by James Walley
“Maybe we’ll come with you,” he ventured, after a moment’s silence.
Timbers whistled, taking a leap into the air, mid-scuttle. “That’s absolutely crazy talk, Marty. Absolute grade A, twenty-four carat, crayon chewing bonkers.” He tilted his head up towards Marty and delivered a wink. “Fortunately, I am fluent in such talk, and we’d be happy to have you.”
There was no time for sentimentality, or plans to settle down somewhere white picket fence-y inside his own dreamspace, as the trio crept out of the corridor into what appeared to be the main chamber of the big top.
Although still murky, and not entirely the sort of place one would choose to spend a vacation, the central room of the big top sprawled out before them in multi-colored, awful splendor.
It was not unlike the sideshow carnivals that Marty had been dragged along to as a child. A large, sawdust filled center circle covered much of the ground, and from it, hulking posts sprang up from the ground like massive candy canes, reaching up into the lofty canvas, far enough to be intangible in the darkness. Marty thought that he could even spy a trapeze wire amidst the ridiculously tall rigging, although the roof of the tent was so high, it was hard to make out what was actually hanging up there. It was probably best not to ponder too much about that.
Much more discernable on the ground, however, were the clowns. Marty had expected them, Timbers had expected them, and judging by her demeanor, Kate had hoped for them, and here they were. The sawdust circle crawled with them. A broiling, swirling, unholy juggling mass of them.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Marty whispered. “That’s a lot of clowns.” He ducked back into the darkness of the passageway. “What do we do?”
Timbers drew his sword. He’d expected long odds in this caper, and from the look on his face, was already calculating his blaze of glory through the manically juddering sprawl of brightly colored bodies.
“There’s an old pirate saying,” he began, fixing Marty with a defiant look. “Maybe I’ll tell it to you, after we’ve dropped a Yo-Ho-Ho-Bomb on these balloon chuffing cartwheel chuckers!”
The grinning corsair dashed into the vast chamber as the words reached Marty’s ears, and he flinched as Kate bolted past in pursuit, Oaf’s hammer raised and ready to greet unholy harlequin.
Marty sighed. As with all best laid plans, whether concocted by mice or men, they invariably broke down and fizzled out when the prospect of a good rumble was in the offing. Choosing the nearest group of cavorting jesters, he let out what he hoped was his best battle cry, and followed his charging allies into battle.
Depending on how you wanted to look at it, fortune, or ill fortune brought Marty into the melee faster than he had expected. A group of unicycling clowns turned to face him as he galloped forward. Their faces lit up in a hideous array of wild eyes and gnashing teeth, their hands moving almost automatically to beckon the onrushing Marty.
There were two ways to tackle these monsters. Either gauge their weak spots, and attempt to pick them off one by one, or barrel into them with limbs flailing. Marty silently cursed his lack of ninja training as he opted for the latter, hitting the clown gang at full speed, and sending them skittling in all directions. Luck was on Marty’s side, since it is hard to recover from a body tackle, even when you’re not perched precariously atop a single wheeled bicycle. Shaking his head at the impact, Marty watched as several wheeled freaks clattered, slewed and tumbled in every direction except the way he had come. He punched the air, inadvertently connecting with a passing jester, and momentarily wondered if spectacularly winging it might actually pay off, before remembering that it had on countless occasions before. Adrenaline paid a visit to brain, and left a calling card which simply said, ‘This is going to work!’ It was all Marty needed, and he set off in search of more prey to run blindly into.
Off to his right, he was dimly aware of several heavy whumping noises. They thumped into sharp focus as Kate cannoned past, sweeping Oaf’s mallet like a vengeful wooden reaper. He slowed to watch as she sent six, seven, and eight looming harlequins pluming into showers of freshly whupped confetti. Still picking up speed, she charged at a close grouped bunch who seemed to be practicing lethal juggling techniques. Several dozen balls fell to the floor as their owners met the business end of the wildly flailing hammer.
Marty made a mental note never to leave the toilet seat up.
