by Glen Krisch
"You useless rag of shit." Mr. Freakshow grabbed the sock monkey and threw him across the room. Rupert cried out when he hit the wall, but was soon back on his feet and charging the bed. Anger creased the permanent smile from his fabric lips.
"You're a feisty little fuck, aren't you? Killing you will almost be as gratifying as killing Mr. Nolan Gage," Mr. Freakshow said, still looking into Gage's eyes. Rupert closed on the beast, and for every step, his body seemed to fade, becoming less substantial. In one last surge of energy, Rupert leapt into the air, but there was nothing left of him. Mr. Freakshow stood facing Rupert's attack, but he had disappeared. All the dreams had disappeared. Quietly, and without fuss, Nika was gone, taking her mind's creations with her.
Mr. Freakshow turned his attention back to Gage.
He succumbed to the beast without even blinking, waiting for the moment of serenity when he would once again see his daughter, but this time awake, alive and able to love him as he loved her. The old man held Mr. Freakshow's gaze even as his heart beat for the last time.
Mr. Freakshow had spilled all the blood he could within the halls of the basement. He ventured through the ground floor of Lucidity. One by one, he opened the enclosures. Some of the dreams came out hesitantly, wary of such an easy exit. Some didn't leave the security of their enclosure at all. They were either too weak a dream to realize their own existence, or they didn't want to walk a single step closer to Mr. Freakshow.
His anger deepened when an entire hall was free to leave and few dreams appreciated his kindness. At first he thought he could possibly find common ground with these miscreants, but now he knew how entirely wrong he had been. These timid shells of human thought and emotion could never be his peers. He would have to rid this world of them as well as the human detritus that lingered like caked blood under his claws. He would deal with the humans first, then in time, he would turn his sights on eliminating the dreams unworthy of existing at his side. He kicked over a dream the size of a child. His fluffy orange lion's mane fluttered as he fell to his soft suede-skin knees. Mr. Freakshow snatched a handful of his orange locks and dragged the deplorable mound of dream-stuff to his feet. The dream gave off a blubbering moan from his red licorice lips.
"You make me sick. What exactly are you supposed to be?"
The lion-child shook his head and a flow of tears accompanied his moaning.
Mr. Freakshow tossed the dream aside and stood at the end of the hall. He was a star and carried himself like one. There was a moment of silence as the Freak waited for full attention. He broke the brittle tension with his gravel voice. "Be free my pitiable brethren. Your time upon this earth will end soon enough. Join the horde of human vermin if you must; seek out a life and soul of your own if you have it in you. It will not last. I will bring an end to you all soon enough. But for now, live with and live like the animals that you are."
It was like an order given by a holy man. Mr. Freakshow could have flipped a switch and not seen such an instant change in the malingering dreams. His brethren rose from the sanctuary of their confinement, and as one big wave they fell upon the ground with hungered hearts and empty minds to fill. The dreams left Lucidity to encounter the human world--a world still asleep to too many things once thought incomprehensible. Mr. Freakshow was the mirror revealing and releasing the reflection of a society's conscience.
Mr. Freakshow bowed deeply to the departing dreams and then turned on his bare heel. He headed to the upstairs enclosures, an area where he would find more sentient and aggressive creatures--creatures he hoped more akin to himself.
No one offered to help the helpless dream woman--she was The Object and was created for exploit, and all the other dreams knew it. Viktor's initiative started the whole spectacle once Mr. Freakshow let the dreams of the Erotica Wing free. Viktor was all Id, and once free, he shoved his way through the milling crowd of newly freed erotic dreams and waited outside The Object's enclosure for her release. Then he had claimed her as His Object; he grabbed her by her pale blonde hair. He had bronze flawless skin, a long blond ponytail and was hung as only a dream-man could be. They were freakishly different sizes and forcing her flat to the floor was no problem. Getting his cock into her was another story. After a momentary struggle, Viktor was inside her, ramming her with all his built up aggression.
