by Glen Krisch
Too slow, lady. He couldn't help chuckling to himself.
He dialed the Unger's home. It kept on ringing for a half minute. The haggard woman with the tapping foot pointed at her wrist, indicating the time. Maury turned his back to her, facing the graffiti scratched into the stainless steel phone fixture. He waited.
"Yello--" his dad said groggily when he finally picked up.
"Dad? Is everything okay at home? Is Mom okay?"
"Your mom's in watching T.V. I was sleeping. What's going on?"
"I need for you to listen, Dad," Maury paused. He didn't want to admit he had done anything wrong. Growing up, it seemed like his parents, both sets, had always blamed him for everything. "When Mom tells you about the news, listen to her. I want you two to be careful." He twirled the metal phone cord while a discernible silence grew in their conversation.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Police cars are zipping down all the streets here. Something crazy is going on. I can hear ambulances, too. I think you should stay home today. Watch Mom, stay inside."
"You hear sirens, and you want me to stay home?"
"When the siren's hit your neighborhood, turn off the lights and take Mom to a secure place." Maury had never revealed his abilities to his adoptive parents, even after he was making a living because of them.
"Okay, son… we'll do what we can." His dad sounded perplexed and even slightly annoyed.
"Dad, I have to tell you something about Gabe. It's been bothering me lately," Maury said, his heart hurting, knowing he was going to come clean about everything that had been a lie. His entire life.
Maury could nearly hear his dad thinking, through his wheezing breath, the results of living and working so hard. He finally spoke in his raspy voice, "What about Gabe?"
Another squall of an approaching line of police cars broke his concentration.
Right there on the street corner, with the sky full of sirens, the pest of a woman nagging him for the use of the phone, Maury was going to tell it all. That he hadn't done a thing to stop Gabe from diving into the pool, and that he did nothing to save him once he crashed into the bottom. He was going to tell his adoptive dad that he had been using him for over twenty years. Allowing Gabe to die had eased the burdens of Maury's life, had given him all of his new parents' attention. Later on, when he was approaching college age, he let Robert work hard enough to get the second job at the corner gas station, just out of spite. The Ungers had only wanted him because he was damaged, and had only wanted Gabe because he fell from a window because his mom had been too busy lighting her crack pipe. He was going to tell him everything.
"Son? Are you there?"
The police cars pushed through the congested intersection, slowed by the confused traffic. Maury looked into the second squad car, and did a double take. His luck, his mother of all fuck ups, was about to change. Inside the second squad car, sitting in the passenger seat, staring somehow both intently and blankly out the window, was Carin Dvorak. Kevin's mom.
"Gabe… Dad, I miss Gabe. He was such a sweet kid."
"I know, son, I know."
"Be careful, Dad."
His dad let out a pent up breath. Relieved. "We will. You too."
Maury hung up the phone. "I warned you…" Maury said as he turned from the payphone. The haggard woman stepped back, thinking Maury was talking to her, but he was already moving on. He could see where the squad cars were heading. With screeching tires, they stopped curbside three blocks up. One of the men in blue escorted Carin from the car, and even from this distance, Maury could see her looking around, as if searching for someone. The policeman guided her into the police station.
Policemen scurried through the station. The people sitting alongside Carin in the double row of bright orange plastic chairs seemed unsettled to see the unnatural strain on the policemen's faces. Carin had been barely aware of the young policeman with the sad, red-rimmed eyes who had guided her from the scene of her mother's murder to his police car. Now, she was sitting alongside other frazzled citizens, and their protectors were running around, scared. She remembered a cop guiding her to the plastic chairs, and someone gently patting her ice cube fingers, mumbling something about getting her a coffee.
Half an hour had lapsed and Carin was still sitting in the same spot, unmoved, noticeably drained of what little will she had left. A police officer eventually brought her a lukewarm cup of coffee. He walked away without saying a word.
