Chapter 9 - Revenge of the Autumn People - Well, That Was Close

                                  Chapter 9 – Well, That Was Close!

I rose, and tried to work out a leg cramp I had from sitting on the floor. Lounging on the couch all day long was beginning to make me soft, I lamented this in my head as I answered the knock on my door.

It was Isadora and her niece Winifred. They had walked a short distance from The White Owl bookstore but were somehow the last to arrive. I first met Isadora and Winnie when we were at odds with Calvin Pryde. Their connection to me didn’t simply stop at down-the-street neighbors. They were both powerful witches and friends of Dorthy Biggs.

A month ago, Calvin had sent Naydene’s father, Cletus Tylor, to kill Alice and me while we were engaged in a motorcycle ride. Prior to that, Cletus had already transformed into a Super zombie and became a force to be reckoned with. He unsuccessfully tried to run us down with a pickup truck.  

Later, Isadora, a powerful pyromancer, had burnt Cletus alive in a final encounter at his farm. Winifred, gifted with extraordinary psychokinetic abilities, had held Cletus suspended high in the air to achieve this feat, his cremation, and ultimate end. Alice had assisted the very young Winnie’s effort in keeping the huge Abomination aloft by holding hands with the child and serving as a living battery of mystic power.

Isadora looked at me and raised one eyebrow. “Sorry we were late. I thought I spotted some people I knew on the way over. What did we miss?”

“There is a fortune in Ghost Pirate money underneath this very house.” Alice screamed excitedly.

“You mean Bootlegger money.” Naydene corrected.

“Right! And Doc won’t let us go after it.” Alice pointed an accusing finger at me.

“I see Doc has the situation completely under control, as per usual.” Isadora smirked.

Did I mention that Isadora and I had started our own version of dating? It involved watching classic movies and holding hands while on late night walks across the street at the Little Pine Cemetery. We had been seeing each other regularly up until the day I got injured.

“Who did you see on the way over?” I asked ignoring Alice and Naydene completely.

Winnie put her hand over her mouth and giggled. Chester awoke and stretched. He walked over and rubbed against the little girl’s legs.

“I’ll tell you later.” She sat down in a chair nearby that Chester had been hogging (rude cat).

Billy shyly waved at Winnie. She waved back. Isadora told me later that they were playmates and that Billy spent a lot of time in the old bookstore.

Petey noticed Winnie waving at apparent nothingness. I think I may have to tell him that the basement is officially haunted by an eight-year-old that he can’t see. Either that or leave it for him to work out on his own. Maybe Billy has a plan...I'll ask him. 

                                                           *      *      *

“Well, that was close.” Whispered Lukus.

“Why are we crouched behind a car? Lucian asked

“That woman that went into the house over there next to the large maple tree. She almost saw us.” He said as he rose and wiped some fragments of dust and dead leaves from his suit.

“What if she did?” Lucian said in a perturbed tone.

“She knows us…well me at least. She spoke to me after our act.” Replied Lukus.

“How is that possible? We haven’t even been to this little dot on the map in seventeen years?” Lucian asked incredulously.

“She attended the carnival a week ago when we were in Ruckersville. It was the little girl that tipped me off. I remember the little girl. Well, the little girl and her doll.”

“What little girl?” Lucian asked. His face was blank.

“For a vampire, you have very poor powers of observation.” His brother stated. It was hard to miss the annoyance in his voice.

“Oh my God! Not this again! Look, we are not vampires. Not really. We just embraced the culture, lore and lifestyle back in the sixties.” Lucian rolled his eyes.

“We are too!” Lukus pouted.

“I hate it when we argue. When it comes to the vampire bit, well…we are human beings. Just actors, more-or-less. It is how we make our living.”

“Do I look like a human being?” Lukus said, as he gave a wide grin. His fangs glistened in the sunlight.

“Yes! You look like a human that has had dental implants. I have them too. They were expensive.” Lucian shook his fist at the sky.

“We have hyper senses. What about that guy today in the bathrobe?”

“For the love of Mike. Yes, we could smell him from a distance. The wind was right, and he probably hadn’t bathed in a week.”

“But we live off blood. Could humans do that.” Lukus protested.

“Yes! There are several tribes in Africa that do just that. They supplement their diets sometimes with milk and other things…but yes. They totally can do that.” Lucian was now nearly shouting. “For crap sakes, we are walking around in the middle of a sunny afternoon. We are not vampires.”

Lukus stopped arguing and fell silent for a moment. “I want a gin and tonic. I’m hot.”

“Come on. There is a bar in town. I’ll drive.”

They headed for a car that was parked three blocks away.

“You know what we really are.” Lucian said, trying to placate his brother.

“Shut up.” Lukus mumbled.

“Serial killers. Good ones. Really scary ones. When people see us in the twilight, it scares the piss out of them.” Lucian grinned showing his implants.

“It does, doesn’t it.” Lukus grinned back and produced a slide blade. He flicked it open.

“Put the toy away. We’re in public.” Lucian said quietly as the Twins made their way to the car.

“Do you think we found ‘The Place’?” Lukus asked.

“Definitely.” His brother whispered.

