The Guild of Fallen Clowns (43 page)

He slipped outside and dialed his cell
phone.

“Alan, I’m outside the church. I just looked
in and Cheryl’s fine. I think your imagination is getting the best
of you, brother. There’s nothing wrong.”

“She’s in the church?” Alan asked.

“Yes, it’s Sunday. She always goes to church
on Sunday.”

“I know what day it is. Does she have her
purse with her? It might be in her purse,” Alan said.

“No, I doubt it. She doesn’t like to bring
it in with her because of all the sitting, standing, and kneeling
BS. She doesn’t want to keep looking over her shoulder because it
would look like she doesn’t trust people. That’s true, but she
doesn’t want to send that message in church,” Dale replied. “But
wait, what’s it matter? She’s fine. Everyone is fine. I’m more
concerned about you right now. I know that you think there’s some
sort of paranormal thing going on here, but
you
need to
listen to me now. I’m going to call for backup to meet me at the
carnival so we can pick up that Geno guy.”

“You can’t do that!” Alan yelled. “Look,
just do one thing before you make that call. Check her purse in the
car and see if it’s there. If it’s not there, well, maybe you’re
right. Maybe I am losing my mind. But if it is there, destroy it.
Don’t leave it. Destroy it and wait for me at the carnival. I have
to take care of a couple more figures, but I’ll be there as soon as
possible. Just wait for me.”

Dale started walking through the parking
lot, searching for Cheryl’s car. “Fine, Alan. But if it’s not
there, I’m calling for help and we won’t wait for you.”

“And if it is there?” Alan asked.

“Well, if it is there, I’ll destroy it as
you asked.”

“And no call for help?” Alan said.

“Fine, I won’t call for help. How would I
even begin to explain any of this? They would think I was as crazy
as I’m thinking you are. Just get there quick because if they call
me out somewhere else, I’ll have to go.”

Dale hung up and stepped up to the passenger
door of Cheryl’s car. Through the window he saw her purse half
tucked under the passenger seat. Sticking out from the opening was
the top portion of the Agor figure with his head tilted, appearing
to be looking back at Dale with a sinister grin. Stunned at the
sight, Dale jumped back before returning and yanking on the door
handle. The door was locked and he didn’t have the spare key with
him. The car was parked along the edge of the lot where a line of
mature trees shaded the first few rows of parked cars. Roots from
the nearest tree raised broken chunks of concrete. Dale picked up a
softball size piece of rubble and stood beside the passenger
door.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he
whispered before pitching the rock into the window of his wife’s
car. The window repelled the blow, bouncing the jagged stone into
his groin before dropping on his foot and tumbling under the
car.

“Son of a bitch!” he said, hunched over with
both hands clutching his crotch as he hopped around in a small
circle on one foot before resting against the car. He looked around
to be sure nobody witnessed his embarrassment. His attention
returned to the window, where he noticed a small blemish where the
rock struck. As he rubbed his finger over the spot, his focus
shifted to movement inside the vehicle. The purse was opened and
something moved on the floor in front of it. It was the figure of
Agor. He was rolling on the floor laughing, with one hand on his
stomach and the other pointing directly at Dale.

“What the fuck?” Dale said as he stood
locked in a frozen stare at the sight before him. “Alan was
right.”

The Agor figure leapt up to the passenger
seat and continued to mock Dale by sticking his thumbs in his ears,
wiggling his fingers, and making raspberry sounds with his
protruded tongue.

Dale snapped out of his trance and reached
for the rock under the car. He stood and took aim again as Agor
mimicked his movement from the other side of the glass. With all of
his might, Dale flung it and jumped to the side to avoid further
injury. Again the stone bounced away, leaving barely a mark on the
window. Inside, Agor’s laughter subsided. He leaned up to the
glass, wagging his finger.

“Cheryl will pay the price for your
aggression,” he called out through the glass.

Dale didn’t understand his threat. Then,
from over his right shoulder, the words came again. “Cheryl will
pay the price.”

Dale spun around to see a life-sized replica
of the creepy clown figure wagging his finger and smiling. Dale
backed against the car. The clown lowered his hand and began
walking away toward the church. Before Dale could move to stop him,
three more Agors appeared, all different sizes and shapes. They,
too, fell into formation and sauntered toward the church.

