"We don't yet know if that will kill him," said Charlie. "We need more information, which is why we came to her."
"And why I will tell you nothing," said Deb with a haughty smile. "Why would I tell you how to stop him?"
"Alright, time for drastic measures," said Ben. "Time to turn on my super awesome charm skills."
My phone started ringing. For a moment I ignored it and Ben started flexing his muscles, as if loosening up for dancing. "I have to be totally relaxed for maximum charisma," explained Ben.
My phone kept ringing.
"Are you going to answer that?" said Deb with a sly smile. "It might be important."
My eyes narrowed. I pulled out the phone and stared down at it. I didn't recognize the number.
"Maybe you can let it go to voice mail," chided Deb. "Maybe it's not important at all."
I felt like I was being set up. Something was wrong. But I couldn't help but answer the call.
"Hello?"
"Is this Mr. Keats?" said the voice. Male, formal, tired.
"Yes...?"
"My name is Detective Daniels. You were listed as the emergency contact for Franny Borne?"
"Franny? Is she okay?" I asked, suddenly afraid. I noticed Deb was smiling.
"There's been an assault. She's not in critical condition, but she's asked for you and I wanted to ask you some questions. Can you meet me at St David's?"
I let my arm drop, all thoughts of Deb and Hornswaggle vanishing. I turned and ran for my car. I must have said yes to the officer on the phone at some point, I don't know. All I know is I left it all behind as I tried to get to the hospital as soon as I could.
I didn't want to be too late.
Eighteen
What matters to you? When the chips are down, the shit hitting the fan, and the metaphorical proverbs failing, what remains in your mind? You might find the things you thought were important suddenly become irrelevant. You might find that you've been going about things wrong for a very long time. And then you wonder if it's all been too late.
I reached St David's hospital in twenty minutes, then spent another two minutes trying to find a parking spot. Part of me wanted to just park the car on the curb, but I knew I should at least get a spot so my car wasn't towed before I came back out. I was frantic. Franny was in trouble. She was just a friend, but for some reason I was in a panic.
I ran across the parking lot, every second hoping I wasn't too late. She wasn't supposed to be in critical condition, but what if they were wrong? I was so wrapped up in my head, so narrowly focused on Franny, that I didn't notice anything around me. All of my instincts, my senses for danger, my pinging intuitions were lost because I was focused on the already wrong fact of Franny's hospitalization. I didn't recognize what they were telling me, about my present danger. If I hadn't tripped, I might have been dead... again.
I stumbled, my speed faltering. And in front of me, I saw a figure lunge past me. Even in the light, I recognized the dagger. As the blade hit a car with an ugly scraping sound, she turned around and I saw the rest of her. White dress, blindfold wrapped over her eyes. And that dagger. How many of those did she have?
"Why aren't you dead?" the Seer shouted through gritted teeth as she lunged at me again.
This time I was ready for her attack. I spun, as if a matador and she was my bull. Her blade just missed me and I pushed on her back as she went by, causing her to stumble.
"Leave me alone!" I said. "I don't have time for you!"
"Why are you still alive?" she roared, her fanaticism as strong as I had ever seen. She ran at me again, making wild swipes in the air with her dagger as I did my best to step back out of her range. A good plan, but harder to execute. There were a lot more cars in this parking lot than the studio's, which meant I had far less room than the last time we had done this dance.
"I don't want to fight you, I'm not going to bring about your goddamn apocalypse!" I shouted. This was the last situation I wanted to deal with her during. I wanted to see Franny and she was stopping me from doing that. On top of that, seeing the person who had almost killed me was making me panicked and angry, emotions from that event welling up within me.
"Just... die!" she said with exertion.
