Escapees and Fevered Minds

by David Owain Hughes

  “Bah-ha-ha-ha!” Mr. Tickles bellowed, bending over and smacking one of his massive thighs with his overzealousness. “Bloody brilliant!” he said, starting to applaud. This set off the two women, who started to titter and point, causing Crystal to join in.

  “You fucks find me funny? Do I look like a goddamn clown to you lot? Do I?!”

  “You’re very good, Crystal,” Mr. Tickles said. “I didn’t see your mouth moving at all!”

  “The light is poor in here, master…” Sideshow Necrotic ribbed.

  Mr. Tickles yanked on her chain. “Silence, you insolent swine! They are our guests!” he barked.

  Sideshow Nightshade smiled and licked her lips on seeing her colleague in pain and discomfort. “Mmm,” she said, snaking her hands down her body in a sexual and sensual way.

  “Don’t be afraid, Crystal. Step forward,” the huge clown said. “You’re in safe company here.”

  Moving forward with confidence, Crystal stood before Mr. Tickles and his Sideshow counterparts. “You seem nervy on this encounter, Mr. Tickles – did my entrance alarm you?” she asked him.

  He narrowed his eyes as if to say ‘You dare call me a coward?’ “What would make you say such a thing?” he asked. “Do I seem nervous?”

  “You just don’t seem yourself. It’s hard to explain.”

  A shadow cast over her as he stepped up to her, his chest in her face.

  Harry and Crystal both looked up at the monster of a man and smiled – flickers of light danced across his freaky make-up. When he smiled, he exposed sharp, yellow teeth, but not all of them were intact – some were chipped and scuffed.

  A growl rose from his stomach and brought with it a gust of foul-smelling breath. A hint of whiskey could be detected, along with a vile odour of stale blood and sweat.

  Will you walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly…

  “Hey, fatty – do you need to stand so fucking close?!” Harry asked, prodding Mr. Tickles in his protruding gut.

  “Your lips didn’t move. No gulp or movement of the throat.”

  Crystal flushed. “I know…” is all she said.

  “What’s the deal with that doll?” he asked her as he swayed the chains to his showgirls lightly.

  “Harry’s real,” she said. “I don’t need to talk for him, as he can talk for himself.”

  A rapture of laughter burst from behind Mr. Tickles. “Silence!” he yelled, making Crystal quiver. His voice was as big as his frame. Somewhere in the distance, Crystal could hear people cheering and laughing – roller coasters whooshed and zoomed along their tracks, causing a cacophony of loud clattering sounds.

  “Are you all there in the head?” he asked.

  Crystal nodded. “Of course. If people believed, then my act would be worthless.” He raised his hands as if expecting her to hand Harry over, causing Crystal to pull back. “Nobody gets to touch or hold him.”

  “Back off, fat boy!” Harry said. “I have weapons, and I ain’t afraid to use them!”

  Mr. Tickles snorted out a laugh. “Alive or not, I love it! Maybe you’d consider joining my crew once this is over?”

  “So we can shovel elephant shit for the rest of our careers?!” Harry said.

  Mr. Tickles lost his smile. “You’d finally fulfil that dream of yours, Crystal. We travel the world. You’d see some of the big cites: L.A, New York, London, Tokyo, Paris…We go everywhere. You’d never have to worry about work, fame and money ever again. And as far as being hunted by the police? You’d never have to worry about that, either – the circus would protect you like a family protects its own…”

  He turned his back on her and started to walk away.

  “Would you put me on a chain like a dog?” she asked. “Just like that pair?!”

  “No – you would be the star of your own show. I’m well in with the ringmaster, who is always looking to recruit new material.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Think about it. The circus doesn’t pull out of here until tomorrow night.”

  “Okay, I’ll think it over.”

  He nodded. “And you were right, I am a little nervous.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  He told her about the surprise visit from his brother, and how he thinks he’s Father Christmas’ evil twin brother, and that every day and preceding day is Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to him. That he’s stuck in a deranged fantasy loop.

  “Santa Klaws…” Harry uttered. “Klaws spelt K L A W S.”

