Claire looked around too. “Of course not. We pull in a lot of people from the surrounding region. Plus, this is the end of the season for all the lumber crews and gold miners; we’ll soon have winter coming, and most people will leave and the place will go back to normal. We’re lucky we’re not a ski resort. There are also a lot of students from the university over in the next county.”
“And that’s one of the reasons I like this place. Small, calm, and quiet.”
“Mostly. Well, I’m heading back to our place with all these bags, and then it’s time for supper. I figure my old man will be home soon, and I have to take Winston out on his afternoon roll.”
Christina started laughing. “I’m sorry, Claire, but I saw you and Winston once, and it looked really funny.”
“Aw, don’t worry about it. That dog has a style all his own, and I guess that’s we love him and spoil him so much. Well, time for me to go…and if you guys want to catch up with Robert and Blake, you might want to head over to the Red Barn. Soon there’ll be line dancing and all, I think.”
Claire said goodbye and headed home, while Christina and Tammy headed towards the barn. They passed several cages containing wild circus animals, a few with handlers giving lectures to a crowd of people.
“Lousy way to treat animals. Just look at them, Tammy. The tigers and the mountain lions and all the other animals in those tiny little cages—what a horrible thing to do.”
“You’re right. They should put the handlers in the cages instead. Come on, let’s get away from all this misery.”
“Makes you think about the old Planet of the Apes movies, where they put people in cages.”
“Yeah, you’d like to be put in a cage, wouldn’t you? Damn, it stinks here, let’s get going. Fuckers should at least clean the cages,” Tammy muttered.
“Come on, let’s hurry. I think I just felt some rain.”
The cloud formation so many had hoped would remain in the distance had appeared overhead as if from nowhere, and with it came a strong wind. The entire region was soon engulfed in darkness.
Nero—no longer Ted Hagglund—had his back turned when he overheard the girls talking. He had seen Christina before they had got too close, and turned away. He nodded, agreeing with what he had overheard; and then he looked at the three handlers talking to the crowd, trying to sell tickets for a circus in the state capital next weekend.
The look on his face wasn’t a very friendly one.
Suddenly a giant fireball lit the night in the distance, accompanied a second later by an explosion as much felt as heard. It came from one of the parking lots, and was followed by a thick wreath of smoke blowing in from town. At nearly the same time a lightning bolt struck, lighting up the entire region, followed by rumbling thunder; seconds later, it started to drizzle. A fight became audible in the parking lot, and it soon became obvious that there was some kind of melee occurring in the strip of forest separating the town and the fairgrounds. A good number of civilians tried their best to help the police break up the fighting, but there were too many civilians who seemed to take pleasure in the violence.
Under cover of the distraction, Nero stalked to the temporary railing and climbed over. He went straight for the nearest cage, smashed off the padlock with the hammer in his back pocket, and flung the door open. The puma prowling the limited space looked at him speculatively and sniffed the air, then leaped out. For a long moment, the animal curled up under the moving cage, frightened by all the people and by the one human who smelled so much like a predator; but eventually the big cat gathered his courage and took off into the forest behind the cages, followed by a female puma, who leaped more confidently from the next cage. Nero smiled, then he went on to the third cage as a large, ugly two-legged female shouted to the handlers and pointed at Nero. One handler, a big bald man who thought fat was just as good as muscle, realized what he was doing and hurried towards him, shouting for him to stop. He grabbed Nero’s forearm; Nero gave him a bitter smile and then clocked him with the hammer, leaving him unconscious and with a half-dozen fewer teeth. The other two handlers charged Nero, but when they saw he’d opened up the cages containing the matched pair of white tigers, they stopped and turned around, running for their lives. They knew the tigers wouldn’t forgive them for the indignities they’d visited upon them over the years. The tigers weren’t afraid, unlike the mountain lions, and had no intention of fleeing into the forest for the moment; when they saw the backs of their tormentors, that was all they needed.
Feeding time.
