Midian Unmade (21 page)

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A week later, Kaleb found himself at the end of a road just outside of Edmonton. He had traveled relentlessly most of the days, not wanting to stop and rest as the need to find answers pushed him forward. He was led through small towns, wooded areas, and bigger cities with nothing to show for it other than sore feet. On his way, he could hear the whispered words of the dead that pushed him on and saw the disembodied faces that stared at him from the dark corners as they asked for help. He never stayed anywhere long and then he came to the end of that road where a series of tents had been set up and he had hope.

Where would the monsters go to hide themselves in plain sight? Where would some of them go that didn't want to hide in the sewers or the abandoned farmlands? A carnival would be the perfect place for those who could never blend in with the rest of the world. Kaleb followed the dirt road to the entrance of the tent land, but as he moved closer, his alarms went up. He had been to a few carnivals, back in the days when his family had still been a family. In the life before his dad had snapped and decided he could no longer live in a world that offered him nothing and wanted to take his wife and kids, there had been days of happiness with them at the fall fairs and summer carnivals. The big tents full of mysteries and the unstable rides full of danger as his stomach tried to hold back the sugar and grease he had eaten were his first called memories. And although there were plenty of large, circuslike tents around, maybe fifteen in all, he couldn't see any rides towering above them. The place was lit up like a circus or carnival, glowed harshly in the dark of the night, but the air was quiet. No cheers. No ringing of games being won.

It was as though the place were a ghost town just as Midian had been.

Kaleb stood only a few feet away from the entrance and saw movement to his right. He turned his head and there stood a pale, decayed man who held a dog and shook his head at him. The ghostly figure looked at the tents, then at Kaleb, and continued the same head movements.

“What is it?” Kaleb asked, but the figure didn't speak. The small dog yipped at him, but the man stayed silent. “I have to go in. They are calling me. Don't you hear them?”

The man looked sad and bowed his head, and Kaleb saw that part of it had crumbled away and as his head tilted forward, sand poured out from the hole. The rest of his body turned to dust, piled on the ground, and blew away in the wind as the others called him from beyond the gates. He hesitated for a moment, wondered what it could have been that he was being warned against. In all the years since he had first been given the gift to communicate with the dead, none of them had ever seemed too afraid nor did they issue any sort of warning. Most of the dead only asked for help, and never offered anything in return.

Then, voices from inside the tents, those that belonged to the ones that led him to the carnival, called to him.

“They are inside. Help them. Save the Nightbreed in there. Take them to Cabal so that they may go find Baphomet.”

Kaleb waited to see if the other one would appear, and when he didn't, there was nothing to stop him from going forward.

He passed the main gates and quickly learned that it was no real carnival. The lack of rides and games, the missing food and fair gave it away. What he did see were signs in front of each of the tents, ones that cried out C
ONFESSIONS
, B
APTISMS
, G
OSPEL
, and more. He walked through the city of tall tents, and found it wasn't a home for amusement, but a place of worship and fear: a church revival. There were no barkers at the openings, no fast-talking men to try to sway and woo people to enter. Instead, one or two solemn men in dark suits stood at each entrance and nodded as people entered.

Kaleb looked at the people who milled about, watched as some entered a tent marked R
EVELATIONS
and wondered if he was in the right place. Why would anyone from Midian come to a place like this? Why would the Nightbreed be in a place of a false god? He thought that it might be best to leave, to turn and just disappear, but he saw something through the crowd that made him stop.

It was a child—a small, tan-skinned girl of six or seven years. She looked at him with dark eyes; her skin decayed the way paint will peel from old wood that has been water-damaged. She whispered the word “Here” and pointed to a tent that read T
HE
D
EVIL
L
IVES!
It was then he realized he wasn't just there to find the Breed; he was there to save them from whatever was in the tent.

