by Glen Krisch
He could hear sirens in the distance, and people screaming. Shocked voices, pained voices, violent grunts mixed with languid laughter; it was all one jumbled mess. Somehow, his mother of all fuck-ups kept getting worse. He was lamenting his inability to make one good decision in his life, when it dawned on him. When he thought about it, the situation worsened yet again.
Juliet.
The one person he thought he could love. She was somewhere out in that craziness. With the stupidity that allowed him to open the Freak's enclosure in the first place, Maury Bennett charged blindly into the waiting mouth of the open door, one word subverting all other thoughts: Juliet.
Mr. Freakshow found solace during his night's escape among the shadows. Hiding never crossed his mind; his arrogance was far too great for that. He had no fear of humans. No one would dare hunt him like an animal, and if they did, he would snuff out their lives like cigarette ash. If he rendered Kevin nearly catatonic before the extraction, the boy would just about drop dead if he saw him now in the flesh, unimpeded by shackles or walls or panes of shatter-proof glass. The nightmare's hatred had only grown after the extraction and it had sharpened his focus and left him a more prudent creature. There was no sense in making a lavish, attention-grabbing foray down major streets. He would never find the boy if he took such a path. He stayed in the shadows in an attempt at anonymity.
He tried to rein in his form to one more suited to human eyes. His hatred tempered his ability to completely change his form into something gentler. He fashioned a boring ensemble from what he'd seen a human wear outside his enclosure. Changing his clothes didn't change his hulking size, so he slumped down as far as possible to conceal his height. A single set of headlights blazed through his path of semi-darkness. A rush of brightness lit his way, allowing him to stare into the bleary whites of the obviously drunk driver. So close, he thought, so close, but it's still too early. He wouldn't risk his immortality for a little fun of feeding on an unaware human. The car snailed down the block, lucky to hold the curb as it turned the corner.
Mr. Freakshow was on the edge of the city, walking by houses shielded behind wrought iron bars. Even after visiting the boy during his paralyzed semi-sleep state, Mr. Freakshow only had a vague idea of his home's location. Since the boy didn't know the city's layout, Mr. Freakshow's knowledge was just as limited. He started in the direction his instincts told him was correct. By first light tomorrow, Mr. Freakshow would have his freedom.
The wish-fulfillment dream, Johnny Flower, walked in his oh-so-cool manner, swaying his flared jeans like it was as natural as the clouds in the star-studded sky. He was an amalgam of his dreamer, an unemployed cyber geek, and the outward persona of John Lennon. The dream's tight fitting paisley shirt was unbuttoned down to his breastbone and the shirt cuffs flared out similarly to his jeans. It was the deadest time of night and Johnny Flower still wore his rose-colored granny glasses. His thin lips highlighted his oval face, and his long, center-parted hair was a shade lighter than chocolate. The residential neighborhood he wandered through was a real bore. He looked at the horizon and could see lights like a halo over the city. That's where he needed to be. That's where he would find people of his ilk and acumen. After his inhumane and utterly barbaric imprisonment, Johnny was craving a lively conversation. Politics, the War, artwork--the topic didn't matter, just as long as the person he was interacting with had a well thought-out idea to offer.
After an hour or so, Johnny found himself in a shady-looking neighborhood. Trash littered the street and graffiti covered the buildings. Half the streetlights looked shot out. He was going to push on to the next neighborhood, but Johnny could hear music--beautiful blues guitar and throaty lyrics pumping through cheap amplifiers. The shanty bar on the corner was like a magnet to Johnny. The name, Pop's, was styled in fancy curlicues on the small neon sign in the barred window. Pop's was the only part of the block not boarded up.
Johnny entered the building and realized he once played his own style of music in small dive bars like this. It was before he grew his hair long. Before the hysteria and drugs. Before he found his true calling: Peace. Johnny hid in a dark corner of the bar, the atmosphere leavening his mood. He let the blues pour through his body like a soul enriching lifeblood. No one took note of his presence. When a down on her heel waitress came over to ask for his order, he mumbled for a glass of water, saying little more the rest of the night. He closed his eyes, and remembered a time when people could make a difference by just voicing the truth.