On the far side of the sawdust circle, Timbers had somehow made his way to a cluster of gibbering circus hellion, who had caught wind of what was happening, and glared at the advancing pirate, shrieking and drooling like gaudily painted harpies. Timbers seemed to be laughing as he reached them, and twirled in a tiny buccan-ado which relieved the ranting monsters of their bottom halves.
“Damn,” Marty muttered, a hint of awe in his tone. “Why didn’t I think to bring a weapon?”
The thought was punctuated, as Timbers somersaulted to a screeching halt before the only survivor of his chosen quarry. It sneered hideously, and licked its blood red lips, before charging with a whooping cry. “C’mere, little toy.”
Timbers planted his feet, and held his blade out behind him. If this were an action movie, Marty felt sure that some kind of slow motion effect might be called into action at this very moment. In the here and now, the flurry of movement and flashing steel registered as little more than a blur, as several clown parts skidded past the twirling pirate, who landed gracefully enough to impart a trademark one liner.
“I am not a toy.”
Marty steeled himself, galvanized by the wholesale ass-whuppery that his friends were delivering, and shot out a blind fist which connected heavily with a clown bearing down behind him. All they needed to do was keep this up until Whipstaff and Oaf arrived with the cavalry, and they were home free.
Marty gagged on the thought as it sneaked into his mind. ‘Come on, Fate. I didn’t mean it. Let us have this one. Go on, please’.
Fate, it seemed, was bored of Marty’s constant dallyings with optimism, and a line of clowns formed ranks up ahead, covering the whole of the far side of the circle. Kate lowered the mallet, with nothing more to drop it upon, and Timbers ceased his cajoling at a random clown head that he’d found in the dust amongst the confetti.
Ahead of them, the clowns advanced, slowly, unstoppably, and gleefully. They didn’t charge, or speak, or even grin. This was a phalanx of circus spawn intent on one thing, or more specifically three things, and those three things suddenly realized that they were hopelessly outnumbered.
Marty glanced back at the corridor from which they had arrived, but the encroaching clowns had circled them, and still they approached.
“Well, at least we gave it a shot,” Timbers growled as he fell in alongside Marty and Kate. They were rapidly running out of room, and for all their bluster and intent, they would need an army to carve their way through this line of foul harlequins. As they backed up to form a tight circle, the clowns pressed still further inward, jerkily closing in with smothering, dread intent.
“STOP.”
The voice came from behind the clowns, somewhere high up, maybe in the stalls which surrounded the center circle.
The carnival horrors halted, as though frozen to the spot, every beady eye still trained on Marty, Kate and Timbers.
“It looks like you fools can be counted on to fall into a carefully woven trap after all.” The voice was steady, deliberate, and familiar. “I’ll take it from here, minions.”
As commanded, the clowns fell back, forming a path to where the stalls sat in anonymous darkness. From within the shadows, something dropped to the ground, and sauntered slowly into the light.
Marty gaped at Kate, who replied with an equally open mouthed look of sheer disbelief.
“Well, I’ll be a squid sandwich,” Timbers spat. “It’s you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Well, I suppose I have some explaining to do,” said Benji, the mood koala, as he strolled between the massed ranks of clowns,
rubbing his glowing hands. “Isn’t that the remit of the criminal mastermind? Divulge my fiendish plot in ridiculous detail, before leaving you to escape in a heroic and completely unlikely way?” He chewed his furry lip thoughtfully, before shaking his head. “No, not doing that. I’ve seen too many movies.” He gestured to the row of ghouls to his right. “Take these two away. Peepers wants them. Do whatever you want with the doll.”
“Doll!? Why you flea bitten…” Timbers was rolling up his sleeves when Marty stepped between him and the advancing jesters. “Wait! You got eaten. We all saw you die.” Whilst not being a particularly complex or compelling reply, it seemed to snag the little koala’s attention.
