The Vivisectionist (10 page)

“That’s right,” said Stephen. “And I bet if we throw the breaker we kill the power. Then, while the power’s out I can go get my prize from that guy’s table. He’ll be too worried about getting the power back on to even notice me.”

“That’s like the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Ben. “Why would that ever work?”

“I bet it will,” said Stephen. “Besides, if the power goes off and the guy’s not distracted, then I just won’t do it.”

Ben wasn’t buying it—“Or, everything looks cool, but everyone in the whole fair sees you trying to steal something because they have nothing better to do. I mean, if the power’s off, everyone is going to be on guard and you’re not going to have any chance. You’re better just watching the guy until he’s not paying attention.”

“That’s a pretty solid point,” agreed Jack. “Or you could just say ‘Hey, I got ripped off for 
one dollar
 and didn’t get my 
fifty-cent
 prize.’” What’s the difference?

The ride ended and the boys realized they hadn’t seen any of it. They were too busy arguing about revenge.

“I’ve to to take a piss,” said Stephen when they were out of the ride. He went off towards the expo building.

Jack and Ben were alone, and Jack turned to Ben—“You don’t think he’s serious, do you?”

Ben answered quickly—“I don’t know, he’s pretty stubborn. He might just do it.”

Wandering towards the midway the boys were caught completely off-guard when the lights and sounds suddenly shut down. A swelling group-scream rolled through the crowd and was accompanied by both cheers and boos from the startled mob. Most stood still, but a small contingency started a rough move towards the exit.

Stephen jogged up through the sea of people.

“Come on, let’s go see if he’s distracted now,” Stephen said, smiling.

Pushing their way towards the midway, the boys were moving upstream against a growing exodus. Their fellow fair-goers were getting rowdy and vocal about the darkness. Stephen turned abruptly and pushed Ben and Jack towards a gap between two displays. Trailers on either side, they had to step carefully over cables and tie-downs that filled the makeshift alley. When they popped out behind the trailers, the boys found themselves in an area of solitude amongst the chaos.

“Where are we?” asked Jack. “Have we gotten back to the Plinko yet?”

Stephen answered: “I don’t think so. We can go this way.” He pointed to a small space between tents and trailers. Ben and Jack strained to see what he was pointing at—it was incredibly dark behind these structures. Out in the midway their way had been partially lit by all the people holding up their cell phones and keychain flashlights.

Carefully picking their way, they were getting nowhere. A flashlight clicked on behind them and threw their shadows ahead of them.

“What are you boys doing there?” demanded a throaty voice from behind Jack.

“Run!” yelled Stephen and he attempted to dart off to his right. Ben and Jack plunged behind him when Ben suddenly stopped.

“We passed him,” hissed Ben. Jack looked back to see that Stephen had tripped and was tangled in the ropes of a tent. Soon they could see every detail as the man with the flashlight caught up with Stephen and hauled him to his feet.

“C’mon kids, game’s over,” said the man. “Warren?” he called over his shoulder. “Get over here.”

The man had a firm hold of Stephen’s shirt and pulled Stephen to a small courtyard between a food wagon and the Bingo tent.

A voice sounded from inside the Bingo tent. “What you need?”

Stephen’s captor replied—“I caught a kid sneaking around,” he directed his next comment at Jack and Ben. “You two come over here and things might go easier on your friend here.”

“Okay,” said Jack and he started walking towards the man holding Stephen.

Mouth open, Ben watched his friend close the distance to sure doom. Ben thought that if he could get away, he could go find help. He was becoming certain that the man holding Stephen and soon-to-be-holding Jack should not be considered trustworthy. The man was tall and skinny and his bare arms looked like they could hold back an elephant if need be. Ben was sure of one thing—he didn’t want to submit to this man in any way.

Ben was just getting his nerve to run when Jack came to within arm’s length of the man. As the man’s sinewy arm looped down to scoop him up, Jack ducked and lunged forward. The man had no way to block Jack, with a handful of Stephen taking away one of his hands. Unencumbered, Jack drove a hard uppercut to the skinny man’s crotch.

“Go!” Jack yelled at Stephen as the man dropped his shirt. Stephen ran to the right as Jack tried to escape left. The man, now doubled over, managed to trip Jack up, but with flailing legs Jack stayed upright and kept moving. Ben was the last to bolt, watching the whole scene as if it were happening on television.

The boys went their separate ways, but instinctively made their way back to where Jack’s dad had parked. Arriving simultaneously, Jack and Ben high-fived to celebrate their safety.

“Oh man, where’s Stephen?” asked Jack.

