The Guild of Fallen Clowns (49 page)

Instantly following the figures, the three
men previously standing in front of Alan and his two friends came
into her view from mid-room as their bodies flew over Alan, Cracky,
and Lyle’s ducking heads. The mirrored wall rippled as their bodies
passed through without reflection. Alan, Cracky, and Lyle jumped
forward and turned as they watched the men fade into the dark depth
beyond the surface.

Without hesitation, two of the Guild clowns
inside the mirrors roped Cracky with their lassoes as the third
lassoed Lyle. With a tug, their ropes pulled Cracky and Lyle’s arms
to their sides. Lyle’s captor dug his oversized blue shoes into the
ground and dragged Lyle’s struggling body around the room to the
right side of Dale. He pulled in the slack and tied Lyle upright to
a panel.

Cracky’s struggle was more difficult for his
two-clown team to overcome. Six more Guild clowns rushed to their
aid. They twisted the two ropes together and lined up like they
were having a tug of war, the plane of the mirrors acting as a
centerline. They proceeded to drag Cracky around the opposite side
of the room, where they tied him upright to the left of Joe.

Alan glanced back in the mirrors, searching
the empty mirrors for Guild clowns who would rope and pull him with
the others. He returned his focus forward to see Peepers release
his death grip on Dale before stepping to his side. Peepers folded
his arms over his chest and stared back at Alan.

The volume notched up. The mob of Guild
clowns began clapping in unison as they hooted and whistled. Their
heads all turned toward the center, to the mirror behind
Ringmaster. They shifted to the sides, opening a four-foot-wide
path.

All eyes watched as a figure began to appear
from the darkness. It was another Peepers. He moved through the
mirror’s surface and stood behind Ringmaster, where he paused and
looked down at the obstacle in front of him. His right foot rose
and rested on the back of Ringmaster’s chair. Ringmaster shuddered
from the vibration on his back. Peepers glared back at Alan and
grinned wide. Then, with a sudden shove of Peepers’ leg, the bound
Ringmaster was propelled face first to the floor. From behind the
gag, muffled pain echoed as his body and chair tipped to the side.
Blood dripped from his nostrils.

Peepers stepped through the opening between
Dale and Joe. Still blocked by Ringmaster’s new position, he
lowered his eyes. Through tear-glazed eyes, Ringmaster looked up,
his body convulsing as he fought to suck sufficient air to support
his racing heart through the blood- and saliva-soaked gag. Peepers
inhaled slow and deep. Then he placed one foot to the side of
Ringmaster and effortlessly flung him like a hockey puck across the
floor. The two Peepers laughed as Ringmaster’s knees smacked into
the mirrored side wall. Instinctive moans of empathy briefly
preceded the gallery’s sick display of enjoyment over Ringmaster’s
suffering.

The newly emerged Peepers returned his glare
on Alan, while the one attached to his brother watched from Dale’s
side.

Alan stepped forward. “Let them go. It’s me
you want. Do what you want with me. Please, just let them go. They
didn’t do anything to you.”

Peepers laughed, sparking a chain reaction
from the Guild. Dale’s Peepers allowed them ten seconds of shared
amusement before calmly motioning them to quiet down.

“You bargain with nothing. Alan
weak—powerless—like them,” Peepers scoffed.

Alan realized Peepers was right. He had
nothing to offer Peepers in return for their freedom. However, he
couldn’t give up. “We’ve proven that we can destroy you. We killed
two of your…other…yous,” Alan stammered.

“Ha! Cannot kill what is dead,” Peepers
mocked. “You destroy copies. Peepers does not need copies in
Labyrinth. Human cannot destroy Peepers. Only Peepers can destroy
self, cast from Labyrinth.” He turned and laughed. His Guild
joined.

Again, Alan was at a loss. Peepers had first
appeared to him before he sculpted and cast his figure. As the two
Peepers and the Guild mocked Alan’s empty threat, Alan noticed his
brother Dale shimmy down in his chair, lunging his head forward. He
was trying to tell him something, but Alan couldn’t decipher his
clues.

Alan shrugged.
Maybe he’s trying to warn
me
, he thought.
Or maybe he’s trying to tell me to run for
the exit while I still can.
This wouldn’t work because the door
locked behind them when they moved into the room.

