A Fear of Clowns (The Greasepaint Chronicals)

by Power, P. S.

  It was prudent, plus, he was scared. It was so bad he could nearly taste it on the back of his tongue. A sharp and bitter flavor that left him feeling like a few stiff drinks would be a good idea. It wasn't. Nodding he remembered that he had Alex, for now. That a real father wouldn't abandon her again, and that she was going to need him, no matter what happened. Lynn wasn't exactly in shape to take care of her anymore. Not that she'd really been doing that.

  Going to where Lynn was really did seem to be the plan, and since it was the only real hospital in a sixty mile radius, Daniels requested a team to go with them, just in case. It wasn't going to be hard for Mills to work out where she would be.

  "We can do that. Let's move out. Load up, we need to get in place inside forty! Load up!" The men, and now that he looked he noticed there were three women too, were all dressed in deep blue and looked like they were about to storm a drug den. Cert or Swat. Whatever they were called there. He didn't know, since the outfits, the armor, just said police on it. Not even State Police. Just the one word. Probably so no one would get confused. It wouldn't do to have people think they were someone else, when they broke through the door in the middle of the night.

  He drove himself, shaky and a bit out of sorts or not. It was a rental, and he was taking it with him. The FBI men did the same thing, so he felt entitled to it. Plus, it felt good to be in control of himself, for a bit. He did check the trunk and backseat first, which had the State people laughing at him, until Daniels did the same with his car. They were dealing with someone that might pull something like that, after all.

  The trip was fast, so he let the rest of them go ahead, not worried about getting lost. He knew where the hospital, Grand General, was. It was where Alex had been born. Where he'd gone to the emergency room when he'd fallen from a ladder some years before, and badly sprained his left wrist. He mainly kept up, because all the armed people were ahead of him. The police in their two large van like trucks, and the FBI car right behind them. It wasn't until they got closer that the lead vehicle started to go the wrong way. He went straight as the others followed the line, and honked his horn.

  Daniels looked as he passed, so Jay pointed the right way, and kept driving. He could get them there, if they'd follow. The dark Sedan did, but he couldn't tell if the others were tailing them or going a different, longer, route. They were almost there, however.

  In the end they beat the vans by ten minutes, but didn't try to go in, parking well away.

  Daniels knew what to do, thank goodness. Jay certainly didn't.

  "We can't afford to spook him. Everyone stay ready. McNab and I will go up..." He looked at the man in charge of the state unit and shrugged. "Actually, just call it in. We need eyes on the scene, but it's kind of hard to hide all of this." He waved, showing that he meant the men and women in their rather severe looking outfits. They did stand out a little. Armed and armored for war, like they were.

  "Got it. Let me do that." He leaned into his own chest, and pushed a button on the black mouthpiece that was connected to a curly cord. It ran to his waist, where a radio, which looked small and nicely compact, rested on a black belt. "Grand General team one, this is point, go."

  What that meant, Jason didn't know at all, but nothing happened, so the man tired it again. Then he looked at Daniels, followed by his own people.

  "Insert! We have possible down! Fourth floor. Possible down!"

  They ran, and so did the FBI men. He did too, wondering if he were supposed to stay with the car. It made sense, but he didn't really want to be stuck there, trying to stop Mills alone. That would be what happened, he didn't doubt, if he stayed in place. They used the stairs, running the whole time, which reminded him to get in shape and actually start using the gym at work. He gasped by the time they were at the top, even as the people carrying more gear seemed fresh and ready to fight. That, it turned out, was a good thing. Because the shooting that started would have killed several of them, if they hadn't been.

  Jay dove to the floor, covering his head with his arms, because of their magical bullet stopping properties. It was instinct however, and he did it without thinking, peeking upward only when Deputy Mills, dressed up for a day on patrol, ran out of a room. He was all in brown, but the hail of bullets that came back at him changed that quickly enough, filling him with holes.

  They made little bloody marks all over his front. There was no spurting of crimson liquid, or a dramatic long fall. He just went to the floor, bleeding. The silver weapon in his hand fell, hitting with a clank, Jay thought. He might have imagined that part. As soon as he was down, men ran toward him, yelling. It wasn't going to do much good, since he had to be dead. Some of the bullets had hit him in the head. Ending it.

  Jay ran, past the man on the ground, into the room, to find what was inside. He didn't want to know, he thought, but it was even worse than he'd imagined. In a bed, a blue and white hospital one, silver on the sides, hooked up to an I.V. still, was Lynn. Her face was gone. It was probably bullets that had done it, but he didn't know how it had happened. Not really.

  On the floor, behind the bed, were four other people, all of whom had been shot. There was slow movement still. Pained and confused.

  "Over here! Get a doctor! Four down, over here!" He called that out until help came, which didn't take long. Shooting or not, they were in a hospital. Then he was pulled to the side, and out of the room, by Daniels and McNab.

  The whole time he couldn't help but look at what was left of Lynn. She was, in the end, a bad person, but he couldn't help but remember that he'd loved her, once.

