by Glen Krisch
This will do. This will do just fine.
Maury hefted the tire iron in his hand, tapping it against the nerveless pink of his left palm. He didn't feel it, but the boy surely would. "And then I let Gabe die. You see, I had to find out. If the dreamer dies, does the dream also? Gabe was such a sweet kid, but I had to know…" Maury's voice became quieter until his words were only in his head. All he could imagine was the tire iron connecting solidly with Kevin's skull, springing loose his brains upon the floor, freeing the world of Mr. Freakshow.
And in the end, loving Juliet.
At first, Kevin thought Mr. Freakshow had slashed him with his claws, but his backpack took the brunt of the damage. The attack had sent him flying across the floor, sliding on the moonlight-bathed wood. He couldn't help wondering where the sunlight had gone. Of all the details Mr. Freakshow had controlled since Kevin woke up, down to the wrinkles on his parents' faces, all he could wonder about was the daylight. It seemed the most unnatural of all. Daylight to night in the blink of an eye.
He jumped from his belly to his knees and then his feet in one fluid motion, and sprinted down the hall, the beast tearing the air an inch from his ear.
"Kevin, oh Kevin, this is for real, isn't it? No more games, no more dreams. Just you and me, flesh and blood--torn flesh and gushing blood. I couldn't be more proud!" Mr. Freakshow said from behind. The beast watched him run away, watched as he fled to… well, to nowhere. The house was a series of dead ends and Mr. Freakshow would know this. Know this because Kevin did. A hallway led to the kitchen, the stairs led to the bedrooms, the hallway to his dad's home office, a basement… all dead ends.
The basement. It had window wells. A way out; if he could only make it outside, it seemed like his only hope. He threw open the basement door and closed it shut behind him. He flipped the light switch, and the bulb remained unlit. He'd forgotten there wasn't any power. No one lived here. The room was darker than night. And quiet. The whole house was quiet but for his own panting breath.
He reached out so he wouldn't run into anything, and then remembered the house was empty. This house was no longer his, and none of his family's possessions would block his path. The room was chilly and damp and felt a mile long. When his hands reached the far wall, touching the coarse concrete, he strained to hear any noise from upstairs. Still nothing. He ran his hands along the wall until he came across the window well. The concrete alcove in the foundation sat at chest level on Kevin. He flipped the lock and pulled the window in on its stiff hinge. He expected to find Mr. Freakshow waiting inside the concrete alcove, waiting for Kevin to step inside where it would be oh so easy for him to gouge out his heart. Kevin waved his hand through the open space, but only felt the smooth pebbles that lined the well floor.
He eased his backpack to the floor and then strained to lift himself into the well. When he reached over his head, he realized why this was such a stupid idea in the first place. He had forgotten about the steel grate his dad had welded to seal off the top of the well. A number of neighborhood homes had been broken into, and his dad didn't want to take any chances. He equipped the home with steel-reinforced doors, deadbolts and lock bars, as well as capping off the window wells. Kevin pushed against the grate, and he could feel it give a little, but not much at all.
With a little more time, he could bust out the welds holding down the grate. He stood inside the well with his hands braced against the grate above him and forced himself up like a jack lifting a car. He was practically jumping up and down, wiggling the welds until they weakened. Finally, he felt something give above him.
Almost there, come on, come on…
Carin tried the front door, but of course, it was locked. She found the kidney shaped rock where they kept their spare key. It was freshly overturned, and the key was missing. Kevin must have taken it.
Damn.
"I thought we could use a weapon of some kind." Maury joined her on the front step, holding a tire iron in his hand. From the look on his face, he didn't want to switch out a bad tire. He looked ready to pummel someone.
"Good. Give me that." Carin reached for the tire iron. He almost protested giving up his weapon, but reluctantly handed it over. "If I can only…" Carin wedged a blunt tip into the door seam and yanked against it. It didn't budge. Not one spare millimeter. "Damnstupidfuck!" she yelled at the door, yelled at the tire iron, and at herself. She couldn't get into her own house.
