The Masked Family

by Robert T. Jeschonek

"Grogan Salt," said Celeste. "I think he's alive."

  For once, Paisley was at a loss for something to say.

  *****

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Johnstown, Pennsylvania, 1977

  It was starting to look like Grogan was going to cheat death.

  His attack on the Beacon kids had happened three nights ago, and Lydia and E.Q. had not even sent him to the police yet. It wasn't at all what Cary had expected.

  Cary had thought that once E.Q. saw what Grogan had done, and realized what he'd been about to do, Grogan would go away. Surely, Lydia and E.Q. would ship him to the cops, who would probably fry him in the electric chair. So what if Grogan hadn't actually killed anyone? He'd tried to, that was for sure.

  Instead, Grogan was not only alive and well, but still in the house. He was shut in his bedroom and forbidden to come out except to use the bathroom, but that was the worst of it.

  If anything, the rest of the family seemed to be suffering a lot more than Grogan was. The fact that he was there at all kept the wounds from three nights ago wide open.

  Celeste and Paisley moped around like they were still in a state of shock. Neither of them would even go near the basement.

  Baron stayed outside most of the time, riding his bike. When he did come home, he stayed stone-faced and hardly said a word.

  As for Cary, he couldn't stop thinking about the sight of Grogan standing over him, waving the knife. He was convinced Grogan would have killed him right there on the kitchen floor if E.Q. hadn't shown up when he did.

  He thought about it all day and had nightmares about it in his sleep. In his dreams, things didn't always turn out the way they had in real life.

  Sometimes, E.Q. didn't get there in time. Cary woke up screaming when that happened.

  The good thing was, when Cary woke screaming, Lydia and E.Q. were there. Now that Grogan had been unmasked as the culprit behind the crime wave in the house, and the kids had gone through hell at his hands, Lydia and E.Q. were falling all over each other trying to help them. Even when the kids didn't ask for the help, Lydia and E.Q. gave it, and then some.

  Now if only they would get Grogan out of the house. If only they could end this awful in-between time and get on with their lives.

  *****

  Finally, on the third night after the attack, Cary found out he was going to get his wish.

  He heard the news while listening in on Lydia and E.Q.'s conversation in the kitchen. Unable to sleep without dreaming of Grogan and the knife, Cary sneaked downstairs and hid around the corner in the living room. From there, he could hear every word that was said in the kitchen.

  "She won't take him back," said Lydia. Her voice was shaky, and she sounded upset. "She doesn't want him."

  "Now there's a surprise." E.Q.'s feet padded over the floor, and his voice grew alternately louder and softer. Cary guessed he was walking back and forth.

  "No wonder the kid's so screwed up," said Lydia.

  "But look at the other one Agnes gave away," said E.Q. "Same mother, but what an angel."

  Lydia sighed. "Judith doesn't want him either. Not after what he did."

  "Three sisters down," said E.Q. "Who does that leave? Your cousins?"

  "The only one who seemed interested was Eveline, but I think she just wants him to work the farm."

  "Perfect," said E.Q. "Sounds like just what he needs to straighten him out."

  "But that Eveline's so nasty."

  "They're made for each other," said E.Q. "Look, why are you worried about whether he gets along with whoever takes him? He's a lying, thieving, conniving, murderous creep who tried to kill our kids, for crying out loud."

  "Why can't we...just get help for him?" said Lydia.

  "Absolutely not," said E.Q. "He can't stay here. That's final."

  "Just another few days then," said Lydia. "Till we find someone other than Eveline to take him."

  "No," said E.Q. "I won't jeopardize this family anymore. He leaves tomorrow."

  In his hiding place in the living room, Cary grinned and nodded. E.Q. had just spoken the words he'd wanted to hear more than any others.

  Blacksheep was leaving.

  Cary's grin didn't last, though. No one said anything in the kitchen for a moment...and then, Lydia started sobbing.

  "Hey, what's wrong?" said E.Q.

  "It's just so sad." Lydia sobbed some more. "I remember him as a baby...and now...he's so hopeless. We're just giving up and getting rid of him."