She couldn't let herself think right now--it was too much, too painful. Instead, she repeatedly read the words from a nearby public service poster until they weren't words any longer. They were as foreign to her as seeing her own intestines.
Occasional thoughts pushed through her defenses. Her fragile and imperfect marriage was gone, her son was missing, her mother brutalized. She didn't know if she could take anymore, or if she had already reached her limits. Maybe she had already snapped and just hadn't realized it yet.
The details of the public service poster were starting to cement in her mind. She was seeing the poster and it made sense. The black blobs of ink were words again. The poster showed a middle-aged couple standing on the front step of a neighbor's house. The wife was holding a casserole dish, extending their gratuitous greeting to their new neighbors. The caption at the bottom read, Meet your neighbors. It's a sure way of ending neighborhood violence. Carin wondered how a simple, yet savory casserole could impact the violence level of a neighborhood.
She looked away from the silly poster as tears filled her eyes. A man was standing at the main reception desk. Carin couldn't see the person behind the desk, but the nervous posture of the man leaning over for information seemed familiar. Stringy legs in tailored pants and a rumpled dress shirt, patchy brown hair sticking out from a worn Cubs cap.
"Dr. Bennett!" Carin shouted as she stood up. The people in the bright orange plastic chairs shied away from Carin as if she were on fire.
Dr. Bennett came over to the waiting area, sympathy weighing down the edges of his angular features. "Mrs. Dvorak. I saw the policemen bringing you in here." He took both of her hands and tried to squeeze the ice from them. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know yet." They were the truest words she had ever spoken. Her son was out there somewhere. At this point, she couldn't take another shock to her system. It was almost better for Kevin to be out there somewhere and for her to never find out what happened to him. If she never knew what happened, at least there was a possibility that no harm had come to him, that he could possibly even be happy.
"Where's Kevin?"
"I… don't know." Speaking sharpened her emotions and she started to sob into her open hands, her reawakened pain racking her every nerve.
"Did Mr. Freakshow take him?"
"No. I woke up and his bed was cold. He must have slipped out in the middle of the night--and what do you mean, Mr. Freakshow? He's supposed to be locked up at the museum."
"If you haven't guessed it yet, the dreams are out. They escaped sometime last night."
"Then… then that means one of them could have taken him," she said, oddly hopeful.
"I don't think so. If he disappeared, I'm thinking Kevin's trying to run away."
"Run away?"
"From Mr. Freakshow."
"What does Mr. Freakshow want with my son?"
"It would be in his best interest to kill him."
Carin wiped her face dry and did her best to suppress any further tears. "That's not going to happen. I can't let that happen."
"I want to help find Kevin. I know Mr. Freakshow, you know your son. The two of us can work together to save him."
"That's all well and good, Dr. Bennett, but why would you want to help me find my son?" She took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes dry of tears.
"If we don't stop Mr. Freakshow from killing your son, then nothing could stop him from destroying everything."
As Maury and Carin stood talking at the front desk, they were unaware of
three cops escorting a recaptured dream into the rear of the building. The thing was the size of a child, but was obviously a dream creature. It sported a lion's mane crowning its head and had skin made of soft, brown suede. An anonymous caller had alerted the station to the little dream-thing digging through a dumpster in a nearby alley. The caller had mentioned, that at first, she thought the noise was a stray cat. Maybe even a dog. But then the fringe of its mane poked out from the dumpster. Once the woman could stop screaming, she called 911.
The dream thing purred like a kitten, even as they cuffed its hands (or were they paws? they wondered) behind its back. It didn't struggle a bit. It seemed totally unaware of its surroundings. All it wanted was to be fed. Maybe a saucer of milk would do. Yes, a saucer of milk, and a warm fireplace to curl up in front of… and then maybe some sleep.
They closed the dream thing inside an empty, secluded cell. It went over to the hard bunk, curled up into a ball, and began to purr.