Esmeralda was a beautiful young lady. Her hair was cut to a short bob, but it only made her high cheekbones seem more pronounced and revealed her slender neck to full advantage. Her almond-shaped eyes were exotic and dark. She was also completely aware of her surroundings, not like most of the other dreams set free by Mr. Freakshow. Her only problem was the fact that she was naked. Naked, unless an ever-flowing mantel of beady-eyed rats covering her body was considered clothing. Yes, she was naked, excluding the fabric of furry rodents covering her womanly charms. They didn't bite her; they simply annoyed her, wiping her with an errant tail or squeaking loud enough to blot out her hearing as they scurried about her body. Esmeralda had tried any number of ways to make the rats disappear, but with no luck. After waiting for the other dreams to take their chaos outside, she had made her escape as well. She didn't want to be swept up in the tide of violence and depravity unleashed by the Freak, so she had waited. She wasn't that sort of dream. Esmeralda thought of herself as normal as any human.
She just had her one little problem.
She walked down a flight of concrete steps after exiting a vacant alley. When she reached the bottom, she realized she had entered a subway. The booth was empty and she hopped over a metal railing. The triple pairs of rails arched around a curve, and the concrete benches around the subway stop were empty. She could see a couple of people in the distance, but no one was close enough to see her little problem.
The roaring of an approaching train shook the ground before the lights appeared from around the corner. Esmeralda didn't know what to do. She stepped behind a concrete pillar. She was thinking about an escape route when the train pulled up with screeching brakes and a rumbling growl. A handful of bleary-eyed travelers disembarked from the train, and most appeared to be sleepwalking through the subway as if they had walked through the dark cavern a million times.
She felt a bond with these city people. Maybe they would accept her into their society. But they seemed to act like watched prey, quite aware of the danger of hidden predators. Esmeralda, feeling a strange surge of panic, waited for the unsuspecting humans to discover her.
When the small pack of people rounded the pillar, Esmeralda was the first to scream. The humans quickly joined her, mixing with the chorus of squealing dream-rats. Everyone screamed a long, seemingly cathartic scream, but after Esmeralda ran out of sight around the curve of the subway, she didn't feel better for it, and she assumed no else did either.
At the water cooler tomorrow, the first rumors of a Queen of the Rats would start. The rumors would become myth, then become legend. People would write stories with her as the subject. Eventually someone would create a comic book starring the Queen of the Rats and the curse of her ever-flowing mantle of vermin. But her end would come soon enough. Once the police figured out how to contain the situation, Esmeralda would be one of the first dreams recaptured.
Juliet stood in the parking lot in front of Lucidity, wondering where Maury was, and if he was still alive. If Mr. Freakshow got his hands on him, there might not be anything left of him. She felt a strange, nearly overpowering sensation deep within her chest. It didn't make her exactly forget her desire to place a gun to her chin and blow her brains out, but it was a distraction from it. The sensation was a throbbing need. When she thought of Maury, and his penetrating eyes, the gentle touch of his fingers, it only intensified this sensation. She left the parking lot, searching out with all her senses for the man that made her feel so… feel so real.
"What nature of dream are you, fair one?" Mr. Freakshow had asked, only his head visible to Juliet. "I see no abnormality, no weakness, weirdness or blight, and still, you are housed with the nightmares. I will enjoy finding out."
She had covered her face with her hands, waiting for an attack that never came. After a long time, she opened her eyes. The Freak had left her alone. The enclosure stood wide open. She was reluctant to leave the cell, but soon the noise and commotion of the other dreams faded. Juliet hoped the nightmares had vacated the museum as she tentatively gambled a few steps outside her cell. She quickly learned the truth. Lucidity was empty, destroyed.
