Abra-Cadaver

by Matt Drabble

  “Sorry,” PJ mumbled sheepishly.

  Tommy couldn’t hold a grudge against his friend and he knew he shouldn’t have left him on lookout. The reason they normally left Ally to keep watch wasn’t because she was a girl; it was because she was the calmest under pressure and the most reliable. Already the thought of the near fatal accident was receding. It now seemed foolish to believe that they had been as close to disaster as he’d first thought. He was increasingly sure that his imagination must have been running riot as they couldn’t have been that close to tragedy on such a sunny day.

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,” his parents sung, interrupting his thoughts as they exited the house carrying a cake blazing with 12 candles. His friends soon took up the song, with Dixon and McEwen chiming in to take the piss as usual.

  After the food was served and everyone was stuffed, it was time for the show. Tommy had barely eaten anything as he could not forget the glinting steel in the back of the van.

  The Captivating Cosmo X - Master of the Unknown began his act in front of his banner draped table. His routine was a succession of tricks and props that Tommy had seen before and although the man had an obvious talent, his patter was dull and overly practiced. His hands were dexterous and skilled but Tommy couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed by the magician. The man’s creepy appearance had now seemed like the imagination of a child. Tommy had just about given up on the guillotine making an appearance. He was thinking that maybe The Captivating Cosmo X had an adult show in his repertoire, when suddenly it was wheeled out into the sunlight. He heard his parents and the other adults gasp and a few laughed nervously. The guillotine was even more imposing in full effect. The Captivating Cosmo X took a firm hold of his assistant whose unconvincing assistance had previously looked bored and disinterested. Her face was suddenly a mask of fear and Tommy’s interest perked up. He moved to the front, away from his seated friends and the standing parents behind them. He knelt on the grass only a few feet from the show.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” The Captivating Cosmo X spoke loudly and his voice was surprisingly high and girlish. “This guillotine is an actual instrument of death as used during the French Revolution. Imagine if you will the noble men and women who marched their way to their doom before this mighty blade.”

  Tommy saw his parents grow concerned over the sudden dark turn in the act, but all of his friend’s attentions were now rapt.

  “Just how many souls this old girl has taken, nobody knows. The blood and screams of death are burned into her very wooden bones,” The Captivating Cosmo X hissed theatrically. “But no matter how many lives she has taken, she is always hungry for one more.”

  Tommy looked on as the assistant squirmed in the magician’s grasp. Her face was now alive with fear as she tried to break free.

  “I told you I didn’t want to do this bit,” Tommy heard her whisper, but the magician pressed on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Dammit Arnold, don’t make me.”

  Tommy could see soft tears spring from the woman’s eyes and her heavy black makeup began to smudge.

  The Captivating Cosmo X - Master of the Unknown dragged the woman to the guillotine and forced her effortlessly into position. Tommy looked around but no-one else had seemed to notice the woman was now sobbing gently. All of their attention all seemed to be focused on the glistening blade.

  The wooden pieces snapped together around the assistant’s head holding her in position as The Captivating Cosmo X walked around to the side of the machine and gripped the rope that restrained the blade. He wound his fingers into the frayed rope and unhooked it from the safety position, taking the weight in his own hands.

  Tommy felt his heart pound furiously as it seemed like only in his close proximity position could he see directly into the woman’s eyes which were wide with fear. Everyone behind him were holding their collective breaths and waiting for the blade to fall and end the show. He looked up at The Captivating Cosmo X - Master of the Unknown, who now seemed scary again. His smooth face was pale and his eyes looked off into the distance. Whether it was all part of the show or not, Tommy couldn’t tell. He wanted to shout a warning, but he didn’t want to seem like a child scared at the movies. He only stared on and prayed.

  “Madame Bouvier,” the magician announced to the gathering, “You have been found guilty of crimes against the people. You have been sentenced to pay the ultimate price for your betrayal. Have you any last words?”

  “Please,” the woman whispered, “I’m sorry,” she said in such a small voice that Tommy thought that he was the only one who had heard her. “Arnold, I’m so sorry.”

  “VIVE LA FRANCE!” The magician screamed as he let the blade drop.

  Tommy shut his eyes as the blade fell. Because of his proximity only he felt the warm splash of sticky liquid on his face and heard the soft bouncing thud on the lawn. As he opened his eyes to stare at the horror of the decapitated assistant’s head, his ears were soon ringing with deafening screams.

  2.

  Today

  Tommy Marsh drove back into town for the first time in over 20 years. Springsteen was snarling out a rousing chorus on the radio, but Tommy could not have been less roused. Familiar landmarks passed by the car window and spoke of time passed, some more kindly than others. Soundings of his youth lay pale and broken against the backdrop of a new age.

  The 4x4 he drove was clean but second hand, a best foot put forward for the return of not such a hero.

  He hadn’t been back to Denver Mills since his parents had divorced and his mother had taken him far away when he’d been almost 13.

  Over the year or so that he had remained in town after that fateful afternoon, his childhood gang had disbanded. It was assumed that the shock of that party and the severed female head splattering him with warm blood had been the catalyst for their drifting apart. But it had been the silent secret that they all held that had torn them asunder.