                                                       *      *      *

The day started to warm up in Carter’s Field. Carter’s Field was little more than a barren spot about half a mile from Dusk Thorne. There at the edge of the field, a mixed conifer forest began with a few elm trees. A railway ran through it and an old switch yard with several vacant buildings used by the carnival annually had been built many years ago. It was private land and separate from the local Dusk Thorne city switchyard. There were fifty-six other such yards in the United States. All of them were owned by the Pandemonium Corporation. All of them were near small towns ranging from Dusk Thorne, Colorado in the west to Shady Bottoms, Virginia in the East.

The tracks for the Union Pacific Railroad line, that had played a crucial role in the development of this area, ran nearby. But the Storm Cloud Express had been switched onto corporation land that had been leased for years so that the carnival might have a dedicated carnival site and place for the crew to set up tents and booths. A place to camp and rest.

Dana Preston sat next to Malcomb Wiggens. Her left foot dangled from a corporate box car. A cigarette dangled from her pretty mouth. Dana had a simple and unique personal history. Think back to the days of your childhood. A common enough fantasy was one that involved “running off to join a circus”. Completely disappearing from your old childhood life and living an exotic and romantic existence with interesting and highly unusual strangers. Dana was the only person that I ever knew who had left home and joined a circus.

Not a carnival, but a circus. The distinction is simple. A circus features animals. Both wild and trained. At age fourteen, Dana was a runaway. Her parents had mistreated her to the point that any movement, save staying put, seemed logical to her.  Fortunately, Dana met a man that had been with an outfit named Branson Brothers Traveling Circus for twenty-six years.  Harvey Leitman was the assistant manager of Branson Brothers.

Harvey tried to paint a realistic picture of what daily circus life was like for Dana. He tried to persuade her to return home. She refused to tell him who her parents were for years or where she came from. He eventually dropped the inquiries and became Dana’s protector and mentor. He started out in the business as a horse trainer. This is where her started Dana as well. He introduced her to the Branson Brothers head trainers.  A couple named Martin and Sylvia Albrecht. They eventually became her surrogate parents and taught her their trade. Although she became somewhat of a Jack (or Jill) of all trades, her primary love of horses and the circus in general held her interest for over a decade.

Dana was with the Branson Brothers for eleven years. Then the business went bankrupt. She had signed on with Josiah Pandemonium’s outfit two circuits ago (each with 17 years behind the Great Mist). Malcomb was a relative newcomer from South Dakota. A drifter with no prior carnival or circus experience. He was rather loud and recently had learned to turn his volume down when he was around management or the Twins. He was the only person that had less seniority than she did except for “the new guy” who had just hired on about a month ago. He was, in a word, “creepy”. There were a few more that she avoided like “Electric Jack the Human Battery”, real name David La Fleur, a featured act on the Midway, and The Shadow Eater (no one knew his real name), another featured act. Additionally, she never interacted with the Twins. But nobody did. They had some kind of mojo that made everyone uncomfortable, plus they somehow had gained the favor of the “Boss”, Josiah Pandemonium himself. You really had to watch what you said around them. They were a information pipeline to Josiah.

Malcomb was okay guy, despite being a bit clumsy. He was a hard worker. They had just transferred the livestock from the oddity’s cages down to the carnival grounds and then meticulously scoured their living quarters. These were not trained beasts.  They didn’t perform. They were exotic animals. The public would pay good money just to look at them, however. Part of Dana’s job was to periodically watch certain oddities exhibits. She made sure people kept their distance and followed the carnival protocols when looking at the oddities (no sudden noises around some of them, no flash cameras, and absolutely no reaching through bars or into tanks).

She wasn’t certain how much longer she might decide to work for the Pandemonium Carnival. She missed her old life when her coworkers were more like family. This was not her beloved Branson Brothers Circus.

“Here comes Bell,” said Malcomb.

Most of the work of the day was completed and, say what you will about Josiah Pandemonium’s right-hand man, he gave credit where credit was due. About an hour ago he thanked each employee for a hard day’s labor. It was done quickly and with little favoritism. Predictably, he had returned to dictate his expectations for tomorrow.

Bell quickly outlined the next day’s tasks. It was like having a conversation with a mountain. Bell even politely asked to bum a smoke from Dana. She held out the pack and withdrew a cigarette for him.  Gordon Bell had exceptionally large hands. It limited his abilities to perform fine motor tasks. Dana handed the cigarette to him, and he placed it behind his immense ear. He would smoke it later.

Mr. Bell was exceedingly reserved in his private life and didn’t relate to many of the other carnival workers socially. Bell did have your back when it came to townspeople. Dana had seen Bell quickly react to drunks and rednecks that occasionally tried to hit on her or accuse other booth personnel of cheating. She always felt safe doing her job with him around.

Bell parked his huge frame on the edge on the oddities box cars that Dana and Malcomb rested on.

Malcomb attempted to make small talk. “Last Hurrah before the end of the line, eh.”

Bell just nodded and stared off towards the distance. Qwan Chang, the carnival mentalist and telepath, had told Dana that he had tried to read Mr. Bell’s thoughts when Bell was staring into space. Chang said that there was nothing in his head. Zero thoughts. Not even imagery. It had unnerved the little performer.

“Going behind the Great Mist once again. It will be a relief.” Bell volunteered.

“Never been there. Everyone, even old timers, is a little anxious about that.” Malcomb mused. He had a couple of wildflowers he had picked that were already starting to wilt from the heat cradled in his right hand.