She was fighting, pushing Viktor, trying to cover her small breasts, but she was not nearly strong enough. The other dreams were pushing their gapers-circle closer. His Object's smooth, featureless face jerked from side to side. As the other dreams pushed in closer, it was obvious that His Object had feigned innocence through her struggles. In truth, she was enjoying her fucking. All the other dreams could see of her now were her dainty hands grabbing hold of Viktor's shoulders. Her razor-sharp nails deeply tore into his flesh. He pummeled her harder, enraptured, even as in her pleasure, she dug her nails deeper, past the knuckle.
The shit hit the fan when a greedy dream-man with a spiked silver collar and black leather pants grabbed His Object's foot. He was trying to take her for his own. Viktor pulled himself free from his conquest, and struck the other dream with his brick-like fist. The arousal of the other dreams had been growing with every fevered thrust of Viktor's hips, and now that he had taken on the task of brutalizing the spike-collar dream, they fell in, enveloping His Object, making her their own, making her a part of their collective engorged lust. They grabbed and spread limbs. Heat poured off the orgy like a sauna, and screams and grunts filled the room.
Mr. Freakshow watched the performance from a distance, an enervated smirk pulling at his cheeks. He knew he would get a more lively reaction from the erotic dreams if he presented them with their freedom. Freedom to an erotic dream meant unabashed sensuality, voyeuristic consumption, and sexual release. Oh, and the occasional dream-orgy. But Viktor's initial penetration was only the prelude to the overall mischief that ensued, the proverbial firing of the starter's pistol.
The Freak let the twenty or so dreams fuck and share partners and fuck and switch again before interrupting. He wanted them to get a taste of the freedom he had given them. Once they knew who had given them their freedom, he would be free to twist them to his will.
"Be free to consume," he said, focusing their attentions. "Do not limit yourselves to your current excesses, your current partners or desires. There are bountiful treasures just outside this building to fill your incredible need. So, seek your release among the humans. They are lower forms than you and I, and I have no doubt they would consent to any of your wishes. If at first they resist, simply remember that these creatures are coy by nature."
Mr. Freakshow left the Erotica Wing, knowing they were his servants. He could call upon them if he needed, but for now, he would slink out on his own. Tracking down the boy would be easier alone.
Kevin jumped awake as if an alarm clock blared next to his ear. There was no noise in his room, and judging the darkness from his window, no one would be awake yet. He had the sudden feeling that something was wrong. He looked about the room, but he didn't see anything unusual, and he didn't get the sense that Mr. Freakshow was here. But the unsettling feeling had something to do with the Freak, that much was certain. He thought back to when Mr. Freakshow breathed his hot rancid breath against his sleep-paralyzed face. He hadn't been able to move a muscle. Then he remembered. Mr. Freakshow said he would soon escape. He said he was coming for him.
Coming to drink the blood beating through his heart.
He grabbed his clothes from the closet, shrugged them on and then leaned over to slide on his shoes. His mind was going in a thousand directions, and he didn't know how much time he had. If Mr. Freakshow was loose, the first thing he was going to do was come for him.
Why can't he just leave me alone?
He wanted to wake his mom and grandma, but knew he shouldn't. No one could know what he was doing. The Freak said he would kill his family if he told them of his intended escape. Kevin couldn't risk their lives after already losing his dad. He fin
ished double-tying his shoelaces, grabbed his backpack, and was about to run out the door when he saw his windbreaker. His mom would have a cow if he didn't have it with him, even if the weather was clear and warm. If she noticed his windbreaker was gone, she might realize he was okay, that no one had taken him in the middle of the night and that leaving was his own doing. She would still be a wreck when she discovered he was gone, but he couldn't help that now. Right now, he had to get out of the house, get as far away from his family as possible. Before the Freak found him.
Running away from sleep had been one thing. All he had to do was avoid that inevitable pull to close his eyes, to shut his mind from the waking world. Running away from a beast like Mr. Freakshow was fear on a whole new level.
His shoes striking the pavement seemed incredibly loud as he ran down the street. He was a block from his grandma's house and already gasping for breath. Slow down, slow down, or you won't last an hour on your own.