  The trial had been huge news around the small town; a bloody tale of murder and revenge. The Captivating Cosmo X, whose real name was somewhat disappointingly Arnold Trotter, had been tried for murder. The investigating officers had discovered that The Captivating Cosmo X - Master of the Unknown, was actually married to his assistant and that she had in fact been carrying on an affair with an as yet unrevealed local businessman. The deathly secret that Tommy and his friends had never spoken of was the fact that they had been messing around with the magician’s equipment prior to the beheading. They had never sat around in a shadowy circle and taken a blood oath under candlelight. They had simply waited for an opportunity to speak up, but one had never seemed to present itself. Tommy has assumed that PJ would have told straight away as he had never been able to keep any sort of secret, but he never did.

  The trial came in a blaze of glory for Denver Mills; a juicy account of love and betrayal, wrath and murder. Arnold Trotter had pleaded his innocence, claiming that the guillotine had simply malfunctioned in some way. Unfortunately for him, his strange appearance and equally odd manner had not flown well in the faces of simple townsfolk. His assistant and wife Mary had been a well liked woman in town and her gruesome end - in front of a children’s party no less - did not sit well with the jury. During a routine search of her possessions the police had found well hidden love letters addressed to Mary. It soon became clear that she had been having an affair, but none of the letters were signed. Trotter had protested his ignorance over his wife’s infidelity but he was not believed. Once the police had discovered the affair with an unknown second party, they had presented the court with a simple case of bloody revenge. The Captivating Cosmo X - Master of the Unknown had screamed at the jury as the verdict was rendered guilty. He had promised revenge against the judge, the police and just about everyone in town.

  Tommy had followed the case from a safe distance. He was already having nightmares of severed heads spinning through the air to land at his feet and splatter his face with warm sticky blood. His parents
had tried to shield him from the trial as much as possible, but all the while Tommy had known that he may well have held the key to Arnold Trotter’s cell all the while in his own guilty conscience.

  After the verdict was handed down he had gone to see the others.

  Dixon and McEwen were dead set against revealing their own possible culpability. Their superior physical dominance over the rest of the group held sway. Dixon in particular had been filled with rage and fury at the very suggestion that they come forward. To Tommy’s surprise even PJ had agreed; his normally nervous face had been set hard. Even Ally had held her own counsel close to her chest, and in the end Tommy’s arms had tired of swimming against the tide. As the years passed he would have liked to have been able to convince himself that he had fought the good fight, but in the end he had agreed to stay silent. It had simply been easier. That was the bottom line and the harsh truth. He was no crusader for justice, he had just been a 12 year old boy, and he had taken the path of least resistance.

  They had all drifted apart from that day onwards. His parents had edged around the subject of his missing tight knit group from time to time, but in the end they had given up questioning the whims of the young. Tommy saw his friends around the small town occasionally. They would share pleasantries in the guise of friendship, but there was always a large and deep hole between them. One that was filled with a festering putrid secret that took twisted roots over time.

  As the years passed Tommy had found himself surprisingly missing Ally the most. Her clinging presence had once been irritating, but now he began to miss that very attribute. It was mercifully only around a year until they moved into a large secondary school where little fish were lost in an ocean of school politics. He watched as Dixon grew into a predator, large and perpetually angry at the world around him. PJ sunk further into himself and disappeared below the surface of the choppy waters, no longer benefitting from the protection of Dixon and McEwen. McEwen himself discovered a talent for art and fell in with a new crowd that were always thoughtful and distant. Tommy could see the appeal for removing oneself from reality. Ally had blossomed and physically developed at a rate of knots. Soon it seemed she was attracting welcomed diversion from her own inner thoughts. She became a popular girl amongst the older boys and was soon the proud owner of a dubious reputation. Far from unhappy - she seemed at least on the surface - to relish her new found popularity. Tommy merely found himself existing. He had no real talents to speak of; he wasn’t academic or sporty. He had simply drifted through his school and his life, waiting for the time when he could leave the town and its dark memories behind.

  His parent’s marriage had limped on for around a year after the tragedy, but it had all apparently been a charade. His mother had never spoken of the reason for the divorce and he had only been a child in her eyes at the time. She was a stern woman but not without kindness. Their lives after Denver Mills had been punctual and efficient.

  She had been taken by a carnivorous cancer that had mercifully not wasted any time as it had eaten her away from the inside. Her death two years ago had been a somber and lonely affair. At the funeral he had thought that he’d seen his father in the background at the cemetery, but as soon as he’d managed to weave his way through the throng, the face was gone.

  His father had never left Denver Mills and he’d passed away not 8 months ago now in a car accident. His father had been a practical man, concerned with the realities of life and acquisitions, but never one for the emotional side of life. Tommy had long since grown apart from his father; his determination to stay within Denver Mills had all but severed the bond between them. He had not returned for his father’s funeral, and it was a snub that he still wore the badly bandaged wounds for. He had just simply been unable and unwilling to find the time in his busy calendar to make the service. He hoped that his father would have understood that practical means came first. Now, however, he had been unable to put off his return any further as there were matters of his father’s estate to deal with. There was a house to be sold and various papers to sign. Tommy didn’t know if it was his curse or his destiny to find himself returning to his old home just a week before his birthday; a date that had always held a black anniversary ever since his 12th birthday.