“How so?” Bell replied.

“Well, it is a little like dying I should imagine. The only other thing I can liken it to is the times I needed my tonsils or appendix removed.” Malcomb continued tossing one of the wilted flowers aside.

“How do you mean?” Bell’s face scrunched up as if trying to make connections. Clearly, for him, there was some data missing.

“Well, they knock you out when they do surgery. It is like…well, everything goes dark.” Malcomb tried to explain.

“And that bothers you?” Bell said slowly, trying hard for an empathic moment. “You see, I’ve never had my tonsils removed. I’ve never really had surgery. Oh, I’ve seen it performed on others. Takes me back a bit.”

“Remind us.” Dana politely requested. You were born quite a while ago.

“The first century of my life I followed the Hittite army. We fought the Sea People (Philistines). Then other armies. You can read about it in ‘The Book’.” Bell referenced various Old Testament accounts of battles as simply “The Book”. He didn’t bother to reference by chapters or version of the bible. He specifically knew he was born around the 14^th century B. C.

“There was an entire company of Nephilim. Most of us were mercenaries. Back then if you were seriously wounded, they rarely did surgery. We were nearly indestructible compared to humans. That is why the generals wouldn’t march into battle without us.”

“They did have ‘Healers’ then. Some of them were very powerful. If you were wounded, like a deep cut a 'Healer' could sometimes help you. But if a 'Healer' couldn’t help you, then maybe you had a limb cut off and cauterized. You wouldn’t die, but you lost status. You weren’t as useful in a fight anymore. If you were one of those sorts of wounded, well, they carried armor and pulled wagons. They were treated more of less like livestock.”

“So,” said Malcomb trying to circle back. “It’s the blacking out and coming to seventeen years later that is making some of us a little tense.”

Dana admitted she was a little tense about the situation. “My first time I was nervous. This time as well.”

“Never thought about going behind ‘The Mist’ from the human viewpoint.” Bell said in a rare moment of perspective taking. “It doesn’t age you. Time is different when you are there. But is it the lack of awareness that is buggy? Interesting.

“I think maybe the vulnerability and loss of control bothers some.” Dana offered.

“What was war like back then?” Malcomb said in a rather excited tone.

Bell squinted at him. “See that?” He pointed down to wilted, mangled wildflowers the Malcomb had discarded effortlessly, without thought, while he was talking.

“Imagine those are human bodies. An entire field full of beings that used to be alive…but no longer. You killed them for amusement. You killed them because your commanding officer told you to. You killed them so you could say that you deserved supper that night. But mainly you killed them because you could. You wanted to.”

Bell looked different now. As he spoke and remembered the wars, he looked less like a grouchy foreman. He looked more like he really belonged to some other place in history, long ago.

“Do you read ‘The Book?’” He asked suddenly. “Most don’t nowadays.”

“I have read the stories, yes” Malcomb answered.

“Lot of mysteries are in ‘The Book’. Makes you wonder about the stories. Do you know the one about Cain and Abel?”

“Yes, I remember that one.” Malcomb said cautiously.

“What I always wondered is, why Cain, after killing Abel, stopped then and there? He couldn’t farm anymore, nor raise animals. That was more-or-less his brother’s thing anyway. God cursed his handiwork. He had ‘a mark’ on him. People were forbidden to end his life. Why didn’t he just go on killing?”

A chill shot up Dana’s spine. Malcomb stared down at the flowers he had killed.

“Well, thanks again for the smoke. Bell touched the brim of his derby and lowered himself off his perch on the box car.    

Chapter 8 - Revenge of the Autumn People - The Autumn King

 

                                               Chapter 8 – The Autumn King

The next day the Widow Biggs came over and stood in my living room. Despite her small stature she could be a rather imposing figure. I provided her with some black tea. She examined my shoulder and applied her ointment to the bite area. Some of the tissue had grown back. It itched like crazy now.

Then we discussed my health. She focused upon diet, indicating that I needed more protein intake and suggested that I steer towards turkey and fish with lots of green vegetables.  We also touched on a new issue, emotional well-being. Dorthy believed that there might be an important connection between suppressed anger and my inability to summon and sustain “The Change.”

We talked while Knuckle Butt and Tim made no small amount of noise. They were attempting to install a weathervane on my very steep roof. Billy had glided through the ceiling and down to the first floor four times to tell me that they were almost through, only to vanish each time before I could reply.  It was beginning to make me tense. I was starting to grind my teeth.

Dorthy glanced at me and suppressed a smile. “You need to relax a bit today, I think.” She said in a playful manner. “When was the last time you ‘actualized your other nature’?” she asked. She wanted to know when I had last transformed.

“When Big Mary and I fought Cletus Tylor.” I replied.

“So lately the reason for changing your form has been to fight or protect someone else?”

“Frankly, yes.”

 Could emotional problems interfere that strongly with my physiology?” I mused.

“I’m a necromancer by training, so I’m no expert in psychiatry. I’m qualified to treat your wound because it was inflicted by one of the undead. Emotions are not my specialty area.  However, I’ll do some research, and we might ‘kick it around’ next time.” She replied as she sipped her tea. “When was the last time you ‘actualized your other nature’ to just go for a run or chase rabbits Kyle?”