He took a deep breath and eased into a trot as he approached the baseball field. With the moonlight obscured by clouds, the chain link backstop looked even more like a giant set of ribs half buried in the infield. He stepped through the entrance to the infield and went over to home plate, his face burning from fear and sweat. For the first time since he woke little more than five minutes ago, he wondered what time it was. He sat cross-legged on home plate, trying to collect his thoughts. His mind kept drifting to the other day when he was playing ball at this very field. It seemed so long ago. Everyone had been happy.
"You seem stressed out," a familiar voice called out from the darkness near the aluminum bleachers.
Kevin jumped to his feet, ready to run in a split second.
"Chill out." The voice was familiar, but his mind was such a mess he couldn't place it. "Hope you didn't piss yourself." Reid stepped into a small patch of moonlight, a cigarette dangling from his peach-fuzzed lip.
"I didn't see you," Kevin said, catching his breath.
"Things are fucked up." Reid came closer. He had a swollen lip seeping blood. "You know."
Seeing Reid's face looking like a raw steak pulled Kevin away from his own thoughts. He couldn't take his eyes from Reid's battered face.
"Hey man, take a picture."
"What happened?"
Reid took an awkward drag on his cigarette, and then did his best to hold the butt on his swollen lip as he spoke. "Sometimes people get mad. Not like angry mad; I mean mad mad. Just… crazy, like some kind of monster."
Kevin thought he knew what he meant. He did his best not to stare, tried instead to act like this meeting was the most casual thing to ever happen.
"You want one of these? I swiped them from my step mom."
"Yeah, sure." He didn't really want one, but didn't want to look like a chump in front of Reid.
Reid floated him the cigarette, and Kevin put it to his lip. When Reid struck a wooden match, Kevin saw his friend's left eye had taken some damage, too. Luckily, the lit cigarette in his mouth was enough to distract him from Reid's face.
"So where you off to?" Reid asked, giving Kevin's backpack a small kick.
"Not sure yet." Kevin felt a strange surge of confidence, as if he were an adult. Then he took a drag on the cigarette, and all the false bravado left him just as fast as the smoke expelled from his lungs.
"Take it easy. Not so much," Reid said with a chuckle.
"Where you going?" Kevin imagined the two of them running away from their problems together, tramping the countryside like Tom and Huck.
"Back home."
"But what about…"
"This?" Reid said, pointing to his face. "This is nothing. This is two hundred dollars and missing the first week of school."
"He gives you money for that?"
"If I don't tell my mom. It's not like he drinks or nothing. He just goes mad every once in a while. Once he calms down, he's an all right guy."
"That sucks."
"It could be worse. Now this," Reid said as he lifted up his shirt. Even in the obscured moonlight a section of his ribs jutted out, almost like he was carrying a chunk of rock under his skin. "This got me almost the whole summer with no hassles. I played ball all summer, went to the pool day or night, had as much spending money as I wanted. I guess my luck ran out."
"Haven't you told anyone?"
"And ruin a good thing?" Reid said. They were quiet for a couple of minutes. Not even a bird's chirp broke the silence. "You'll keep it quiet, right? You've got your shit to deal with, too, right? I don't see any marks on you, so I'm guessing what they do to you is much worse than I get. But that doesn't mean you go off and tell anyone."
"Yeah, no problem." Kevin had puffed on his cigarette until it was down to the filter, keeping the smoke from entering his lungs. He was shocked that Reid would think someone abused him. Once and for all, he wanted to set him straight. He wanted to tell him that a monster was coming for him, and that it wanted to kill him.
And another thing, I created this monster in my own head.
It was easier letting Reid think what he wanted.
"Old man's probably as cool as a cucumber now. If things settle down for you, I guess I'll see you when school starts next Monday, that is, if this shit's cleared up," Reid said, pointing to his face. "Otherwise, it's been…"
"Yeah, I know. Later."