  "Hey now," said E.Q. "I think we tried, don't you? We treated him like one of our own kids...better than our own kids, half the time."

  Lydia kept sobbing. Cary heard her blow her nose.

  "I know, I know," she said. "You're right."

  "Some people just can't be saved," said E.Q.

  "Yes," Lydia said between sobs. "Some people...are just doomed from the start."

  *****

  For the first time since before the attack, Cary saw Celeste's face light up with a smile.

  "He's leaving?" She barely managed to keep her whisper from bursting out in full voice. "He's really leaving?"

  Cary smiled and nodded. "Tomorrow." He'd come straight upstairs to the bedroom after eavesdropping on Lydia and E.Q.'s conversation in the kitchen. He hadn't been able to wait any longer to spread the good news.

  "Aunt Eveline, huh?" Baron was leaning on his elbow on the cot. His favorite recent expression--a cold, dead stare--melted into a smirk. "Couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

  "Wow." Paisley just looked boggled, like she couldn't believe it. Her eyes were extra-wide in the silver slash of moonlight streaming in from the window.

  "I never want to see him again in my life." Celeste caught herself when her voice got loud, and she shifted it back to a whisper.

  "He's still getting off easy," said Cary. "I mean, they're not even calling the cops."

  "The cops?" said Paisley.

  "He did try to kill us." Baron rolled onto his stomach and propped his chin on his folded arms so he could look at Paisley. "Gee, do you think that's serious enough?"

  "I think they should put him in jail," said Cary.

  "I'm just gonna stay right here till he's gone." Celeste patted the bed. "I don't want to see his ugly face even one more time."

  "I say we have a party after he's gone." Baron actually managed an all-out grin. "A Nuclear Family party in The Cage."

  Cary gave him a high-five, but not a loud one. "I can't wait till tomorrow!"

  "Finally," said Baron. "We'll have one less problem in this house."

  *****

  The whole time Cary fought Alpha Male and the Mustachios, he had to pee like nobody's business.

  In his super-hero identity as The Hurry, Cary applied one hyper-speed maneuver after the other in the battle with his wild-eyes foes. He ran rings around the Walrus, Handlebar Jack, Pencilla, and Stella 'Stache. He dismantled the Mustache Bomb faster than the human eye could see, then turned the pieces into a prison cell for Flu Manchu. All the while, he battled Alpha Male in three ongoing super-fast contests--swordfighting, twelve-dimensional death-chess, and star-wrasslin'.

  The fact that he had to pee so bad the entire time made the fight a struggle of truly epic proportions. The pain from his bladder slowed him down and distracted him just enough that Alpha Male got ahead of him in the contests...and even the Mustachios, who were always more of an annoyance than a threat, managed to get in their licks.

  Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. With a sudden burst of speed, Cary raced as far away from the battle as he could. He ran across roads and fields and deserts and oceans and icecaps, finally coming to rest at the top of Niagara Falls.

  It was only then that he remembered his super-hero costume didn't have a fly.

  Cary's scream echoed over the great chasm at the base of the falls. His bladder hurt so much, he thought it was about to explode.

  He fell to the ground in a fetal position, locking his knees to his chest. As he rocked back and forth and s
creamed, he heard Alpha Male and the Mustachios laughing around him, threatening to push on his lower abdomen and make him piss himself.

  Then, in mid-scream, Cary woke up.

  As it turned out, he had to pee as bad in real life as in his dream. Gritting his teeth, he rolled out of his sleeping bag and scrambled to his feet.

  Holding his penis through his pajama bottom with one hand, he threw open the bedroom door with the other. He scurried down the hall and ducked into the bathroom.

  Cary had to go so bad, he didn't pay much attention to the golden glow in the hall. He noticed it but was in too much pain to stop and look.

  When he was done, though, he hurried out of the bathroom and looked around. The whole hallway was cast in a throbbing golden light that grew stronger in the direction of the stairs.

  And the light wasn't the only thing that grew stronger over there.

