Everybody Scream!

by Jeffrey Thomas

“I’m not juiced,” the small balding man mumbled, distracted. “I just need the air...”

  “Are you getting transmission overload again?”

  Many advertisers now bought time on wavelengths which the brain could pick up without a mechanical receiver. As if the commercials breaking into rented vids, into theatrical movies, weren’t enough, commercials were also often run on top of the movie on a subliminal, superimposed wavelength and beamed out into the world indiscriminately to be received in a telepathic way beyond the ability to switch off, to escape–though quiet, slipping into the back door of the subconscious, not making their influence known even as you reached for that jar of Monkey-See Peanut Butter. But too many voices cramming one radio could create static, clutter, chaos, and especially with someone of Sneezy’s sensitivity. There had been times he had gone into maddened seizures, until doctors began prescribing him blockers. He had eventually found a blocker that kept out much of the open-air transmissions but which didn’t hamper his ability. However, there were those times when he still had trouble.

  “I…it’s something like a transmission. It’s like…I can hear Bedbugs…talking through a machine…”

  “Bedbugs?” Eddy was interested in this topic. Bedbugs were significant.

  “There are a few of them here. It’s…it’s strong. What they’re…” Sneezy trailed off. Just stared at the sky.

  “I’m sure it doesn’t concern us. They don’t deal directly with us.” Walpole kept his voice low. “Come on inside, man, take something to sleep.” Eddy didn’t like the way Tightrope’s temples were moving as if he were chewing, though he wasn’t. Pulsing. You normally didn’t see that with him. Eddy followed his friend’s eyes to The Head for a moment.

  “I need air. I’m going to take a walk.”

  “You don’t have anything on you, do you?”

  “No, I told you, man, I’m clean.” Sneezy took a few plodding steps out of the camp. “I have to take a walk…”

  Eddy grunted, made back for the camper. Bedbugs, huh? They could be up to anything; even those who dealt with them secretly found out little about them. Their strange activities never seemed to hurt anyone, though, except for that one vicious gang, and they appeared to be on their own. Eddy found it hard to believe that Sneezy’s sudden odd behavior had been brought on by anything the Bedbugs were doing. It was probably a kaleidoscope or two, despite what he’d said.

  At the camper’s step Eddy glanced back but Sneezy was gone.

  The black girl’s mouth was open a little bit and her full lips squashed against her thin pillow. Her hair was a thick blanket. Despite the rubbery deformity of drugged sleep she was beautiful, and Mitch knew that Del had made love…had sex, rather…with her. He regarded her dispassionately a moment more before rejoining Pearl, closing the door. Pearl had largely cleared her way through the mists of her own sedation, enough to talk. “I’m going to go home to my trailer,” she croaked, forehead in her hands, gold hair hiding her face in shame.

  “No, I want you here. There’s a mass murderer out there–you won’t be safe.”

  “It’s too bright, it gives me a headache. I feel queasy.”

  “I’ll have them sedate you some more.”

  Pearl stood. Mitch took her arm to help her. He began to rub her back. “No one’s going to break into my trailer–I’ll lock it. You can walk me over if you have to.”

  “No, damn it, can’t you at least wait until the place shuts down? I worry about you. Alright?” He moved to embrace her.

  Pearl stepped back. She was sure he would begin stroking Betty’s crouched form through her dress, gently, romantically, seductively, if she let him embrace her. She was sure she would jump if his hands touched that shape.

  “What’s the matter?”

  See? He’s getting mad. Betty is my oversized breasts. He wants them. I happen to be attached to them, she thought. It was okay to love breasts, but in proportion. Out of proportion breasts attracted out of proportion interest. Betty was her attraction. A sideshow attraction.

  If she cut off the big breasts, then who would woo her?

  “I’m going to have Betty removed.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You can ask why. You don’t have to live like this.”

  “Hey, don’t start with that. I know it isn’t easy. But why this sudden impulse? You always said you were against it the same way you’re against abortion.”

  “Do you know what I went through tonight?”

  “You’re embarrassed. You’ll get over it. You did great, I hear–this is nothing.”

