Chapter 5
The Silverback clubhouse erupted in chaos the moment we walked through the door. Every member who'd been stuck with boring assignments was already gathered in the main room, drinks in hand, waiting to hear what the midway patrol had witnessed tonight.
"There they are!" Heavy called out, pointing at us with his beer bottle. "Alright, let's hear it. What kind of freaky shit did you see tonight?"
I grabbed beers from the cooler and handed them over as I settled in at the same table as Swinger and Bulldog.
Around the room, the anticipation was thick enough to cut with a knife.
These guys had been stuck watching empty parking lots and closed tents, fully aware of what we'd gone through the first night.
They all had the same look, like they believed we'd been living it up in a supernatural carnival funhouse party.
"Knock it the fuck off," Fang barked, bringing the room to order. "Reports first, then we'll see what stories they've got."
Crusher started us off, his frustration clear.
"Another eight hours of checking IDs and watching college kids try to sneak flasks.
The most exciting thing that happened was a goth chick asked if I wanted to 'explore the darkness' with her.
I told her to come back on my break, but the bitch blew me off. "
The guys from the parking lot patrol nodded in agreement. "Dead quiet," Snake reported. "The most exciting thing was a couple trying to get it on, wiping out the dude's crotch rocket. He was freaking out about the paint job until she took her bra off. That shut him up fast."
The room shared various comments about the power of tits.
I saw Tank and Diesel exchange glances. "More activity in the performer area tonight," Tank said. "Two of those clowns carried guys on their shoulders. The guys must have passed out because they weren't moving."
"What'd they do with them?" Swinger asked.
"Took them to that tent away from the others. A little bit later, Mortis and the other clowns went to the tent too. About fifteen minutes later, the clowns left. Mortis, about thirty minutes later. Never did see the guys leave."
"Yeah, and there were all these weird sounds," Diesel added, shaking his head. "I can't really explain it." He made a vague gesture that could have meant anything.
Heavy, Torch, and Wrench from big tent security looked equally unimpressed.
"Walked around that fucking tent all night," Heavy complained.
"Had people come to the shows, but that was it.
Although we did hear a couple of the performers hoping that Mortis would give them Halloween night off.
I guess since a group of VIPs are coming the night before. " Heavy shrugged.
All eyes turned to our table. The room went quiet, every member leaning forward in anticipation.
"Boys," Fang said, settling back in his chair, "you three look like you've got stories again. Start talking."
"Mortis is one fucked-up dude," Swinger started.
"If he even is a dude," I added. Swinger and Bulldog nodded.
"What? Fucking spill it," Fang spat.
Bulldog jumped right in. "Tonight was worse than last night. Way worse. This is going to take a while to explain."
"Worse? How the fuck is that possible?" Leaper asked, his envy clear.
I took a long pull from my beer. "We had to break up a fight between two drunk assholes who were fighting over one of the carnival workers. She was screaming. They were yanking her arms. It was totally out of control before we got there."
"You mean before he got there," Swinger said.
The room perked up. Violence they understood.
"You all look like you've seen a ghost," Tank said, swatting Bulldog on the arm as he passed, going to the refrigerator for another beer.
"I wish," Bulldog continued. "So, we stepped in and got the guys separated, made sure the woman was safe. Standard security stuff."
"They weren't any match for our gorilla strength," I added.
"Then Ringmaster Mortis showed up," Swinger added, his voice dropping low.
The room went dead silent. Everyone had seen Mortis when we first arrived, and nobody had forgotten that unsettling encounter.
"That fucker," I started, "somehow he spoke to the woman and none of us could hear it.
He did that with one of the clowns too. And he healed her wrists.
Plus, he grew. Like, literally grew. Starting at maybe six-six, ended up at least eight feet tall.
His voice got deeper. His whole presence changed.
It was like watching someone transform into something else entirely. "
"No way," Crusher breathed. "You're full of shit."
"He's telling the truth," Bulldog confirmed. "Mortis leaned in and cast a shadow that made the guys confess what they wanted to do to the woman. Then he snapped his fingers, and both drunk guys went rigid. Not just still—they were completely frozen. Like statues."
Tank leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued. "Damn, I bet that's the guys we saw the clowns with."