"Is there another entrance?" Maury asked.
"There's a big picture window in the back." She handed Maury the tire iron and then futilely rammed her shoulder into the unforgiving door. The only reaction she got was a dull ache in her shoulder. She was going to start crying at any moment.
Maury tapped the tire iron in his palm as he watched her mad behavior. He seemed unfazed by any of this. Maybe it was because it wasn't his child they were trying to save. "I'll go check out that picture window." He left in a hurry, and was around the corner of the house, taking the only weapon they had with him.
She lowered her eyes, and could feel the tears building, ready to fall. Her eyes came to rest on the kidney shaped rock. When she picked it up, it felt solid in her hand, eight, maybe ten pounds. The tears dried in her eyes before they could fall and she could feel her determination returning. She wasn't about to let a steel-reinforced door stop her from protecting her child. She forced a path through the thick bushes at the front of the house until she was in front of the living room windows. She lifted the rock over her head and threw it at the window.
A second weld gave loose, and then a third ripped away, and Kevin was nearly free when he heard glass shattering upstairs. He struggled harder, sweat spreading over his body, adrenaline rushing through him, when he heard his mom's voice from upstairs. She was screaming, a blistering rage that quickly became a whimper of pain.
"Kevin, Momma's home!" Mr. Freakshow shouted.
The sound of the Freak's voice stole his breath. He jumped down from the moonlit window well and cautiously walked across the concrete floor. His pulse shot through his head, in his ears. The wooden stairs creaked every step he climbed. He unlocked the door. When he opened it, the first thing he saw was his mom sprawled on her back in a pile of broken glass, propped up by her trembling arm. Blood flowed from her cut cheek, dripping into a sticky mass on the floor. She looked angry enough to eat nails without wincing. Her right leg was bent at a weird angle, just below the kneecap. Kevin realized the Freak had broken it. His nightmare had hurt his mom.
Mr. Freakshow stood over her, clenching his fists, his wings swaying gently. His every movement was an expression of pure joy.
"Leave her alone. Take me. Just leave my mom alone." Kevin stepped forward from the shadows.
Chapter 24
"Kevin, get away from here! Damn it, run!" his mom shrieked, horrified that he would voluntarily approach his nightmare. She grimaced as she crawled the five feet to where Mr. Freakshow stood. She latched onto his ankle, as if to hold him in place.
"Just leave her be."
More glass shattered, this time coming from the rear of the house. Kevin and Mr. Freakshow exchanged a questioning glance, and then Kevin looked at his mom. She was motioning for him to run, to get away as quickly as possible. He waited, listening to glass crunching, to someone clumsily climbing through a window.
"Who might that be? It isn't our boy Kevin, or dear ol' Mom. We know that much. Secretary-fucking Daddy is dead, and let's see… oh yes, I have my grandma souvenir right here…" the Freak said. "I know I put it someplace close…" He reached into a leather pouch strapped to his bare waist and removed something from the voluminous pocket. It looked to be a blood-caked skull.
Kevin stared at the skull in disbelief. Of course, Mr. Freakshow would try to fool him again. His grandma was out of harm's way, tucked away in her quiet neighborhood back in Chicago.
Of course, Grandma was safe, and he would never… the Freak wouldn't harm…
He looked from the skull prized in the Freak's pal
m, to his mom's face. As soon as he saw her expression, he knew the skull was real, that his grandma was dead, murdered. Murdered in some cruel, senseless way. Just because she was his grandma.
Walking through the dining room, someone ground broken glass underfoot. For a brief moment, the slimmest fraction of a second in which Kevin had forgotten the last two months, he thought he would see his dad walk around the corner with a gun in his hand, ready to save the day. Seeing Maury Bennett enter the kitchen threw him off. Maury's eyes were gleaming with menace as he gripped a tire iron in his right hand. As the man from Lucidity brushed shards of glass from his clothes, he glanced at a laceration on the back of his hand. He sucked on the wound, approaching Kevin.
"Maury… thank God you're here. Mr. Freakshow--" Kevin quickly trailed off as Maury wheeled back the tire iron in a thick arc, ready to strike.
