by Ronald Kelly
“What do you mean?”
Edwin hesitated. He turned his eyes toward the open doorway, as well as the dark window next to the bed. “God help us, Jasper, but I honestly believe he’s in league with the devil. I think he poisoned those folks way back then to benefit his ‘master’, as he calls him. I believe he was harvesting souls for Satan.”
Jasper couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “Do you know how insane that sounds?”
“Yes,” agreed his friend. “But it’s true. Don’t ask me how, but it is.”
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of the nurse at the door. “Sorry, Mr. McLeod, but your five minutes are up. You’ll have to leave and come back tomorrow morning.”
Jasper nodded and left the chair next to the bed. The two old men stared at one another. “I’ll see you later,” said the lanky farmer.
“Be careful, Jasper,” Edwin warned, his pale face grim. “And don’t do nothing foolish. Nothing that might bring harm to you… or the boy.”
“I won’t,” promised Jasper, although he didn’t fully understand exactly what Edwin was referring to.
A moment later, he was walking down the outside corridor, moving away from the intensive care unit. He felt disoriented, as though he had talked to his friend during the course of a dream, instead of in the sterile environment of a hospital room. It was impossible, of course. No one could come back from the dead after ninety years. That was, unless, they had some help from the devil himself.
That’s pure nonsense, Jasper, and you know it! he told himself. Edwin was just out of his head, that’s all. Affected by his illness and the medication he’s on. But despite all the self-convincing, he knew deep down that what his friend had said was true. Incredible, but true all the same.
Edwin’s words came back to him. Don’t do nothing foolish… nothing that might bring harm to you… or the boy.
Unexpectedly, a wave of fear hit the elderly man so forcefully that he nearly lost his balance. He suddenly felt as though Keith might be in grave danger, although there was no plausible reason to believe such a thing. He stood in the hallway for a long moment, attempting to quell that foreboding impression, but he simply couldn’t shrug it off.
Shakily, he walked to a bank of pay phones next to the elevators. He found a couple of quarters in his pocket, dropped them into the slot, and dialed his home phone number. His heart pounded as the humming of the ring came once… twice… three times. When it reached its seventh try, he returned the phone to its cradle, took the quarters from the return receptacle, and attempted it again. He let the phone ring a dozen times and then hung up.
Keith wasn’t there. Or he was and could not answer the phone.
A sensation of alarm like none he had ever experienced gripped him. He knew, down deep in his heart, that Keith was in trouble. Had the boy and his friends gone exploring down in Hell Hollow and come upon something more than empty wood? Had they met someone there that they had neglected to tell anyone about? Perhaps a tall, bearded man dressed in a long black coat and stovepipe hat?
Jasper rushed to an elevator. If what he suspected was true, Keith might not be the only one in peril. His other grandson, Rusty, might also be in danger, as well as Maggie Sutton and Chuck Adkins.
The steel doors slid open a moment later. Soon, he was crossing the deserted lobby of Coffee County Medical Center at a quick walk and the parking lot outside at a dead run. He knew he must get home… fast. He had to find out if he was merely overreacting, or if the evil that Edwin claimed existed was actually for real.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The trailer was much smaller than she remembered.
Maggie had to duck her head as she walked to the dressing table and sat down. A single sixty-watt bulb dangled from the center of the low ceiling, casting a dim glow throughout the cramped mobile home. Puzzled by the change of surroundings, the girl looked around. Above a small cot in the far corner hung a single poster. This one was different than the colorful banners bearing her name and likeness. The poster was printed in somber shades of black and gray, the lettering elongated, almost abstract in a sense. And there was one other variance that she could not understand. Instead of CIRCUS MAGNIFICENT, the show she was now a part of was called something else entirely. Something much more dark and mysterious: CIRCUS HORRIFIC. And in the place of her smiling picture were the leering faces of sideshow freaks. Pinheads, limbless wonders, bearded fat ladies, and dog-faced boys.
