by Alex Jameson
“Yes. I think that’s very strange.”
Everything about this situation was strange. Somewhere in the distance, Sam could have sworn he heard someone let out a whoop. He glanced again at Jake, this time widening his eyes as if to say, Well?
Jake shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. Sam understood; there were too many other factors at play. The van was too conspicuous. The others were probably not far away. And they’d be stealing a van from a group of lunatics, which in general is not the greatest idea.
“Guys?”
“Yes, Brian.” Jeez, this kid had been so quiet when everyone else was in the car.
“Are you really like them? You know… do you enjoy hurting people?”
Sam heard it again; a whoop, somewhere in the woods, closer this time and followed by laughter. It was now or never. If he was going to make a move for the driver’s seat, he’d have to do it quickly.
“No, Brian. We don’t enjoy hurting people,” Jake said.
“Then why do you do it?”
His question made Sam pause. He looked from Jake to Brian, who pushed his glasses up his nose. He seemed sincere.
Sam shook his head. “We don’t. We don’t hurt people… at least not innocent ones.”
Brian nodded. “That’s good.” He shifted so he was facing forward in his seat again. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the others.”
Sam whipped his head to the side when he heard crunching leaves and footfalls behind them. Three figures broke through the trees toward the glow of the streetlights, laughing and panting. Eric held an aluminum baseball bat. Janet had a length of wood that looked like a broken ax handle. Biggie was unarmed, but as they got closer, Sam could see there was something smeared across his knuckles.
Blood.
“Hey, mornin’ sunshine,” Eric said breathlessly, grinning at Sam.
“Hey,” Sam scrutinized the three. “Where the hell were you guys?”
“Saw some clowns,” he jerked a thumb in the direction of the trees behind them. “We chased them into the woods. There were like, six of them, all together. They tried to freak us out, but then Biggie—”
“Pow!” Biggie swung a fist in an arc through the air. “Right in the jaw.”
“They ran. We chased them for a while,” Janet said simply. “It was just for a laugh.”
“Just for a laugh.” Sam mused, climbing back into the van.
“Hey, chill man,” Eric cut in. “I thought you were into all this.”
“Hey, man,” Sam mocked, “I’m into getting to Columbus. That’s what I’m into.”
“Jeez,” Biggie muttered. “Major buzzkill.”
“Come on,” Janet said, “we still have to find a gas station.”
As the others piled back into the van, Jake leaned in close to Sam. “Hey, look, this irks me too, but we need the ride.”
Sam ran a hand over his face, trying to keep his cool.
“These people are… Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we should get out and take our chances.”
“You know we can handle ourselves if something goes down with them—” his brother pointed out.
“I know, but I already don’t trust any clowns, and now I’m starting not to trust regular people, too.”
Jake shrugged. “They’re just a bunch of idiots that like to beat on clowns. We’re not clowns.”
“I get that. I just think we need to be careful. No more naps. No more stops. We get where we’re going, and we lose them.”
“Agreed.”
The van pulled away from the curb. The silence inside only lasted a few minutes; in short order the three in the front two rows of seats were again laughing and joking and talking over each other.
“How ‘bout that one with the blood oozing out of his mouth?”
“Oh, yeah, he was fucking scary—”
“Good thing Biggie dropped him quick. I thought I’d piss myself—”
Sam sat quietly in the back, hugging the tact bag on his lap. In front of him, Brian fooled around on a smart phone. They found a gas station, filled up, and headed back onto the highway.
“Just a little over an hour until Columbus,” Biggie announced, eliciting a series of whoops, hoots, and laughs.
“Uh, guys?” Brian said. It was lost among the louder voices. “Hey, guys? You should really see this…”
“Hey!” Sam shouted. “Shut up a second!”
Silence fell over the van immediately.
“Uh, thanks,” Brian said. “Listen, I was just poking around online, and people are talking about some massive clown gathering that’s going down on Mischief Night.”
“Mischief Night? That’s the night of Halloween, right?” Biggie asked.
“No, idiot, that’s the night before Halloween,” Janet chided.
“Right,” Brian confirmed. “It’s happening in a place called Kingston, North Carolina.”
Jake turned in his seat and raised an eyebrow at Sam, who gave him a small nod back.
“Kingston… Why does that sound familiar?” Eric asked.
Brian fiddled with his phone, his thumbs moving swiftly over the screen. “Uh… wow. Okay. That’s where the first clown murder took place.”
Eric let out a low whistle. “They’ve got balls, I’ll give ‘em that. How big is massive?”
Brian shook his head. “Nobody’s saying, but there seem to be a lot of people interested in it. It’s on a couple of news sites… and apparently the Kingston police have already issued a statement that they would be out in full-force, arresting anyone in clown costumes—”
“Which is only going to make more people want to do it,” Janet added.
“Shit, guys!” Eric exclaimed. “We should go there! That’s in… what, two nights? Let’s do it!”
“If you think about it, we have to do it,” Biggie said. “I mean, we’d be helping out the cops, right? Doing our… whatcha call it… civic duty,” he grinned in the rearview.