  Tommy had left his relocated small town as soon as he was physically able to. His mother had moved many miles from Denver Mills, but Canon Creek was an almost exact replica of their hometown. An educational path had been one to follow, as its chief attraction was that it led beyond the town borders. By the time that he was 18, he had little in the way of attachments to his new home.

  He’d had dreams of becoming a writer of great fiction, then average fiction, then sellable fiction, before finally settling on becoming a reporter of non-fiction. His literary dreams had been stopped in their tracks by a professor at college who had told him that while he might possess the skills of a writer, he lacked the imagination for an author. He had switched courses to journalism and had found a nook of sorts. Upon his leap out into the real world after the cushioned existence of higher education, he had started the long slog on the bottom rung of a newspaper’s ladder. He had worked his way through being a dogs body and gopher, slowly climbing the ranks with diligence rather than prose. He had soon discovered that the newspaper industry was littered with the brilliant but unreliable natures of its inhabitants. He had known that whilst he might never possess the skills of his peers, he was always on time and more importantly on hand to step into any breech. Now at 36 he was well liked and well respected. He always handed in assignments well before deadline and had never caused his editor any sleepless nights. His life might be mainly a solitary existence, but he was reasonably attractive and was never short of date offers on a Friday night.

  He was around six feet tall and chunky but with a broad build that carried his weight well. He had light blonde hair, blue eyes, and Nordic cheekbones, but he was regarded as a little cold and distant, as though there was a barrier around him that he was unwilling to let anyone through.

  He drove down the main street of Denver Mills; the road was busy with mid-day shoppers and worker lunches. Nan’s Diner still sat proudly gleaming with a fresh faced glow. A red and white awning stretched out of the building and over the street. The windows glistened in the sun with shine and care. The diner had been a regular hangout when he was growing up. It was a staple of birthday meals and special occasions and still looked as though it was thriving despite the economic climate. The rest of Main Street also seemed to be fairing just as well. All of the stores were occupied and all looked well kept. There was electronics store, a bakery and a florist. There was also an old fashioned hardware store, a small car showroom and a deli.

  Just as Tommy slowed, deep in thought by Nan’s Diner, he saw in through the large open window. The interior was bustling with customers and staff in natty red and white check uniforms. He suddenly caught the eye of a woman standing behind the counter. Her face was pretty and a dark ponytail swung around merrily as she laughed with an elderly couple. He looked into her eyes as he passed and the flash of recognition sparked between them. It had been almost 20 years since he had seen her last, but he recognised Ally in an instant. She had grown in to an attractive woman with a kindly face and matching manner, judging by her natural effortless interactions.

  For a moment he toyed with the idea of stopping and saying hello, but the casualness of the greeting seemed far removed from the reality of the gaping chasm that existed between them. Estranged friends could fill the gap in the air for only so long before the tentacles of their secret would curl their way into painful view.

  He drove on quickly. He was torn between hoping that Ally had and hadn’t recognised him.

  The 4x4 crawled its way through the remainder of the town. The commercial district had expanded since he had last visited, but not enough to take away the rural feel. Denver Mills was a small speck in the middle of an ocean of lush greenery. The farming land spread out and forever onwards, rushing
to meet the horizon with armfuls of her grain and maize bounty. Most of the town relied on the farming income and the people rose and fell by the sway of the crops.

  Tommy drove along the increasingly familiar road as he wound his way out towards his family home, although he hadn’t thought of it as his home for some considerable time.

  He turned into the street and was relieved to find that the area was still affluent enough. Fathers mowed lawns on open front gardens as mothers scooped up playful children in squeals of delight. As he passed the happy families he felt an unfamiliar tug of regret at the life that he missed out on. He had no space in his heart for others. He generally kept people at arm’s length and his relationships lasted shorter than it took to spell the word.

  He pulled into his father’s driveway. The brick paving was still immaculate and glowed a healthy red. The lawns were freshly mowed despite the house standing empty for around 8 months. The trees were trimmed and the beds weeded. Tommy somehow knew that his father’s death wouldn’t have prevented order being kept from beyond the grave.

  He hefted himself out of the vehicle and stood facing the house of his happy single digit years, and the source of his nightmares ever since.

  “Tommy? Tommy is that you?”

  The voice shook him from his thoughts and he turned to face the speaker. The man was skinny and short with thick glasses that magnified his almost black eyes. He wore a gardener’s outfit of canvas dungarees on top of a blue polo shirt. His hair was shoulder length and shaggy and had a peppering of silver flecks.

  “Shit man; don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten all your old friends?” The man chuckled shyly.

  “PJ?” Tommy asked surprised.

  “Hell yeah,” PJ smiled.

  Tommy walked to his old friend and they embraced awkwardly as was the want of men. It was a clumsy hug and handshake rolled into one.