She turned back to the task at hand. She stared into the mirror. Instead of the gaily-adorned outfit of sparkling pink spandex, Maggie found herself dressed in a black leotard with a garish spiderweb cape. Her jeweled tiara was gone, replaced by a jagged crown of black thorns with a black widow mounted in the center.
Why am I dressed like this? she wondered. It wasn’t like this before.
As she applied white pancake makeup, gray eye shadow, and jet black lipstick, Maggie heard a sound at the trailer door. A click, followed by a metallic jangle… like a padlock being unlocked and slipped from its hasp. Had the door been locked? Had she been confined there like some sort of prisoner?
A second later, the door opened. “Get your butt out here!” growled a gruff voice. “Now!”
Confused, Maggie left the dressing table and walked to the open doorway. A white-gloved hand reached inside and, grabbing her by the wrist, dragged her outside. When she hit the ground, she looked at the one who held her. “Bobo?” she asked, her voice tiny.
But the clown who stood over her was not the sweet, good-natured performer she had met during her previous dream. Instead, he was a nightmarish jester from hell, dressed like a comedic vampire. He leered at her with fangs that looked too real to be mere props.
“That’s Count Bobo to you, toots!” he snapped. He jerked her wrist and began walking, dragging her behind him. “It’s five minutes till showtime. And do it right this time, or you’ll have to answer to the Colonel!”
“The Colonel?” she asked shakily.
“Colonel Raven,” said Count Bobo. His breath stank of liquor and decay. “The ringmaster and owner of this grand show. He didn’t like it the last time you screwed up. If you do it this time, he’ll tie you up and feed you to the lions. See? They’re ready for you, in case you fail to deliver this time.”
Maggie looked to where he pointed. A huge cage of emaciated lions stood at the iron bars, roaring loudly, their eyes burning with a mixture of hunger and madness. It looked as though had not been decently fed in several weeks.
“Yeah, I’d say they would gulp down a tasty morsel like you in a matter of minutes, costume and all,” said Bobo with a dirty laugh.
On their way to a massive, black canvas tent, they passed several circus performers, or what passed for performers in this bizarre dreamscape of hers. They included a lion tamer missing an arm, a pair of Siamese twins that were both male and female, a scaly reptile boy who slithered on his belly, and a tattooed man with images that seemed to crawl and revolve along the surface of his skin. None greeted her or wished her well with her approaching performance. Instead, they glared at her with hatred and jealousy.
When they reached the flap of the Big Top, County Bobo released her wrist, leaving red marks that would eventually turn into bruises. “Now you go in there and give those slack-jawed idiots what they paid for!” he warned. “Or those lions back there will be wrestling over your liver by nightfall.”
Prompted by a threat and a push, she stumbled through the dark portal of the open flap. As it closed behind her, Maggie peered into the darkness, disoriented, trying to regain her bearings. The interior of the Big Top smelled much different than it had before. Instead of the tang of sawdust and the delicious aroma of cotton candy and buttered popcorn, the stench of elephant dung and diseased animals filled the confines of the huge tent.
“Well, don’t just stand there!” snapped a small form in the gloom. “Get your skinny carcass over here! The Colonel is about to introduce you.”
Maggie felt none of the confidence she had experienced before. Fear gripped her now, causing her cringe from the rungs of the ladder. “No,” she protested. “I can’t go up there. I just can’t.”
The dwarf grinned cruelly. “You will go up there,” he said. “Or you’ll get a taste of this.” He took something from off his belt and with a snap, unfurled its length. In the gloom, Maggie could see that it was a black leather bullwhip.
“I’d hate to slice up the star attraction,” chuckled Max, his voice low and taunting. “But I will if I have to. Now get up there!”
Maggie knew that she had no choice but to obey. Nervously, she turned to the metal post and began to climb, taking one rung at a time. During the journey upward, Maggie knew that something had gone terribly wrong. This dream wasn’t the pleasurable, joyful experience she had lived before. It was no dream at all, but a nightmare.