The boy had been at the park fountain. Mr. Freakshow knew this before he even found his windbreaker. When he had seen the oasis of lush green amongst all the gray of the city, he was certain the boy would have explored its mystery. Every stride he put behind him heightened his sense of the boy's presence. To Kevin, the secluded fountain would have looked as inviting as a loving maternal hug. Yes, the boy had definitely rested by the trickling fountain for an extended period.
The Freak leaned his substantial form to the water's edge and could feel the coolness climb through the air to greet the claws of his extended hand. He cupped a handful of the coolness and brought it to his feral lips. The boy had been in the water. The Freak's eyes flared yellow with excitement. He laved his palms with his tongue, imbibing the fluid like it was life itself. He consumed it, tasting the boy. He was close. Soon enough his blood would entice his tongue instead of his discarded wash water.
Mr. Freakshow licked his palm dry and stepped into the bubbling fountain. He let the water simmer the heat of his hatred. The damned human form and all its frailty--once he had his claws buried in the boy's chest cavity, the Freak would turn his attention to the next step of his master plan. Gather up those dreams worthy of standing next to him. Build an army worthy of serving him. It would be a more luxuriant time. A time when he could go about his business of destroying the humans in a methodical manner, enjoying every quavering lip and tattered body.
For now, he would soak up the essence of the boy. He eased his body lower until he was submerged past his nostrils and only his eyes were visible above the surface.
A young couple latched at the hip, and looking so tuned to each other that they resembled siblings, wandered over to the water fountain. So caught up in the moment and the artifice of their love, they never saw Mr. Freakshow. He fought his impulse to kill and probed for the dream soul of these two hapless humans. The Freak could see the girl's unwavering devotion to her boyfriend, just beneath the skin, a shadow of her human desires, her petulant and nauseating dreams. He saw the gossamer collage of flowing white wedding gowns, cream colored flowers in piled heaps, and the strong, square-shouldered figure of a man dressed in black. His face was not visible; all he saw was shadow. To this young lady the man of her dreams was all that it really was, a dream man, a shape only. A symbol. Her boyfriend fit the mold. Her devotion in her waking world was to the symbol he represented.
The boyfriend had no clue. When the Freak looked inside him, just beneath the skin, hanging tenuously like connective tissue, was the boy's dreams. He had a spiteful, dark soul, and his dreams mirrored this. The girl was only a depository for his sperm. She was a body, a piece of meat, something to soil and discard. Mr. Freakshow laughed and the fountain water rippled. The boyfriend jerked a look over his shoulder as Mr. Freakshow stood, shaking the water from his skin. The girl screamed.
"I sure love that sound. Like manna from heaven."
The Freak made his choice. The irony of the two lovers loving something other than who they were fucking was not lost on him. The girl fucked a symbolic ideal. The boy fucked a wet hole. The girl was too sweet to let live. He struck, with unfurled claws, without an ounce of sympathy for his victim. The park became a blur of torn flesh and blood-tainted water.
He allowed her to scream, even after he knocked her boyfriend off his feet and against a nearby tree, he let her scream. Mr. Freakshow felt badly for eventually silencing the girl. He shouldn't have gone for the throat so quickly. She continued her struggle, but the only sound she gave off was the blood flowing down her shoulders, spurting from her mortal wound. The Freak brought his prey into the fountain, the essence of Kevin lingering in the water. He slumped into the water, pulling the girl with him. He plunged his teeth into the remains of her neck and held her firmly in his coiled arms. He flipped over violently in the water, his limbs clinging to her dying body, flipped until her heard her fragile human neck snap in his jaws.
He held her under until her skin started to soften. He knew he shouldn't have done something so impulsive, but then again, he understood where he came from. Perhaps he had been spurred on by finding Kevin's trail. A boy's mind had spawned Mr. Freakshow, and sometimes he couldn't help a child's unthinking impulse.
Chapter 18
Kevin and Sophie shared an amiable banter while they walked through the crazed streets of Chicago. Everyone they passed seemed to have grocery bags in tow, weighed down with nonperishable cans and dry goods. People strained to carry multiple gallons of water.