To be sure, Alan turned. As he did, he
discovered four Guild clowns in the mirrors behind him. Upon being
discovered, they smiled and unfurled long colorful silk scarves
into the room. With their hands clutching one end of the fabric
strips, the other ends floated around his body, then back into the
mirrors. Alan tried to escape the trap by spinning around and
pulling at the slick material, but they clung tight and didn’t
allow him to slip free. Peepers faced him, and with one hand, he
pushed the air forward, sending Alan’s body against the mirrors.
Two Guild members in each side mirror held tight on his reins.

Peepers unsheathed his black sword and
floated across the room, stopping only inches in front of him. He
looked down in contempt as Alan struggled to get free.

Alan’s head snapped up. His icy glare
pierced the depth of Peepers’ soulless black orbs. “Is this what
you did in life as the Happy Clown Killer?” Alan scolded. “Yeah,
that’s right. I know who you are.”

Peepers stood confident and grinned. “Yes,
yes

now share knowledge with them.” His
arms flared out to waist level with his palms up as he turned to
face Alan’s brother and friends. “Tell them Peepers’ plan. Tell of
Happy Clown’s reign of terror. Bring fear to faces with details of
my work.” With his back to Alan, Peepers basked in the growing
horror in the faces of his soon to be six-course meal.

“No, Peepers, that’s not what I meant. I
know who
you
are, Peepers. I know
your
deepest,
darkest secret. You are a coward. You’re the worst kind of
coward.”

Peepers’ body jerked around. His giant black
clown nostrils flared from his angered breath.

“You’re the one who’s afraid, Peepers,” Alan
continued. “Everything scares you. That’s why you prey on people
with fears. You’re trying to kill your own. You’re nothing but a
psychopath coward who masks his own fears with the blood and terror
of others. You are weak! You are constantly searching for someone
weaker than yourself to give your existence meaning. And with every
life you take, you become weaker. So go ahead, Peepers. Kill me.
Take the life of another defenseless person, tied to a wall and
outmatched by your immortality and the blade of your sword. Run me
through, you frightened coward! Go on! Do it. Take another step
toward hell, asshole!”

Enraged over Alan’s insolence, Peepers
growled as he turned. His growl amplified like an approaching
locomotive along with the speed of his three-sixty rotation. At his
peek of aggression, both his movement and thundering roar abruptly
ended with a loud grunt. Frozen in a crouched position, he locked
eyes with Alan’s. His sword hand was outstretched, its tip touching
the floor at Alan’s side. Alan glanced down. Blood wicked through
the fabric, quickly swallowing in red of the costume’s multicolored
landscape.

Alan’s knees buckled. The Guild clowns gave
slack to the silk restraints, allowing him to slump to the floor.
With both hands, he squeezed the five-inch gash midway on his right
thigh.

“Spirit of messenger return,” Peepers said.
He straightened his lanky frame over Alan and raised the tip of his
sword to his own mouth so could taste the blood.

The music playing through the speakers
abruptly stopped, interrupting Peepers from sampling Alan’s life
energy. He looked up to the scorched shreds of black ceiling fabric
barely concealing the darkened structure above. An unfamiliar
mellow tune blared at full volume.

Isn’t it bliss?

Don’t you approve?

Both of the Peepers moved and spun with
their heads, searching to the ceiling, trying to see who was
responsible for the music.

One who keeps tearing around.

One who can’t move.

“It’s the girl,” Dale’s Peepers shouted.

But where are the clowns?

Send in the clowns.

Send in the clowns.

Send in the clowns.

The last statement was locked in a loop,
continuously replaying as something started happening all around
the mirrored walls of the room. A fleet of tiny vehicles appeared
to drive toward the surface of the mirrors, in the unoccupied
three-quarters of the room’s circumference. As each parked,
normal-looking clowns started exiting the vehicles. One after
another, clowns flowed from the vehicles, quickly outnumbering the
Guild clowns in the space. The creepy clowns securing Alan with
scarves felt the pressure of the threatening force amassing around
them. They dropped the scarves and screamed as they ran into the
depths of the mirrors.

Both Peepers looked back to the remaining
Guild members. The clowns continued to grow in number, squeezing
the Guild into a tight ball of creepiness. One out front bent down
and crawled away between the legs of the others.