She found the clothing the women wore who came to see her fascinating. The different styles and colors were astounding. No one person could come up with such beauty. From her memory, she was able to morph her simple summer dress to approximate a hodgepodge of the styles that she liked the most. She wore slacks in a splendid purple color. Soft green ruffles waffled the bodice of her blouse. She doubled a brown scarf around her neck. She felt so human. Hopefully, no one would notice her.
She stopped at the edge of the parking lot, the last step before entering the human world. Her feet felt rooted to the asphalt parking lot. She had to get going, but was torn as to what she should do. She wanted to find Maury, wanted more than anything to be in his arms once again. She also understood the cold fact that Mr. Freakshow would want to track down her dreamer, Barbara. He would eventually track down all of the dreamers and destroy them. He wanted a world where he alone could bend and change its physical laws.
Police lights flashed in the distance. She put her hands in her pants pockets, kept her head down, and quickly moved to join the people milling on the sidewalk. There was confusion in the air.
Much to her relief, no one gave her a second glance. For the moment, she put aside her thoughts of Barbara, and focused her attention on finding Maury.
Chapter 16
Agnes woke early like she always did (six hours of sleep was a blessing these days), and listened to classical music on the radio while waiting for her coffee to brew. The house was chilly and she rubbed her hands together for warmth. The summer's heat was leaving quite abruptly, and it was most noticeable during the mornings when the house was quiet. She prepped her coffee, a small dose of half and half and a squeeze of honey from the plastic bear bottle, and took a sip. Feeling more awake, she went to see if Kevin would help her make breakfast. Agnes had always wanted a helper in the kitchen, and growing up, Carin had proven both disinterested and without skill. She was delighted to learn that Kevin was usually happy to lend a hand.
She would be able to tell how deeply he was sleeping by the way the room felt. If he was close to waking, she would nudge him along, maybe tickle his feet some. If she sensed a deep slumber, she would leave him be. He was finally getting the sleep he needed since Carin took him to that doctor. Even if that Dr. Bennett wasn't her own Dr. Edwardson, whatever he did for Kevin's nightmares was obviously working if he was getting his rest.
When she eased open Kevin's bedroom door the room had no feeling to it at all. It felt as empty as before he moved in. She was suddenly reminded of the haunting moments when she discovered her husband of thirty-seven years dead of a massive stroke. Howard had fallen over in the garage, obviously in some pain. When she had gone out to tear him away from his wood working long enough to grab a sandwich, she first thought the garage was empty. Howard had probably gone off to talk to a neighbor, or shoo away a squirrel from one of his bird feeders. Trusting her instincts that Howard was not in the garage, she slyly went in to run her fingers over his latest creation. While thinking she was getting away with finding out what he was making her for Christmas, she nearly tripped over his legs. She would never forget how cold his cheek felt when she touched it with her trembling fingers.
Kevin's room felt that empty.
"Kevin, honey, are you awake?" Agnes walked over to the bed. She didn't want to find him dead, didn't want to reach out to touch his cold corpse tucked under the blankets. Expecting the worst, she ran her hands across the comforter. The bed was empty and wasn't even warm. She sighed with relief that he wasn't there. But then a chill swept over her, and Agnes pulled her terry cotton robe tighter.
"Carin!" She was hoping she was simply overreacting, hoping that Kevin had slept in Carin's room last night. "Carin, wake up. Come here, dear."
"What is it? What's going on?" Carin immediately noticed the empty bed. "Where's Kevin?"
"I don't know. I thought he was with you."
Carin became instantly alert and rushed from the bedroom. She yelled for Kevin, searching every nook of the house, but he didn't call back. She ducked her head out the back door and the sky was still predawn purple. She ran to the garage, but that too was empty. She hurried back inside.
"Call the police," Carin said while switching out of her nightgown and into yesterday's clothes.
"Okay." Agnes picked up the phone on the kitchen counter. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know what I'm doing. I never know what I'm doing," Carin snapped. "That's why my son is missing."
Agnes was not used to her daughter raising her voice at her, but it was forgivable under the circumstances.
