The Guild of Fallen Clowns (27 page)

Peepers stepped away to the wall and began
walking around the room.

“Breathing difficult, gasping like fish
plucked from water.”

Todd turned to keep pace with Peepers as he
continued circling the room.

“Oh, I get it. You saw me use my inhaler. So
what, I have asthma. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure
that one out.”

“Vision grow dim. Todd’s body drain of life.
Brought back on way to hospital.”

“How did you know about that?”

Peepers stopped pacing and turned to face
Todd.

“How could you know about that?” Todd
repeated. “Who are you, and how do you even know my name?”

“I am Peepers. Peepers know everything about
Todd. Todd fear that day. Fear death by suffocation.”

Peepers’ knowledge of his deepest fear was
affecting Todd. The mere suggestion of his past struggles to
breathe caused his throat to constrict. He pulled out his inhaler
and quickly took two puffs.

Peepers enjoyed his powers of suggestion.
“Is Todd remember how felt? Lungs cannot get air.”

Todd took another hit from his inhaler and
demanded Peepers let him out.

Peepers closed the gap between them and
leaned into his face. “Todd want fresh air outside Labyrinth?”

Concentrating on his breathing, Todd took
two deep breaths and nodded.

“Very well. Peepers set Todd free.”
Instantly, Peepers vanished from sight. Seconds later, the room
went dark.

“I thought you said you would let me go,”
Todd panted into the darkness. Peepers didn’t respond. Two flicks
of the lighter restored some vision. The mirrors should have
reflected the light from the flame, but something in the room
changed. There were no reflections, only darkness beyond the
limited power of his tiny torch. He turned in a full circle in his
attempt to find a direction. Beyond the lighter in his hand, there
was only darkness. He lowered the flame, and even the floor below
his feet appeared to absorb the light.

The only direction he didn’t search was up,
so he raised the flame above his head. At the peek of his reach,
the flame abandoned its source of fuel and jumped from the lighter,
where it freely glided upward until it ignited the black mesh
material of the ceiling.

Flames engulfed the fabric as the raging
fire rolled across the ceiling. Feeding on oxygen from below, the
billowing cloud of smoke expanded downward. Todd dropped to the
floor, desperately sucking the thin layer of unpolluted air as the
lung-crushing smoke swelled closer.

As he lay on his side with his shirt
covering his mouth as a smoke filter, clown-shoed feet stepped up
in front of his face. Peepers had returned but Todd couldn’t see
past the waist-level smoke to his face. The figure bent down,
dragging smoke with him. The smoke dissipated, revealing Peepers
smiling down at him. Peepers continued lowering himself to Todd’s
level until he was lying on his side beside him. His elbow was out
with his head resting on his hand.

“Peepers free Todd now.”

Todd didn’t understand. With his mouth and
nose covered by his shirt, he muttered, “Please help me.”

Peepers nodded. He looked up to the layer of
thick smoke above them and began to inhale. A vortex formed between
his mouth and the smoke, sucking every last bit of it into his
lungs. With the threat of smoke asphyxiation gone, Peepers looked
back at Todd. Todd lowered his shirt from his face and took a deep
breath of clean air.

“Thank you,” Todd said as he breathed in as
much air as possible.

“You are welcome, Todd,” Peepers replied. As
he spoke, some of the smoke was released into Todd’s face. Todd
coughed and took another hit from his inhaler.

“Don’t fight, Todd,” Peepers said. Again,
his words carried the concentrated smoke. Wheezing sounds
accompanied Todd’s coughs. His face turned red as he gasped for
clean air.

“Peepers set Todd free.” The smoke continued
to flow into Todd’s face as the clown spoke.

Choking and unable to speak, Todd raised his
hand in defeat and tried to crawl away.

Peepers slowly exhaled the deadly cloud in
the direction of Todd’s movement. It swarmed around, his listless
body barely moving around the edge of the room without direction
until he collapsed. He lay curled up, suffocating on Peepers’ toxic
breath. Peepers continued to exhale as he returned to his feet. The
dense cloud swallowed the boy and followed him as he desperately
crawled in search of relief.