  “This,” Pearl gestured at the shape, “is nothing?”

  “People are worse off.”

  “Yes, but they’re not me. I’m me, and I’m like this. I’ve had enough. If you don’t like it, I’m sorry.” She wanted to add if you don’t like it find yourself a new freak but didn’t.

  Mitch sighed. He watched a med robot that sat at a console dabbing at a lighted keyboard. A screen relayed the scan findings of the team that had just responded to the death of Fawn Horowitz, their missing person. Kaleidoscopes, red shockers. A heavy-duty police scan could locate these drugs amongst the people here, but so many of them were bound to have these common drugs on their persons that it was nearly pointless to rouse the police to such a project. “Whatever you want, Pearl. I know how you must feel, and I know you mostly kept Betty for your parents’ sake…”

  “Not just for them.”

  “Whatever. Just think it out, don’t be rash.”

  “And how will you feel about it?”

  “How will I feel? Ethically, you mean?”

  “About me.”

  “What about you? That you’re being selfish? I don’t think you’re being selfish. If Betty has a soul tangled up in you, maybe you’ll be setting her free. Look at it that way.”

  “Will you still…will I still be attractive…to you?”

  “What? Of course! What do you think?”

  Pearl looked suspicious, vulnerable. Hugged herself above Betty. He really did seem angry, insulted at such a question. “You like Betty.”

  “Well…you know. I mean, I like your legs. They’re attached to you. I want you to keep ‘em. But if, for whatever reason–good reason–you needed to have them cut off, I’d still…be attracted to you.” He’d almost said love, in front of the robot. “Right?”

  “You like me better with Betty?”

  “Well, it’s unique. It’s more body to touch…more flesh, more limbs…more…you know. Is that so terrible a thing to desire? If I had two penises you’d probably be intrigued.”

  “I’m just…”

  “Insecure, I know, I understand. Betty is what they wanted when you performed, when you hooked. But I’m not those men. Cut her off. I’ll stay with you. I promise.”

  Pearl looked down at her plump crossed arms. “I don’t think I can,” she murmured. “I think I was just saying that...to test you.”

  “Don’t test me, Pearl.”

  “I had to.”

  “Alright–whatever. Are you satisfied now?”

  She looked up, imploringly. “You didn’t suspect I was testing you, did you? And just say that to humor me?”

  “No.” Mitch was patient, this time, not insulted. “I meant it. I thought you meant it. Don’t keep Betty just for me, Pearl.”

  “I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t, believe me.”

  “Maybe we should stop calling it Betty. Maybe we could have a funeral service for her. Would that make you feel lighter?”

  “I might just as well cut her off, then. What would be the point in carrying this? I’ll keep her.”

  “I’ll try not to touch her beyond what’s necessary.”

  “Never mind that. It’s Betty, but it’s my flesh, too. Things have been fine as they are all along. You just have to talk it out in the open, that’s all. I feel better already.”

  “Good. Man–give me the benefit of a doubt next time, huh?” Mitch approached to embrace her but this time
she didn’t step back. Sandwiched between them, Betty seemed to be both cuddling to them like their child and also straining her legs against him to keep them apart. But the legs were weak. Pearl hugged Mitch against her and whispered so the robot couldn’t hear, “I love you, Mitch.”

  “I love you too, honey,” he said quickly, to get it over with, like a tough little boy to his mother, but meaning it thoroughly.

  Of course, however, this squashing close contact made him physically aroused, too.

  When Del, Sophi and Dingo returned to the security trailer they found that Mitch was there, having convinced Pearl to remain in the medical trailer to rest in case she suffered a reoccurrence of Betty’s seizure. She was more inclined to listen to him since their talk, and didn’t want to be alone anyway. She felt disoriented and creepy in having to be a little bit afraid of Betty right now, she admitted. And Betty was hard to get away from.

  There was also a scene of hysterical pandemonium to greet the Kahns and Dingo. Dolly Horowitz’s face was a red knotted thing wringing out tears, and she clung to the arm of her attorney Aaron Novis for support. She was currently shrieking at Mitch Garnet.