He took a step forward and the child became undone; her cracked flesh undid itself and faded to nothing. He didn't feel bad for her, as he knew she wasn't real, at least not anymore. Like his other visions of the dead, she had suffered in the past and only lingered in this realm as the scent of a fire will linger long after the flames have been extinguished. Kaleb looked at the two gaunt-faced men who stood at the entrance, gave them a nod, and entered the place where they claimed the devil lived.

The inside of the tent was more expansive and impressive than it had looked from the outside. There were rows of wooden benches that led up to a darkened stage, and on each side of it were two men who looked as though they had recently left jail and donned suits that could barely contain their muscular bodies, and both looked as mean as a rabid dog. They scowled at the crowd as strange organ music played from a source unseen. Kaleb took it all in as he walked down the row of benches and took a seat to wait for whatever show was about to take place.

He didn't have to wait long.

A man in a white suit stepped onto the low stage and the lights came on. He smiled out at them; his face ran wild with deep-set wrinkles, though he couldn't have been older than forty. He had a weathered look: sun-damaged skin, thin, brittle hair that matched his cold blue eyes, and yellowed teeth that were as crooked as a carny's morals.

“Welcome, brothers and sisters,” he began. His voice had a slow, drawn-out quality to it and he delivered each word with an air of importance. “This is a celebration and a mourning of our world. We have all come here looking for salvation of some kind. And you will find it if you open yourself to it. Salvation is easy. What is hard, brothers and sisters, what is truly difficult is to see the evil in the world. To look out and see the devil that lives among us and to peer in the mirror and see the devil inside each and every one of us. For indeed, each of you, like myself I admit, have a streak of Lucifer somewhere in the darkest corner of our hearts.” There were murmurs in the crowd and Kaleb saw many nod as what he said hit home. “But tonight, in this tent, it is not about the evil in our hearts and mind. It isn't about our addictions to sex, or drink; not about our lies and sins. This is about the very face of the devil that lives in the flesh; Satan's minions; the demon horde that walks, bound in skin and blood. Are you ready to see this, brothers and sisters? Are you ready to see the beast as the beast appears?”

“Yes!”

“Show us!”

“We must see!”

“God will protect us. Show us the devil!”

The volume of the crowd rose as the man onstage smiled and let them get more and more excited. Once they had reached a fever pitch, chanting “Show us” in unison, he held his hand up to calm them slightly.

“Very well, brothers and sisters, God shall see you as you are witness to the true form of evil!”

The stage curtains were pulled aside and onstage behind the man in the white suit were two cages. One held a pale, fat man who licked his lips furiously at the audience and the other cage held a blue-skinned monstrosity with a mouth full of fangs and ivory horns on his head. They both growled and hissed at the audience, reached through the bars as though they had a chance of attack, at which point the stern-faced men on either side of the stage pulled out pipes and struck the bars. The two hissed at them, but backed away, and the audience gasped at the sight. Kaleb didn't; he knew that they weren't demons in the sense that religious people thought. They were the lost children of Midian. The Nightbreed. They were the ones he had come to save.

The man onstage went on with more devil talk, but Kaleb heard none of it. Instead, he began to set a plan in his head of how to free them. He knew that there was no way he would leave without getting them out of those cages. They were his key to finding the rest of the Breed and eventually Baphomet.

As the overacted sermon by a man who was more barker than preacher ended, the audience was allowed to walk up and get a closer look at the devils in their cages. They were warned not to get too close to them, and Kaleb couldn't resist it. He thought he would go to them and let them know that he had been sent by the ghosts of Midian, whisper that he would save them to give them a sense of hope. The ex-cons were close, so he knew he would have to be careful, but at the same time he couldn't shake how terrified they must be, how relieved they would become once they knew that freedom was at hand. On his way up, the little girl appeared again, stood beside him, and walked with him on his slow approach to the stage. He didn't turn and look directly at her, as it could alert others to him, but he wanted to see what she was doing. Then, she spoke in her wispy voice that sounded more like leaves blowing than a human voice.

“You have found them. The big one is Leroy and the one with horns is Lude. Please help them,” she said with sadness in her voice. He nodded as subtly as he could.