  Mr. Tickles looked at them. “You know about him?”

  “Yes, from that book – White Walls.”

  “Oh, yes, of course – I’d forgotten about his appearance in that. It would seem that Wadsworth is gathering us…”

  “He’s the author of the book!” Crystal blurted.

  Mr. Tickles’ mouth flopped open. “My God, you’re probably right!”

  “He’s gathering us to tell us that – to reveal how and why he did it.”

  “Yes! Come on, we should get to his place or we’re going to be late.”

  “Will you join me in my van? There’s plenty of room for all three of you,” she said.

  The clown nodded. “Lead the way,” he said, then pulled on the chains, causing both Sideshows to follow him.

  When they stepped out of Mr. Tickles’ tent, they noticed the rain had stopped, much to Crystal’s relief. I hate sitting around in wet clothes, she thought.

  As they walked forward, an awe-inspiring scene unfolded before Crystal’s and Harry’s eyes – a hush fell over the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea, with Mr. Tickles and Co. acting as their Moses.

  “Get the fuck out of my face!” the clown barked as people came close to take snaps with their cameras and phones – a few were snatched from their owners and stomped on. When they protested, Mr. Tickles and the Sideshows either shoved them out of the way or snarled in their direction.

  “That’s it, cunts! Get out of the fucking way,” Harry said, and then laughed.

  Crystal could do nothing but smile as they passed through the crowd and to the main gates of the fairground with ease. As they headed toward the car park, they passed the Cabin Bar, where a few drunks had gathered.

  “Hey, Ronald McDonald!” one of them yelled. His speech was slurred. Crystal watched as Mr. Tickles turned to face the bald-headed man, who was covered in tattoos – “New Breed Skinheads” was etched on his neck. His arms and legs looked stick-thin, which matched his skinny torso. Chains dangled from his black, holey jeans.

  “Yeah?” Mr. Tickles asked, getting closer to the man.

  Three of the skinhead’s goons got up from the bench they were sat at and stood behind their fearless leader.

  Crystal stepped back and out of the way.

  “This should be interesting!” Harry said.

  “Maybe we should get to the van?” Crystal said.

  “Not a fucking chance – I want to see this!”

  “Oh, we’ve got one with a set of nuts here, boys,” Skinhead said, causing his drunken buffoons to laugh hysterically – they reminded Crystal of a strung-out cackle of hyenas, which made her smile.

  “Yeah, fucking looks like it, too!” the biggest of the bunch said. He had weasel-like eyes, with a huge Swastika tattooed on his throat. Like his brethren, he too had “New Breed Skinheads” stencilled on his neck. “I say we fucking do him!” Swastika said.

  “Make your move, ladies!” Mr. Tickles said, and then shoved Skinhead so hard that he pushed through his three mates and crashed against a load of tables and chairs.

  “What the fuck?!” Swastika said.

  As he was about to take a swing, both Sideshows were on him. Nightshade bit into the guy’s neck whilst Necrotic went for his eyes with one hand and his tongue with the other.

  The two other skinheads were having none of it, as they ran off.

  Crystal walked over to the fallen skinhead and then kicked him in his throat as he tried to get up. He collapsed back to the floor and g
agged, which highly amused both Crystal and Harry.

  “Whoa, ladies. Whoa!” Mr. Tickles called as he pulled both Sideshows off Swastika. Once they were free of him, nothing could be seen of the man’s face – it dripped with blood. Part of his left ear had either been bitten or torn off, with his neck a blood-soaked mess. The women had clearly punched and kicked him, as both of his eyes were closed to slits.

  As they left the scene, people rushed over to help. Nightshade looked back over her shoulder at Swastika. “Make sure you stay out of the sun, dickhead, or you’ll likely wind up with a hell of a tan!” she said, then laughed.

  After crossing the road and entering the car park, Crystal noticed the limo was still sat between the recycling bins. She eyed it with curiosity, as this time it was rocking on its chassis.

  What on earth is going on inside that thing? she wondered, unable to rip her gaze from it.

  “Are you going to open the van, woman?” Harry asked, but Crystal ignored him. “Hey, gal – wake up!” he yelled, snapping her out of her glazed-over state.