“Right here,” Stephen called from around the other side of the car. The joy Stephen felt was transparent in his step—he fairly glided around the car.

“Guess what I got?” boasted Stephen, holding up a glow-in-the-dark frisbee.

“Good job—you risk all our necks for a stupid toy?” said Ben.

“Relax—everything is under control, isn’t it?” said Stephen.

“As long as you don’t mind ruining the fair for thousands of people,” said Ben. “They’re all going home.”

As if on cue, the lights around the midway came back on at that instant.

Stephen laughed—“See? No harm done,” Stephen turned to Jack. “Jack, man, you’re the best—thanks for saving my ass.”

“No problem,” Jack replied. “You would have done it for me.”

“No way!” exclaimed Stephen. “These hands do not touch dudes down there.”

With the tension broken by Stephen’s joke, the boys laughed for several minutes. They recounted their exploits to each other, exaggerating their roles.

Jack finally put a stop to their reminiscence—“Hey! It’s nine, the fireworks!”

With that, the three jogged off to the hill beyond the football field. Earlier in the day they had debated the optimal viewing location and decided on this hill. Their opinion was shared by most; and the hill was packed with spectators. Once they had located a empty space on the dark hillside, they settled in to watch the show and slap at mosquitoes.

Mid-way through the display, Stephen remarked: “Man, these fireworks are awesome.”

Jack and Ben agreed.

The boy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget what he had just seen. He didn’t want to know how the edge of his severed muscle would shimmer in the light. It had almost a metallic look, like gasoline floating on the lake in the sun. His skin had been seared, and smoothed at the edges. His internal organs looked wet and shiny.

He took a deep breath and held it. Then, he moved his stomach in just a bit, to see how painful it would be. It didn't feel numb, but there was no pain at all. He felt okay—imprisoned by a crazy man, but otherwise okay.

How had this happened?  

Keeping his eyes shut he took further inventory—he couldn’t hear anything, and he only smelled a subtle musty smell.

The boy remembered waking up, seeing the new incision, and then closing his eyes again. Was the man here now?

He flexed his leg muscles and decided his left leg felt weird. Something about the angle when he flexed his calf. The boy opened his left eye half way. He tried not to look at his stomach and forced his gaze down to his toes.

He closed his eye immediately, but couldn’t forget the image. His foot had been semi-transparent. The bottom was fine—ankle, heel everything looked normal. About half-way up his foot it turned bad: nothing left but bone.

When did that happen? Shouldn't it hurt?

“It’s the acid,” the man said.

The boy’s eyes flew open. He now saw the man, clear as day, standing near his devastated foot. The man looked odd. He was a normal crazy guy wearing a white lab coat until you got to his neck. From the neck up, the “dissecting man” had a bull’s head.

The boy’s mind reeled. Bull Man examined the boy's half-foot, and the boy remembered something about acid.

He wondered:  had Bull Man burned away his flesh with acid?

“Lysergic acid diethylamide,” said the man. “It’s a hallucinogen.”

The boy wondered if Bull Man could hear his thoughts.

Emboldened by their exploits at the fair, the boys grew hungry for adventure. They kept each other awake until late, talking of Stephen’s larceny and Jack’s rescue. Ben interjected occasionally, but allowed Jack and Stephen to dominate the discussion. When they woke, they got excited about what this new day could bring.

“What do you think we should do today?” asked Jack.

Stephen replied first, “What about that pond we saw on the map?”

“Or we could try to get across that river and see how far we can get that way,” suggested Ben.

“I think we should do something bigger—like build something cool,” said Jack.

“Like what?” Stephen asked.

“I don’t know, maybe like a big tree fort or something?” said Jack.

Ben dampened the idea—“You need tons of lumber and junk for that. It would be easier to find some other kid’s tree fort and take it over.”

“That’s true—my Dad’s always talking about how much lumber costs,” said Jack. “I can’t think of any other kids who have a good fort. Well there’s one a couple of streets over, but it’s right next to the house and it’s pink.”

“That would be awesome,” laughed Stephen. “They look out their window and we’re right there in their girly tree-house. We’d be all playing house and making tea and stuff.”

“Hey, why don’t we just break into that guy’s house?” said Ben. “You know, the one who the cops hauled away.”

Jack paused before commenting—“No, that’s crazy, that’s a crime scene. You can’t just break in there.”

“Yeah, besides, they would have already taken all the good stuff out of there,” said Stephen. “All the torture stuff and everything is probably down at headquarters already.”

Ben said, “But what if there’s a like a secret door or something, and that’s where he keeps his victims. Cops are always missing that kind of thing, and then the guy gets off and goes right back to killing.”