I couldn't deal with it anymore. This had already been too long a fight and my fear of the one who had nearly killed me was overwhelmed by my anger. I roared and then lunged at her. No knife, no weapon. I grabbed her in a bear hug. I felt the knife against me, but because I held her tight, the stab was awkward and without force. It bit at my skin, but the cut was minor and weak. A second later, the dagger dropped to the pavement. Her face was close to mine now and even though I could not see her eyes, her face showed fear. She twisted in my arms. I lifted her up, then I changed my grip. With my arms and my anger, I flung her at a nearby car. She hit the passenger side window, cracking it, then fell to the pavement. She stayed on the ground, but she was still conscious and obviously in pain.
Though I had been in fights before, I had never felt the raw rage and crude strength I had just displayed. I had always tried to punch, rather than ignoring a weapon. I was not the type to grab someone; I never wanted them that close. I had definitely never tossed someone into a car, whether they were a thin girl or not. Part of me wondered not only why I did this but how. I was still shaking with adrenaline and gasping with anger.
I found my hand pulling out my gun, the one I hadn't realized I brought with me. I thought it was still in the car. I pointed it toward her prone body. All I could think of was her stabbing me, leaving me on the ground to bleed out. I remembered the dark place, the pain and the agony. I felt fear and rage well up in me. My hand shook as I pointed the gun at her. Something inside me screamed to pull the trigger. If she died, it was her fault. She was the one who escalated. She was the one who had turned it into kill-or-be-killed. She was the one who wouldn't let it end. If she died, it would end. I would be safe.
The rage and fear raced in me like twin snakes or a double helix. Whenever my rage faltered, my cold fear would take its place. Whenever my fear might calm, hot rage was there to prop it up. Both buoyed the feeling of death, of murder. Something screamed that she deserved to die. For what she did to me, for stopping me from getting to Franny, for countless other things that she didn't have any part of. So much screamed for me to pull the trigger and end this.
I almost did. Really, I almost did. I have to mention that. I'm not a hero. I sometimes reluctantly want to be one, I've tried to be one, but I'm not actually one. It wasn't easy to resist this temptation. I almost pulled the trigger and ended her life. I almost stained my hands with murder.
But I didn't.
I don't know how I stopped myself. Just out of nowhere I had a cool breath, a feeling like relief. And that was the one pause in the rage-and-fear game I was playing, the crack in the wall. The emotions collapsed like a house of cards, leaving only relief and disgust.
The arm with the gun dropped, feeling tingly after holding it for so long. I looked down at the Seer. Dagger and blindfold aside, she was just some girl, probably not more than twenty. Whatever had gotten her into this, her life was not mine to take. She had been betrayed by her own ideals or whoever taught them to her. She had been set on a path against me, wound up and fired in my direction. But she didn't deserve death.
However that didn't stop some of the rage and fear from bubbling back up as spite. I wanted to say something hopeful, something nice to her, but I didn't have it in me. Instead, spite was like acid on my tongue.
"Stay the hell away from me. You want to fight evil? The PBS Studio. That's where you'll find far more evil than me."
I put the gun away and headed to the hospital, trying to breathe, trying to stop myself from shaking.
I looked down at Franny as she lay in the bed unconscious. Unconscious. It's a funny word. Technically sleeping qualifies as unconscious, but when you say the latter about someone, it sounds worrisome, almost dire. Not at all as benign as sleeping. And hospita
ls are places of worry. So you could say that no one is ever just "sleeping" in a hospital.
Franny was now unconscious, but she hadn't been brought in this way. When she arrived she wasn't comatose or in critical condition, she had been panicked and awake. The officer had gotten little out of her before the doctor needed to sedate her. Her frenetic movements were keeping them from stitching her up, so they put her to sleep "for her own good". I'm not sure if it was helpful, but as I watched her now, I could attest that she was at least peaceful. I held the hand that didn't have anything attached to monitor her vitals, but wished she was awake.
Detective Daniels had met me in the lobby of the hospital and walked me up to the room. He gave a curious look to why I was out of breath and sweating, but said nothing. He explained the situation to me. Franny had been found outside her apartment, the front door open. She was shouting for help. She had been attacked, but nothing stolen. Detective Daniels suggested the attacker might have been scared off by her shouting or lost his nerve. Neighbors called 911 and someone came and sat with her until the police and EMS arrived. Daniels happened to have been close and so arrived on the scene before even the EMS.
