Page 15 of Dead End

The bright sign on the corner of the road was lit with big, flashing bulbs of every color, drawing attention to the bold red lettering.

‘Killer Clown Motel. Come and stay forever.’

The sign was a clue enough to stay the hell away, but the icing on the top of the clusterfuck cake had to be the three very real clowns standing in a row, right in the middle of the parking lot. All three were staring at Jason with wide, red-lipped smiles that expanded past the curve of their mouths. White powder was smeared across each face, with dark blue circles outlining their haunting eyes. The makeup smudged down each cheek in ruined trails.

Baggy, striped jumpsuits hung off their frames, each foot wearing the typical big red clown shoes. One was wearing a small purple top hat, and he kept honking the horn in his hand, the sound broken and loud in the quiet parking lot. The clown with the brightly colored nose and penciled-in black eyebrows was repeatedly blowing up balloon animals, only to pop them over and over again with a long needle.

The last clown was the one that made me the most nervous. I didn’t like the way he was staring at Jason, completely ignoring me. It was like he knew Jason was petrified, and he loved it. His already wide smile grew even bigger, stretching so far at the corners that blood started dripping from his mouth and down his chin. He stood still except for his receding hairline, the strands blowing around his head as a cool breeze brushed by, kicking up dust from the parking lot.

“You might want to start running,” a squeaky voice piped up. Jessica dug her little legs in deeper, latching on tight. “The clowns don’t usually bother people, especially the ones staying at their motel, but they love games. They can’t resist a game, especially that one in the middle.”

Her little spider leg pointed to the one who had yet to look away from Jason. He reached into his baggy pocket and pulled something out. A knife?

Oh shit…

“He can smell fear,” Jessica added. “Mortals have a show about a clown like that, don’t they? American Horrible? No, that’s not it. You know the one clown who’s all sad and lonely as he murders people? Anyway, you might want to get going before they decide to stop playing,” she warned, and she held on tight like she was belting in for a ride.

“Will they chase us?” I asked without taking my eyes off of them. “Jessica!” I whispered loudly when she didn’t respond.

She wasn’t paying attention as she mumbled, “Does anyone else see that little doll?”

What the hell is she talking about?

My eyes flicked to the side for one second, long enough to notice a small marionette doll in a little tan trench coat and a black fedora, leaning against the sign post near a vending machine on the ground level of the motel, staring vacantly into the distance.

“Jessica!” I snapped again, panic setting in. “Forget the doll, what do we do?! Will they really chase us? Are we going to be killed by a fucking clown of all things?”

“Probably,” she said in a distracted tone, and if she weren’t a spider, I thought she would have shrugged.

So much for a helpful tour guide. Geez, Jessica, thanks for the heads-up!

“Jason, I need you to calm down and start running. Do you hear me?” I tugged on the side of his shirt, my nails biting into the muscles in his abdomen. “I know you probably don’t want to move right now, but you need to run like your life depends on it.”

He was so frozen with fear that he didn't so much as blink. I had no other choice; I had to do something I’d been wanting to do for a full year now. I didn’t think; I just cocked my arm back and swung with my palm spread wide to get the full effect. My slap echoed off his cheek as his head snapped to the left. Finally, steel gray eyes flickered down at me, burning with hatred. Hatred I could take since I’d grown accustomed to it, but he needed to move before these clowns stopped toying with us and fucking killed us. We really would be staying here forever then.

“Jason, I don’t give a flying hell if I’m being a huge bitch right now, but I’m not about to get bludgeoned to death by a fucking clown, so get a fucking move on now!” I demanded, gripping his hand until my fingernails were digging into his skin.

In less time than it took to blink, he took off like there was a fire lit under his ass, dragging me along for the ride. I yelped and heard Jessica screech as she latched on tight with her tiny claws. We heard footsteps pounding the pavement behind us, and I swear I’d never seen Jason run so fast, not even during basketball practice. We kept running, turning down the bend in the road, and practically toppling over.

“Keep going!” I shouted at Jason’s back, and I did wonder if he would leave me if I fell behind.

Haunting laughter echoed through the empty streets, as did the honking of that damn clown horn. My heart was ready to burst out of my chest, but soon the bright lights of the motel were long behind us, and no sign of any painted face creeps followed. They probably just meant to spook us and turned around when we fled, unless they were waiting for us somewhere in the dark. They were probably laughing about it right now.

My aunties and I lived on Hill Street, which ran straight into Main Street after the bend, but as I looked at the signs, I had to stop and look around at my surroundings. The sign said Horror Hill Street now. I shook my head, knowing I was in the right place, regardless of what the stupid sign said. I was dying inside and swore I’d never run again in my whole life.

Jason was bent over at the waist as he sucked in giant lungfuls of air, all the while looking at me through narrowed eyes. “Not a word to anyone, goth girl.” He held my eyes for a few moments before shaking his head, then he straightened and continued down the street, where we could just make out the silhouettes of the others waiting for us.

Not a word. Got it. That was fine with me.

Roger

Ya see here, as a private dick-tective, getting your hands dirty just came with the territory, and it just so happened I was the dummy for the job.

He came to me on a cold fall night, when the wind howled like wild dogs as the clock struck midnight. Behind the alley of the blood bank, the fella had a hat covering his ugly mug and handed over her photo without saying a word. The job was clear—find the broad, but keep my mitts off her.

I might just be a simple puppet, my strings pulled by a man much bigger than me, but the fella was a boob. I scooted out of there and got to work on finding the girl. They called me the Marionette, but my friends called me Roger. My hollow limbs made it easy to blend in with the shadows of the town of Midnight Hollow, even with the streets quiet, save for my wooden shoes tapping on the sidewalk. It was a lonely night to be out in the cold darkness, but it gave me time to think.

What’s a fella like him doin’ looking for a gal like her?

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