"You know my name, but you never gave me yours," Sophie said.
"My name's Kevin." He purposely left off his surname. He didn't know why he was walking with this old lady. He had never met her before and his mom was always harping on him about not talking to strangers. But Sophie seemed different, not scary or threatening. Yet somehow, there was something recognizable in her. Maybe she shared similarities with his grandma. Walking with Sophie seemed to bring him a certain level of calm, and as long as he was fleeing from Mr. Freakshow, he would take it where he could.
"Kevin, I'm glad to have met you."
He made sure to match her more casual pace. Sophie seemed to be oblivious to the tension in the crowd. She would nod or give some other small gesture to most of the people as they hurriedly walked by, as if in recognition, but she couldn't know all of these people. Could anyone be so nice?
They had gone a few blocks and he was beginning to realize just how tired he was. It wouldn't be dark for quite a while, even with the days getting shorter, but Kevin was getting hungry and he would have to start thinking about where he was going to sleep. When he found a safe place, he would rest his eyes for a couple hours, get off his feet and try to relax. If relaxing was possible anymore.
Sophie spoke as they walked. "So, Kevin, what are your big plans?"
"I was thinking about heading out to the country, maybe hook up with a farm or ranch or something like that."
"That sounds wonderful. I grew up on a farm."
"You did?" Kevin had never met an actual farmer, but he had an idea they were a different kind of person, almost like from a foreign country. Farmland surrounded his hometown of Warren Cove, but it always seemed far away. "My grandpa was a country boy," he said, remembering what his grandmother had recently mentioned. "He didn't like the city, and I don't think I do, either."
"A farm is a nice place for a kid to grow up. I sure enjoyed it. I milked cows and split logs all the time."
"You split logs?" He sized up Sophie with a quick glance. He couldn't imagine her being able to lift an axe, let alone use one to split logs.
"When I was younger I was as fit as you. And I was always strong for my size, even though I'm a girl."
They didn't talk much after that. Occasionally, Sophie would point to where she wanted to turn. Kevin didn't want his words to ruin this respite from fear. He was glad Sophie wasn't asking about his parents or trying to turn him into the cops as some kind of juvenile delinquent. He was sick of people asking about his parents. And from now on, he had to acce
pt the fact that he didn't have any. Distancing himself from thoughts of his mom--thinking about her frantically searching for him, crying over the loss of him, his grandma trying her best to console her--none of this could bother him anymore. He was on his own, and it would stay that way, for his safety and the safety of his family.
"This is my stop, Kevin." Sophie stopped at a corner. They stood and looked at each other for what seemed like a long time. "I've enjoyed talking to you, Kevin. Would you like to stop in and have some chocolate chip cookies and talk some more? You can meet my husband."
"Well…" Kevin said, looking at his suddenly antsy feet. He liked Sophie, but if Mr. Freakshow was close, he was putting her life in danger as well as his own just by standing there.
"I baked the cookies not more than an hour ago. I just stopped down to the store to pick up some supplies, what with all that's going on."
His stomach grumbled its emptiness, as if it had its own set of ears and was eavesdropping on their conversation. "Well, okay. But just for a little while."
"Wonderful!" Sophie held her hand up high in the air, her palm facing Kevin. "Aren't you going to high-five me, or do young men not do that anymore?"
Kevin laughed and slapped Sophie's hand. Her apartment was in a washed-out building in an equally washed-out neighborhood. The buildings looked like they were from another time, a time when there weren't cars or planes, let alone museums displaying the nightmares of traumatized children. Sophie looked younger than Kevin's grandma, and she was light on her feet and moved like someone even younger. She had her hair pulled back, and he saw traces of black hidden within all the gray. He was surprised that someone like Sophie would live in such a neighborhood. He didn't want to judge the area too much, but it was a wreck. Sophie was nice. Sophie was intelligent. Bad people lived in bad neighborhoods. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding the door open for him.