“Quite a while ago. Before we came to Dusk Thorne.”

                                                          *      *      *

The noise on the roof continued. It was nearly midday after Knuckle Butt and Tim Fury had installed our new weathervane and free lightning rod on the north side of my old blue trimmed Victorian house.

Dorthy, dressed in a floor length black frock that looked like it was from the 19^th century, had finished her tea and now leaned on her oaken cane and cleared her throat. She stood by two of the living room windows. The rest of us were seated on the floor or on various pieces of furniture. I had parked myself next to Knuckle Butt, who seemed to be the only one in the room (besides Dorthy) that could tolerate the odor emanating from a fresh application of her balm for my shoulder.

The room grew silent. Alice scooted closer to Joe who kept glancing at his wristwatch. She gave him a quick shot in the ribs with her elbow. He winced and stopped. Admittedly, even I was getting annoyed by the delay. We were all waiting for one last member of the group to arrive. Suddenly and with absolutely no fanfare, he just appeared. I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess maybe I assumed he would just knock or ring the doorbell.

First his large feline eyes floated into view. Then his mysterious smile, and finally his large black furry body. His tail twitched a bit as he materialized in full. The Wampus appeared in full and sat before us in my house.

“Freaky.” Muttered Naydene.

Alice giggled and clapped her hands as if The Wampus was doing sleight-of-hand tricks at a children’s party. Naydene overcame her astonishment and stuck her fingers in her mouth and blew a shrill whistle. With that, the rest of us spontaneously applauded. The Funerary God took the group’s applause in stride. He once more flashed a friendly grin and lowered his shaggy head for a moment as if taking a bow. Chester, laying on Joe’s lap, never even looked up.

Billy floated next to me and pointed at the spectacle. He was in full view of Petey, but the kid was still the only one of us that couldn’t see him. Joe had been in the house for about ten minutes last night before he was able to see Billy, first as a blur but then later he said that Billy looked completely solid. I scratched my head over the discrepancies. He still looked transparent to me. Go figure. The room got quiet once again.

Dorthy Biggs began. “This is an old tale that I first heard in Britian centuries ago. Perhaps it is as old as time itself. It is about an entity called ‘The Autumn King’. “The Autumn King was an ancient and unknowable power reborn every year with the thawing frost of early spring. He ascended to full majesty when the oak leaves turned gold. His very presence was a signal of the change of seasons.”

The Wampus continued the story. "It is true. He is a metaphysical being. He can be in several places at once and even take human form. I have seen him in human form before, but although he looked like a man, it was only an illusion. He is no mere human. Most of the time, to my eyes his skin is like the bark of the oldest trees on the great isles of the Old Country. His hair is a tangle of vines and crimson foliage. But I am a god. My vision is not like yours. When last I saw him in his true form he wore a robe spun from the leaves of a thousand autumns embroidered with gold and copper filigree. When he moved, the air filled with the scent of dark earth and bonfires.

“Dang! Sounds like royalty to me.” Knuckle Butt exclaimed.”

“Indeed,” said The Wampus. “When I last saw him in his true form, it was centuries ago right before the first snow. At this time of year his fierce eyes only shimmered like the last ember of a dying fire. They held all the secrets of the previous seasons. All the old secrets of nature. But this was the way of things many years ago.

In the Old Country, he was born anew each year, and each year gracefully returned to the earth to die and yield control of the world to the powers of winter. Somehow, when your ancestors came to the New World, this place, they brought their beliefs, traditions and a few living legends with them, albeit in altered form.

Somehow now, in the New World, the Autumn King is only born every seventeen years. His presence in this area is heralded by the emergence of cicadas. He now seems to be fond of taking human form and has possessed many local humans over these years.”

Dorthy continued. “The last host he possessed was a thirty-year-old man named Josiah in the early summer of 1892. Since this Josiah/Autumn King being now exists beyond the Great Mist and only travels this earthly plane every seventeen years, he has only aged five years since he took this new human body.

Then Dorthy looked at me. “Kyle, you need to know that Josiah Pandemonium went by the name of Warner, Joe Warner. Joe Warner was a greedy, foul individual who made a bargain with the spirit of the Autumn King. The deal was immense power and wealth for Warner in exchange for immortality for the Autumn King. This was not the first bargain the Autumn King had made with a human for longevity.”

When Josiah (or Joe) finally grows old, the spirit of the Autumn King will abandon his old body and make a bargain with yet another younger host. In doing so over the centuries the Autumn King has remained immortal but didn't surrender his personality…his ego, or sense of self, if you understand my meaning. No longer is he ‘born anew’ only to die with the coming of winter each year."

The Wampus finished the tale. “However, in his new type of immortality provided through taking many human forms, he has tainted himself with the all-too-human weaknesses of greed, envy, lust and pride. He fears death now because he fears loss of ego…loss of sense of self. He fears oblivion. The Void.

“Couldn’t he just exist beyond the Great Mist and remain ageless?” I asked.

“Yes werewolf, but he has had a taste of what it is to live with all the joys and pleasures of a human being yet none of the physical limitations of aging. That creates an unnatural situation that defies certain rules that I am not permitted to speak to the living about.”

“It’s like having your cake and eating it too!” Naydene suggested.