"No!" Carin screamed. She tried to get to her feet, but pain forced her back to the floor. A puzzled look came across Mr. Freakshow's face, and as he watched Maury, he backhanded Kevin's mom into silence.
All Kevin could do was throw his arms up in front of his face before Maury whipped the tire iron down on him. The heavy bar crashed into his forearm, biting clear to the bone like a vicious animal, radiating jolts of pain throughout his body. Kevin didn't hear any bones braking; his scream drowned out all other sound. He fell to his side, cradling his arm, feeling his whole body tensing, awaiting another blow.
A deathly silence filled the room. But then Kevin could hear his mom fighting unconsciousness, fighting the blood flooding her open mouth, choking her. The tire iron whirred, splitting the air as it descended on Kevin's skull.
The Freak's nails scraped across the floor.
Kevin closed his eyes, knowing this was the end, hoping he wouldn't feel his skull shattering.
The whirring noise ended with a dull thud. And no pain. No deathblow. When he opened his eyes, Mr. Freakshow was standing over him, the tire iron caught in one of his enormous hands. He was glaring at Maury.
"Tisk, tisk Mr. French Fry. Trying to kill the boy out from under me, huh? That's my job." He ripped the tire iron from his hand and threw it against the far wall, the point impaling the drywall.
Maury looked at his hands, as if even he doubted what he had attempted. He fell to his knees, trembling, groveling at the feet of the beast. "Please… I was just trying… dear God, I love her."
"You may have sprung me from the boy's head, but you're no different than all of the others." Mr. Freakshow kicked Maury in the ribs. Maury curled into a ball, cowering, making as small a target as possible. Mr. Freakshow pummeled him a few times, dispirited, not really into his assault, before picking him up by a patch of his hair. "You weren't invited to the party, so I suggest you leave before you make me angry."
The Freak held him by his hair and the belt of his pants. He spun in a circle like a discus thrower, and then heaved Maury at the living room window. Through all the pin wheeling arms and legs, Kevin saw Maury's eyes flinch closed the instant before he went flying though the pane. There was a sudden oomph as Maury crashed against the sidewalk. Then it was quiet again. Like any other middle of the night in sleepy Warren Cove.
"Now, on with our show!"
Kevin wanted to go over to his mom, shake her awake, do something, anything to make sure she did not slip away like his dad did. Her eyes were half shut, and what he saw was all whites. Her blood pooled from her many wounds on the hardwood floor, just as his dad's blood painted the bus station tile. She wasn't moving.
Mr. Freakshow sauntered over, his hands outspread, as if he was about to hug Kevin. But he knew the beast would never be kind, that he had nothing but a black pit where his heart should be.
"Enough histrionics, my boy. Time is late. We need to move on with our lives, and I'm afraid that my moving on means the end of yours." Mr. Freakshow swiped a hand through the air, a second too slow. An extra second caused by cockiness.
Kevin dived to the floor, his cheek burning against the wood as he crashed awkwardly. From floor level, his mom's face was partially covered by mats of blood-soaked hair. She still hadn't moved. He didn't see her breathing. She was gone. He really was on his own. His heart trundled along in his chest, and he knew he was reaching his limit. He rolled over, his right forearm, most likely broken and a throbbing mass of agony, trailing slightly behind the rest of his body.
"You cocksucker, get over here," Mr. Freakshow growled, for the first time a tinge of anger to his voice. "Get over here and die."
Kevin braced himself with his left arm and pushed up to his feet. The Freak cut off his escape to the front door. Kevin faked as if he would make a run to the back of the house, but then made a break for the basement again. The welds would pop free with one more swift push. If he could only get downstairs with enough time…
Why bother? he thought. Just slow down, let Mr. Freakshow catch you. What's the point anymore?