  “Huh?” she asked.

  “The van, dopey. Open up! We’re freezing our asses off here!” Harry snapped.

  “But you’ve got a wooden arse, Harry!” Nightshade said.

  “And? It still gets fucking cold!”

  Nightshade laughed, and so did Mr. Tickles as they got into the back of the van. Once they were loaded in, Crystal started her vehicle and drove out of the parking area. “Do you know where this mansion is?” she asked the three in the back.

  “Yeah,” Mr. Tickles said. “I used to know someone who lived close to it. Just keep going – I’ll guide you.”

  When Mr. Tickles started to lead them out of town and away from Porthcawl, Crystal thought the clown was wrong. “Are you sure this is right?”

  “Yes, definitely,” he said.

  “We seem to be moving out of town, though.”

  “I know.”

  “Doesn’t the mansion come under Porthcawl?” she asked.

  “Yes, but it’s on the outskirts,” he advised. “Take your next left.”

  Following his instructions, Crystal found herself on a narrow road which looked like an old B-road. As she was about to ask if this was the right way again, she saw a signpost which indicated the location of the mansion; on seeing the sign, her nerves eased.

  At least I know he’s not leading me off somewhere to kill me, she thought.

  The rest of the journey up to the mansion was quiet – nobody spoke.

  When they got to the gate, Crystal pressed the buzzer.

  “Yes?” came a voice.

  “Hi, is this Wadsworth?”

  “Is this Crystal?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Please, come on up to the house. “

  “But—” she continued, but the intercom went dead. Before her, the gates opened. She drove through.

  On the grounds to the mansion, Crystal was in awe at the size of the building and surrounding area – it was comprised of four floors, conservatories on either side, fountains, two garages, stables and woodland at its rear.

  “Jesus, what a piece of property!” Crystal uttered.

  “One day, this is how we’ll be living, baby.”

  “I’d like to think so, Harry, I really would.”

  “If you decide to come and work for us,” Mr. Tickles said, “then you won’t need to worry about money ever again – you’d be paid very well for your skills, my dear.”

  “I’m thinking about it, don’t you worry about that!” she said.

  “Don’t you think we should be getting in there?” Harry said. “The fucking suspense is killing me!”

  “In a minute, Harry, please.”

  “My dear, if you are worried about your sister, don’t be. I have your back, and so do my assistants,” Mr. Tickles said.

  “Oh, you’ve got enough to worry about, what with your brother who thinks it’s Christmas Eve!” she said.

  Both Sideshow Necrotic and Nightshade laughed, causing the giant clown to snarl in their direction. They immediately piped down. “What’s so funny? Do I need to yank your chains?” he asked. Silence. “Good.”

  “We have your back though, Crystal,” one of the women said. “Even if we do have our hands full with Klaws.”

  “Thanks,” Crystal said, staring at the house. “I guess we should head in, hey?”

  “Uh-huh!” Mr. Tickles grunted. “I’m sure no harm will come to any of us.”

  Crystal snorted. “Let’s hope you’re right, amigo,” she said, getting out of the van and going around to Harry’s side to help him out. Once he was snug in the crux of her arm, she went to the back of the vehicle and let Mr. Tickles and his women out. The van bounced on its chassis as the mass of weight disembarked.

  “At least it’s stopped raining!” he said, letting out a laugh and honking his imaginary clown nose.

  Crystal and Harry just looked at him, unsure how to take his personality. “Okay, let’s go – fancy leading the charge?” she asked Mr. Tickles.

  “Yeah,” he said, face sullen.

  Walking past them with his two women in tow, Mr. Tickles approached the front door to the mansion and rang the bell without hesitation. Necrotic drew a hatchet from behind her back whilst Nightshade unsheathed her Bowie knife.

  Crystal stood behind them all and pulled her butcher knife out of her purse – whatever rushed them, they’d need to go through the clown and his entourage first, she thought.

  Harry also readied himself, grabbing one of his throwing stars.

  Footfalls approached the door.

  The doorknob turned with immense sluggishness, which only helped to heighten the tension.

