THE CLOWN
“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Dean asked as Ryan took a pair of bolt cutters from his bag.
“Heather didn’t submit her paper,” Ryan said.
Ryan placed the clamps around the already rusted lock, pressing with all his force. “Aye, it’s already broken.”
Ryan looked back at the group, almost in disbelief that the lock had already been snapped open. Ryan pulled the door, holding it open for the rest of his friends.
“Okay, Heather, go put your paper in the pile,” he said.
The friends made their way to the stairs that stood in the atrium; above was a tall ceiling with a glass roof that illuminated their path. Clouds passed by slowly, effortlessly, gliding almost.
“If we get caught -”
“We won’t,” Ryan said. He picked up the bolt cutters, placing them back into his bag, “There’s no one here.”
They made their way up the set of stairs, looking both left and right at the top before moving further into the depths of the school. The friends had never done anything like this before; breaking into their school never made it onto their to-do list.
Halloween decorations hung from the ceiling, walls, bannisters, and anywhere they could fit them. Dean shone the torch from his phone down the hallway, brightening the path. Heather took the front of the line, pressing her hand against the doorknob. She turned it, turned it again, and again, “It’s locked,” she said.
“No shit,” Ryan said.
Heather looked around for something to smash the long, skinny window where she could see the pile of papers sitting on Mrs. Henderson’s desk. As Heather looked, there was a sudden crash; the sound scared her as she jumped back. Ryan had used his shoulder to open the door.
“Oops,” he said.
Julie gripped Dean’s arm. The whiteness of her knuckles protruded from her hands. Her grip was tight; Dean could feel the heat generated from her grasp. He looked down at her, meeting her gaze. Julie pulled away, recomposing herself.
“Are you okay?” Dean asked.
“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with,” Julie said.
But things weren’t fine, not fine at all, and Dean knew that. He and Julie had split up just the week prior, and the group of friends felt it in their core. Their group hardly hung out that week, both Heather and Ryan tending to their separate friends’ needs.
By the time Dean had taken his eyes off Julie, Heather had already placed her paper in the middle of the pile.
“Okay, let’s go,” Heather said.
“Wait,” Dean said, holding his hand up to Heather, “won’t this look sketchy? Just breaking one door? Surely Mrs. Henderson will figure something out.”
“He’s right,” Ryan said. He placed his finger on his chin, rubbing his stubble. He charged at the door adjacent to Mrs. Henderson’s class, breaking it open.
Ryan stood, both arms facing out at the door, “What did you do that for?”
“Now it doesn’t look personal,” Ryan said.
Dean put his hands on his head; he gripped the tip of his hair. “It’s vandalism.”
Ryan, almost in shock, points to the door behind them, “So what do you call what I did to that door then?”
Dean set his jaw, his eyes staring a hole through Ryan’s head. Suddenly, a loud crash came from the opposite end of the corridor. Heather jumped behind Ryan, both her hands on his shoulders, “What was that?” she asked.
Ryan looked at Dean as he pointed the torch from his phone down the dark corridor, and only the moonlight illuminated from the outside. They made their way down the hall, Heather gripped Ryan’s arm as hard as she could, her breath growing longer and heavier.
As they were about to round the corner, Heather jumped back as Ryan bumped into Miller. The hall went dark as Ryan’s phone fell out of his hand, hitting the ground hard.
“Jesus Christ,” Miller said, taking a step back, “what are you idiots doing here?”
Ryan picked up his phone, noticing the screen had a massive crack down the middle of the screen. “You broke my phone numbnuts!”
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.
Miller drew a deep breath, his brows furrowed. “Basketball practice.”
Miller picked up his gym bag that had fallen amidst the collision. He barged between Dean and Ryan, disappearing around the corner.
“I hate that guy,” Ryan said.
“We’ve done what we needed to do; can we go now, please?” Dean asked.
The group made their way back to the stairs, feeling a sense of pride and worry; proud that Heather was able to submit her paper, and worried, well, Dean was worried about the two broken doors.
As they got closer to the door, they found Miller standing with his back to them, his bag on the ground beside him.
“Hey, you haven’t left yet, superstar?” Ryan said.
Miller continued to stare out the window, Ryan now stood alongside him, staring at the side of his head, “You want to let us out?” he asked.