Foot by foot, she climbed. Below in the darkness, she could hear the restless rumble of the crowd, waiting for the spotlights to reveal the next act. She kept expecting to reach the platform any second, but oddly enough it failed to materialize. Clutching tightly to the steel rungs with her sweaty hands, Maggie continued upward. It hadn’t taken her nearly as long to arrive at the platform last time. She knew it hadn’t.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Maggie finally arrived at her destination. She crawled onto the platform on her hands and knees. The self-assurance of a seasoned high-wire walker was completely gone. Her old fear of heights was back in full swing again. Shakily, she rose to her feet, her legs feeling rubbery underneath her.
She waited in the darkness for a moment, attempting to catch her breath. Then, abruptly, a bright spotlight flashed on, exposing her to the gathering of spectators below. She raised her hand and shielded her eyes against the light, attempting to see the ground below her. Far away, another spot shown on the arena. It looked like the size of a pie plate, the audience around it appearing more like an army of ants than actual people.
How high up am I? A hundred feet up? Two hundred? Maybe even more?
Then, far below, a tiny black speck entered the illuminated arena. Maggie had to squint to make it out. It was a tall man wearing a black top hat. She knew it had to be the ringleader of Circus Horrific. The one known as Colonel Raven.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” he bellowed, his voice rising faintly up to her. “Please direct your attention to the platform high above the center arena. There you will see the one you have all been waiting for! The most daring and death-defying high wire acrobat in the world today. The one… the only… Queen Margret, the Spider Woman!”
Maggie felt her head swim as she stared at the distance between the platform and the earth below. A fall from such a lofty height would mean an immediate and crushing death. She turned her attention to the rope that stretched between her platform and the one directly opposite. The width of the arena seemed to be triple what it had been before. Instead of fifty feet of space to travel, she now had a good hundred and fifty.
“And to make the Queen’s feat of daring even more spectacular,” came the voice of the ringleader, “she will attempt to walk the wire, unaided by balancing pole or safety net, with nothing to break her fall but this vat of ferocious alligators!”
Maggie gasped as a team of clowns rolled a huge tank of water into the arena and positioned it directly below the high-wire that stretched above. Even from that height, the girl could see the dark forms of alligators swimming from one side of the tank to the other. Several raised their leathery heads from the water and snapped savagely at her, showing their yellowed teeth and their soft, pink gullets.
“No way!” said Maggie, turning toward the ladder than had brought her up. “I’m not gonna do it!”
A snickering laugh sounded from the darkness beyond the steel pole and, suddenly, Max the dwarf appeared, brandishing his whip. “Oh, yes you are,” he said, giving the whip a sharp crack. The tip caught Maggie across the left cheek, bringing a sting of pain. Shocked, she lifted her hand to her face. Her fingertips came away smeared with blood.
This isn’t right! she thought. This is just a dream. I’m not supposed to get hurt!
She thought about the pact she had made with her friends at Keith’s insistence. Maggie closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to wake up. But no matter how hard she tried, she remained rooted to the spot, unable to escape the dream.
“Get out there and walk that damn rope!” said Max. “Do it… or Colonel Raven will deal with you himself. And that’d be a helluva lot worse than falling into that vat of gators, believe me.”
Looking into his tiny black eyes, Maggie knew that he was right. She had never met the infamous Colonel Raven, but she felt as if she already knew the kind of man he was.
Taking a deep breath, Maggie turned and stepped onto the rope. The soles of her feet curled inward, attempting to grip the cable. She stretched out her arms, but her balance was off. She nearly fell before she straightened herself. The security she had experienced during her previous dream was totally missing. Her legs trembled beneath her as she took one precarious step at a time.