After nearly thirty minutes he made it to the stage and walked as close as he could to the cages. The two inside seemed annoyed, almost bored by the whole situation. They didn't look up at him as Kaleb checked to make sure the guards' attention wasn't fully on him. Then he whispered to the duo.

“Leroy. Lude,” he said, and that got their attention. “The ghosts of Midian have sent me to help you. I'll be back later to help you.”

“Oh, you already have helped us,” Leroy said with a snicker, and looked over at Lude, the blue devil, who had begun to giggle. Before Kaleb could ask him what he meant, he felt a strong hand grab hold of his arms and turned to see that the stern-faced men who looked like prisoners had hold of him. “They've been waiting for you.”

“Oh ladies and gentlemen, seems we will have to cut the festivities short,” the man in the white suit said, and approached Kaleb with pure glee on his face. “It seems as though we have an interloper in our midst. Please follow the others out of the tent and I wish you all a safe journey home.”

Kaleb struggled and the crowd followed their orders. The man in the white suit stood in front of Kaleb and placed a bone-thin hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, son. It's all going to be fine if you keep your head on straight. We have been waiting for you for some time. Oh my, it has been a long time coming. The Lord shines his smile upon us. Faith said you would come and here you are.” The man in white turned to one of the men who wasn't holding Kaleb and told him to go get the others. They did as they were told.

“Does this mean we can have more of those delicious entrails? I'm famished,” Leroy said as he stood at the bars and licked his lips.

“If this is what they were looking for, then I'm sure you can.”

Kaleb looked at Leroy and Lude as they celebrated inside their cells and was confused. He had been sure the two had been prisoners, believed that he had come to save them from the overzealous religious people who ran the revival, but it appeared he had been wrong. They were part of whatever it was that was going on.

“No hard feelings, kid,” Lude said with a shrug.

The man in the white suit brought a chair to the stage and instructed the two men who held Kaleb to sit him down. Despite his brief struggle, he was forced down, and within minutes, a small entourage entered the tent. There were more stern faces followed by a man with a misshapen head who wore the dirty, torn garb of a priest. His eyes were milky and pale; his hair was thin spiderweb-like wisps that floated about his bulbous head. He smiled when his eyes fell on Kaleb, and when he did, he revealed brown, partially rotted teeth.

Behind him was a tall man in a well-tailored suit who moved with grace and the presence of someone important. When Kaleb looked at his face, his heart stopped. His face was covered by a mask, but he knew the man right away.

“Decker,” he whispered when he saw old Button Face.

“Ah! I see my reputation precedes me. I'm glad you know who I am, though I do not know you.” Decker stepped up on the stage. “What's your name?”

“Kaleb.”

“What a fitting name. Do you know what it means?” Kaleb shook his head and Decker was brought a chair as well. He sat down and as he did, Kaleb saw that the front of Decker's shirt was a mess. It was wet with blood, and an odor came off of him like old earth and death. “Kaleb is an old Hebrew name that means ‘loyal dog.' Is that what you are? Are you a loyal dog, Kaleb? I would like you to be. You have a gift it seems, one that I would love you to share with us.”

“I don't know what you are talking about. What gift?”

“Now, now, young man; there's no need to be coy with us. The Breed here, Leroy Gomm and Devil Lude, have told me about what is going on. The ghosts of Midian, those unnatural monsters that died, have been busy calling out for help. The fat slob there was the one that sent the little girl to you, the one you no doubt saw close to here. She wasn't a real ghost, just a little trick he can pull on some; especially on those with talents such as yours. It appears Boone was given a job to bring the Nightbreed back together, so that their so-called god can live again, but he is not doing such a good job. So the dead have taken it upon themselves to call out to people like you; psychics that can communicate with them. These two demons here used this to call you, or anyone like you, and now here you are.”

“You turned your back on your own?” Kaleb asked them with disgust in his voice and neither Leroy nor Lude look ashamed.