years. It’s easier to do nothing. This is all my karma.’
‘Floyd wasn’t your responsibility, Henry. You didn’t make him.’
‘No, but I left him out there.’
‘We’ll get him.’
‘It’s already too late.’
‘Then even more reason.’
Clint got in the back seat, panting after a fretful walk along the promenade for the fiftieth time. ‘That Kolley ain’t anywhere. We need Vladimir. He’ll know what to do.’
‘Yeah. Vladimir always has the answers,’ Henry replied with truthful sarcasm. He looked across Floyd’s playground and saw one of the boats of the log flume being dragged to the top. Beyond the ride the sun was starting to set on this awful mess of a day. With painful desperation, Henry wondered if it would be the last sunset that he would ever see.
The log flume scooted around to the drop. The passengers, a father and his toddler son, screamed excitedly as their boat careered through the river and the splashing of water rained down on them. Henry envied their fun, envied their ignorance.
But that wasn’t his life; Henry had seen beneath the veil.
‘I got bad vibes,’ Clint went on. ‘Can feel our luck running dry this time.’
‘Should we go back to Clarence?’ Jake asked.
‘No. Let’s wait,’ Henry said as he closed his baggy eyes.
‘We can’t just sit here,’ Clint piped up again.
‘They’ll come to us. I bet they’re watching us right now,’ Jake said.
A silence lingered for a few moments, until Henry opened his eyes again. ‘I’ll have to face Floyd alone.’
‘Why?’ Jake asked. ‘What do you want us to do?’
‘I want both of you to see to Devlan. I tried to give him a chance, but I guess he’s the blood-drinking freak that everyone thought him to be. It’s time we rid this town of him, time to rid this town of both its monsters.’
Jake nodded.
‘Devlan? How can we…?’ Clint started before he was interrupted.
Henry reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his ringing mobile phone. He didn’t recognise the number but he sure as hell recognised the voice on the other end.
Chapter 14.2
Devlan hadn’t been to Floyd’s warehouse in years. He slipped in through the fire exit door at the back; it was still broken, not that he’d ever mentioned this to his boss. Wandering through the cold corridor to the main warehouse, he saw that the refurbished rides were still there collecting dust.
He wondered why Floyd had asked him to come here, but looking around he couldn’t see anything amiss. His olfactory perceptions told him differently though. The smell of the skinny kid’s deodorant, the oils in his dog’s pelage. He could smell blood too, a lot of it. Stronger than blood.
‘How did you get in here?’ Floyd asked as he bounded up to him.
Devlan silently continued to decode the smells of the warehouse. Floyd’s stench had hit his nostrils the moment he’d stepped inside.
‘You told me to come here.’
‘Don’t know how to knock?’
‘Where are they?’
‘Scooby-Doo and co? I got them all locked up.’
‘Yeah, right. Why do you always think I’m as dumb as you, Floyd?’
‘I don’t. I think you’re even dumber.’
‘How do you work that one out?’
‘Because you follow me around.’
‘Dumb as a bag of glass hammers,’ Devlan replied blankly as he meandered further into the secret collection of fairground rides. ‘What have you been doing to this place?’
‘Nothing.’
Devlan peered over his shades. He recognised a lot of these roller coasters and merry-go-rounds, remembering the work he’d done on their mechanics to get them running again. But why hadn’t Floyd sold them on? He sensed that something was out of place, as if he was looking at a familiar room and trying to guess the missing object.
‘Why are they all still here?’
/>
‘Don’t worry your little head over that right now. I need you to do something for me.’
‘Floyd is clicking his fingers again, is he?’
‘You already came here, like the faithful chap you are. Or maybe it was because you had no choice.’
‘The second one.’
Floyd made a cocky laugh that was more irritating than usual. ‘Henry and his crew are out looking for me.’
‘They know what’s going on?’
‘Sort of. Henry knows that it’s him I want.’
‘Always knew there was something between you two.’
Floyd’s brain was too much on one track to detect the wisecrack. ‘So I need him down here now,’ he went on. ‘Go and get him for me. Bring him here.’