By the time she reached the halfway point on the high wire, Maggie was a nervous wreck. Sweat rolled down her face and her muscles ached with the strain of maintaining her balance. She glanced down only once and was stunned to find herself directly over the alligator tank. The reptiles snapped and bellowed, their eyes hopeful. They seemed to smell her, despite the distance between them.
A few minutes later, Maggie reached the far side of the tent. She scrambled onto the platform, sobbing with relief. He muscles quivered as she sat down and attempted to catch her breath.
It’s over! she told herself. I made it!
The crack of the whip brought her back to reality, so to speak. She yelped as it struck her again, skimming across her back, splitting the dark material of her costume and raising an ugly pink stripe across her skin.
“Not so fast, Queenie!” laughed Max, standing on the same platform she occupied. “Now you’ve got to go back across… on this.”
Maggie got to her feet just as he tossed her the unicycle. She caught it and was shocked at its condition. The bolts of the frame were loose and the tire was low on air. “I can’t!” she cried. “I’ll fall off for sure!”
“Then you’ll fall,” said Max with a shrug of his stubby shoulders. “That’s what the crowd came to see, after all. You plunging to your death.”
Maggie looked off the edge of the platform and knew that he was right. Even from that height, she could barely make out the expressions of cruel anticipation on the audience’s tiny faces. They were no better than a crowd staring up at someone on the ledge of a building, calling for them to give up all hope and jump.
She again tried to wake up, but no dice. She simply wasn’t going anyplace. Maggie crept to the edge of the platform, positioned the flabby tire of the unicycle on the rope, and carefully climbed onto the seat. Slowly, she worked the pedals and started forward. The rope began to swing and sway before she even got a third of the way across. Then, abruptly, the wheel of the unicycle slipped off the rope, carrying her with it.
Maggie shrieked. She flailed out blindly, attempting to grab hold of something. Luckily, her fingers latched onto the rope and held on for dear life. It sagged with her weight, but held firm. The girl hung by one hand. She gasped as needles of pain skewered her shoulder. It felt as though her arm might pop clean from its socket.
Terrified, she looked down at the ground below her. The unicycle spun downward, finally hitting the surface of the tank with a splash. The alligators attacked it immediately.
Their powerful jaws ripped apart metal and rubber with the same ferocity they nor
mally reserved for flesh and bone.
Maggie knew if she didn’t do something fast, she would lose her grip and she too would fall. Using all the strength she could muster, she grabbed the rope with her other hand and held on. She saw the ringmaster below, glaring up at her with his hands planted firmly on his hips. She would have to continue, despite the danger of losing her balance again. Maggie let out a frightened sob, then hauled herself upward.
But, miraculously, she did not find herself with a hundred more feet of rope to travel. Instead, she found the ledge of the platform within reach. Shuddering with anxiety, Maggie pulled herself onto the stand and laid there for a long moment, breathing deeply. Below her, a sound began to rise from the multitude of spectators. But it was not the cheers of adoration she had heard before. Rather, it was a mutual moan of disappointment. They had been cheated of the sight of her falling to her death, as well as being devoured by hungry alligators. They were booing at her for emerging from her performance alive.
It took a while, but she finally made it down the rungs of the pole to solid ground. When she got there, she found someone waiting for her. It was the ringmaster; tall and lean, wearing a top hat, red jacket, white slacks, and shiny black riding boots. But it wasn’t his attire that surprised her the most. It was his face. Pale and gaunt with a waxed black mustache and neatly trimmed goatee beard.
The owner of Circus Horrific, the dastardly Colonel Raven, was none other than the man they had met in the heart of Hell Hollow… Doctor Augustus Leech.
The man’s dark eyes sparkled with pure evil as his gloved hand caught her by the throat and lifted her off her feet. She strangled, attempting to catch her breath, but his fingers tightened, cutting off her wind.
“I thought I told you there would be no more mistakes!” hissed Raven with a scowl. “Your stubborn desire for survival is ruining my show! Next time do what you were hired to do and give the crowd what they paid to see!”