“Hmm.” The Wampus looked thoughtful. “Similar on the surface perhaps. Stick a pin in that one young human.”

 Alice spoke up. “Sounds like existence must be somewhat slow living behind the Great Mist.”

“Time is relative, Existence is what you make of the time you have on this side.” The Wampus winked at her. “Dorthy, you should tell Kyle about this house.”

“Kyle, this house used to belong to a gangster and bootlegger during prohibition.”

“Yeah, ‘Fat Vinnie' Roma.”

“Who told you that, Connie?” Dorthy looked puzzled. Connie Bradford, now deceased, wa. my realtor when I purchased the old house.

Annie came in from the kitchen and was delighted to see people sitting on the floor at nose level. She made a bee line for me and licked my ear.

“No Phil Marr at the Mar-Fill-Us Mart grocery store gave me the info when we first got into town.”

“Yes, he bought the house for his mistress Sally Guterres. Vincent Roma was part of the Denver Cosa Nostra. You also need to know that Sally had another business partner and lover besides Fat Vinnie Roma. His name was Joe Warner.” Dorthy studied the look on my face.

They made a lot of money together back during Prohibition. The basement of this house was used to stockpile liquor and move it for transport. There are tunnels between this house and Little Pine Acres cemetery across the street, the motel property and even Isadora Browning’s bookstore.

“The Ghost Pirate money is bootlegger money!” I said wondering what else this might imply.

“It was money that Josiah used to start up his traveling Carnival.” Dorthy explained.

Alice said, “We found some of that money in the basement. Petey’s and his bike club knocked down a wall down there. There are two passageways with doors barely ajar. Doc wouldn’t let us explore them yet.”

“Whoa!” Petey spoke up. “That money belongs to, a former bootlegger that was seeing Fat Vinnie Roma’s mistress. He was like an old timey mob boss...like a Godfather! Imagine the ‘balls’ on that Warner dude. And now he is some kind of…what? Immortal evil carnival owner operator?”

“With all the powers and privileges of the ancient Autumn King!” The Wampus declared.

                                                            *      *      *

Ralph Green shuffled out of the front door and moved beyond his current residence, the Old Baily place. Even though this was a Saturday he hadn’t slept in. Sleeping was a problem now for Ralph. It began as a bout of insomnia that lasted a week or two. During these episodes, Ralph would fall asleep easily enough but wake around three o’clock in the morning, unable to sleep for several hours. He would doze off again, but needing to be at work by nine o’clock, he would have to hustle to make that deadline. Ralph was a financial advisor at First National Bank of Dusk Thorne.

The lack of sleep had backlogged on Ralph, leaving him exhausted in the mornings. The insomnia came and went. Whenever it returned it was now accompanied by odd dreams. Ralph was seeing a psychotherapist in Denver every two weeks now for his problems and taking Prozac for, what his doctor believed were symptoms of depression. He was supposed to be keeping a dream journal. Whenever Ralph began to write about his dreams in the morning, he seemed to lapse into a fugue state and wake somewhere near Jerry Paloma’s house.

In a daze, Ralph shuffled down Oak Street towards Jerry’s house once again. In a word, he looked “bad”. Ralph hadn’t bathed or shaved in two days. He had felt poorly as of late, and had waved off work, calling in sick. Ralph clutched a letter he wouldn’t remember writing. He was dressed in pajama bottoms, a T-shirt, slippers and an old house coat that was flapping open. He shuffled past a pair of strangers without even looking up at them.

“What about that one?” Lucian pointed at the shuffling figure. The other shook his head in disgust.

“Can’t you tell it is sick.” Lukus said discreetly out of the side of his mouth. You can smell it from here!  It’s gone ‘off’…passed its expiration date. Besides we aren’t cruising for brunch. Stay on the ‘mission’.

The two look very much out-of-place in Dusk Thorne but would have drawn attention even in a large metropolitan setting. They looked like bookends. Both figures were the same height and weight. Both wore pinstripe suits, and while not identical, the clothing looked as if it came from the same British fashion magazine. Expensive and well-tailored.

Both sported shoulder length blonde hair and had porcelain complexions. Although they were simply referred to as “The Twins” by those that worked in Josiah Pandemonium’s carnival, Lucian was a year older than his brother. They easily passed for identical twins to most seeing them for the first time, walking side-by-side.

To the public, they introduced themselves as associates of Josiah Pandemonium and were knocking on doors and handing out complementary tickets to the grand opening of the carnival. But, make no mistake, they were dangerous predators on a manhunt.

                                                               *     *     *    

Alice turned to me with frantic eyes. “Doc, we’ve got to open up those doors to the passages. There could be a fortune in Ghost Pirate money…I mean Bootlegger money down there.”

I rolled my own eyes and began to explain once again why this would be a very bad idea. Billy turned to Alice and emphatically said “No.”

“Why the fudge not?” Alice retorted. She folded her arms and tried to stare Billy down. Joe pinched the area between his forehead and nose again.

I shot a look over at Petey who appeared to be baffled. He still acted as if he could neither see nor hear Billy.

I have a rather inquiring mind, so I took a chance and spoke to Billy in front of Petey. “Billy, why not?”

“Because of the Giant Head!” Billy blurted out trying to not make eye contact with Alice's glare.

“Come again? Is there a Giant Head down in the passages? Alice said slowly.