The animals mostly ignored Nero, though one of the huge cats ran his head over Nero’s chest in gratitude; and then the hunt was on. Grinning, Nero opened all the rest of the cages and walked casually away as a lion, a pair of timber wolves, and, ironically enough, a grizzly bear charged into the crowd.
A woman screamed, and then, like a tidal wave, people began scattering in all directions, knocking over the elderly, young, and unprepared, and tramping them underfoot. Then there were guns fired in the distance, followed by shouts and screams of terror; and after that, the crowd really panicked, making everything worse. The fighting in the parking lot had escalated into a riot. Civilians, lumberjacks, miners, bikers, hippies; everyone fought everyone. Some people tried to calm the situation, but soon found themselves fighting too. A Swedish exchange student ran around in a blue and yellow T-shirt with the letters Made in Sweden on it above the Swedish flag, dancing in the rain, shouting for people to think of peace, love, and understanding. “We are all Muslims!” he shouted, taking some hits on a pipe, dancing with other hippies who did the same.
A dozen or so of the couples fighting—lumberjacks, bikers, and miners, mostly—immediately stopped fighting, turning their heads simultaneously to stare at the confused Swede, who just repeated his words, smiling lovingly with his arms outstretched. On his chest was a patch from his political party, the Green Party. “Stop all the fighting and love everyone, because we are all Muslims here!” he proclaimed.
A bit farther away, a TV reporter, feeling almost deliriously happy at this turn of events, stood in the center of the melee, reporting live on what had once been a boring human interest event -– a punishment after pissing off her manager—and had now become national news. “From what we hear,” she said excitedly, “this all began when police shot at several protesters in this stretch of woods.” The reporter turned her body, pointing into the forest, which stood out starkly against a backdrop of smoke and flames. The cameraman moved with the reporter, who talked straight into the camera, feeding the public all kinds of misinformation about how the peaceful civilians had been assaulted by local authorities. Three people emerged from the forest; two of them carried a woman between them. She was injured, with blood oozing from her shoulder.
The reporter saw her chance, and hurried to the three people, but had to stop in her track. A young man with a T-shirt proclaiming Made in Sweden sprinted past her and the cameraman, pursued by a crowd of some twenty bikers, lumberjacks, and others, all shouting for blood. Once the train of people had passed, she was able to reach the stragglers from the forest.
“So, tell us what’s happened here, is it true that the police are shooting unarmed civilians?”
“What the fuck does it look like, man? They’re shooting everyone, fucking cops going Terminator on everyone’s asses!”
They brushed the reporter away and hurried forward. A shout for them to get the hell out of the way made the reporter and her cameraman turn one-eighty. The people who had chased the confused guy with the Swedish T-shirt ran for their lives back the way they’d come, followed by the Swede, and behind him came over a dozen police officers in many different uniforms, hunting down the civilians. Anyone who got in the way got his or her head mashed, or was wrestled to the ground and arrested on the spot.
“George, tell me you’re getting this!”
“Sure am, Amy, sure am…now what the fuck?”
George looked away from his camera, still pointing it a
t the action.
“What, George?”
“Just look!… What is all this, a fucking Monty Python skit?”
Running back were the police who had just passed them, followed by the confused Swede, and behind him came the lumberjacks, miners, and bikers, all running for their lives. Amy scratched the back of her head, and George only shook his. Amy took her place facing the camera, then suddenly froze.
George looked up from the viewer and said, “Now what?”
Amy’s expression made him turn around with the camera, and just then he caught the perfect picture of a huge white tiger with a bloody mouth and long fangs descending from the sky.
The picture, which was still feeding back to the national hub in Atlanta via satellite, went black.
* * * * *
NERO TOSSED a roll of bills and a bottle of whiskey to the young man, who just smiled mischievously. He then took center stage. He raised his arms, looked down with closed eyes, and as the music started to play, he began moving his arms like a professional Kapellmeister. The music and lyrics of Ludwig van Beethoven’s finest work, Ode to Joy, rumbled from the enormous speakers, intermingled with the sound of thunder and powerful ripping roars from the tigers followed by some fireworks; and, as icing on the cake, there came a powerful wind with heavy raindrops falling hard and torrentially.