  A long time before. That she hadn't been worthy of it didn't seem to matter as much, just then.

  Chapter fourteen

  The night didn't get shorter just because the now infamous Killer Clown was dead. In fact, he was kept at the hospital until nearly noon the next day, no one getting any sleep at all. When he finally got out, let go by the FBI men on the condition that he be reachable, there was a throng of reporters waiting for him outside the main doors of the hospital.

  Daniels and McNab were still with him, and started muttering no comment as they moved along, rather than risk saying the wrong thing. For his part, he just didn't care at all. He didn't really know anything that these people would want to hear, did he? He wondered about that for a minute, and then kept his mouth shut firmly, walking away as if he weren't part of anything. As far as the people there really knew, that was the truth and they were just hoping to get some kind of response from someone, anyone, that would look good on the air that night. Or possibly sooner, since a few of them were from big twenty-four hour news networks.

  It was a man from one of those that recognized him. "Dr. Hadley? Did you come to identify the body of your ex-wife?"

  People stopped pestering the FBI, which was clearly what they should have been doing and started in on him. Innocent and not at all someone that would know anything of interest. It was tempting to just tell them everything, but again, they didn't really want to know. They just thought they did. Some things, once seen, or heard, couldn't be taken back. There was a lot of that in his mind now. There had been, but now...

  Still they needed to be told something. So he looked at the man, dressed in a nice gray jacket, with a black tie and soft blue shirt, who held out a microphone.

  "I... I was visiting when it happened." Then he walked on. That was all he had and McNab pulled him by the arm, taking him to the shiny burgundy car that waited for him. Then the two men spoke to him, softly, so as to not be overheard.

  Daniels did most of it, his voice rough from being awake too long, beaten and held captive. Jay knew that always took it out of him, so didn't judge the man based on that.

  "It would be good if you ran anything you want to say to the press past us first. There probably won't be a court case, since everyone is dead, but the FBI does like to control the flow of information anyway. It gives us something to do. The higher ups get bored, if they can't meddle a little." The weariness pour
ed off of him then, and Jay didn't blame him, not even a bit.

  He felt it too. It was the kind of thing that no one talked about in the press. The toll that even being too close to a horror show like what he'd seen did to you. Worse, he really doubted it was going to get better, any time soon. You saw too much, and it damaged you.

  It was tempting, the idea of just going to some bar and drinking until the next day came and it was all at a remove from him. That couldn't happen. He had Alex now.

  That reminded him that he was going to have to tell her about the death.

  "Carl Morse?" The man had just said that they were all dead. Jason hadn't known that.

  "A few hours ago. He hung on, but couldn't give any kind of statement. That part is being left to us." There was a firm tap on the top of the car. "You have my number. Call if you need anything. Or just to talk. If you don't, we'll call you. Don't sit on this, or it will eat you up inside. Talk to someone about it."

  He nodded, not planning to, really. It was going to be hard to even explain what had taken place. How could he tell his little girl about it? She'd find out, eventually, so he had to let her know, but... It was all so big. So awful. They'd need a funeral, of some kind, and Alex...

  For the next few hours he just drove, his mind quiet, except for flashes of pure fear, and then worry, as he planned out what to say. He didn't go fast, so it was about four when he actually got to the casino. His car was still there, so he pulled up and parked on the far side of Carlos and Wendy's Van. He had to count the days off on his fingers, but it didn't make sense, they should have been at their other gig, not there. Unless they were visiting. Why though? He walked in, going to the stage area, to find them all there, Max, Carlos, Wendy, the people that had acts that night, and Alexis. She'd been crying, and was sitting next to Felicity Maine, who held her from the side.

  They really did look a bit alike. Like they could be sisters, except for the eye color. Or maybe not. Two girls with light skin that both had dark hair. Similar, but also pretty different. For instance, one was his little girl. He jogged over to her, and she surged up, carrying the other woman with her, to hug him.

  "I saw it on the news. Mom, and Carl. What do I do? I don't know what to do." She seemed hurt, but confused and scared too. Felicity hugged her again, catching him in the action at the same time. It was on purpose, but not bad. Just like she was saying they were family, after a manner of speaking. Letting them know that she, at least, stood with them.

  Carlos cleared his throat.

  "I'll help you make the arrangements, if you're doing that?" He was looking at Jason, who didn't know the answer to that.

  "Most likely. Thanks. This is... Hard." He didn't know what to say. Or how to say it.

  The dark haired singer patted his daughter, and stood back. She wore a serious expression and seemed sad, but strong.

  "My mother died, not too long ago. Cancer. We had a plan for her. I... I can ask my grandfather if he'll help too? It was a lovely ceremony, and I don't think anyone will mind if we do it twice. It didn't cost too much. Most of the money he had, that we all had, went to the medical bills."

  Jay blinked.

  "Can it be brought in for, say, three thousand dollars?"

  Everyone looked at the girl, who shut down then, for a bit, then she nodded slowly, as if wondering what would happen next.