Ryan looked out into the dimly lit parking lot; a figure stood just beyond the edge of Dean’s car. He held a single black balloon and had orange, white, and red overalls with clown shoes. Except, the clown shoes weren’t giant, like the ones you see at the circus; these were different, normal-sized shoes.
“Ryan,” Dean said, cocking his head in the direction of the figure.
“What the fuck is this?” Ryan said, “Look at this fucking clown.”
The figure was too far back to see their face, and poor lighting didn’t help. Ryan reached for the door when Miller grabbed his arm. “Do you mind letting go, superstar?”
Miller hadn’t taken his eyes off the figure, nor taken his hands off Ryan. “Superstar, let me go,” Ryan said.
Miller finally broke eye contact with the person in the parking lot. Beads of sweat dripped down his head, illuminated in the moonlight. “Just wait a minute,” Miller said.
“Miller, Miller, wait, you forgot your—” Mrs. Henderson said as she rushed down the steps in nothing but her black pencil skirt, bra, and heels.
“Wow, that is fucked up, Mrs. Henderson,” Ryan said.
Ryan opened the door and took a step out, and as he did, the figure took a step forward. Dean noticed this and halted himself. His gaze grew large, his breath quickened, and he began to sweat. He closed the door, and the figure stepped back.
Ryan turned to hear everyone shouting at Miller and Mrs. Henderson. He tried to grab their attention, but nothing was working.
“Shut up!” He shouted.
The voices dimmed; no sound, nothing but the empty halls. “That guy just moved,” Ryan said.
“Shut up, Heather,” Miller said.
Ryan grabbed hold of Miller, pushing him up against the wall with his elbow to his throat, “Speak to her like that again, give me a reason,” he said
The girls tried to pull Ryan away from Miller, but he was too strong and so full of rage, so much so that no one had noticed Dean had stepped outside.
Ryan let go of Miller. Miller dropped to his knees, his hand clasped around his throat, heaving and coughing. Ryan swung open the door, not daring to step outside, “Dean, come back inside now,” he said.
“I’m just going to ask him what he wants,” Dean said.
Ryan ran his hand through his buzzcut hair, “Dean, I’m not playing. Get back into the fucking school.”
Dean waved his hand at Ryan, never breaking his gaze with the figure who was now stepping forward. Julie watched, her breath warming against the glass. Heather stood behind Ryan, her head embedded in his shoulder. Mrs. Henderson had now helped Miller back to his feet as they both watched on from behind the rest of the group.
“Excuse me, sir, are you lost?” asked Dean. His hands were out in front of him, calm, facing the figure. The figure stood just out of the parking lot’s street light. Dean could see his costume, rugged, torn, and dirty with what looked like blood.
“Sir, I know it’s Halloween, but you’re really scaring me and my friends. Could you maybe just stop and leave?” Dean asked. Dean moved closer, his hands down by his side now. He stood underneath the street light, and a warm glow shone down above him. “Please, we just want to go-”
The figure swiped his arm past Dean, then relaxed it by his side. The group looked on, unable to hear what was being said. Dean turned slowly, in horror Ryan could see his throat had been slashed and the man stepped forward, gripping Dean by his shoulder stabbing him in the back repeatedly.
“No!” Ryan shouted as Dean fell to the ground. He tried to run to help, but Miller had grabbed hold of him, pulling him back into the school, both of them falling onto the ground. “Get off me!”
Miller stood as a barrier between him and the exit, locking both his arms behind his back. Ryan tried moving forward but was stopped by Heather, who was now in front of him with both hands on his face and their foreheads pressed together.
Julie sat up against the glass, her head buried between her knees. Mrs. Henderson had taken a step back with her hands covering her mouth. Miller, calm now, moved Heather out of the way slowly. He put his forehead on the glass, looking out at his friend’s killer; spit landed on the glass as Ryan tried to control his rage.
Heather pulled Ryan back as the rest of the group looked on. Julie, still sitting up against the glass, is being helped up by Miller. They stand looking at the clown; fear crept into their skin, and they felt uneasy, like something was crawling underneath them.
He stepped forward into the light, and as he did, his makeup became more apparent: an off-white face mixed with big red lips and a black spot painted onto his nose. Saliva drained from his mouth, his yellow teeth clenched in anger, and then he held up the lock and chain to the door that had been missing and Mrs. Henderson’s blouse. He threw it away and reached into his costume, pulling out a hunting knife. The clown then ran towards the school.