Benji turned back to his captives “No, no you didn’t.” He sighed, little paws flapping outwards irritably. “True genius is never fully appreciated. I don’t know why I bother to concoct such devilry, when folk can’t even grasp the basics.” He blazed a fiery red, before trotting back towards Marty. “I had to hitch a ride in the mouth of one of these drooling psychopaths, or your little plan might well have succeeded.” Benji tutted as blank looks flew up in greeting of his great epiphany. “All right, let’s take this down a notch or two, for the people at the back. Why am I here, do you think?”
“Probably to take over the world,” Timbers muttered sarcastically.
“Yes, exactly!” Benji seemed pleased that someone had picked up his thread, and completely missed the sardonic tone. “I made a bargain with Peepers; I’d get him over here, get him his prize,” he pointed at Marty, winking sickeningly. “And in return, I’d get to hitch a ride with him and his chaotic cohorts, so that I could rejoin my brethren, and rule over this realm.” Benji beamed smugly, adopting a defiant stance within which to take in the awe and horror that his wicked master scheme would no doubt reap from his prisoners.
Marty blinked at Timbers. Timbers blinked at Marty (or more specifically winked with his one good eye). Kate gaped at both of them, still processing what was happening.
“Erm, your brethren?” Marty offered at last.
“Yes! My armies of koala kin. I hear that they have set up a base of operations in one of this plane’s larger islands. From what I can gather, it’s somewhere down under, but that makes no sense, since my kind are not subterranean.”
Timbers stifled a chuckle. Marty shooed him with a flapping arm, himself fighting back a giggle which was charging up from his lungs. “An army? Of koalas?”
“Yes? What of it?” Benji was growing impatient, and his aura pulsed rapidly brilliant white and void black.
“You haven’t really done your homework, have you me hearty?” Timbers cackled. “I’ve been over on Real Side less than a day, and even I know that there isn’t a koala from here to there that would pat its own backside if it was on fire.”
Benji’s strobing fell into thick blackness, and the air seemed to deaden around him. “Nonsense! Impertinence!” he cried. “We koalas are Alpha Predators. We sense the emotions of others, we are master tacticians, and are not to be trifled with.”
Marty gained control of the burgeoning laughter rattling around his ribcage. “You’re really not. As far as I know, you’re the only one who even does any glowing. Your army are basically stoners. You sit around in trees all day, eating eucalyptus, and looking cute. That’s about it, at least on Real Side.”
Benji shrank visibly, which is dangerous for an already pretty small mammal. “No, you’re lying. I am born of the tree, and I crafted this master plan, and I am running the show here. So, what you are saying makes no sense at all.” He stomped angrily between the row of clowns and his captive audience, plumes of thick vermillion throbbing outward from his tiny body.
“How else could I have gotten you here, and gotten here before you?” The blood red light Benji emitted was dazzling. “I was all set to realize my dreadful scheme, when your girlfriend gatecrashed my base of operations.” The diminutive critter glowered at Kate, who was clearly still struggling to come to terms with what was transpiring. “I couldn’t just go on my way, how could I, when I had been compromised? And anyway, the blasted woman wouldn’t let me, damn near abducted me. “ Benji shuddered, brushing irritably at his shoulders, as though attempting to shake humanity from his fur. “I hate being picked up!”
Timbers ceased his chuckling, and prodded Marty’s shin worriedly. This was quickly turning into the rant of a madman, or mad beast. Either way, it didn’t bode well.
“What was I to do?” Benji continued, unabated. “If I was to slip away, you bald monkeys would just come looking for me. And then it hit me.” Benji flared momentarily in a flashgun of brilliant white light, a look of assuredness melting across his angry features. “Any koala worth his twigs has a backup plan. Like any good general, I used my foes weakness against them.”
Marty noticed the trappings of a blithering lunatic in the little koala’s tirade, but wasn’t about to interrupt. Every moment that Benji strutted his furry ass in mocking swathes of monologue brought his own plan closer to fruition.