Carin grabbed her car keys and headed for the door. "I'm going to drive around, see if I can figure out where he might be. I have my cell with me. Let me know whatever you find out."
Just that quickly, Carin was out the door. She dialed 911, trying to keep her dark thoughts at bay.
The brooding stone mansions seemed to lean toward Kevin as he cut through another unfamiliar neighborhood. One house looked the same as the last, all that changed was the breed of yappy dog that would charge the fence, baring its nubby yappy dog teeth. He kept a watchful eye on the houses, but luckily he didn't come across anyone looking out, questioning why a lone boy wandered their street so early in the morning.
Focusing his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him, he tried to plow through the neighborhood as quickly as possible. The roots of the towering trees surrounding the houses had grown under the sidewalk. The uneven concrete looked like the spine of a mile-long slumbering dragon. A growling Yorkshire terrier pulled back his attention. The little dog seemed so angry with Kevin for walking in front of its house. It was in the process of expanding a hole under the wrought iron fence. Kevin glared at the dog for making so much noise. A man wearing a plush purple bathrobe and sleep-wrestled hair stepped outside. The man paused when he saw Kevin. Their eyes met briefly and Kevin instinctively quickened his pace.
"Gertrude… come on back, honey. Come get your breakfast. Gerty… come on girl…"
Gertrude sniffed the air as if insulted by Kevin before trotting back to her master.
He had to stop worrying about the neighborhood dogs, and instead, focus on the possibility that Mr. Freakshow could come from around any corner at any moment. He crossed a cobbled street and soon left the old homes with the little yappy dogs behind. The buildings transitioned to glass-fronted office buildings surrounded by empty parking lots. The stately oaks and elms of the mansion neighborhood transitioned to efficient, bony-looking shrubs housed in slotted metal skirts buried in the sidewalk.
People started to dot the sidewalk--men in suits, women in skirts or slacks and walking shoes. While Kevin remained a face in the morning commute crowd, the crowd became a wrinkled, depressing blur he could never trust, even if someone offered a welcoming hand. He was on his own, and on his own he would have to figure out how to defeat Mr. Freakshow. His options seemed hopeless. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like his nightmare would get his wish and steal his immortality by killing Kevin.
An extensive garden opened up at the en
d of the next block. The sidewalk wound through flowery carpets of red and white carnations dancing in the slight morning wind. The path wound clear out of view. A fountain was in the center of the park. Crystal water sputtered down an array of concrete channels, eventually regrouping in a shallow pond at the fountain's base. The garden was empty, and for this Kevin was grateful.
He sat on the ledge circling the pond and immediately felt the strain draining from his feet. He had been on the go at a good clip since two in the morning. When everyone's day was just beginning, fear had been pushing Kevin's every step for six hours. He dangled his fingers through the cool water and was trying to come up with a destination for his journey (or, in the back of his mind, even a stopping point for a last stand). A green leaf twice as wide as Kevin's hand floated over to his fingers. He snagged it from the pond and wiped it dry against his jeans. Its strong veins spread from its core like the branches of the tree from which it came. He opened the front zippered pocket of his backpack and carefully slipped the leaf inside.
Kevin was intelligent, and in some cases, his teachers even labeled him as gifted, but he was still a ten-year-old boy. He collected things. The pocket in which he stashed the perfect leaf held a collection of oddities that only a boy would find fascinating. From his parent's driveway, he had taken stones that looked as if they were carved by hand. He had a blackbird's feather that was as long as his forearm. There was also a wide rubber band that he hoped to one day fashion into a slingshot, and an oblong chunk of metal that he had once thought was gold, but still was intriguing enough to lug around. At the bottom of the pocket, safely sealed inside a Ziploc baggie, he'd hidden a picture of his family at their last Christmas together. His mom wasn't in the picture since she was holding the camera, but Kevin knew she was a part of it. Kevin was in the center of the picture and his expression was of utter joy. Of course, he would be happy, he had just opened a gift from his grandma, an Albert Pujols model baseball glove. Kevin had jumped up and down and had temporarily lost the ability to speak.