* * * * *
“OKAY, GUYS, here’s our ride, be quick,” Peter ordered the girls.
Kevin pulled up to the side of the stage in Christina’s new truck. The girls and Peter ran towards the truck, and of course Christina slipped on the muddy ground and fell headfirst—nothing new. She got up with the help of Peter, while her best friend laughed like crazy.
When Christina looked up, she noticed the bizarre event taking place on the stage. She was too far away to see the face of the person who stood there like an idiot, waving his arms as if he were truly conducting Beethoven, but there was something familiar about him. He had at least one fan; a very drunk man stood on the field near where Christina had slipped, shouting, “I love Miley Cyrus! More, baby, more!” He finished by taking a gulp from his moonshine jar.
For a moment, Christina could have sworn the man on the stage had looked at her and made eye contact, and then bowed his head towards her. Peter got ahold on her arm more firmly and almost carried her to her truck, even as she kept looking back. They took off slowly, making sure they didn’t hit anyone. In the chaos they saw Robert, Pat, and Blake running through the chaos. “Pick ‘em up, Kevin,” she shouted.
Kevin laid on the horn and whistled sharply to get their attention, then shouted, “Get in the back!”
All three ran to the truck. A few other guys tried to climb in the back, and Peter had to get outside and pull them off the truck. “You, Pat, get in my seat, and you guys join me here in the back,” Peter ordered.
“Robert, tell them about the shortcut, the rabbit trail,” Blake shouted, while climbing into the truck bed.
“There’s a shortcut through the forest not too far from here,” Robert shouted to Peter.
“Right. Try and get in with your sister and show Kevin the way.”
But the truck cab was too crowded. “Let me out,” Tammy shouted, and forced herself outside. Before Peter could object, Blake lifted her up into the back and deposited her in his lap. Robert got inside, while Peter had to punch a guy to keep him from climbing onto the truck; he then climbed up as Kevin started to drive. Kevin laid on the horn and shouted for people to get back, even as the crowd got increasingly hysterical.
Robert told Kevin where to drive, and after what seemed forever, he turned into the forest behind the stage and pulled away from the town. The truck jumped and jerked all over, and the people on the back of the truck had to hold on for dear life. Tammy and Blake mostly held on to each other. Kevin slammed on the brakes when a huge mountain lion suddenly appeared on the trail before them, its eyes shining like tiny suns in the light of the headlamps. After snarling in their direction, it took off into the deep forest, gunning for freedom. Kevin flipped on the roof spotlights, and the wooded path lit up brightly.
They left the fairgrounds behind them while people continued to panic, shriek, and ran for cover, then running for cover again when their cover was rendered inadequate or invaded by too many other idiots.
It was a historic first day of the Skull Creek Fall Festival.
* * * * *
AFTER DRIVING for quite a while, they reached a clearing; from there, a normal, narrow forest road took them to the outskirts of Skull Creek. By then, the traffic was massive in all directions, and red, blue, and yellow emergency lights flashed everywhere. They went off-road again, behind a large parking lot that was filling up as people pulled over to get out of the traffic and calm their nerves. In the center of the huge parking lot was a large building.
“That’s a bar called Lumberjacks, and it’ll be jammed-packed by now.” Blake pointed at the building.
“So that’s where you were going tonight,” Tammy shouted innocently over the roar of the engine and the storm.
“No, not tonight. Maybe day after tomorrow, the last night of the fair, it’s usually the best night. I’m going with a bunch of friends for the last river rafting of the year tomorrow morning, early.”
“Rafting this time of the year?”
“Yes. No tourists. My buddy owns one of the tourist traps up the mountain, and they take tourists rafting all the time. But now the season has ended, so it’ll only be us locals; it’s a tradition. You and your friend should come.”
“I’d love to. Let me talk to Christina.” Tammy gave Blake a seductive smile, licking her lips as he looked away.