  “…you fucking apathetic ass-wipes don’t give a shit about innocent pee-ee-ee-ople,” she sobbed, out of control. “You don’t care, you don’t care. Who are you?” She whirled at the newcomers. “Who runs this shit-hole?”

  “I’m the carnival manager,” Sophi introduced herself. She had already guessed who Mrs. Horowitz was.

  “Why is my daughter dead? Why?”

  “She died from an overdose of drugs, Mrs. Horowitz, I’m terribly sorry. Kaleidoscopes and red…”

  “I know that, god damn it, but my daughter never used drugs! It wasn’t like her!”

  “We believe she was forced to take them. There was a boy with her in a car. He’d been shot.”

  “Oh…God…why? Why? All these people shot and where the hell were all of your fucking security people?”

  “They were shot with a silenced gun,” Mitch said, assuming, but two-thirds correct, “in a dark parking lot, all six of them inside cars, their bodies then slumping down out of sight.”

  “Why is the parking lot so dark?” asked Aaron Novis. “Don’t any guards patrol the lot?”

  “Mostly they just direct traffic in and out, sometimes they walk through the lot to see if people are milling about drinking or whatever, but they don’t make car-to-car searches. We’ve never really had much trouble in the lots. Some drinking, some fist fights. Mostly people just go there to fuck.”

  Del winced.

  “My daughter wouldn’t do that, damn it! For God’s sake! She was drugged and raped! I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this…oh, God, Fawn, my baby, my baby...”

  Three people entered the trailer as Aaron Novis told Sophi, “The security situation in your parking lot sounds woefully negligent, and you can expect an appropriate lawsuit from my client.”

  “We already did expect it,” Mitch said.

  “Mitch,” Sophi said evenly.

  “I’m going to own this place, you’d better believe it, I’m going to own your fucking slime-pit, lady,” Mrs. Horowitz spat at Sophi.

  After tonight I’m inclined to just give it to you, thought Sophi.

  The three newcomers were the chief guard from the Fog security team hired by the town, and two Paxton police investigators in street clothes. They introduced themselves to Mrs. Horowitz and the lawyer, and then suffered a fresh onslaught of her agonized wrath. Del was glad to see the focus shift from Sophi, and from Mitch, who he’d been afraid would really begin to lash back. Del took his wife aside.

  “Maybe we should shut down early.”

  “Oh come on, Del.”

  “Come on what? Sophi, Horowitz has money. Buffatoni, probably. Gross and Habash. This is going to be hotter than when some bikies or gang punks shoot each other up.”

  “We’ve had it before, just not so focused into one crime. The town will take the bulk of it. This is their event, their people do the parking lot.”

  “Do you want more dead people on your conscience, then?”

  “Hey, Del...I’ve never bothered counting up the bodies we’ve had since we started. It’s a part of it. I don’t kill them, they kill each other. Why not shut down early so a few more people don’t get killed? Well, then, why even open next season? Imagine the lives we’ll save! Why not shut down every parking lot and alley in Punktown? Why not shut down the whole town? Huh? Because wherever people get too close they end up killing each other.”

  “That’s true, but tell it to her lawyer.”

  “The town wouldn’t go for it anyway, Del, believe it. Either way, they’ll look like they can’t control their fair, but closing early is admitting too much to the fact. They’ll stay open–that’s less memorable for next year than closing would be. Rich or not, these people will blend in with the other killings, mostly. We might even end up with a riot, like we did last year–a big mess. The people know what time they have to leave by, they accept that and gear to it. But cutting short would be like ending a movie before the climax and telling everyone to go home. The people you want to protect by sending home don’t want to be sent home.”

  “Well...at least call the town people, to say that you tried. It will look good for us.” Over Sophi’s shoulder Del saw Mitch approaching.

  Sophi sighed. “Alright.”

  “Dingo says some Red Jihad were seen putting Fawn Horowitz on the Spinnet,” Mitch said tightly, as if accusing someone of something.

  “Yes,” Sophi admitted. “The Spinnet operator gave a description. They left after she began vomiting on people, looks like.”

