The Guild of Fallen Clowns (5 page)

Cracky took the package and put his hand on
Rudy’s shoulder. “Calm down, Rudy.” Then he looked at Alan. “Hey,
Boogy. Looks like I’m gonna have to cut da tour short. Do me a
favor and give dis to Geno for us. I gotta see what’s going on with
dat hydraulic line. Thanks, pal. Oh, and come see me in da ticket
booth after we open. I got somethin’ for ya.”

Alan took the package from Cracky and the
two rushed off in the direction of the Bobsled ride.

He watched as Cracky disappeared from view,
abandoning him in front of—the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors.
Returning his attention to the labyrinth, he surveyed the area
before taking his first step inside the perimeter.

The foreboding entry gates were opened
inward, with oversized metal plates shaped like skulls welded to
the center of each rusted wrought-iron side. The gates were mounted
to columns. The left column formed a giant cloaked black hand,
which appeared to be growing ten feet up from the ground. In the
grip of the massive hand was the shaft of a sickle, which crossed
over the pathway. The tip of the long black steel blade rested in
the dirt beyond the opposite column on the right side

Lining the wide pathway was a series of
connected movable barriers, forming a snakelike pattern designed to
contain the line of anxious visitors. The sides of the pathway were
adorned with an abundance of fake spider webs and gravestones. A
few zombies appearing to climb out of their graves, and
miscellaneous half-decayed body parts were strewn about for added
effect—typical haunted house fare.

The building itself wasn’t what one would
expect of a haunted amusement. Instead of appearing as a
dilapidated old mansion with skeletons on the porch and ghostly
images in the windows, the Labyrinth looked more like the side of a
factory wall. Other than the opening for the entrance, the
two-story front façade was entirely made up of corrugated, faded
black steel panels. If not for the blood-red words
The Haunted
Labyrinth of Mirrors
painted across the width of the building,
the entire structure might not be visible after sunset.

For as long as Alan could remember, he had
done his best to avoid amusement park haunted houses. As a matter
of fact, the list of things he avoided was long: he wouldn’t go
near wooded areas at night, he wouldn’t walk through a dark room,
he’d never go in an attic, he never looked under a bed at night, he
wouldn’t sleep in a perfectly silent room (he needed some white
noise or a radio on). And above all, he wouldn’t go into the
basement of an old house alone, at any time of day. Oh, and since
his run-in with Lyle the previous day, he had added one more thing
to his “not do” list—he wouldn’t park his car in front of his own
apartment building, unless he could get the spot where his driver
side door faced the median.

Up until his Krauss House experience the
previous night, Alan had done well at avoiding those things. Now,
less than a day later, he faced another unthinkable situation. He
was being forced to enter a haunted amusement. How was it possible
for him to get through more than three decades of life where his
most frightening experience was fifty feet from Krauss House in the
daytime? Now, suddenly, within a few short hours, he was faced with
not one, but two unearthly predicaments.

As he wrestled with his fears, it occurred
to him that the carnival wasn’t opened to the public yet. There
were still twenty minutes before guests would be admitted and the
rides would be turned on. He wasn’t sure of what would be inside
the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors, but based on its name, it would
likely be a maze of mirrors in the dark with spooky sounds and
creepy mechanical things brushing into people as they journeyed
through. If so, all of those creepy things would likely be turned
off until the carnival opened. Until then, Alan convinced himself
that it was probably just a maze of mirrors and the room lights
would still be on. After all, this Geno fellow would be waiting for
whatever part was in the box he was about to deliver. This should
be easy.

With his newly formed justification and
belief that everything would be okay, he started his approach. His
head followed the Reaper’s hand and sickle as he walked through the
ominous opening. He had slowly weaved halfway through the snake
line on his way to the entrance when he heard The Ringmaster’s
voice call out from the side.

“The Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors isn’t for
the faint of heart. Welcome to the portal to the underworld, where
evil spirits await to prey upon both the weak and strong. All are
welcome to test their will, but be warned. What you experience
inside will haunt you forever. The Haunted Labyrinth welcomes you,
but please remember—flash photography is prohibited and those with
heart conditions or who are pregnant are prohibited from
entering.”