They parked behind Hancock Tool Supply, and Robert knocked on the back door. Frank opened up and looked at the dirty truck, grinning. “Been mudding, I see.”
“Yeah, something like that. Things have been crazy as hell. We’ll tell you a little more in a minute. Is it ok for us to hang here until the chaos on the roads calm down?”Frank looked at the crowd gathering outside in the rain, and nodded in consent. Soon everyone was in the living room. A nice, hot fire burned in the large fireplace; Claire handed out towels, and made some coffee and hot chocolate. Nugget and Hunter ran around, doing their best to greet everyone and to steal attention while being petted. Winston, however, lay half sitting on his back, with his fat belly protruding, in his favorite armchair, staring at everyone suspiciously. Since no one bothered to give him any treats, he eventually fell asleep, snoring in front of the fireplace.
As they settled in and Robert spoke to Frank and Claire in concerned tones, Tammy took Christina to the bathroom to freshen up, and told her about the river rafting trip. They agreed to go, but decided they had to get Robert to go with them. The question was, how?
The solution appeared when Pat knocked on the bathroom door.
Later, Pat walked over to her brother and whispered something in his ear. He listened, then he shook his head no. Pat persisted, but Robert was stubborn. More than once he glanced at Blake, who gravely returned the stare.
“So, are you coming with us tomorrow?” Tammy suddenly asked Robert from where she stood next to Blake.
There was an odd tension in the room, and a uncomfortable silence. Christina kept to the back, in the kitchen with Claire; she asked her something, and Claire nodded at a nicely decorated clay pot with a lid. She got a dog treat from the clay pot and walked over to Winston and held the treat under his nose. Suddenly Winston’s eyes opened, with a sigh from the king of the house. Finally, a treat. Why he put up with these substandard servants he didn’t know, except they had thumbs and he didn’t. Christina waved it in front of him for a while, tormenting him, and then to his horror and aggravation, tossed it on the floor. Why, that woman—!
A normal dog would have gotten up and lunged for it, but Winston was anything but normal. Instead, he let out another put-upon sigh and leaned back in his seat, shutting his eyes. Nugget, getting attention from Frank and knowing better than t
o go for the treat, remained by him, being petted. Hunter, however, seriously wanted the treat, and went for it. With his eyes still closed, Winston snarled as Hunter got too close; and when he took it tentatively in his mouth, there was a loud bark. Winston stood on all fours in his seat, barking ferociously, until Hunter dropped the treat and slowly backed away, whining, with his tail between his legs. They all knew who was Alpha here! Winston then stared at Christina, his eyes boring into hers demandingly. For some reason, this scenario made the atmosphere lighten up and everyone laughed.
Tammy repeated herself. “So, Robert, you coming too?”
Robert didn’t answer.
“Christina wants you to come. Come on, man, what do you say?”
Blake’s arm had found itself around Tammy’s shoulders, and she had moved closer to Blake. Christina rolled her eyes, then heard Robert rumble, “You killed my dog.”
Frank said in the background, “Oh jeez, here we go again.”
Claire, in a friendly voice but with iron in her tone, “Now boys, if you’re going to fight, do it outside.”
“It was an accident…” Blake stopped in the middle of the sentence and walked straight over to Robert. Hunter and Nugget sensed the tension in the room and sat up, staring in silence; Winston just glared at Christina, then looked at his treat on the ground. She kneeled and picked it up. Blake whispered something to Robert, and after a while they finally shook hands, to everyone’s joy—except for Winston, who didn’t give a damn. He was busy staring at the mean woman with his treat. You just couldn’t find good help these days.
“Okay, I’ll go,” Robert announced.
Christina had her back turned, still kneeling; she smiled and finally gave Winston his treat. He gladly took it from her, crunched it up, and then went back to sleep.
“You’re to going need some gear,” Frank said happily.
“Yeah, but this time, I’ll pay for it, Frank,” Christina vowed.
The Lumberjack Page 28