According to the neighbor and what Franny was saying, she was attacked by a monster. Tall, dark, and long limbed. Daniels suggested that maybe she didn't get a good look at her attacker, since it was dusk. But she persisted that it was a monster, which had caused her to panic even after her attacker was gone and police on the scene. She couldn't sit still in the ER and so the sedation was necessary. I was called because she told them I was her emergency contact. I was surprised by that. I didn't actually know if Franny had family, but I had never seen them. I had actually never seen her interact with anyone other than me or people delivering things to her door. Perhaps I really was her closest bond.
Daniels gave me light questioning. I could tell he didn't think I knew much; he had no reason to think me involved. He asked if she had any enemies, if she was known to wear expensive jewelry, if I had spoken to her recently, etc. He also asked if I knew of any sketchy occurrences or individuals near her apartment. It was easy to suppress any impulse I had to tell them of the monster attack I had also suffered at that same landing. I told him that I wasn't aware of anyone who meant her harm. The detective nodded, taking notes. He revealed that he thought it was likely a random act of violence - no real motive other than opportunity. He wanted to catch the guy, but it'd be tough because of how random this was. I nodded - I also wanted to get the guy who did this too, but I had a better lead on who.
Once we reached Franny's hospital door, the detective game me a pat on the back and walked away. Inside the room I found Franny. There were bandages up the left side of her face in four lines. Two strong cuts next to two weaker ones. The detective hadn't been sure what the weapon was, but as soon as I saw the spacing, I knew what had done this. Hornswaggle. Four claws raked across the face of my friend, my neighbor, Franny. I didn't need her to wake up and tell me. I knew.
"There are contingencies for your lack of compliance. One just went into effect. Will you regret what you've done?"
That's what Deb had said when we confronted her. And minutes later, Franny was attacked - I had confirmed the estimated timing with the detective. So not only was it Hornswaggle who had attacked her, but it was my fault. She was attacked because I couldn't let Hornswaggle go. I couldn't just let him do whatever horrible things he had planned. The message was clear: Let this go. We can hurt her even more. This is just a warning.
I had bad news for them. The message wasn't received. I clenched my fists in anger. They wanted me afraid, they wanted me to back off. They were wrong. I wasn't backing off. I was out for blood. Hornswaggle was going down. Tonight.
I net Charlie, Ben, and Terry downstairs in the hospital lobby. I had texted for them to meet me. This was as neutral place, one as safe from Hornswaggle and Deb as we would be able to find. I had also wanted as much time with Franny as possible, in case she woke up before we had to go.
She didn't.
Once in the lobby, we caught each other up on what was happening. They had let Deb go shortly after I ran off. I wasn't surprised. They weren't getting anything out of her, and it would have been too easy for someone to call the police on them. Worse, if someone else was working late at the studio, that person could have walked outside with some piece of Hornswaggle merchandise and summoned the beast.
"I'm sorry for your... friend," said Terry, stopping himself before he said "loss."
I nodded. "This was Hornswaggle. He was sending a message."
"He wants us to back down," said Charlie.
I nodded again. "But I'm not going to." I looked to Charlie. He had cited all the damage done as a reason he might back off, wondering if we were doing more harm than good. Was this enough to make him back off?
"Me neither," said Charlie and I had a small breath of relief. "But we still need a plan."
"I'm with you guys too," said Terry. "This is messed up, and it seems only right that we stop it."
"I am totally in as well, dudes!" said Ben. "But it's kind of a sausage fest here. Maybe we can get some wonderful ladies to join. Y'know, get some female energy here on our problem."
"That's sexist," said Terry.
"Not as sexist as having an all-male review here!" said Ben. "I mean, we can totally John Wayne it up, but I'm in favor of drafting in some sexy ladies for some co-ed action, if you know what I mean."
"There's no one else involved that we can trust," I said. "I wasn't even certain about you two, but unless you guys are really good actors, I'm pretty sure Deb's disappointment cleared you of working with them."