Obligingly, the certainly evil, apparently genius continued. “I had to think on my feet, warn the troops. So, I gathered my intel, and faked my own demise, hot-footing it back to home base to arrange this welcome for you fools.” Rage red now cascaded from Benji, adorning the canvas walls of the big top, and turning everyone in it a frantic shade of angry.
“I’m sorry, it’s true,” Marty chipped in, playing for time. “Head over to the local zoo if you don’t believe me. See if any of the koala inmates share your obsession for world domination, or would actually rather just scratch itchy parts, and chew whatever happens to be in their hands.”
“Or take a trip to Australia,” Timbers interjected, cheerfully. “You look like you could use a vacation. We’ll sit here and wait for you…honest.” He raised his cloth paw in a scout salute.
Benji’s seizure inducing light show halted abruptly. He turned slowly from his fervent stomping, a wry smile now set upon his face. “I see what you’re doing. You’ve spent an evening in my presence, and you think you can adopt the ways of the koala.” He grinned, a glinting smile that any of his waiting lackeys would have been proud of. “You’re lying to buy yourselves some time. Well it won’t work! My koala army will sweep across the land, with only a short interlude to hang out in a tree and munch some leaves, maybe.” Benji shifted uncertainly, eyeing Marty and Timbers, who tried their best to maintain a straight face.
“Your words are lies, lies I tell you!” The little koala finally snapped, sending a wave of yellow light cascading through the tent.
“You’re scared,” Timbers crowed. “It’s no use trying to hide it. You can’t. Everything you feel is a fireworks display, and a fairly dull one at that. Ever thought of going all sparkly? That would be much more impressive.” The captain’s giggles sparked off another furious gust of crimson.
“Enough! Let’s take this outside. Peepers will be along imminently, and he can deal with you how he sees fit. Then I can get to work with my koala battle horde, who are very real, and utterly terrifying, thank you very much!” With that, he snapped his fingers, and the line of clowns fell in dutifully behind Benji’s prisoners.
Marty glanced over at Kate, who was still catatonic at the sight of the creature she had come to avenge. The very beast that had been plotting their grisly end all along. Marty grabbed her hand and headed towards the entrance to the big top. Its heavy flapped canvas drapes yawned out into the waiting stillness of Harper’s Meadow, and past them, the gibbering cheers of countless grease-painted monsters drifted through to coax them out into the night.
Timbers scampered up alongside Marty as they marched out into the throng of circus wrongness. The field seemed to be floodlit, and as they emerged from the big top, several sentry towers trained unfathomably large guns in their direction. The procession halted before a crowd of whooping, slavering clowns, and at their cusp, the biggest, most grotesque circus maniac of them all stood waiting.
Mr. Peepers leered dow
n at the small line which Marty, Kate and Timbers had formed in front of him, and let out a shriek made of one hundred percent distilled nightmares.
“There, you see?” Benji smirked, falling in beside his horrendous ally. “Here they all are, as I promised. All for you, except the toy of course.”
Peepers scowled at Timbers, who puffed out his chest, and did his best to fix a pair of eyes that would turn most men to stone.
“Ah yes, the toy,” Peepers slithered. “I have no need of the toy. I have what I came for right here.” He swept an impossibly long arm out towards Marty and Kate, who stood rooted to the spot. “We’ll be off now, back to the land of carnival delights for these two young morsels.” He gestured towards the far end of the clearing, where something brilliant, bright and portally undulated in a way that nothing had ever undulated in Harper’s Meadow before.
“Take the good captain away, and make me a hat out of him, or something.”
Marty gulped down the urged to vomit, or bolt, or both.
“This doesn’t look good for you, me hearty,” Timbers whispered.
“Doesn’t look like a pleasure cruise for you either, matey,” Marty replied.
“There’s always Whipstaff and Oaf, right?” Timbers seemed to be smaller than Marty remembered, with a hint of sheepish uncertainty in his eye that had never been there before. “They’ll get us out of this. They’ll stick to the plan…whatever it is.”
Marty breathed deeply, the realization hitting him now more than ever that this was reality, and winging it rarely paid off on his side of the dream.