  A layer of gray smoke rolled overhead, thickest at the top of the stairway. The smoke was drifting up from below, billowing from the same direction as the golden light.

  Cary coughed when he got a lungful of the smoke. It was bitter and strong, like the smell of melting toy soldiers mixed with the smell of burning leaves.

  Covering his mouth and nose with his hands, he took a few steps down the hall. He stopped when he got to the last door before the stairs, the half-open door to Mom and Dad's room. The smoke at that point was so thick, it burned his eyes and slipped through his fingers and down his throat and made him gag.

  He was close enough to get a clear look, though. Finally, he saw the source of the smoke and light and heat.

  The house was on fire.

  *****

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Cresson, Pennsylvania, 1958

  As the flames licked out of the front window of the Magic Castle greenhouse, Max Beacon turned and shouted at his son, E.Q. "Are you eighteen yet, boy?"

  E.Q. stood a little apart from the other two firefighters, who leaned against the fire truck and watched. "You know I'm not!"

  "Then I'm still giving the orders!" Max glared from under the brim of his fire helmet. He was aiming the spray from a firehose at the blaze in the front window of the greenhouse shop. "Now get your ass over here and take this hose!"

  E.Q. sighed and shook his head...but then he did as he was told. As he stomped over to his father, he heard the other firefighters snickering behind his back.

  "Take it!" said Max. "Keep hitting the front window!"

  E.Q. wrapped his fingers around one handle behind the nozzle, then the other. As soon as Max released the hose, he grabbed his axe off the ground and ran straight for the burning building. He charged around the back of the place and disappeared.

  It was at that moment that E.Q. stopped feeling embarrassed about fighting a fire at the he/she's greenhouse and started feeling angry at the two firefighters leaning against the truck. E.Q.'s own father was putting his life on the line, and those two jerks were happy to stand by and do nothing.

  "We'll run the truck and that's it." That was what one of them, Eddie Sligo, had said when Max had tried to get them to help.

  "You're lucky we're here at all." That was what the other one, Walt Hammerchek, had said.

  In reply, Max had grabbed the firehose himself, run it from the truck, and sprayed the flames with it.

  At the time, E.Q. hadn't thought much of the scene. Though Max was the fire chief, Eddie and Walt were old-timers who were used to doing what they wanted. Frankly, E.Q. kind of wished he wouldn't have to have anything to do with Mary Anne Filigree himself.

  But now that his father was in danger, E.Q.'s thinking had changed. He hated Eddie and Walt for letting Max go in alone. The fire was centered in the front of the shop and wasn't running wild, but still; anything could happen inside a burning building.

  They better pray he comes back out of there in one piece.

  *****

  Five minutes later, Max walked around the corner of the building with Mary Anne Filigree by his side.

  Mary Anne was quite a sight, fresh from bed. She wore a floppy pink robe over white pajamas. She had curlers in her hair, cold cream on her face, and fuzzy purple slippers on her feet.

  E.Q. thought she looked hilarious, especially given the fact that she used to be a man. He forced himself to concentrate on the fire to keep from laughing.

  Naturally, Eddie and Walt didn't even try to stifle their guffaws.

  That didn't go over well with Max at all. "Hey!" he said, bolting past E.Q. and hurtling toward the men by the fire truck. "You think this is funny?"

  "Yeah!" Eddie said between laughs. "Thanks for bringin' us along to see this!"

  Max pushed close to Eddie and glared down into his pudgy face. "Someone getting hurt for being different is funny to you?"

  "You can't tell me that isn't funny!" Still giggling, Eddie pointed at Mary Anne, who stood beside E.Q.

  Suddenly, Max grabbed Eddie's arm and twisted it. Eddie howled in pain instead of amusement.

  "That's you over there," said Max, pointing at Mary Anne. "Don't you recognize yourself?"

  "I'm no he/she," said Eddie.

  "That's you 34 years ago." Max twisted Eddie's arm harder, drawing out another howl. "You, too," he said, glaring at Walt. "A mick and a hunky. You didn't belong here, and they came for you. Don't you remember?"