With the condensed smoke fully exhaled in a
tight bubble around Todd’s body, Peepers closed his eyes and
luxuriated in the thumping sound of Todd’s body collapsing to the
floor, followed by a faint, fading whistle as his final breath
squeezed from his constricted airways.

The smoke released its hold on the body and
swirled around Peepers. Peepers opened his eyes and flung his arms
up, sending the swirling mass to the roof.

*****

Sitting with their backs to the fence behind
the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors, Todd’s friends waited.

“What’s taking him so long?” As soon as the
words left his mouth, the pair simultaneously jumped to their feet
at the sight of smoke pumping from gaps in the building’s roof and
around the edges of the rear door.

To: Lyle

Those were the only markings on the
cardboard box gently placed on the floor outside Lyle’s apartment.
Alan stood and faced the door. He reached out and braced his
fingers on the wall surrounding the doorbell. His body turned away
from the door with his left knee slightly bent and his foot firmly
planted and aimed toward the stairwell. Positioned for a rapid
departure he took one last glance at the box below before looking
back to the button on the wall. His index finger slid over the
button and his head turned to match the direction of the rest of
his body. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. His trigger finger
pressed the button, which acted like a shot from the starting
pistol in a one-man sprint to his car.

The door flung open before Alan left the
lower section of stairs. Lyle first noticed the package, but he was
more interested in discovering the identity of the person who
delivered it. He jumped over the box and darted to the stairwell
and leaned over to see if the mystery person was still in sight.
Nobody. His curiosity intensified and he turned back toward his
apartment and leapt over the box in a dash to his front balcony.
Leaning over the railing, he quickly scanned the area for movement.
First he looked to the left. All was quiet. Next he turned to the
right—not a soul in sight. He turned for a second look to the left
when the sound of a car’s engine returned his focus to the right.
Alan’s car backed up and drove off. Mystery solved.

Lyle returned to his still open door and
looked down at the package. “There better not be shit inside,” he
mumbled. He picked up the package and gave it a rugged shake before
holding it to his ear. He held the seam of the taped lid to his
nose and attempted to detect the presence of crap inside.

His shake, sound, and smell tests all failed
to reveal the contents. With no other options and a deepening
curiosity, he took the box inside and closed the door. He pulled
his keys from his pocket and used one to snap the clear tape at the
sides. Then he ran the key across the top, splitting the tape.
Before opening the box, he took it to the couch and sat it beside
him. With the box firmly supported, he used each hand to lift the
outside flaps open. He gave the package a quarter turn and lifted
the inside flaps. He peeled away the top layer of packing,
revealing the Spanky figure comfortably positioned atop a mattress
of protective crumpled papers.

“What the hell is this?” He reached in and
pulled the figure out for closer examination. He turned it around
in his hands to view it from all angles. Lyle didn’t know what to
make of the creepy clown
gift
from Alan. All he knew was
that he didn’t like it and he didn’t want it, or anything else,
from Alan.

He shoved the figure and packing paper back
in the box and stormed for his door. Behind him stood the life-size
Spanky. Unaware of his new guest peering over his shoulder, Lyle
jerked open his door and took three steps before carelessly
throwing the package at Alan’s apartment door.

The box sprung open, sending the Spanky
figure crashing to the floor. The resulting shock from the
unprotected impact with the concrete surface snapped its left leg
in half. Satisfied with his return message to Alan, he returned to
his apartment and slammed the door behind him.

Still steaming from Alan’s confusing
offering, Lyle plopped himself on his couch and stewed for a few
seconds before lifting the remote and aiming it toward the TV.
Before pressing the button, he heard a rustling sound from his
bathroom area. He returned the remote and stood from the couch.

“Who’s there?” he called out. Then he heard
the clinging sound of a belt buckle. Lyle rushed to his coat closet
and grabbed a baseball bat. He raised it and called out again,
“Who’s in there?”

“My name is Spanky,” came a reply from the
bathroom.

Lyle rushed across the room to the kitchen.
With the baseball bat in one hand, he reached for his phone. “I’m
calling the cops,” he yelled out.

As his eyes locked on the doorway to the
hall, a large figure hopped into view. Stunned, Lyle’s eyes
widened. His hand opened and the phone dropped to the floor.