“They do not exist!” Peepers yelled. The
Guild ignored him, becoming more and more frightened. The new
clowns ganged up to within inches of the Guild, taunting and
threatening them with clenched fists and fighting gestures. Two
more caved under the pressure and fled.

Alan used the distraction to wrap his wound
with one of the discarded scarves. He wasn’t sure what was
happening, but he knew the clowns were there to help.

Four more Guild clowns escaped and the
remaining group appeared to be on the verge of fleeing as their
numbers continued to dwindle.

“No! You must stay!” Peepers screamed. “This
is trick.” Both Peepers moved to the sides of the room. Dale’s
Peepers rammed his fist through the surface into the chest of a
clown. His target instantly disappeared, replaced with the
words:

YOU LOSE!

Please try your luck again in:

CLOWN WORLD.

“Mary!” Alan said to himself as he looked
up.

Peepers’ display was too late. The remaining
Guild members were already turned away, shoving and stepping over
each other in a panicked stampede for safety in the darkness.

“Enough!” Peepers barked. He shoved his
sword through a mirror and rushed around the room, slicing every
last clown in half. Their bodies faded away, each replaced with a
three-second display of the losing notice from Clown World. The
room went silent.

Peepers returned to his position in front of
Alan.

Still on the floor with his back to the
mirror, Alan looked to the ceiling. “Mary! Run, get help.”

Peepers was amused by Alan’s desperate plea
for help. “Messenger spirit no match for Peepers’ control of Alan.
Nobody in this world can save from Peepers.”

“You’re wrong, Peepers. You have no control
over me. I fell for your lies, but you never had any control over
me.”

Peepers grunted what sounded like a laugh.
“Peepers control Alan in dreams since was fatherless. Peepers
weaken body containing messenger spirit. Control Alan to make
Peepers strong.”

Alan thought he was getting better at
understanding Peepers’ broken speech, but now he felt like he was
back at square one. The only thing that made any sense to him was
the part about his dreams. Was Peepers behind his lifetime of
terrifying nightmares?

“That was your doing? You’ve been terrifying
my nights all these years? Why? Why me?” Alan said.

“McGiggles,” Peepers replied.

“McGiggles?” Alan repeated. “What the hell
is a McGiggles, some sort of Happy Meal?” Alan’s suggestion
triggered snorting laughter from the gagged Lyle across the
room.

“Peepers’ mentor, Happy McGiggles. Gift to
see powerful spirits. Use living Peepers to free from body, release
messenger spirits to McGiggles.”

“What’s that have to do with me?” Alan
asked.

“Alan, McGiggles last spirit, most powerful
of all before.”

“Wait, what? Are you saying this McGiggles
guy wants my spirit and you’re doing all of this to give it to
him?”

Frustrated, Peepers said, “McGiggles wrong!
Break at death. Peepers smarter, plan greater. Weaken mind of human
host. Use life energy of messenger spirit. Free Peepers, feed
forever.”

“You think I have some sort of powerful
spirit? And now you think I’ll help you to kill more people? No
way, I won’t do it,” Alan said.

“Ha!” Peepers barked. “Alan too late.
Peepers’ plan succeed. Peepers now take Happy McGiggles most
desire. Peepers feast your spirit.”

Peepers’ hands gripped his sword as he
slowly raised it over his head. Alan stared back defiantly as
Peepers’ back began to arch backwards until the tip of his sword
pointed directly at Dale tied up behind him.

At the peek of Peepers’ cocked position,
Dale’s head tilted down. With a quick flick of his bound hands
behind him, the only remaining sculpted figure of Peepers brushed
over his hair as it was launched through the air. The Peepers
attached to Dale reached out and evaporated in a swirl of black
smoke. The figure was out of reach as it rocketed in the direction
of Peepers’ outstretched sword. Lyle, Cracky, Joe, and Ringmaster
anxiously watched what was likely to be their last hope for
survival—Peepers destroying himself.

Peepers remained motionless as he looked
down and smirked at Alan. The airborne figure slipped more than a
foot above the blade and disappeared through a burned section of
fabric in the ceiling, where it clattered out of sight on the
catwalk above. With all hopes dashed, the heads of all but Dale
sunk in despair.