The Forty First Wink Page 12

  Marty blinked in surprise. "Yes. Yes he does."

  Whipstaff and Oaf called a truce to their beermat battle and peered over at the waitress expectantly.

  "Does he wear a hat? And an eye patch?" she continued.

  Nodding, Kate attempted to hurry things along. "That sounds like him. Have you seen him?"

  Still staring out over the dance floor, Ursula raised an elegant hand and extended an immaculately manicured finger towards the stage beyond. "I have. Right over there."

  As one, the group craned in the direction of the pointing finger. On the stage beyond the dance floor, behind the manically caterwauling band, Timbers scuttled out from behind a curtain. Momentarily caught in a spotlight, he paused, glancing out into crowded room. Before Marty had the chance to call out to his tiny companion, a little old man dressed in green lycra leaped out from behind the same curtain, scampering past Timbers and motioning for the little pirate to follow.

  Whipstaff and Oaf were already on their feet, vaulting onto the table and sending bottles and glasses skittering to the floor. "Captain!" Whipstaff bellowed as he sprang off the table and made for the dance floor, Oaf close at his heels. Clearly the music had drowned him out as Timbers took off across the stage after the leotard clad geriatric.

  Marty rose to follow his shipmates, and turned briefly back to address Ursula as he did so. "Sorry about all this. Thank you for you hospita–” His sentence was cut short as Kate grabbed his hand and launched them both after Whipstaff and Oaf into the throng of the dance floor.

  The two brigands were already carving a path through the dancing horde. Oaf's huge wooden mallet spun and scythed, knocking patrons hither and thither as they made for the stage. In an act of politeness belying his appearance and chosen profession, Oaf galloped apologetically through the crowd.

  "Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me. I'll pay for that. Get some ice on that," he shouted as he swung his hammer, literally beating a path to the stage and his captain.

  Behind him, Whipstaff was riding the slipstream created by his lumbering shipmate and was eyeing the stage for signs of Timbers. The little captain and his mysterious aged cohort had vanished behind the curtain at the far side of the stage. Marty had seen it, too, as he and Kate hurried on behind. They were close to the stage now and could see a door behind the far curtain. This must surely have been Timbers' escape route, and he hoped that the dervish that was Oaf, at the head of the carnage being perpetrated on the dance floor, had seen it also.

  It appeared he had. He reached the stage at the same velocity as a ballistic missile and leapt onto it mid-hammer swing.

  Incredulously, the band continued to play as first Oaf and Whipstaff, and then Kate and Marty arrived on stage, tearing past them to where Timbers had exited stage left. The door had already been flung open when Marty and Kate reached it. Whipstaff and Oaf vanished into the blackness beyond, clearly desperate to be reunited with their captain. Resting a hand on the door frame, Marty glanced back into the Big Top. Everything was as it had been before their manic trip across the dance floor. Patrons sipped their drinks, dancers whirled about, and waiters pirouetted through the crowd with their laden trays. Only Ursula remained where she had been, staring out across the dance floor from their now deserted booth. She flashed a Hollywood smile and shot Marty a heavy eyelashed wink, nodding knowingly as she did so. She was not part of this facade. She knew it, and now he knew it, too. He nodded his brief thanks before Kate's hand, which was still firmly grasping his, yanked him purposefully into the shadows beyond the stage door.

  As Marty disappeared through the open doorway, a gang of gibbering clowns entered stage right. Like bloodhounds on a scent, they charged over to where the group had made their escape, and tilted headlong, almost as one, through the door into the darkness beyond.

  #

  Had Marty and Kate been aware of the psychotic pursuers snapping at their heels, they may have moved quicker as they arrived in the gloom that was backstage. Thanks largely to a steep flight of stairs this decision was made for them. Gravity roughly assisted them into a large and equally dingy chamber. Coming to an ungainly stop at the foot of the stairs, Marty squinted into the vaguely lit room. There was no sign of any of the crew of the Fathom or the aged stranger who had been accompanying Timbers. Rising to his feet, Marty surveyed his surroundings while helping Kate regain her footing.

  There was scarcely enough time to take in the stark, emptiness of what was essentially a huge, connecting corridor when the sound of several giggling maniacs invaded the blackness at the top of the stairs.