“What’s going on? Where the hell did they
come from?” Dale stammered. More figures began appearing, popping
up around the car, one after another. Within seconds, an army of
short, tall, fat, thin, and everything in between Agors were headed
for the church. He didn’t understand why they didn’t come after
him, but he knew Cheryl was in danger if he didn’t stop them.

Dale ignored the figures continuing to
appear all around him. He glared back at the small figure inside
the car. Agor’s arms were crossed over his chest as he shot Dale a
smug look. Dale glanced back at the lead character in the
procession heading toward the church. A multitude of colorful
duplicates closed in on him as he stepped closer to the door with
his hand reaching for the handle.

“It’s too late now. Cheryl will pay for your
aggression toward Agor and the Guild of Fallen Clowns,” Agor said
from inside the car. The clown’s hand grasped the handle and
pulled. Dale’s right hand went to his hip. He pulled out his pistol
and took aim at the window. Agor gulped and his face turned sour.
Without hesitation, Dale fired off a round. The bullet smashed
through the glass and shattered the figure inside, peppering the
interior with fragments of Agor. Dale looked back to the church.
The mob had vanished; the only movement was the front door swinging
closed.

Returning to his squad car, Dale noticed a
crowd forming outside the church, looking for the source of the
loud gunshot. He had to pass on his way to the exit. As he drove
by, Cheryl and the kids ran down the steps toward him. She held the
kids back and waved him down. He stopped the car and lowered the
passenger window for her to lean in.

“What was that noise? Was it you? Are you
okay?” she said.

“Calm down. Everything is okay. I found out
about that thing that’s been haunting you. It’s okay now. You’re
safe. I took care of it.”

Cheryl looked behind her to be sure nobody
was nearby. Then she leaned through the open window and whispered,
“How did you know? It said it would hurt the kids if I told anyone
or tried to destroy it. Are you sure we’re safe now?”

Dale smiled. “Yes, it can’t hurt anyone.
You’re safe.”

“Dale?” Father Harris said as he approached
from behind Cheryl.

“Oh crap, Cheryl. I can’t stick around. Tell
Father Harris everything is okay. Oh, and you might want to park
the car in the garage. You’ll understand why in a minute.” He
shooed her with his hand. “Now back up, I gotta go.” He pressed on
the gas and waved to the priest as he drove off.

*****

Alan switched off the hair dryer and lowered
it to his kitchen table. Held in his other hand was his latest
figure, still tacky from a rushed paint job. Examining his work, he
sighed and looked at its face. “I hope I’m right about this.” He
paused, then nodded and bent over, tucking the figure in a gym bag
on the floor beside him.

He stood from the table and paced the room,
the whole time second-guessing his decision to create another
figure.
What will happen if I’m wrong? Will more people get
hurt? I can’t take that chance. But what will happen if I don’t use
him? Will I be strong enough to do this on my own?
he
thought.

Then he stopped pacing and stared at the
bag. “Stop it, Alan!” he said with gritted teeth. “Your gut took
you this far. Don’t overthink this. Trust your instinct and go for
it.” With that, he confidently walked across the room and snatched
up the bag. He opened his front door and marched across the hall to
Lyle’s apartment where he stood, shoulders back, and pounded out
three assertive knocks.

Deep base sounds of stomping feet announced
Lyle’s approach. Alan centered his face to the peephole, his chin
lifted and his fingers and hands flexed tighter over the bag’s
strap handles. The pounding stopped. The pinhole of light eclipsed
as Lyle peered through to see Alan standing outside. Light
returned. The door handle rattled. Lyle fiddled with the lock and
the door swung open.

“Hey, Alan, c’mon in,” he said. Alan stepped
into the room and closed the door behind him. “What’s up?” Lyle
said. “Is it your car? Is there a problem with the glass?”

Alan put his hand up. “No, it’s not that.
I’m sure the car is fine.”

“Did you notice what I did?” Lyle said. Alan
looked puzzled by the question. “I fixed your door lock for you.
Your remote works on all the doors again.”

“Oh…thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was nothing. I already had the panel off
to replace the glass. It was a two-second fix.”

“Great, thanks.”

Lyle smiled. “Oh, you want a beer?” he said.
He didn’t wait for a reply and headed toward the kitchen. “I know
it’s a little early, but what the hell? It’s my day off,” Lyle
continued.