Reid nodded goodbye and left the brief halo of moonlight. Kevin was once again alone, but now more scared than when he left his grandma's house. Inside were people who loved him and would never do anything to harm him. But he also knew he could never go back, not as long as Mr. Freakshow was coming for him. He watched Reid disappear into the night, and for a fleeting moment, Kevin thought his friend was brave for going back home. Knowing that his dad was probably going to beat the crap out of him again, and then to simply take it like it was just another nuisance of life… if only life could be that simple.
Kevin hefted his backpack squarely between his shoulders, and headed for the thin row of trees beyond the baseball field. His mom told him she once built tree houses there. Maybe he would find an old tree house--one possibly built by his mom when she was a kid--and hide out long enough for Mr. Freakshow to forget about him.
Chapter 15
Maury regained consciousness covered in blood. For a moment, he wondered where he was and what had happened, but then an image flashed through his head--Mr. Freakshow's broad forearm flying into him, sending him crashing into a wall. Maury's head cleared, and he picked himself off the floor. He checked his body for injuries, but only noticed a few scrapes and bruises, nothing fatal, no broken bones. He took in his surroundings and realized he was still in Mr. Freakshow's enclosure. Bloody pools dotted the floor and walls. He touched his face and felt a patch of dried blood from a shallow gash on his cheekbone.
The floor had shallow grooves dug into it. They were widely spaced and didn't make sense. Maury spread his fingers over some of them and suddenly understood that they were from the claws of one of the dreams. He shuddered as he pulled back his hand and looked at his surroundings in a new light.
At some point during his unconsciousness, the glass wall had been shattered. Glass he and Gage thought would never break. So much for state of the art. An odor permeated the air. Soured milk? Or something far worse? Most likely something he didn't want to consider. With the door to Mr. Freakshow's enclosure thrown wide and the glass wall shattered, anything could have happened when he was unconscious. He approached the shattered glass clinging to the frame of the enclosure. He didn't want to look outside the room, but he had no other choice. Careful not to cut himself, he braced himself and slowly leaned his head through the opening.
At the far end of the hall, a squat creature the size of a German Sheppard sat on four spidery legs. It was tugging at the remains of what once could have been a person. The lighting was too dim to tell from this distance exactly what the nightmare was toying with.
Just outside the door, something had pulled up floor tiles and tooled sharp ch
unks of concrete from underneath, making the hallway look like a potholed street in a sketchy neighborhood. The overhead fluorescent lights hung lopsided, and their ballasts gave off an occasional dying flicker. Maury stuck to the shadows near the wall as he left the enclosure. Judging by the condition of the hallway, he had to get to a phone as soon as possible. Mr. Freakshow had obviously set the dreams free. He couldn't imagine all the chaos they would cause once free of Lucidity's walls.
When he was close enough to see the sparse green hair on spider-creature's legs, Maury could also see that it was tearing apart Peter. Of course, Peter-what's-his-name. The concessions' manager. Maury had never really met the guy. He was just someone who ran a cash register and little more.
"Peter…" Maury whispered. He still couldn't remember his last name. He approached the spider-creature cautiously, the scientist in him curious about the natural mechanisms of this dream. One of Peter's arms was missing and the other was a stunted stub just above the elbow that continued to stubbornly shake with life like a deflating balloon. One eye was bruised shut, while the other remained stationary. His pupil was a distorted cloud shape. His legs were intact, but the dreams had attacked his groin area, and a good deal of it was gone, making it appear as if his legs were literally as high as his ribs.
Maury didn't know how Peter was still alive. There was no reason for it. The remains of his limbs twitched randomly, the last vestiges of life spastically leaving him. The spider-creature growled at Maury, and it hunkered down on its thin legs, burying its velvet fangs into its prey.
Peter was beyond help. Maury needed to get to a phone. He left the Nightmare Wing, but stopped at the hand-carved railing that encircled the marble stairs. The foyer was in shambles below. Smoke swirled from small fires. The concessions stand was in tatters. He ran down the steps, and when he picked up the phone, it didn't have a dial tone. If only he had his cell phone with him. The wooden front doors were open--one hung at an odd angle on its bent hinge--and sunlight lit the opening like a waiting mouth. The museum of dreams was destroyed. Empty.