  Branching out from where they stood, there were half a dozen corridors offering a possible means of escape. Marty wasted no time in choosing the nearest, grabbing Kate by the hand and steadfastly legging it away from the nightmarish sounds of mayhem from above.

  Luckily, the sounds of pursuit seemed to diminish as they ran. "They're not following," Marty gasped, wishing he was fitter. "Maybe they don't do so well on stairs with those big, flappy feet."

  Kate seemed to be a little less out of breath and a lot less optimistic. "Yeah, or maybe they know their way around down here."

  Running as they were through a dark, nightmarish corridor underneath a nightclub decked out like a big top circus tent in a city full of clowns, it was hard to not concede she might have a point. That was no reason to stop, though, Marty thought. The last evidence of pursuit was behind them and, therefore, the logical course of action must surely be to swiftly bolt in the opposite direction. The corridor presently opened into another large, elongated room full of boxes and crates. Indeed, the whole complex network of tunnels and chambers underneath the Big Top appeared to be just an oversized storage area.

  Marty and Kate stopped in the entrance to this new room, scanning for signs of their pirate comrades. Nothing stirred, save for the sound of their own breath, echoing slightly in the dank silence of the hall. It seemed this chamber was as elaborately interconnected as the one they had recently vacated, and Marty realized it would be very easy to get lost in a place like this. Skirting the wall slowly, the pair edged towards the nearest connecting passageway, avoiding the debris that cluttered the floor.

  The silence was only broken as Kate nudged a section of broken packing crate, sending its unhinged lid clattering loudly to the floor. For a moment, everything stopped. Marty froze in his tracks, his breath held for what seemed like minutes. From the darkness behind them, and far too close for comfort, a throaty chuckle rose up, slowly becoming more frantic and high pitched. The breath that had been held flew sharply as Marty dove behind the nearest large crate, pulling Kate into the shadows behind him. The giggling seemed to get louder and louder before abruptly stopping, seemingly only a few feet from where they hid.

  There are very few things in life that have the capacity to paralyze a person with fear. It could have been the situation he currently found himself in, but Marty could only think of one. As he turned to peer through the slats of the crate he crouched behind, his mind was full of leering, gleeful grins, shrill cackling laughter, and brightly colored psychopaths with ghostly white faces. Fearing just such a sight, Marty surveyed what he could see of the room beyond. Nothing sneered back at him out of the blackness. The room itself seemed to be waiting for a reaction, silent and pensive.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Marty motioned to Kate that they needed to keep moving. Despite the graveyard serenity of their surroundings, something was there, and if not, it soon would be. It was then that the something that may or may not have been there declared its presence. Slinking out of the darkness on the other side of the crates, a brightly dressed, but hideously painted, harlequin surveyed the room with soulless, bulging eyes. Even within the gloom, and from his restricted vantage point, Marty could tell it was Mr. Peepers.

  His eyes burned balefully, and a thick guttural chuckle issued from between his upsettingly crooked and jaggedly sharp teeth. Shrinking back behind the crates, Marty felt sure he would be spotted.
Although undercover, he could still feel those blazing pupils scanning for him as he crouched in the darkness.

  "So, it's a game of hide and seek is it, sonny?" The voice spilled out of the blackness like hot molten evil, and Marty gasped much louder than he would have liked. "I must warn you. I am very good at hide and seek," the voice continued, leering out of the shadows, seeking him out.

  As Marty edged away from his ghastly pursuer, the voice spoke again, seemingly all around them as it bounced off the cold stone walls. "Why don't you come out? We only want to play. We only want you to stay here with us. Imagine the fun we can have." The last sentence again trailed off into a growling, sneering chuckle, filling Marty's imagination with all sorts of things, none of them remotely fun.

  As they made their way cautiously past a stack of scrap wood leaning against the wall, Marty's foot scraped the floor, and Kate winced as the sound rasped through the chamber. It was immediately met by a hoarse squeal of demonic delight, and suddenly the voice seemed to shriek from behind them.

  "Come out!" Again it chanted feverishly, "Come out! Come out!"

  The third time it was almost alongside them and singing with cheerful ferocity. "I…Will…Find…You…!"