“I represent the Guild of Fallen Clowns. On
this day, your life will change.” Spanky stood on one leg. One of
Lyle’s belts acted as a tourniquet, tightly wrapping the stub of
his left half leg.

“You did a bad thing, Lyle.”

*****

Dressed as Boogy the Clown, Alan arrived at
the carnival an hour before opening. The coincidental passing of
Mrs. Henderson on the night he delivered Peepers’ figure was
unnerving. Even after witnessing the success Spanky had on Dave, he
couldn’t shake the feeling that Peepers might know something about
her death. He wanted to know if Peepers could have done something
to save her.

His concentration on the meeting with
Peepers was so deep that he didn’t notice the yellow police tape
stretched across the entrance of the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors.
It wasn’t until he got to the entrance path that he was stopped by
the thin ribbon blockade. He wondered if the crime scene tape was
some sort of new decoration used to increase visitors’ interest in
the labyrinth. If so, why was it blocking the entrance? Guests
wouldn’t be able to pass. Geno should have tied it off at the sides
of the walkway.

As he tried to understand the logic of using
crime scene tape on a haunted attraction, he heard the unmistakable
sound of Cracky’s hacking cough from the right side of the
building. Alan walked over to see who he was talking to. He was
talking to a police officer. More specifically, Cracky was talking
with his brother, Dale. Suddenly, he realized the yellow tape
wasn’t added as an ill-conceived decorative element.

As he walked toward Cracky and Dale, The
Ringmaster leaned out from a slit in the side of his tent. “They
won’t need a clown anymore.” The flap closed and Alan continued
walking. Cracky and Dale stopped talking when they noticed Alan
approaching.

“Hey, Cracky—Dale, what’s going on?”

“You guys know each other?” Cracky said.

“Yes, Alan’s my big brother,” Dale said.

“Alan? Oh, you mean Boogy. You boys are
brothers?” Cracky looked back and forth between them, looking for
some sort of resemblance.

“Yes, Officer Dale is my brother. What’s
with the crime scene tape?”

“Some kid died in there last night,” Dale
said.

Cracky jumped in to set the record straight.
“It wadn’t murder or nothin’ like dat, Boogy. Some frat boys snuck
in last night and one of dem broke into da labyrinth and started a
fire.”

“Right,” Dale added. “The kid had breathing
problems and the smoke overtook him before he could get out.”

“Oh my God, that’s awful!”

“Yes it is, Boog. It’s awful, but the kid
shouldn’t have tried ta burn da place down. We’re lucky da fire
didn’t spread and hurt more people,” Cracky said.

“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions here,”
Dale said. “His friends said he used the lighter to light his way.
We don’t know if his intent was to burn the place down.”

“Maybe so, but he shouldn’t have been in
dare in da first place. I know kids at dat age do stupid things,
but I wish he woulda used a flashlight. If he did, he’d still be
alive and we wouldn’t be standing here talking.”

“You’re right about that,” Dale said. “Alan,
do you remember that time when we were playing with matches in the
field near our house?”

“How can I forget? It was the middle of a
drought and the grasses were all dried out.”

“That’s right! I can’t believe we were that
stupid. The circle of fire almost got away from us. It kept growing
in size and we frantically ran around stomping it out.”

“I still have nightmares about that,” Alan
said.

Cracky started laughing hysterically at the
image. Dale and Alan shared a confused glance. They couldn’t
understand what was so humorous about their story.

“What’s so funny?” Alan said.

Cracky was hunched over with his hand
pressed to a cramp in his side. He couldn’t answer the question
right away. Instead, he raised his hand and pointed back and forth
between the brothers. Again, Dale and Alan looked at each other and
shrugged.

Finally, Cracky was able to regain his
composure. He stood upright, still snickering and looking back and
forth between the two.

“What’s with this guy?” Dale said to Alan.
Alan raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders again.

Finally able to speak, Cracky again moved
his finger back and forth. “I was just picturing you guys as kids.
Da clown and da cop runnin’ ’round stompin’ out da fire. Da clown
wid his big shoes—” His laughing started up again.