“He’s auditioning,” Alan said under his
breath, as he stood motionless. Cracky was right. This guy did have
a screw loose. He truly viewed Alan to be his competition for a job
that wasn’t even available.

The Ringmaster slithered back inside his
booth as Alan continued his way to the entrance of the Labyrinth.
Stopping at the front door, he called in to Geno, hoping he would
come out to him. No luck. He took one step inside. It was dark, but
rope lights along the walls at floor level illuminated the
path.

“Geno!” he called out again. This time he
got a response.

“Come back here. Just take a left at the
end.”

“Uh, that’s okay, I was sent to deliver a
package to you. I’ll just leave it here on the floor.”

“Not acceptable!” Geno snapped. “Bring it to
me.”

Alan didn’t see that he had any choice, so
he continued to the end of the narrow hallway of mirrors and turned
into a well-lit large circular room fully lined with mirrored
panels. A man—apparently Geno—was crouched down working on
something. The floor of the room was covered with what appeared to
be a road map of narrow channels. Geno removed the head of his
screwdriver from one of the channels and glided a mirrored panel
through the track. It was connected like a bi-fold door to other
panels. He eased the panel back and forth over the area he had just
worked on before pushing the sections back to the outer wall.

He looked over at Alan still in the entryway
of the room. “Come here,” he said, motioning with his hand.

Without taking a step, Alan held out the
box. “They gave me this package to deliver to you.”

“Bring it to me.”

Alan looked around the room. His own and
Geno’s reflections were the only things he saw. As he approached
Geno, he wondered what the big deal was about the place. There
weren’t any scary posters or mannequins dressed like Frankenstein
or Dracula. No cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. It was just a room
full of mirrors. Sure, it could get scary when the place opened and
ghostly sounds would emanate from speakers, but other than that,
the place looked pretty tame. If that place could scare people to
death, maybe his lifetime of avoiding similar attractions was
completely irrational. As a child, things could have been a lot
easier for him if he sucked it up and joined his friends as they
braved years’ worth of haunted houses at carnivals, fairs, and
Halloween parties. If he didn’t fear so many things, maybe his
friends wouldn’t have given him the nickname
Boogieman
,
which was later shortened to Boogy.

Alan was feeling braver than ever. For a
brief moment, he selectively forgot about his response to the
thing
he saw the previous night at Krauss House. That was
real, and places like the Haunted Labyrinth of Mirrors were just
illusions. After seeing the real thing, maybe he would be able to
live with the simulations.

He reached out to offer the package to Geno.
Geno was significantly shorter than Alan. He looked directly into
Alan’s eyes as he grabbed the package and didn’t say a word as he
continued to study him. As the seconds ticked, Alan became more and
more uncomfortable with the silence.

“Uh, my name is Alan, eh, Boogy,” he said as
he reached his hand out a second time, this time offered as a
handshake.

Geno grinned, ignoring the gesture. “I know
who you are.”

“Oh, that’s right, Cracky told me you’re the
reason I got this job,” he said nervously. “And, eh, thank you. I
really appreciate it. I don’t know how you found me, but thanks.
I’m excited to be here.”

Geno nodded slightly and reached down for
his toolbox. “I need you to wait here for a minute, Boogy. There’s
someone I want you to meet.”

Alan stood motionless as Geno brushed by him
to another wall of the mirrored room. His reflections appeared to
follow. At the wall, he pivoted a mirror and stepped through. He
and his reflections disappeared, leaving Alan alone with countless
reflections of Boogy looking back at him.

With Geno gone, Alan was starting to think
there might be some truth to the stereotype given to carnies. Other
than Cracky, they were all a little bit creepy. Before entering the
Labyrinth, his only concern was with the dead spirits he might find
inside. Now he wasn’t thinking about the dead. He was more
concerned with Geno. That odd little man gave him the shivers.