  Something in Peepers' voice seemed to catch Marty by the throat, squeezing icy talons that left him breathless and frantic. It drifted formlessly, threatening to seek them out without the need for glaring eyes or grasping hands. As terrifying as Mr. Peepers was to look at, hearing that voice getting closer and closer, creeping like a ghostly fog, was the real stuff of nightmares. Pulling together all his courage, Marty ventured another peek over the top of the crates behind which they cowered. Mr. Peepers stood a few feet away on the other side, mercifully with his back to them. Recoiling, Marty could still make out Peepers as the clown sloped jerkily away to the other side of the room, where he disappeared into the far corridor.

  Feeling able to breathe again, Marty grasped Kate's hand firmly in his and made his way across the wall of the dimly lit chamber. The nearest connecting corridor was only a few feet away and yet with every step he expected to hear footfalls behind, or feel a heavy, white-gloved hand on his shoulder. Mercifully, they arrived at the corridor unmolested, sneaking out of the shadows and into the relative safety of the passageway. As they vacated the room, they glanced over their shoulders one last time.

  Standing motionless, only a few feet away was a smile on legs. The grinning freak had not been there seconds ago as they had made their escape, yet stood there now, rakish and gaunt, glaring with wild bulging eyes. It was not Mr. Peepers but, instead one of his gleeful cohorts, and it was no less horrifying. Before Kate could scream, the motionless harlequin barked out a violent, piercing laugh, opening its mouth impossibly wide, and displayed wickedly sharp teeth within.

  Kate was frozen to the spot as grasping, gnarled white claws reached for her. Claws that would have caught her had Marty not hauled her into the corridor ahead. The clown snatched at thin air, shrieking, and Kate flew backwards into the darkness, clearly thankful to still be holding Marty's hand.

  Marty, feeling very much like the dashing hero at this point, sped into the dimly lit passageway, only to crash headlong into a figure lurking within. Skittering to the ground, Marty instinctively raised his fists, expecting imminent unpleasantness. Whirling upon his opponent, Marty mustered the best battle cry he could muster, which tailed off shakily as the assailant stepped into the light. Whipstaff, clearly mystified by the surprise collision, held out his hands defensively. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! It's me, stand down sailor."

  Marty dropped his hands, clearly relieved to see the first mate. "Whipstaff. We've been looking for you guys. Where have you been?"

  "We've been looking for the captain. This place is like a labyrinth."

  "Well, we need to get moving, there's a clown right behind us," whispered Marty. To illustrate the point, two beady eyes hoved into view at their backs, glinting in the shadows. A wide, toothy grin joined them, followed by their owner, towering over Marty, Kate, and Whipstaff while cackling balefully.

  "Is that him?" Whipstaff enquired.

  Marty sighed, turning incredulously towards the tiny pirate. "Yes, Whipstaff, I believe that's him."

  The clown stepped forward out of the darkness, its raised hands causing sinewy shadows to dance across the walls. Standing at full height now, the clown glared at them with burning, murderous eyes that seemed to glow and bulge ever wider. Retreating slowly backwards, Marty briefly considered turning tail and running. This plan, of course, meant turning away from this monster before them, something that would require more courage than he could muster at this moment. Still, the clown crept closer, leaning over and chuckling with demented intent. As it stooped to commit all manner of unspeakable acts upon the shrinking trio, a large, round shape dropped out of a hole in the ceiling overhead.

  With a resounding thud, the shape crashed into the clown, sending both circus freak and mystery arrival sprawling in a heap on the floor.

  Marty craned forward, trying to see what had dispatched their attacker. In the dim light of the passageway, Oaf peered up from his perch atop the felled clown. Recognizing Marty, he shot a broad grin and waved cheerfully. "Hello!"

  Whipstaff was immediately at Marty's side. "Oaf! Where in Poseidon's paddling pool did you come from?"

  "Erm. Up there." Oaf shrugged, pointing vaguely at the large vent in the ceiling.

  Whipstaff laughed, springing forward and slapping Oaf briskly on the back. "Well, good timing, me hearty!" He turned towards Marty. "See? I told you this place was like a maze. We better find the captain and get out of here before any more of these jokers show up."

  "No argument there, but which way?" Kate enquired. "We can't go back the way we came."