"He said he was their nightmare," Swinger added. "After that, the guys talked as if they shared one brain. Oh, not to mention he yanked their wrists out of Runt and my hands. We couldn't stop it."
"We think Mortis is into black magic," I said. "It was the craziest thing I've ever seen."
"Me too," Swinger agreed. "He grew, and not just taller but wide. Like big, big." Bulldog stood on his chair and showed how much, and the room sucked in air in surprise.
"That's not all," I said, glancing at Swinger and Bulldog. We'd agreed to keep the money between us, but the jewelry story was fair game.
"What else?" Fang demanded.
"Before all of that happened, I watched the puzzle-faced clown bring this woman to the ring toss game. He stood right by her, encouraging her. But there was something between him and the carnie."
"So?" Diesel spoke up.
"Well, she threw three rings, and every single one defied physics to land exactly where it needed to." I threw my hands out in different directions to show what I meant. "There's no way those impossible tosses should have worked, but they did. Each one landed in the same place."
"Rigged game," Tank said dismissively.
"That's what I thought, but the carnie got quite a crowd, and they acted like it was perfectly normal for a ring to bounce off the ground and still land on the target.
All of them but one guy. The orange clown stepped in and blew some of that powder on the guy's face.
His eyes glazed over, and he shut up." I looked around the room.
"The kicker—the clown and carny said her prize jewelry was real diamonds, rubies, and emeralds.
If I had to guess, I would say it would be worth fifty grand, easy.
The carnie was showing it off to the whole crowd, letting people examine it. "
"No fucking way," Heavy said. "You're making that up."
"Listen, I'm just reporting what I saw. We were told to keep a lookout. That's what we did," I told him. The room was quiet as the guys all looked at us.
"That's it. I want in on that action," Leaper announced to everyone.
The room buzzed with excitement and disbelief as guy after guy spoke up about wanting to change jobs with us.
"Sit down," Fang ordered, but Leaper ignored him.
Leaper continued. "I want midway patrol tomorrow night. If there's that much action, I want in on it."
"Same here," Diesel said, joining Leaper.
"Count me in too," Crusher added. "I'm tired of checking IDs while the real excitement is happening somewhere else."
"ENOUGH!" Fang roared in his gorilla voice, standing up from his chair. The room went silent. "I'm not shuffling assignments because you're—"
The clubhouse door swung open, cutting off whatever Fang was about to say. President Silver walked in. "Boys," the President said, his cold eyes sweeping the room. "Sounds like quite a discussion in here."
"Just debriefing the night's activities, sir," Fang said, his tone immediately respectful.
The President poured a shot of whiskey and then settled himself and the bottle into his chair at the head of the room. "What's got everyone so worked up?"
Fang quickly summarized the night's reports, emphasizing the boring assignments and building up to our encounters. When he got to the part about Mortis, the President's eyes sharpened.
"You think they were real jewels?" the President asked.
"Yes, sir," I confirmed.
"Did anyone else see these jewels?"
No one said anything.
"Huh. Tell me the part about Mortis again."
Fang motioned for us to speak, so Swinger, Bulldog, and I filled him in on what happened. The President leaned back in his chair; his fingers wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle. The room held its breath, waiting.
"I've heard Mortis is into some dark shit.
Voodoo and all that." He slammed back a shot and poured another.
"These jewels are interesting, but I don't think that's what we're looking for.
I mean, granted, when the time comes, we'll take them too.
I'm going to make some calls and find out what we're looking for.
But for the time being, Fang, I want assignments rotated starting tomorrow night. Fresh eyes in different spots."
Fang's eyes widened. "Sir, I didn't think Mortis—"
"I wasn't asking for your opinion," the President cut him off. "Mix it up. Different assignments, different teams. I want eyes and ears everywhere. Those carnies and clowns know the score. Watch them. We'll let them lead us to the loot."
The room erupted in quiet celebration. Guys were already making plans, claiming spots, eager for their chance at the action.
Swinger looked at me. "Fine by me. I can use a night away from those things."
"Me too," Bulldog and I said together.
As the meeting broke up and guys began drifting off to their rooms or back out to the bars, I finished my beer and headed to my own room. I meant what I said. I was glad to be getting a break from the midway. The farther I could be from Mortis and his clown brigade, the better.