“Careful how you answer that question Billy.” I cautioned. I didn’t want to deal with Alice’s reaction to yet another basement mystery.

“Yes, that is why I’ve been staying down there. To protect Petey.” Billy confessed.

“What are we waiting for!” Naydene whooped.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.  

Chapter 7 - Revenge of the Autumn People - The Dead of Night

                                        Chapter 7 – The Dead of Night

As a retired Literature Professor, I’ve always found the phrase "the dead of night" provocative. Generally, it describes a time of silence and comments upon a quality of stillness. However, even though the locomotive called the Storm Cloud Express, came to town in the dead of night, it was not quiet. The train noisily blasted down the railways of the foothills to the south and streaked by the edge of Dusk Thorne, Colorado to finally arrive in a field outside of the northern part of town. When it came to a stop, the engineer blew a shrill and unnerving whistle that signaled the arrival of Josiah Pandemonium’s Dark Carnival.

As the reader doubtlessly already knows, there are many unusual aspects to the town of Dusk Thorne. Most living there were acclimated to the periodic presence of the undead or things-that -go-bump-in-the-night. But the town itself was so unusual that many residents did not realize that long ago, they (or their family) had been summoned to live there by the town itself.

Dusk Thorne was very selective about who settled and stayed within its fold. This presence, that came by train every seventeen years with the emergence of the cicada, was not welcome. It was dark, and not of this world. The beings that belonged on this train were not able to enter this realm except when the veil, the Great Mist, was at its weakest. These beings were not welcome in the town. They camped beyond, in a nearby meadow.

Amid the rugged Colorado landscape, 'the dead of night’ descended from train cars and began to unload. Under a vaulted sky scattered with indifferent stars, the ominous silhouette of the Storm Cloud Express sat steaming and hissing like some enormous blacksnake. The train carried with it the weight of a dark legend and an unknown future for the town.

This was the last stop before the carnival reentered the Great Mist for another seventeen years. Since time forgotten, the carnival had never left the town of Dusk Thorne without poaching at least one of its members. Once a person agreed to leave with the Dark Carnival, they became part of it. They said goodbye to neighbors and kin forever. They became part of ‘the dead of night’.

The train inched forward to facilitate the unloading. Forged of tarnished metals and flickering with eerie lights the Storm Cloud Express radiated dark magic from another dimension. The wheeze and grind of the unholy mechanisms cut through the night air.

Upstairs in Doc’s old Victorian two story home, next to her sleeping husband Joe, Alice’s sensitive ears could hear the din. She opened one of the bedroom windows. She listened and inhaled the night air. The noises from the train resonated like the murmurs of lost souls. These sounds mingled with the odor of burnt ozone and rust. Then she could stand the tension no longer.

In a panic she woke Joe. She told him of a horrible thing she saw earlier in the day. Shaking she tried to explain to him that she was a Seer and what that newfound ability might mean. Joe, who had always had a steel-trap mind, held her and listened to her story. He always knew that Alice would one day have to confront her unusual abilities. Part of him realized that she had avoided moments like this because the larger part of Alice simply wanted a normal life. A life with him. Indeed, that may have been why she chose to marry him. Joe was a bit quirky and had an outrageous sense of humor, but at his core he was ‘normal’. He was solid.  Of the three of us, I was the risk-taker. I occasionally was her go-to person when she wanted to flirt with danger. But Joe was her ‘rock’. He made her feel safe. As he held her, she stopped shaking. He resolved that he would find a way to protect her from whatever this situation brought to our doorstep.

                                                                  *       *      *

In the wake of the train’s arrival a cadre of shadowy carnival workers emerged. In work clothing, some in tattered costumes and moving with unsettling precision, they set about erecting booths and tents in the meadow. Creaking rides and a great Ferris wheel went up under a waning moon.

A lean and hungry figure stepped down from the club car of the Storm Cloud Express. He held a cigar in his calloused hand. The eyes, so much like the ones of a bird of prey, gazed at the ongoing construction in the open field and smiled. His hair was slightly disheveled. He removed a top hat, the sign of his station, the owner and master of this dark congregation. He regarded the collection of roustabouts, gypsies, criminals, and vagabonds. He took a deep breath of the night air and then smoothed his hair.

A large figure approached him. The shadow was over seven feet tall and to any other being, fearsome to behold. Josiah simply nodded and lit his cigar. “Bell.” he said casually as he donned his top hat “How is the crew holding up?”

“Everything is going up on schedule Mr. Pandemonium.” This was one of Josiah’s assistant managers. He was not native to our plane of existence. Gordon Bell was a half breed. A Nephilim. He wore an old-fashioned derby hat pulled low around his considerable brow ridge. Underneath the hat his bald skull was as thick as 12^th century English plate armor. His forearms were strong and formidable. His coworkers had bore witness to his ability to bend the very rails of the tracks they traveled upon. He was not a featured performer. Bell didn’t much like crowds or humanity in general. He was not required to perform. He was hired to keep order.

“Good man. I’d like the tents up by dawn. We will start opening the booths and the rides the day after tomorrow. We pushed hard today. Arrived in record time. Did the crew get any rest after we crossed over into Colorado?”

“How would I know?” Bell was indifferent to the human need for sleep. Nephilim didn’t sleep. “They can rest soon enough. This is our last stop.”

