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.