‘Where is he?’
‘My lookout saw him down at the amusements.’
‘He’s on his own?’
‘No doubt the turncoat Jake and Clint the Brave might be around. I’m sure you can take care of them if they prove to be a problem.’
‘Why? Do you think they will be a problem?’
‘I don’t,’ Floyd replied, pausing, shifting on his feet. ‘Henry will co-operate. He knows the deal.’
‘So simple then,’ Devlan said. His shoulders drooped a little.
Floyd watched him closely. Devlan seemed to be playing along. Forlornly he wandered back to the fire escape, like a plastic supermarket bag blowing aimlessly in the wind, waiting to be swept up and thrown away.
It was all part of the plan. Floyd had no idea how to bump off Devlan, other than to send him to Jake and Clint who would surely pulverise him. Thinking that it was Devlan who’d turned in the two youngsters, Devlan would not stand a chance, not against those two.
It was a bit of a shame to be losing Devlan’s services after all these years, but orders from The Harbour Master had to be fulfilled. Devlan needed to be eliminated. He knew where that cursed Tatterdemalion was and so was a loose end that needed cutting off.
As Devlan disappeared through the fire exit, Zero walked in through the main door with two paper bags.
‘Here, I got you a quarter pounder.’
‘Let’s eat,’ Floyd replied. ‘I’m starving after all that work.’
Chapter 14.3
Not even a quiet five minutes inside Saint Padua’s could provide Michael any comfort. He just felt so hollow and helpless. He lit a couple of the votive candles, one for Larry and one for Eddie, but as he stared at the flames he had the gloomy feeling that there was only one person he could rely on right now.
Michael stepped out of the church onto the crepuscular street. It was an hour after closing time and so the town was in that lull between serving shoppers and serving drinkers. He didn’t know where to go anymore, didn’t know where else he could look for his friends. He found himself walking back to the café anyway.
The place was closed, but the manager with the trim beard and the wild hair was still standing behind the counter, going over the day’s takings. Michael tapped on the glass door. Nigel looked up, hesitated for a moment, and then went over to him.
‘Hello again,’ Nigel cheerfully said to him as though he was greeting an old friend.
‘Are you one of them? Are you one of the Fires?’ Michael asked.
Nigel’s eyes twinkled. He looked up and down the street then back at his visitor. ‘Come in.’
Michael took his seat by the counter again while Nigel picked up his tickets. ‘I have to go through all these. Add them all up, make sure it all correlates with what’s in the till. I know a few pence here and there doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, but it gives my mind something to do.’
‘Don’t let me disturb you.’
Nigel wasn’t looking at the tickets any more though, but staring into space as his head lolled from side to side. ‘Every day. Have to keep my mind occupied. I don’t like to stop.’
‘Look, I just came here because…’
‘Because then I start to think.’
‘About what?’
Nigel locked his eyes with Michael’s. For a moment he didn’t say anything, just shook his head then put a finger to his lips. ‘Seven o’clock. Let me try Vladimir again.’
He reached round and picked up the phone, an old-fashioned Bakelite hanging on the wall. He dialled and waited. It seemed nobody was picking their phone up today. He replaced the receiver.
‘Hmm,’ Nigel said, prolonging the syllable so that the vibrations might soothe his inner organs.
‘Vladimir. Is he the one in black, the highly strung one?’ Michael asked.
Nigel nodded, his mind going back to his calculations. ‘Eleven eight-four.’
‘You got an address for him?’
‘No. I’m sorry, I must do these.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, carry on. Maybe I’ll just wait here in case he turns up.’
‘Five fifty… That’s not right.’
It was Michael’s last hope. When Vladimir the vigilante turned up, he’d demand his help and he would have no choice but to co-operate, especially when he learnt of the bargaining chip Michael was holding.
Chapter 14.4
Vladimir had gone wandering. He would sometimes do that when he slept. He knew why it happened and he knew how to stop it, but he also knew that despite how haunting and harrowing it could get, it was something that he yearned for. There were things to be found in his travelling, revelations to be uncovered in this realm of the absolute.