“That it is. It has been a good year, Bell. Oh, when we hit the Colorado state line I had an uninvited guest trespass into my thoughts.” Josiah blew a smoke-ring, and the corners of his mouth turned up.

“One of the performers. Let me guess, Qwan Chang? You want me to yank that little telepath’s neck again.

“No this wasn’t one of our folks.” The lean man stretched.

“What are you sayin’?” Bell’s face was blank.

“She entered my mind from a distance...while we were rolling.”

“At the speed we were traveling at. Seems unlikely. Chang can’t even do that sort of thing.”

“This was a Seer, and a young one at that. I think she was assisted by another Seer. At any rate, she could have been psychically present for quite a while...But I kicked her out.”

“Where was she when this happened?” Bell’s curiosity was indeed aroused.

“Right here in this fair town Mr. Bell.”

Gordon Bell smiled. “Possible new talent for next year? Will she be coming with us when we pull out of town?”

“Perhaps. I got a sense of where she was in town, but I’ll need to send the Twins into some of the neighborhoods to make inquiries about her. Carry on Mr. Bell.”

“That’s what we do here Mr. Pandemonium. Carry on!”

                                                            *      *      *   

Joe descended the stairs in the dark. I was aware that he was agitated. I could smell the stress hormones on his sweat, and something else. Gun oil?

“Wake up Doc. We need to talk.”

“I’m already awake. Who can sleep with a carnival in town?” I smiled and batted my eyes at him as if I were a giddy five-year-old.

“I’m serious Doc. Were you aware of what Alice did yesterday.”

“Yes, Dorthy told me she peer-pressured her into being a bad little witch. Never trust anyone over the age of 230. I think it was Dylan that said that.” I smiled.

“This is an emerging crisis Doc. I need to get ahead of it. Alice made a supernatural long-distance call to something with powerful Ju-Ju.” Joe started to pace.

“I love it when you talk like a lawyer.” I snickered.

“What am I going to do?” Joe was beside himself. “I have a business to run, and I can’t watch her 24/7. Ordinarily that would be your job.”

“Admittedly I’m not in good shape but I’m getting there. I’m still having trouble initiating “The Change.”

“I never thought of you as the shiftless type.” Joe quipped.

“Hey, words can hurt you know.” I grinned at him

“Have you tried it in a phone booth? Maybe if you were wearing a cape?” He suggested.

“There is also the matter of a missing chunk of my shoulder that hasn’t grown back yet.”

“Perhaps some Propecia for a couple of weeks and then a comb over? It worked wonders for my Aunt Grace.”

“Look, I’ve already thought about this. I can watch Alice. Petey will spell me off if I get drowsy from Dr. Dorthy’s stink balm.

“I’m telling her you said that.” Joe laughed. “God, that stuff is hideous.”

“Seriously Stink-O-Rama, as Alice would say.” I looked at him and sighed. “We won’t let anything happen to Alice. Knuckle-Butt will be around part time. In fact, Knuckle-Butt and I will ride out tomorrow and check out this badass that had got Alice all wound up. Petey will be at the house while you are at work. As her boss, I can give Naydene some time off if we think she needs extra supervision.

“I’ll be here too.” A quiet little voice said.

“Billy, I assume that is you and not a side effect of Dorthy’s medication.”

Billy popped into the room causing Annie to back up next to me and begin sniffing him from a distance.

“What are you doing in the house young man?” Joe pinched between his brow and nose momentarily. He let go. "I saw this in a David Niven movie once. Unfortunately, it doesn't relieve tension. But it looks great on the screen."

“I sometimes sleep in the basement.” Billy floated through the coffee table as he spoke.

“That is where Petey sleeps.” I said more sternly than I meant to.

“I know. He doesn’t care.”

“Because he doesn’t know yet.” I pointed out to the phantom child. “Look, everyone needs to go back to bed right now. Dorthy is coming over tomorrow, and we can firm up our plans about what to do to help Alice then. We also need to quit talking about her like she is helpless. Remember, she was the one who snuffed Calvin Pryde.”

“I know.” Said Joe. “By the way, here is your gun back. Compliments of Deputy Lawrence Goodwin.

“I’ve asked for that back three times.” I said in astonishment. How did you do it?”

“Principles of Business 101 professor. Bribery. He now eats for free at Colorado Charlie’s Chicken Coop for the rest of the year.  You owe me.  

The Storm Cloud Express Arrived in the Middle of the Night!

 

Chapter 6 - Revenge of the Autumn People - The Storm Cloud Express

                                      Chapter 6 – The Storm Cloud Express

Alice and Dorthy kept staring off into the distance. Somewhere southeast of Dusk Thorne the locomotive called the Storm Cloud Express climbed higher into the foothills of Colorado. In the mid-1870s, carnivals and circuses were no longer horse-drawn wagon shows. The transcontinental railroad permitted the same locomotive to pull a train long distances across the United States. The gauge of train rails which at one time varied across the country, eventually became standardized because of this feat. After that, it was considered more profitable at the time to have a large show travel by train.