  “Well, blast, man, that’s it! It was those fucking monsters! Habash...Moussa Habash. Arabic, right? And Horowitz and Gross were Jewish, right? Maybe somebody didn’t like seeing them together. You follow my thinking?”

  “Hey,” said Del thoughtfully.

  “Why would they drug her up and put her on a ride?” said Sophi. “And then wait around in the open until she died?”

  “Well why would they even put her on the ride and then watch at all? I saw those creatures come in, I talked to them, I convinced them to leave some of their firepower at the booth...they’re not friendly types who’d buy a kid a ride on the Spinnet.”

  “Maybe it was them, maybe it was other ones, maybe it was someone else...why would R.J.s drug a girl and then shock her to death? They don’t take drugs; where’d they get them?”

  “Off Colon, maybe. She still might have had them herself, too.”

  “Why wouldn’t they have just shot her with the rest?”

  “They’re sadists! They throw acid in their own women’s faces! Let’s find these bastards and grab ‘em if they’re still here!”

  “Mitch. We can’t cuff Red Jihad. I’ll put a call in about the possibility and let the authorities contact their embassy.”

  “Are you insane?” Mitch snarled at Sophi, not even seeing Del through his rage-inflated eyes. “Why not stand around and watch ‘em slit babies’ throats, next?”

  “I’ll call, Mitch. I hadn’t considered the significance of Habash...it’s a possibility, alright? But I don’t want you cuffing them–it’s too dangerous.”

  “You’re afraid!”

  “Next year we’ll open up and the first night a bomb will level the fair. Then what will the body count be, Mitch? I will call the authorities, alright? And you will respect my judgement. You work for me.”

  “Not any more.” Out of his rear pants pocket Mitch Garnet pulled his billfold like a gun, slid out his security badge and flicked it past Sophi. It clattered. From another pocket came his hand phone. It clattered onto a desk, bounced off onto the floor to clatter some more. Del almost expected the gun with its explosive bullets to follow but should have known better.

  “Mitch, come on,” he said, “calm down...”

  “I don’t want your impotent, meaningless job. I’ll call my grandmother–maybe she’ll do it for you.
” And Mitch stormed past the others on his way out. Even Mrs. Horowitz paused from her wails and accusations to watch him slam the door.

  Sophi and Del looked at each other. “He’ll mellow down,” said Del.

  “He’s a cement-head fucking fanatic.”

  “He cares.”

  “He isn’t being realistic. Look how he talked to me! And you didn’t say anything!”

  “Hey, you’re the boss, as you so often remind me.”

  “And I’m your wife!”

  “Oh-ho-ho.”

  “Blast you, Del. Alright?”

  “Everyone’s wired. We’ll all calm down. Just stay mellow yourself, will ya?”

  Dingo approached them now. “The latest developments. I called down to the gate guards about the Red Jihad. No one saw them come or go around the times the victims would have been killed. And they’ve left...right around when Horowitz died.”

  “See?” Sophi told Del, lifting her chin defiantly. “That scared them off. Why didn’t shooting the other five scare them off, if they did it?”

  “Hey, it’s Mitch’s theory, not mine.”

  “Also,” Dingo continued, “I described Horowitz over the phone and one of the gate boys thinks he remembers her; red hair and all. Disoriented, he said, like she was drunk. He asked her to show her hand stamp so she could come back in. He’s not sure on the time but it was shortly before we got called down to the Spinnet. I asked him to come to the morgue.”

  “Good.”

  “Thing is, she came in alone.”

  “No Red Jihad with her?”

  “Alone.”

  “Good work, Dingo, stay on it,” said Del.

  “Couldn’t have been the R.J.s,” said Sophi. “Mitch is shorting his circuits. Looks like you’ll be my new top security man, Dingo.”

  “What?”

  “Sophi,” said Del, angry.

  “He quit.”

  “Give him a chance to calm down, will you? Man!”

  “Mitch quit?” said Dingo.

  “He’s just frustrated–we all are. Too bad you were a few seconds too late, Dingo–Mitch is sure the Red Jihad did all this. I don’t know if he’s gone out to look for them or if he’s back at the med trailer but I’m sure as hell glad they left.”