  Whipstaff beckoned for them to follow. "Don't worry, I think there's a way out this way. I only doubled back because I heard your voices." He was walking back the way he had come and beamed cheekily over his shoulder. "Lucky for you I did, or you might have been in trouble here."

  As Oaf followed on behind his first mate, Marty patted the lumbering pirate softly on the back. "Lucky for you more like. Nice going, big guy." The blushing nod Oaf returned was not seen in the gloom of the basement, but Marty knew it was there, nonetheless.

  Creeping to the end of the corridor, Marty caught up to Whipstaff, who seemed to have a much better idea of where he was going. "Have you seen Timbers down here?" he asked.

  Whipstaff reached the end of the passageway and paused, looking up and down the connecting corridor, but not back at Marty. "No. He's got to be here somewhere, though."

  Kate arrived at the junction and stooped to address Whipstaff. "Look, if he's down here, he'll be looking for a way out, too. We need to do the same thing. Looking for Timbers will be a hell of a lot easier away from where we don't have to worry about being juggled to death."

  In the faint glow cast by a flickering light bulb overhead, Whipstaff shook his head defiantly, an imploring look on his face. Marty found himself shaking his head in unison. As much as he spectacularly didn't want to be in the situation they were in at that moment, and as much as his instinct screamed at him to bolt for the nearest exit, they had come for Timbers, and they were going to leave with Timbers.

  "We're not going anywhere without the captain," a voice exclaimed. Marty was both surprised and heartened to discover it had come from him.

  Kate rose to face him, clearly afraid but hiding it beautifully. "Okay, you're the boss." She turned to Whipstaff. "So, which way?"

  Completely ignoring the question, the tiny first mate peered into the darkness behind them. Following his gaze, Marty squinted back down the corridor they just traversed. Four sets of eyes stared back at them and seemed to be approaching with alarming speed. The group backed away instinctively.

  "Which way?" Kate asked again, much more urgently than the last time.

  Whipstaff pointed at the approaching harlequins as he prepared to whol
eheartedly leg it along the connecting corridor. "Not that way!" he shrieked as he took off at speed.

  Clearly not needing an invitation to follow, Marty, Kate, and Oaf took off after him, the sound of chasing, chuckling sideshow freaks behind them. After only a few galloping steps, however, the corridor came to a debris strewn dead end. Scanning the walls feverishly, Marty spied a grubby looking hole, which looked like it could, at some point, have been a laundry chute. With the sound of whooping and screeching maniacs mere moments behind them, it was the only available choice.

  Hoisting Whipstaff up to the hole, Marty barked out orders to his fleeing cohorts. "Quickly, down the laundry chute."

  "I'm not jumping in that!" Whipstaff protested. He struggled as Marty stuffed him head first into the aperture. "It smells horrible down there."

  "Look, just get in. I don't care if it smells funny."

  As they dove into the opening, Marty realized he had seen this in a movie at some point, and as he recalled, it had not ended well. With no other option at hand though, he took a deep breath and launched himself, screaming into the blackness of the chute.

  #

  There is no good way to land in a heap. Even if you land on top of the heap, there's elbows and other sharp objects to consider. The whole heap landing process is completely without redeeming factors.

  These thoughts filed aimlessly through Marty's mind as he landed in said heap atop his flailing comrades at the bottom of the laundry chute.

  The room into which they had plummeted was decidedly larger and significantly brighter than the dingy labyrinth they had negotiated moments before. It appeared to be an oversized, underground car park, housing vehicles of every conceivable type, stretching back further than Marty could see. Already on his feet and helping up the others, he could still here the giggling pursuit issuing from the tunnel above them and was already looking for the exit. No immediate means of escape was evident, so without hesitating, Marty sprang over to the nearest car, jiggling the handle frantically. Following his lead, Kate took the next one, but also found it locked. Glancing back at his two pirate allies, Marty had time to see the ‘What the hell are you doing?’ look on Whipstaff's face, and the ‘Is this a game? Can I play?’ expression from Oaf, before their four ghoulish pursuers slid out of the tunnel behind them. Even before Marty could switch his attention to the looming monsters, the grunt and growl of a thunderous engine roared into life from the rows of vehicles off to their right.