The Storm Cloud Express and the entire carnival train was unique for its time. The carnival moved between the foothills of Appalachia to the foothills of the Rockies, a vast distance, and provided shows and other entertainment to as many as 100 different towns for three seasons of every year. The flatcars were fitted with removeable ramps which could be installed between the cars when the train was stationary. Pullies were installed which allowed loaded wagons to be moved down the entire length of the train. Loading and unloading could be done in an amazingly short period of time.

The size and logistics of the train allowed for expansion of the number of acts or carnival booths. The Josiah Pandemonium’s Dark Carnival train was much longer than the famous Buffalo Bill’s Wild West, which featured numerous cars easily over sixty and seventy feet in length. The number of circus and carnival trains peaked in 1903 and then rapidly declined. By 1945 many more carnivals were traveling via trucks as more interstate highways were built. Right after WWII only 6 circuses or carnivals traveled by train.

Josiah, preferring this more private mode of transportation with his company, kept updating his equipment and kept the Storm Cloud Express in good repair mechanically, often using supernatural resources. By 1982, the Storm Cloud Express and The Dark Carnival was a completely unique endeavor. Many people would turn out just to watch the Storm Cloud Express pass through their small town.

                                                       *      *      *   

“Can you feel him approach child?” Dorthy inquired in a whisper. Alice locked eyes with the old necromancer.

“I feel something…what is coming? Who is he?” Alice whispered back.

“He is less of a ‘who’ and more of a ‘what’…he looks like a man. In reality, he is a terrible type of darkness. He, or should I say ‘it’, has been here before. Josiah Pandemonium is his name now, but he has had many names. This thing that looks like a man is immortal and cannot die an ordinary death. He means to harm the innocent. He threatens what lies resting now, waiting to come into this world.” Alice instinctively moved her hands over her womb.

Dorthy saw Alice’s movement. The old woman nodded. “That’s right. We must protect others in Dusk Thorne and guard your unborn child. I’ll speak to Isadora Browning and Winnie. All of you need to help Doc heal. We will need his talents as well.

“I can’t see what you see yet. The train is too far away. I need to see what is coming.” Alice implored Dorthy.

“It isn’t for the naive or untrained eye.”

“Show me!” Alice said suddenly. “Show me anyway. I need to see.”

“Very well.” Dorthy grabbed her hand. “You are a Seer. Let it begin here!”

A wave of coldness spread over her. Alice felt nauseous. Then she looked past the town of Dusk Thorne and into the foothills. She saw the Storm Cloud Express climbing toward her little town. She saw into a club car.  She saw dark magic curling around a lone figure sitting in the dark. He was smoking a cigar, and he smelled foul. His eyes were like that of a biblical carrion-bird. He was staring back at her. Then he winked. Alice psychically recoiled from the encounter. She nearly passed out and ended up on her knees next to Dorthy.

“I understand now. I mean sort of.” She looked up at Dorthy as Naydene ran over from Tim’s truck to help her up.

“Sup? Hormone Roller Coster time again?” Naydene teased. Alice had broken the news about her pregnancy to her husband Joe and the others around the time she was a person of interest in Calvin Pryde’s murder. The investigation was minimal. Lawrence Goodwin, then Deputy Sheriff of Dusk Thorne, and several members of the department had been participating in a drug ring ran by Pryde as well as Pryde’s human trafficking organization. Goodwin saw Alice’s slaying of Pryde as an act of self-defense. It was advantageous for him to make any further investigation of Alice (and myself) go away as he was running for Sheriff in an upcoming election.

His department burnt Pryde’s body along with several hundred zombies on the Tyler farm before it could be examined. Then all the officers involved testified that Calvin Pryde had become a supercharged Zombie, an Abomination, a member of the undead with traces of Honkey Kong in his system. He had attacked Alice, and she had shot him in the head (four times). The investigation was considered closed. I never received my army .45 semiautomatic that Alice used to kill Calvin back. Apparently, it is still in an evidence locker somewhere. So, I’m still waiting.

Alice regained her feet. She looked at Naydene. “Nope, this wasn't the baby. It was different.” Alice touched her abdomen. “She usually just creates ‘happy hormones’.”

“You said ‘she’? How do you know it’s a girl already?” Naydene asked excitedly.”

Alice looked at Dorothy “Witchy stuff. I just know”. She winked at Dorthy and Dorthy winked back. Dorthy brushed Alice off a bit.

"So, the other thing? Learn a new trick? Naydene teased.

“The first time is always the roughest.” Dorthy announced.

“Suffering Sock Monkey! You aren’t kidding.” Alice laughed.

“What! What just happened?” Naydene said at high volume.

“We just went remote and peeped at the Boogie Man riding that train that will be pulling into town.”

“How?” Naydene was nearly beside herself.

“More witchy stuff. My first time.” Alice looked at Dorthy.

“Now what?” Alice said uneasily.

“You’ve just had your first genuine experience as a Seer. You saw him, but part of that was an illusion. I need to contact the Wampus. He can debrief you and give you some more background on Josiah Pandemonium.” Dorthy adjusted her shawl. “And I need to speak with Doc. I'm worried about him.”

“Um, now that I’m officially doing ‘witchy stuff’ should I start accessorizing? Should I go out and buy a pointy hat or something” Alice said shyly.

“Please don’t.” Dorthy walked back over to Tim’s truck. A faint smile was on her face

Josiah Pandemonium's Dark Carnival Has Arrived!

 

Alice and Doc's Harley "Patsy"