"What about Meredith?" said Terry.
"Oh yeah, you two were all buddy-buddy!" said Ben.
I shook my head. "No, she may be compromised. Even if she isn't, she's not a fan of mine. She blames me for Nick."
"But you didn't cause that!" said Ben. "Charlie here filled us in! Just tell her that!"
Terry rolled his eyes. "She's not going to believe that. Even I half believe it, but I have known something was wrong at the studio. Intuition. So I realize it must be true. If she hasn't seen something wrong, we're not going to convince her."
"What about Susan?" I suggested. I was still sure that she was the puppet Deep Throat that had used Higgilty Piggilty to tell me where Nick was. She seemed to know something. She knew he moved through images. What else did she know? Would she help us?
Terry and Ben shared a look. "Oh yeah, you didn't know. She 'quit'," said Terry, using air quotes.
"It was as weird as Nick's quitting," said Ben. "Really sudden, everyone really surprised. Everyone thought she was happy."
"Meredith was really shocked," said Terry. "It also threatened to put us behind schedule. Having to recast or replace Higgilty Piggilty is a big deal. That's why Deb has been changing things."
"And making us stay late," said Ben. "Set changes, lighting cues, all of it."
"It hasn't been specifically said, but I think Higgilty Piggilty the character is being replaced," said Terry. "Susan is just... gone. And now I'm thinking something must have happened."
"Or she's hiding, just like Nick," said Charlie.
"Then that's another ally lost," I said. We had no time to track down Susan and we had no idea if she would even be able to help.
"It's safe to say that it's just us," said Charlie.
"Okay, I can still be fine with that," said Ben. "Team Bromance here! Doing what we can while being monogender is just coincidental! Team Y Chromosome!"
"It still feels like what you're saying is coming off in a different way than you intend," said Terry.
"All team building aside, we still need a plan," said Charlie, his mustache frowning.
"I have a plan," I said, my hands tightening into fists again.
"Other than burning the place down?" said Charlie.
"Burn down the studio? No way! We work there!" said Ben, but then he paused, changing his mood. "Wait, no
w that I think about it, I've never burned down my workplace before! That could be amazing!"
"We'd be out of jobs... though, if Deb really is in on this monster conspiracy, we will probably be fired anyway," said Terry.
"My plan does involve fire," I said.
"Burning down the studio it is!" said Ben.
"Seriously, John, what's really the plan?" said Charlie. "I'm still out of ideas."
"We don't know much, but we know something," I said. "From Jennifer and Nick. We heard a lot, but they were mentally imbalanced, so we didn't know what to trust. I've been chewing on it, trying to figure out fact from fiction. After lots of thought, I think the whole 'he lives in our minds' thing is bullshit. It's too farfetched and nebulous. But travelling through images, that is true. We've seen that."
"Are you sure we can discount the mind part so easily?" said Charlie.
"I worried about that," I said, "but think about how Jennifer got 'infected'. Her husband found a music box with a scrap of paper in it. Then they both got Hornswaggle in their lives. She couldn't find any evidence of him being active in the years before that. I think by hiding the scrap of paper, they had neutralized Hornswaggle. Then after Jennifer's rampage, he was dormant for a long time - until now. And do you know what I saw right in the middle of the Creature Room at the studio?"
"An old scrap of paper with writing!" said Terry. "I've wondered what the hell that thing is. Was it a super old drawing of Nick's? Or was someone trying to draw an Egyptian Hornswaggle?"
"Exactly!" I said. "The scrap is there, and I'm sure it was the scrap that Jennifer had, it was just lost or put away for years. Then Nick found it and Hornswaggle came back. I think he travels through images because he is one. If he's an image, then that scrap is his home, where he exists. He needs it. If we destroy that, we destroy him."
"That's a whole lot of ifs," said Terry.
"Even if that's true, is that really the best strategy?" said Charlie. "What if there is more merchandise of him? Won't he just jump to those, make those his new... home, I guess?"
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