“No. Thanks, but not now. I’d love to have
some beers with you another time, but that’s not why I’m here.”

Lyle stopped and turned to face Alan. “Okay,
sure, another time for the beer. So, uh, then why are you here?”
Lyle asked nervously.

Alan’s head rotated, scanning the
apartment.

“What?” Lyle said. “What are you looking
for?”

Alan’s gaze stopped and locked. Pressed in
the corner of the couch, he saw it. Spanky’s figure appeared to
observe his creator’s curiosity.

“That!” Alan replied. He walked toward it as
Lyle protested. “No, Alan, please don’t make him mad.”

It was too late. Alan grabbed the figure and
raised it over his head.

“Do it and your friend dies.” Alan looked
for the source of the threat. Standing behind Lyle, Spanky stood on
one foot, his giant hands loose around Lyle’s neck.

“Please, Alan,” Lyle pleaded. “He’ll do it.
He’ll kill me if you don’t put it down and leave.”

With Spanky’s figure still held over his
head, Alan met Spanky’s glare as he leaned down and felt around for
the opening of his bag.

“What are you doing? Don’t test me, I will
kill him,” Spanky said. His grip on Lyle’s neck tightened.

Alan’s fingers found the figure inside the
bag. He grabbed it and stood. Spanky watched as Alan held it out in
front of him.

“Is that what I think it is?” Spanky
laughed. “Poppy? You really think that loser can protect you from
me?” He took his hands off Lyle’s neck and replaced them with his
arm. Lyle’s face turned red from the pressure.

“What are you doing?” Lyle squeaked. “Don’t
you think one is enough?”

Alan smiled and tossed the figure through
the air. “Catch it, Lyle!” he yelled.

Lyle instinctively reached out and caught
the figure. Realizing what he did, he flung it to the floor.

“Ha! What else you got?” Spanky jeered.

“Just put it down and go away, Alan.
Please,” Lyle whimpered.

Spanky continued laughing and Alan began
lowering his figure to the couch beside him.

“Okay, don’t hurt him,” Alan said.

A tapping on Spanky’s shoulder silenced his
amusement. He turned, releasing his hold on Lyle. Lyle fell to the
floor and scurried beside Alan. They both watched as Spanky stepped
to the side, revealing another person in the room.

“Dad!” Lyle shouted. The burly man grinned
at Lyle and replied, “Stinky.”

Although the situation was still extremely
dangerous and volatile, Alan couldn’t help himself. He snorted and
repeated the nickname Lyle’s father had for him. “Stinky? That’s
rich.”

Lyle glanced up at Alan and blushed. “I was
a kid.” His attention turned back to his father. “But this is
impossible. You’re dead!”

The image of Lyle’s father shrugged his
shoulders. Then he looked directly into Spanky’s eyes and said,
“Nobody screws with my kid.” He moved to block Spanky from his son
and held out his fists as a warning.

Spanky was a great deal larger than Lyle’s
scruffy father. He took one hop closer and challenged him to give
him his best shot. While the two spirits took their positions, Alan
managed to avoid detection by retrieving Spanky’s figure. He held
it behind his back and waited for an opportunity to destroy it
without Spanky’s interference.

“Get him, Dad!” Lyle cheered.

Spanky looked back at Lyle. “Don’t think for
a second that you are safe. One swipe of my hand will send your
puny daddy back to the grave. You are about to pay for that
comment.”

“What did I tell you about messing with my
kid?” Lyle’s father shouted. He pulled his leg back and kicked
Spanky’s knee. Spanky folded to the floor. Lyle’s father pounced on
top of him and pounded with all his might. Spanky grabbed his arms
and Lyle’s father leaned his face down to Spanky’s chest and bit
him. Spanky screamed in pain.

With Lyle’s father unleashing a lifetime of
dirty fighting knowledge, Alan raised the small figure over his
head. Spanky looked up in horror as Alan railed it down to the
stone-top coffee table. The figure shattered and both Spanky and
Lyle’s father vanished.

Lyle looked up at Alan in amazement. “Who
are you?” he said.

Alan grinned and retrieved Lyle’s Poppy
figure from the floor. “It wasn’t really him,” he said. Lyle’s
confused expression asked Alan to elaborate. “Your father. It
couldn’t really be him. I think Poppy has the ability to show him
the way you remember him.”