It worked, Sam thought. He wasn’t sure it would, but if these idiots saw it, chances were good that lots of other people had, too.
The others chatted excitedly with each other about what they were now calling the “clown rally.” Sam took the opportunity to lean forward and tap Brian on the shoulder. “Hey. Why’d you tell them about that?”
“Huh?”
“You said you weren’t into all this. Why would you tell them about it?”
“Oh, I meant that I don’t like to do it myself,” Brian said candidly. He looked Sam right in the eye. “But sometimes I like to watch.”
Sam leaned back in his seat. A small shiver went up his spine.
There was definitely something wrong with these people.
PART IV:
CLOWNS TO THE LEFT OF ME
JOKERS TO THE RIGHT
“I’m every nightmare you’ve ever had. I am your worst dreams come true! I’m everything you ever were afraid of.”
– Pennywise, It
CHAPTER 30
* * *
By October twenty-eighth, there were more than a hundred anti-clown groups in the continental United States alone. They ranged from student coalitions patrolling their college campuses with stern warnings for anyone dressed in clown getup, to overzealous rednecks in pickups outfitted with gun racks and rail lights, parking in semicircles near woods and playgrounds with their high beams on, chasing clowns on four-wheelers, and in a few rare cases, shooting at them.
The clowns responded in kind. Where there once might have been one or two, there were now a dozen or more at a time, and they no longer stuck to the shadows. They infiltrated city squares, downtowns, and entertainment districts. The threats were no longer idle; they dared people to start something, and they armed themselves appropriately.
Most cities and towns cancelled trick-or-treating. Those that didn’t regretted it, as children and parents alike were chased off the streets. Many municipalities instituted a mandatory curfew, or made dressing as a clown a punishable offense, but that did
n’t really deter anyone. The more taboo “clowning” became, the more illegal, the more people wanted to do it. Professional entertainers and circus performers held protests, claiming that a ban on clown costumes was unconstitutional. The slogan “Clowns Lives Matter” made national headlines.
As Mischief Night approached, the Department of Homeland Security, as well as law enforcement around the country, became increasingly nervous. What was apparently going to happen in Kingston was not an isolated event. Several major cities and dozens of towns faced the looming danger of an overpopulation of clowns in their streets on the night of the thirtieth. Anonymous threats came in by phone, email, and social media to schools, city halls, police departments, news and radio stations, and even churches that they would see vandalism, violence, riots and looting.
Even worse was that the Clown Killer was still at large and still active. The general population had only a blurry video to hint at his identity. Hundreds upon hundreds of calls came into 911 call centers and police stations from people who claimed they had seen him. Short, chubby, bald men with beards were placed under “citizen’s arrest” or accosted in the streets, accounting for no fewer than a dozen hospitalizations nationwide.
A candidate in the upcoming presidential election attempted to take advantage of the chaos, claiming he would make being a clown illegal in the US. But no one was paying attention. If you weren’t a clown or a clown hunter, you were too busy staying indoors in a desperate attempt at safety. Even that didn’t last, as clowns stalked backyards, hurled bricks through windows, and in some places, broke into homes while people slept.
Conspiracy theorists took to the web to speculate that the government was actually behind this, as a distraction to take the people’s mind off of what was happening elsewhere. If that were truly the case, it was working. No one seemed to be paying attention to the election, or the economy, or international affairs. It didn’t matter what was happening in Iran or Syria or France or Ukraine. There was a war at home, a civil war, and even though no one really knew why it was being fought or what was at stake, everyone was scared.
The entire country was losing its mind.
***
The phone buzzed angrily from the bedside table. He groaned and checked the small digital clock. He hadn’t even been asleep two hours.
“Reidigger,” he answered groggily.
“Uh, Agent Reidigger? With the Department of Homeland Security?” He didn’t recognize the guy’s voice.
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
The man identified himself as a lieutenant with the police department in Columbus. He’d been given this number to call if there was a clown-related murder.
There’d been a clown-related murder.
In Columbus.
“Oh, shit.”
Reidigger leapt out of bed.
“Sir?”
The director was going to have his head for this.
“Um… I’ll be there as soon as I can. Three hours. No, make that two. No one touches anything.”
“Alright, sir… I mean, we’re in the process of moving the body now… it’s on a sidewalk, for God’s sake…”
“Fine. Text the exact address of the scene to this number,” he hung up, still in his clothes.
Fumbling with his shoes, the weary agent threw on his jacket and stuffed his tie in a pocket. Once he was on the highway, he sped up to about a hundred and ten, heading northeast. He might get pulled over, but he’d just flash his badge. He’d done it before.
He tried to call Cole, but it went straight to voicemail. He really hoped she was on a plane.
***
Agent Cole nestled further into the seat and pulled an eye-mask down from her forehead. After her last conversation with Reidigger, she hadn’t been able to sleep, so she’d gone straight to Charlotte Douglas International Airport and was fortunate to catch a red-eye to CMH in Ohio. A flash of the badge and a black credit card later and she’d secured a first-class seat. The job did have its occasional perks. She settled in as the plane taxied down the runway, intent on getting a couple hours’ sleep before having to deal with Reidigger and whatever else was going to be thrown their way.