  “Easy does it…” Mr. Tickles said. “Easy…We don’t want to go harming an innocent…”

  “Fuck the innocents!” Harry said. “I ain’t getting my arse killed through sloppiness.”

  The door flew open.

  A skinny man in a butler suit stood before them, with two burly blokes at his back – they looked like FBI agents, with their black clothes, white shirts and dark shades. They even wore the same style of shoe.

  “Ah, welcome! Do come in!” he said with a huge, silly grin on his face. “I’m Wadsworth.”

  They were hesitant to step forward.

  “Please, come, come!” But still the guests didn’t move – they just eyed the two men standing behind Wadsworth, which the butler picked up on. “Oh, I see – have my guards put you off?” he asked them.

  “What’s with the gorillas?” Mr. Tickles asked, not liking the cut of their jib.

  “You’ll have to excuse Olaf and Rotwiler – they are merely here for my protection,” he said with a glint in his eye. “It also means you won’t need all those sharp-looking things in here!”

  “What the fuck is going on here, pal?!” Mr. Tickles said, grabbing Wadsworth by the lapels of his jacket and drawing him to his chest.

  Rotwiler and Olaf went to intervene, but Wadsworth called them off.

  “My! There’s no need for violence, my good man. I can assure you, I mean you no—”

  “Either you start talking, or I’m going to rip your guts out with my bare hands!”

  “Please! Release me at once, or I shall set my guards on you – they are armed with guns, and will easily cut you down, sir.”

  “Do as he says!” Crystal said.

  “Not until he starts talking!”

  “All will be revealed once you’re—”

  “What’s my brother doing in town?!”

  “I—” Wadsworth was about to explain, but Mr. Tickles started to shake the butler in a violent way.

  “Talk, damn it!”

  “Please! Take your hands off me, sir. All will be explained inside – that’s if you can adhere to my rules, of course.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?!” Crystal asked.

  “If you don’t play by my rules, then none of you will know the truth!”

  At th
at moment, they all heard the click of a hammer as one of the bodyguards drew his gun. “Step away from my boss!” the man said. A massive scar ran from his temple to his jawline. “Now!” he barked, stepping closer to Wadsworth’s shoulder.

  Reluctantly, Mr. Tickles let go of the butler, and then smoothed his uniform back into place. “Okay, Smiler – you got it,” he said, stepping away.

  “Now, please, give your weapons to my…associates – you will not need them, I promise you.”

  Slowly, they all did as Wadsworth asked and handed them to the butch bodyguards, who remained at the butler’s side.

  “Is my sister here?”

  Wadsworth poked his head around Mr. Tickles’ frame and addressed Crystal. “Yes, my dear. But don’t worry, she has been instructed not to harm you – a weapon was removed from her and given to my men.”

  Mr. Tickles was first through the door, stating he had no weapons, but still the guards patted him down.

  He was followed by Sideshow Necrotic, who handed over her hatchet before being searched for further weapons.

  “Thank you!” Wadsworth said.

  Next over the threshold was Sideshow Nightshade, who handed over her Bowie knives, before Crystal stepped up and gave Smiler her butcher knife.

  “And does the little fella have any—”

  “Hey, douche, less of the ‘little.’ And no, he doesn’t have anything on him!” Harry said to the guard, who growled and bared his teeth.

  “Okay,” Wadsworth said, chuckling and holding his hands up in mock terror. “If you’d all like to follow me, please.” Turning his back on them, Wadsworth directed them all to the lounge and opened the door. “If you’d care to step inside and help yourself to a drink,” he said, “proceedings will start as soon as our last guest arrives.”

  When the door was thrown wide, Crystal’s and Sam’s eyes immediately locked together.

  “You!” Crystal saw her sister mouth. “I’m going to kill you!” Samantha raged, throwing her half-empty glass of wine to one side.

  As she crashed across the room, Mr. Tickles stepped in front of Crystal, blocking Sam from getting to her.

  “I’ll kill you!” she raged as she fought against the unmovable mass of Mr. Tickles. “Get the fuck out of my…” she started, but her words trailed off when he grabbed her by her arms and pushed her from his body.