He grappled with his thoughts, not sure why he was fighting anymore, not sure what he could look forward to if he lived through this. There was nothing left. His family was gone, all murdered. The one thing that was stopping him from giving up was the possibility of pain. Sure, his arm hurt, and even if it wasn't broken, it hurt like hell. But that pain wouldn't amount to much compared to what the Freak had in store for him. That's what subconsciously kept him going, not the fear of dying, but the fear of pain. Immense pain. Unending pain. If the Freak would only agree to kill him without brutalizing him, Kevin would hand himself over. Willingly and without regret hand himself over.
But I'm a chicken. And what do chickens do? Chickens run.
He stopped his momentum by grabbing hold of the basement doorknob with his left hand. His body kept moving on its own, his inertia throwing him down the hall. His arm pulled tight, a rubber band with no more stretch to give. The muscles in his arms strained, feeling like a dozen exploding beestings, but he was able to right himself and swing the door open. He hastily threw the lock after slamming the door shut behind him.
As he jumped down the steps, Mr. Freakshow battered the door, noticeably bending the steel-reinforced structure inward.
"YOU PATHETIC FUCK YOU COWARD YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" the Freak railed, pounding the door with his fists.
Kevin didn't glance back. He charged through the dark basement and climbed into the window well. Most of the grate was loose. Only one weld remained. He pushed up with his good arm and could feel the grate bending. The weld held firm, but if he could only bend the grate a little more…
And once outside, then what? Would Mr. Freakshow relent? Could he just leave the yard, walk down main street Warren Cove? Once outside, he was as surely dead as if he stood here and waited for the end to come to him.
The grate continued to bend, and there was now enough room for him to skinny his way out. The basement door held, but the doorframe was giving way, the Freak rending it from its moorings.
No, he wasn't going to run. He couldn't do it. He hadn't the will to take another step from the house where he grew up, or to endanger his neighbors or anyone else kind enough to help him. His thoughts turned to Sophie and Andrew, and he hoped they were unharmed after giving him aid in his time of need. But what the Freak did to his grandma… he didn't want to think anymore about his nightmare hurting the people he loved and trusted. Hopping down from the window well, he was overcome by a strange sense of relief. He was going to meet his tormentor face to face, stare him down until the end. Perhaps his lack of fear would make it go swiftly.
His legs were shaky and could barely hold his weight. As the Freak continued to destroy the door, an occasional shank of wood flew from the disintegrating doorframe. Kevin went over to the washer and dryer set in the corner. They had left the appliances, all of them, when they had moved away. His mom didn't want anything carrying over to their new life. She didn't know at the time that so much of Kevin's life now would hinge on those things from the past. The memories of his dad, being in the family's old house… He sat on the washe
r, leaning back against the control panel. He faced the door and waited.
"Cocksucker… when I get my hands… you're going to regret…" the pounding eased as Mr. Freakshow caught his breath. The straining of his lungs sounded foreign coming from the beast. It reminded Kevin of the first time he had to run the mile in gym class last year. A whole mile. Before that it was a half mile, and that had always been a chore. But a mile? He remembered wheezing on the side of the school's dirt track after he finished, feeling like he was going to die. He supposed that's how Mr. Freakshow felt right now. He was running a mile for the first time, and not really liking it.
As Kevin waited, he looked at the ceiling, with its unfinished rafters looking like a network of parallel ribs. He wasn't focusing on anything, finding a certain serenity that he could never remember experiencing. His eyes came to rest on the square blocked-off end of the laundry chute. It had a hinged door, shutting off a tunnel leading to the two floors above him. Like a sealed mineshaft, the wooden tunnel lined the foundation wall and disappeared into the unknown. The serenity and calm shirked his limbs. He once again tensed, and as if sensing this, Mr. Freakshow attacked the basement door with renewed vigor. The terrible cry of bending wooden beams filled the basement. Snatches of the comparably brighter upstairs light were visible as the Freak worked the door in its frame. It was only a matter of seconds now. The Freak would be on him in seconds, doubly angry for having to go through the door.
Kevin stood on top of the dryer and reached up to the laundry chute door. He had never opened it before, since his family never used the chute when they lived here. His mom had been afraid that their clothes would travel through a tunnel of spider webs and end up even dirtier than before.