  All of a sudden, Eddie started laughing again. He was bent over, his arm twisted in Max's grip, but he could still laugh like he hadn't heard a word that Max had said. "Hey, Walt! Do you think it pees with the toilet seat up or down?"

  Eddie laughed so hard that when Max let go of him, he dropped to the ground.

  With that, Max turned and marched back to E.Q. and Mary Anne. "Typical," he said. "The past means nothing."

  "What about the past?" said E.Q.

  "People forget they were the outsiders once," said Max. "They don't want to remember."

  "You said somebody came for them," said E.Q. "What were you talking about?"

  Max patted his shoulder. "Remind me to tell you about it sometime."

  E.Q. wanted to scream. Once again, Max had given him the standard answer that answered nothing.

  When will he ever tell me all the things he's said he'll tell me?

  Max turned to Mary Anne. "You sure you're all right?"

  Mary Anne nodded. E.Q. didn't think her smile looked very convincing. "Tonight was a warning, wasn't it?" she said softly.

  "Maybe." Max shrugged. "Or it could've been an accident."

  Mary Anne gave him a sideways look. "You don't really believe that, do you? Two days after those thugs said they'd be back later to settle up with me?"

  Max met her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. "When you gonna get those guard dogs I keep asking about?"

  Mary Anne sighed. "Tomorrow, I guess."

  "You want two." Max held up two fingers. "One by itself's too easy to kill."

  "I should just pack it in." Mary Anne turned and stared at the Magic Castle. "Try to find someplace friendlier."

  E.Q.'s ears perked up when he heard that. The spray from the hose moved off target as he listened for more.

  If Mary Anne left, it would spare him the embarrassment of being seen in her presence...but without the trouble of standing up to his father.

  Unfortunately, E.Q. had gotten his hopes up for nothing.

  "Friendly's overrated," said Max. "At least here, you know where you stand."

  Mary Anne smiled. "People around here definitely let you know that. I guess it makes life easier in a way."

  "That depends," said Max. "Easier if you can take a little heat."

  "Gee," said Mary Anne. "Here I didn't expect any of that when I got the sex change."

  Max laughed. E.Q. winced and kept hitting the front window of the shop with water, though the fire was out by that point.

  Just then, Eddie and Walt strolled over. Both of them looked pretty disgusted as they glared at Max and Mary Anne.

  "Say, Max," said Eddie. "We're not
comin' with you next time."

  "Yeah," said Walt. "You and the he/she are on your own."

  "Come on now, fellas," said Mary Anne. "Tell me what you really think of me."

  Eddie snorted. "I would," he said, "but I couldn't use that kind of language in front of the kid over there."

  "What a coincidence," said Mary Anne. "That's the same reason I can't say what I really think of you."

  "I can't figure you out, Max," said Walt. "I'd never risk my life to save a he/she."

  "You in love, Max?" said Eddie. "Is that what this is about?"

  "I'm just doing my job," said Max. "Just putting out fires."

  *****

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, 2006

  "It's the fuckin' KKK," said Drill, storming toward the flaming clothesline pole. "They're burnin' a fuckin' cross in my yard."

  "I don't understand," said Crystal, stumbling along after him in what looked like a drunken daze.

  Drill stopped and stood a few yards from the fiery cross. "I didn't know they had the fuckin' KKK in Mexico." He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing nothing but baggy bluejeans.

  Seeing him without a shirt did nothing for Cary's morale. Drill pumped a lot of iron and had too many muscles for his own good.

  Hopefully, El Yucatango could handle him, and Cary wouldn't have to find out first-hand how hard those muscles could hit.

  From his hiding place behind a dune to one side of the yard, he watched and waited for the right moment to move. He'd flushed the bad guys from their lair, and now it was almost time for the big fight scene.

  Just like in the comic books.

  Cary's eyes flicked to the rundown cottage from which Drill and Crystal had emerged just moments ago. He wished he had the x-ray eyes of the super-hero 20/20, so he could look through the walls and catch a glimpse of his reasons for being there: the kids, Glo and Late.