Sounds of footsteps going up a metallic
stairway, then across a floor above him, echoed throughout the
room. Alan continued to stand motionless, curious about where Geno
was headed. The footsteps stopped and the room lights dimmed. The
entry and Geno’s exit door panel spun flat with the rest of the
panels before loud clicking sounds locked them in place, creating
an unbroken reflective circle around him.

“Don’t worry, Boogy. He’ll be there soon,”
Geno announced through hidden speakers.

Fog began rising from the floor. Instantly,
Alan reverted to his previous condition and darted for the entry
door. The opening was gone. He pressed against the mirrors in an
attempt to pivot them as Geno did when he left the room. One after
another, he pressed on the panels around the room.

“Let me out,” he commanded as he continued
searching for an exit.

“Patience, Boogy, he’s almost here,” Geno’s
voice echoed.

With all the mirrors checked—and some
double-checked, Alan moved to the center of the room to look for
another escape option. There were none. Geno had trapped him
inside.

“What are you doing? Let me out.
Please.”

Geno ignored his plea. The fog covering the
floor settled at knee level, but inside the mirrors, dark smoke
appeared to rise nine feet to the ceiling. Watching the mirrors
build with smoke, Alan noticed the area in front of him become
turbulent. The dark cloud began dissipating as a figure moved
toward the mirrors’ surface from the darkness. It was tall and
darker than the smoke. As it stopped at the inner skin of the
mirror, its features sharpened, and Alan’s eyes widened.

“Peepers!” Alan gasped. “But that’s not
possible. You’re not real. You’re just a character in Clown
World.”

The Peepers figure didn’t appear to be a
projection on the mirror. Instead, it looked like he was standing
behind the sheet of glass. As Alan tried to make sense of what was
happening, Peepers raised his left hand. The rigid mirror barrier
rippled as his hand flowed through it and into the room. As it
moved into his space, the hand took on a semi-transparent
consistency.

Alan couldn’t move if he wanted to. The
image in front of him was surreal. All he could do was watch as the
rest of Peepers’ body flowed through the barrier and stood in front
of him like a holographic representation of the Peepers from inside
the mirrored wall.

Peepers floated to within a few feet of
Alan. From the corner of his mouth, another plea to Geno was all
Alan could muster.

“Geno, please turn it off.”

“Geno didn’t bring me here, Alan,” Peepers
said.

“Holy crap,” Alan stammered.

“Peepers here for you, Alan. And you are
here for Peepers.”

Alan had had enough. He closed his eyes in
an effort to make it go away.

“Open eyes, Alan. Peepers brought you to
help. We help each other.”

One eye opened to a slit. Peepers stood
tall, staring down at him with his big, glossy black eyes.

“Now the other,” Peepers said, and his bony
finger twitched upward, inches from Alan’s face.

Alan slowly opened his other eye.

“This can’t be real. How did you know about
Clown World, Geno? Are you the Peepers character? What’s going on
here?”

From the side of the room, a mirrored panel
pivoted and Geno walked through. He flipped the panel back to a
closed position and walked past Alan to the back of the room, where
he unlocked another panel and exited the building.

Alan returned his focus to Peepers.

“Geno helps Peepers. Peepers real.”

With Geno out of the building, Alan realized
that this couldn’t be some sort of manipulated projection. It was
talking independently to him. It had to be a real ghost.

“Yes, Alan, Peepers real. Once, real like
you. Now, real in spirit realm.”

Alan spun to scan the mirrors. His was the
only reflection in the panels. “You’re a ghost?”

“Yes, Peepers slip from the solid world to
place where judgment awaits.”

Alan didn’t try to understand Peeper’s
reply, and for a moment he forgot that he was talking to a ghost.
One question dominated his thoughts.

“Why did you kill me in Clown World?”

Peepers tilted his head. Even as a spirit in
another dimension, he appeared confused and unable to understand
how Alan’s deeply rooted fear of everything supernatural could be
overshadowed by the demise of his fictional character in a
role-playing game.

“Alan, Peepers here to help you. Peepers
need your help.”

“Help? Wait, just tell me why you killed
me.”