All day he’d been at the park next to the woods, the same park that had been bulldozed over so that the land could be used to build a new housing estate. But right now it was back to being a park again.
He observed his footsteps stepping on the occasional horse chestnut leaf, sounding very satisfying crunches. Why had his soul been drawn to this place today? He remembered all the different playground apparatus: the climbing frame with the monkey bars, the old wooden roundabout, the green seesaw that whined like a donkey as it went up and down.
As interesting as it was to revisit this place, he couldn’t work it out. He wouldn’t be able to escape though. He was trapped here until the message would present itself.
He looked up through the awesome trees that stretched up trying to reach for the heavens, and he could see that the sky had turned a thick grey. It would soon start to rain, and he knew that it was going to be quite a storm.
Vladimir saw that two people had arrived at the park. A young boy sat on a swing while someone pushed him. He’d only given him a few feeble swings before the grey-haired man sat on the swing next to the boy. There was a third chair; Vladimir slowly approached.
He knew who they were, but, even so, it was very strange. It was just that he’d never been haunted by Ulric Tuckwell before. The boy in the swing was Jeremy. No surprise that he was here again.
Vladimir sat down next to them in the empty swing, listening in on their conversation. Eventually Ulric noticed him and turned to look him over. The side of Ulric’s face had that horrible, open wound on it, the flesh ripped apart and a crispy line of blood all the way down his neck.
‘Here he is, Jeremy. Vladimir got here at last.’
‘I’ve never seen you before. All these years and I’ve never seen you,’ Vladimir said to the ghost.
‘I’ve been around. Just not in your dreams. You know it. When your time is up the clock will chime.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Wanted to find Jeremy, didn’t I?’ Ulric replied as he turned to the silent boy.
Vladimir peeked at him. His reflective face stared back, but his eyes weren’t haunted today; instead they shone with a purple glow.
‘But it’s hard to find Jeremy. Hard to find him since you killed him.’
‘Jeremy had to die,’ Vladimir replied. ‘He was weak. It was for the best.’
Ulric placed a hand on the boy’s fair hair and ruffled it up. ‘We all meet again though, don’t we? I found you.’
‘I know. I knew it.’
‘You have the power to save people, Vladimir, and yet still they slip away from you.’
‘It wasn’t my fault!’ Vladimir cried as he shot to his feet.
‘Sit down,’ Ulric said calmly. ‘I’m not in any pain. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Doesn’t matter? Then why are you here?’
‘Why are you here?’ Ulric asked before dragging in a weary breath. ‘You came here to understand that one of the Guardians is dead, the other is still alive, for now.’
‘So they failed?’
‘Don’t worry about their test. How about you worry about yours?’ The walking dead man got to his feet. ‘If only we could believe that everything that happens in this world transpires according to the will of the universe. That we can’t lose. Can’t fail. Despite everything that is thrown at us.’
Vladimir shook his head. ‘How do I find them?’
‘Follow the boy,’ Ulric replied. He stared up into the sky as large raindrops began to smack on the tarmac. ‘This one’s going to pour. I know how to tell now. It’s come to drench you. To extinguish.’
The ghostly grandfather strolled away from them, fading, leaving Vladimir alone with Jeremy. He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the child.
Vladimir knew that somehow he had to crawl his way out of this nightmare. He knew it was only a dream, that he wasn’t really in this park that wasn’t a park anymore. He knew he wasn’t really there with this young boy whose spirit had been extinguished many years ago.
The young boy whom he had murdered.
He knew that he was back at home in his bed. He could feel the bed sheets against his simmering skin. With all of his might, he tried to open his eyes to rescue himself from this haunting. It took all of his efforts to prise open his eyes just a fraction, and see a blurred bedroom through his eyelashes.
But still Jeremy was right next to him, and now he was staring at him. As the grey clouds swarmed the sky and sucked away all the light from the sky’s ball of flames, the purple glow from Jeremy’s eyes shone over Vladimir’s body until it was the only light he could see. The rain poured and poured, gushing, drowning.