Collision (Part One)

The thorn bushes lining the muddy creek tore at his flesh with brutal force as he ran. He had been running for quite some time now. For his own sake, he needed to find a secret spot to rest for a while. Not only that, he also needed to get away from the angry mob of bloodthirsty circus oddities who were currently in pursuit of him…torches, pitchforks: the usual gear.

As the last of the tempestuous thorns cut a deep crimson crater into his skin, Ty Powers made a desperate dive into the muddy and shallow creek that inched its way across the nighttime landscape of the countryside. His senses were disabled: he could not open his eyes amid the muck; he could not hear anything even though the creek was hardly a foot deep; he could not feel, physically or emotionally (his day job and his recently exhaustive sprint down a country road made sure of this). But he could taste…mud, and lots of it. And he could smell…even more mud. He almost began to wonder if there was actually any moving water in the creek at all, but presently, he was more worried about the status of the disgruntled and underpaid freaks who were in pursuit of his blood. He raised his head from the mire slightly in order to clear out his ears. If he couldn’t see them, he’d have to get a feeling of where they were based solely on sounds. As the last of the impeding substance was wedged out of his ear, two voices floated over the silent creek bed.

“We lost ‘im, Sarge. The ringmaster will ‘ave our ‘eads!” said the first in a raspy moan.

“The ringmaster won’t accept anyone’s ‘ead other than Ty’s. The li’l devil goes around shootin’ whoever ‘e pleases, then runs off like a no-good coward! The ringmaster will not stand for this. We’re goin’ to ‘ave to comb the entire countryside before our job ‘ere is done. NO ONE rests until Ty Powers is dead and six feet below our filthy feet!” the second man bellowed.

“Sarge, I’m not tryin’ to be smart, but don’t you think we should wait till morning to continue the search? Even with torches I can barely see me own two ‘ands, let alone that nasty sharp-shootin’ scoundrel!”

“If I know Ty, by sunrise, ‘e’ll be one state closer to the Mississippi with a new name, new ‘aircut, and a new ‘it list to work on. There’s no way on God’s green earth we are goin’ to wait till that sun comes up. The ringmaster would sick those mangy tigers on us if we waited that long. You of all people, Squeak, should know ‘ow much ‘e values Madam Beautram. If someone ‘urts ‘er, the low-life who caused ‘er pain will experience a little dose of revenge, ten-fold!” The man named Sarge grew more furious the longer he rambled on.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…and don’t call me Squeak. You know ‘ow much I ‘ate that name.”

“Oh right. I guess you’d prefer Hhhhherbert, then?”

“Are we just goin’ to stand ‘ere and bicker or are we goin’ to find Ty and rip ‘im to shreds?!” yelled a shrill third voice, probably a female, followed by a chorus of angry supporters.

“All right, all right, all of you SETTLE DOWN!” begged Sarge. “Teeny, Porky…you and your crew take to the ‘ills. Fudgebar and Quack… ‘ead on into Deacon’s Corner and ask the townsfolk if they’ve seen anythin’ off-color. The rest of you, follow Hhhhherbert and I to the main road…that rotten good-for-nothin’ toddler couldn’t ‘ave gone too far!” And with another shout, the remaining mob of circus workers stormed the countryside in search of a man who, until recently, had just been no more than ten feet away from them.

~

The village of Deacon’s Corner sat at the base of Unity Hill: a treacherously rocky “foothill” to a slightly larger chain of hills that stretched as far as the eye could see and almost the entire way to the grand old Mississippi River. The village was home to no more than sixty people at a time, and was mostly governed by Reverend John Francis. Reverend Francis was a quickly aging gentleman who never took no for an answer, even when he asked people if his hair was still black.

On this particular night, Reverend Francis was in the chapel tower, high above his little village, inspecting the church bells, when he heard a commotion in the streets below. He wearily looked out the tiny window onto the veiled town square and spied two scraggly men with torches harassing an elderly woman in a nightgown just outside her front door. With a heavy sigh, and an even heavier heart, the old man feebly made his way down the rickety tower steps and out the large oak front doors into the night. He wore his usual black cloak, but in addition to this, he also wore a pair of slippers upon his dry and cracked feet.

As he approached the twisted scene before him, he heard the present conversation.

“Come on, little lady, why don’tcha let us in for a while. We won’t hurt’cha! We just wants ta ask ya a few questions,” said the taller of the two men.

“Go away, heathens! Reverend Francis will not be pleased to find your type in this village! Crossing the Line won’t get you anywhere!” The poor old woman was cowering in fear like a mouse before a lion.

“Yeah? Well the old Reverend’s friend, our ringmaster, also won’t be very pleased ta hear that one of his em-ploy-ee’s is hiding in yer village!” screeched the second.

“The ringmaster is no friend of the Reverend!”

“That’s enough, Quack. You, too, Fudgebar. What are you two doing so far away from your tents at this hour?” asked Reverend Francis, finally moving out of the shadows of the street to join the strange trio.

“Ooo, the Reverend himself in flesh and blood before us! Bow down ter the great Medium between Heaven and earth!” cried Quack, falling to the ground with a menacing cackle.

“Do not mock Heaven, young man. Your ringmaster would be ashamed. Besides, while you’re out breaking the Line law on his behalf, I’d at least expect you to behave according to this village’s moral code.”

The short and robust man called Fudgebar tried to conceal a snigger, but did not succeed.

“Oh, little Frank Bard, what would your father think if he saw you laughing at me?”

“Hey, hey, HEY! The name’s Fudgebar, ya crazy old coot! And the next time ya slip up, there just might not be no sunrise in yer future!”

“Calm down, Fudgey. The man’s right. So long as we’ve overstepped our bounds, we better play it safe. If ya don’t mind, oh most gracious sir Reverend sir, we’d like it if we could ask ya a few questions,” said Quack in a manner that dripped sarcasm like hot candle wax.

“Very well, Milton. Ask away.” The old man’s grin shone in the light of the torches so that Quack’s sarcasm quickly flew off like a nervous hummingbird at the sound of his real name.

“Well, fer starters, have ya seen or heard anything tonight that would lead ya to believe that a fugitive of our own Brotherhood is seeking refuge in yer fair village?”

“Seeing as I’ve been watching over my ‘fair village’ from the bell tower since dusk AND have not heard a single odd noise until your unforeseen arrival, I’d have to say no in response to your question.”

There was a brief silence, in which the three men stared at each other lividly, with the poor old woman still fearing for her life in the background. “Very well,” breathed Quack. “One more question, though: If ya were ta guess where our fugitive is, where would ya say we could find him?”

“Look no further than the bed and breakfast just outside of this village and on your side of the Line.” The tenseness of his tone signaled the end of the conversation.

“Goodnight,” the two men muttered as they walked on down the dirt road and around the corner, out of sight.

“Bertha, get on back to bed. Daylight is still far from us. Do not let their presence alarm you any longer.”

“Oh, Reverend, I thought you’d never come! I never asked for that kind of treatment. Oh, never! I thought the Line would be the end of those circus folk in our streets, but I guess I was wrong.” Her delicate blue eyes began to fill with tears.

“I will not let this incident go unreported. The ringmaster will be informed when the sun comes up. I do fear, though, that whatever is happening here tonight is not over…Goodnight, Bertha. Take care, and give George my greetings.”

“Goodnight, Reverend. God bless you!”

~