CHAPTER 31
* * *
Columbus, Ohio
“So where do we go now?” Sue asked.
They’d entered the city proper and were headed toward what appeared to be downtown, and on a Friday, no less, but the place was a ghost town. There was practically no one on the streets.
“I’m n-not sure yet,” Harlan twitched.
You’re here. She got you where you needed to go.
“Well, you must have some criteria or something,” she said.
Now get rid of her.
“Wh-what?”
“Criteria, for victims. I know, clowns… and according to what I’ve read, you seem to do things pretty randomly,” she said. “But still, you must have some sort of rules or parameters you follow, right?”
“Y-yes.”
Protect the children. Send a message.
“So… you care to share them?”
“Just d-drive. I’ll tell you when t-to stop.”
He needed to find a place that he could get away from her easily, get lost in the shadows.
She sighed. “You know, I assumed we’d see a few by now. I expected, I don’t know, clowns on every corner or something.” She perked up again and smiled at him. “So how are you going to do it?”
You have to get rid of her.
“Do you plan it out ahead of time, or do you just kind of go with the flow?”
Now.
She took her hands off the wheel to clap twice and squealed. “Oh, this is so exciting!”
They rolled to a stop at a red light. He could jump out now, make a run for it. He had his scissors in one pocket and sunglasses in the other. He could run… but she had a car. She could chase him. She might be faster than him, even on foot. He found himself… afraid of her. What she might do.
The light turned green. He’d lost his opportunity. It was okay. There would be other lights. He could still do it—
Suddenly Sue sucked in a breath. She jerked the car off the street and threw it in park. “Oh, there’s one! There’s one!”
“Where?”
“Behind us!” She bounced a little in her seat, excited.
He glanced in the side mirror, and saw it. A clown, walking hurriedly down the street in white face makeup. A black nose. A black-and-white coxcomb on its head. It looked like it was heading somewhere quickly—perhaps to meet up with other clowns.
“What do we do?” she asked eagerly.
Harlan stared at her blankly. “N-nothing.”
She frowned. “Nothing? What do you mean, nothing? That’s the first one we’ve seen all night! We might not get another chance!”
We?
Harlan shook his head. How could he explain his mission to her? He couldn’t. She wouldn’t understand.
You need to get away, Kidd.
Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Well… can’t we at least scare him or something? Run him off?”
“I…” Harlan thought about it for a moment. Maybe there was another way to get away from her. “Y-yeah, scare him. You d-do it. I’ll watch.”
Her eyes lit up again. “Okay. Let me think a second… Ah! I got it. Just watch.”
She left the keys in the ignition and the car running, popped the trunk, and jumped out. A moment later he heard her rummaging in the trunk.
As it approached the car, he heard Sue call out. “Excuse me! Excuse me, um, sir?”
The clown paused, confused. Harlan couldn’t see Sue; she was obscured by the open trunk, but he could see the clown in the side mirror as it faced her. He rolled down his window just a few inches, curious and frightened and anxious all at the same time.
“Hi, yeah. Listen, I just got a flat tire, and I can’t get this jack out of my trunk… can you help me please?” Sue’s voice dripped with innocence.
“Uh… no, I don’t. Should I?”
The clown scoffed. “Get lost, lady.”
“I am lost. That’s part of the problem. And now my tire… look, I can change it, if you just help me get this thing out. Please?”
The clown rolled its eyes and scoffed. “For Christ’s sake… I can’t believe… move.” He stepped behind the car so that Harlan couldn’t see him anymore. “Well, of course you can’t get it out! You have to take off this wing-nut first—”
Crack!
He didn’t see it, but he heard the sound of steel on bone. He heard Sue gasp. Then he saw the clown staggering toward the sidewalk on its hands and feet. She’d knocked its hat off, and it bled amply from the forehead.
“Wh… what the f-fuck, lady…” it muttered, trying to scramble away.
Then Sue was in the side mirror too, wielding a two-foot piece of steel—the jack handle. One hand was over her mouth.
“Oh my God… Oh, jeez… I didn’t mean for that to happen, John, I swear…” she babbled. “I just got excited… what do I do? Tell me what to do! Oh, God…”
The clown crawled a few more feet. She stepped over to him and raised the jack handle. “Should I…? I mean… oh, Christ.”
She was being too loud. Too out in the open. Too blatant. Above them on both sides, lights in apartments clicked on. A block up the street, a young couple backed away from the glow of a streetlight, eyes wide in fear.
I hate to say I told you so, Kidd… but she’s a psycho. Get out of here. Right now.
Sue was caught in some sort of state of ambivalence, between raising the jack handle as if she was going to strike the clown again, and lowering it and muttering about what she’d just done. This was his chance. He scrambled over the center console, snagging his shirt on the emergency brake. He squeezed into the driver’s seat—it was tight, too far up.