  "Almost exactly that."

  So, that would explain things there. The why of it. A mother that died, and the desire to settle things. Not legally perhaps, but taken care of. Probably with more than a bit of desperation involved. It also explained why Felicity had taken Max up on his offer. It wasn't just that she needed a job, to save her career, but that she was struggling to protect her family from a mountain of debt.

  He didn't know if everyone understood it all, but he did.

  "I can swing that, I think. It would help. Thank you. We... We need to get ready to open. Max, can you introduce people tonight? I... I'm going to work up something new. Joey the Hobo Clown is retired. One of the others can take his place. Or something better."

  The chubby man didn't get it, but he was savvy enough to know that sometimes you didn't ask.

  "Do you need... I can handle things, for a while." He was somber, and glanced at Alex, but only for a half second.

  "No, thanks. I just need to sleep soon. I've been up too long. I guess I should explain it all. I don't really want to."

  Jason did it anyway. Not graphically, perhaps, but without hedging either. He told them about what had happened, which had enough tears falling from everyone that a few people were going to have to go and redo makeup. When it was over Rhonda ran over to him, and held him for a long time.

  "My God, that's awful! What can I do? How can I help?"

  There wasn't much that anyone could do, was there? Some things just had to be gotten through. Understanding why it had happened, well, it wouldn't help anyone right then. Later maybe, when they tried to understand it.

  "Go and put on a great show? I'll be fine. Thanks everyone. I'll be around in the morning. Right now... Just... Thank you all." No one tried to stop him as he left.

  Carlos and Wendy came along, with Alex.

  There was going to be a lot to do, he knew. They needed a house, or at least a tiny and affordable apartment. That was something to look into the next day. Maybe the one after that. It would be hard to do. So were the arrangements for Lynn. Alex needed that to be done. It was her mother. No matter what had happened, or how he felt about it all, that was the real point. He'd stand with her and make certain that Carl and Lynn both got the send off that would leave his daughter feeling okay about it, later in life. Not the one they deserved, perhaps, but the one that was needed for the living. The man had a wife and family, and they didn't deserve to be hurt either. Jay didn't know what to do about them, but knew that it would probably end up being hard on him. Who else did they have left to blame?

  Then, well, what else was left?

  Hugging the girl as they all headed to his room, one arm over her shoulder, he knew the answer. What was left was life. The most important thing was that he hold her close and make sure she grew up to be a good person. It was going to be hard, with all of this hanging over her. Her real parents being killed by her blood brother. All of them psychopaths like they were. She wasn't though, and as a normal person, there would be guilt to deal with. Even if it wasn't her fault in any way. Fear too. She'd end up asking herself if she were like them. Tainted and evil, unable to control herself in the long run. Manipulative and emotionless inside. The only thing that Jason could do for her was make certain she knew it wasn't true, telling her a thousand times, and showing her that she was a good person, and loved.

  Carlos and Wendy were close behind them, and a small hand touched his arm at the door, so he turned, to find the man looking up at him. It was a strange thing, he realized, if not for the first time. Carlos was small, but the biggest man he knew at the same time. At least in any way that really mattered.

  "We'll leave you here. We'll be around in the morning, early. Don't worry, we'll make sure everything gets done." He patted his arm, as if to offer condolences.

  Then he did the same with Alexis, who passed out hugs to both of the others. They were, in a strange way, family after all.

  All he had. Except that, really, it was also all he needed.

  That was the answer to his own why, wasn't it? Nodding, he went in and got ready for bed, wondering what to do with his daughter. Well, a night on the floor wouldn't kill him.

  That they were together was the important part. It was a thing that he should have remembered a lot earlier than he had. Now, at least, he could do something about it.

  In the morning, they could get a start on their new life.

  Together.

  A Little Bit of Madness (About the Author)

  P.S. Power writes for a living, and is one of the most productive new names in writing. In fact, so much so that some confused people think he is a team
of people, or, in a few cases, an advanced algorithmically based artificial intelligence system.

  The truth is much simpler. He does his own work, and as far as anyone can tell, is just like you and me. Only, you know, not as good looking.

  What he does do is live in an isolated cabin, far away from society, as a hermit. It's a monk-like existence filled with meditation and fasting, as he attempts to work out the best way to entertain you. If you'd like to know more about him, or dun him with requests for new work, he has a web-site: pspowerbooks.com

  If on the other hand, you need to get in touch with him for more personal reasons, (movie deals, collaborations, sexual proposals, death threats, spiritual advice, technological design work...) please feel free to mark that clearly and write him at: power_dale@yahoo.com

  That's about it. If you want to know more, please head to the web-site. Most of the books coming out in the next year are planned to be Fantasy/Sci-Fi, but that bit about lobbying for something else wasn't a joke. If you'd like the next book in this series to be moved forward, please mention that! He looks forward to hearing from you.

  (He also wrote this in third person, which is just weird, don't you think? That's an attempt to fool you into thinking he has friends. Being a hermit must be lonely...)

  Thanks!