The group turned to run quickly; both Mrs. Henderson and Miller backed up the stairs. Heather ran to the right down a narrow corridor that led to the gym. Ryan turned to follow her until he realised that Julie was now sitting down on the ground.
Ryan grabbed hold of Julie’s hand, trying to stand her up. “Julie, get up, get up, Goddammit.” Julie lay on the ground, weeping. Her body was being dragged through the atrium as Ryan tried desperately to move her.
The clown had entered the school, unbeknownst to Ryan. He let go of Julie’s hand, still on the floor, sitting now. The clown turned, hooking the chain around the door and pushing the padlock up into it, he then dangled the small key above his mouth, shaking it before swallowing it.
The clown swung the knife at Ryan, but he managed to jump out of the way he then charged at him as he pressed Ryan against the wall, the knife inches away from his neck. The clown dropped the knife and grasped Ryan by the head, hitting him off the wall.
Ryan’s vision doubled. Everything was out of focus, and a massive pain crept into his head. The clown picked up his blade and turned his focus to Julie. She was now at the door trying to pull the chain off. The clown smiled. He slowly made his way over to her, taunting her, creeping over to her like you see in the cartoons.
He grabbed hold of Julie’s dark hair, swinging her around so she’d be facing Ryan. “Help me, please.”
Ryan was slowly getting back on his feet, he used the wall as a step to help himself up. He stood up straight, dazed, holding the back of his head. The clown smiled, his dirty yellow teeth on show. His breath had a disgusting smell, almost like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in years. Ryan held out his hand to reach for Julie but the clown quickly slit her throat, pushing her to the floor.
He then climbed on hop of her lap, stabbing her multiple times. It had gone on for so long that he had lost track of what was important and that was killing Ryan. When he looked up, Ryan had gone.
Miller and Mrs. Henderson had found a classroom that was unlocked they held up behind the desks and armed themselves with whatever they could find. Mrs. Henderson had found a ruler that she had broken the top off to make a weapon and Miller had found a pole that once had the team colours attached to it with a pointy tip.
The sound of the doors smashing out in the corridor scared them so much that Mrs. Henderson couldn’t help but squeal. Miller grabbed hold of her face, both his palms caressed her cheeks, “Hey, Victoria, listen to me, we’re going to get out of this, but you need to be quiet.”
She nodded at Miller, trusting him with what he said. “Okay, now we need to-”
Mrs. Henderson was grabbed by her hair and pulled over the tables. The sound of her screams was desperate. Miller quickly stood up, hitting the clown with the pole. He then attacked again, but the clown grabbed hold of the pole, throwing Miller into the board at the front of the classroom.
Mrs. Henderson fought to get free from the grasp of her attacker. She bit his hand, his horrible, dirty hand and for the first time, the clown roared in pain but it wasn’t a normal roar, it sounded primal. He grabbed hold of her leg, stabbing her repeatedly in the hamstring, making sure she would not be able to get away.
He turned his focus to Miller who was now standing opposite a desk in front of him. The clown reached across the table grabbing Miller’s shirt. Miller picked up a cup that was sitting on the desk and hit the clown in the face, he didn’t go down, he swung again, stronger this time, and the clown still didn’t go down. Miller jumped across the table, kicking him in the stomach and swung once more knocking the clown to the ground.
He stumbled over to Mrs. Henderson, picking her up from the floor. He draped her arm around his shoulder and made their way to the door. Miller swung open the door and then stopped. Something wasn’t right, he looked down to see that his shoes were targets for blood dripping onto them. But not his blood, he looked at Mrs. Henderson’s, and saw the pole he had been using that was now sticking out of her chest.
“Holy fuck,” He said as he fell out of the classroom. Mrs. Henderson had gone lifeless; her body fell to the floor as the pole began to slip out of her. Miller elbowed the smiling clown in the face and knocked him down again. Miller thought about jumping onto the clown but didn’t want to risk being killed, too. He looked down at Mrs. Henderson, closed her eyes, and then ran down the hallway.
Heather has hauled up in the school gymnasium. She had been searching for a weapon but had no luck finding one. She was hiding behind the bleachers when the door to the gym swung open with force, so much so that it hit the wall behind it. For a moment, she thought about leaving her hiding spot in case it was one of her friends, but she chose to stay hidden.
Sweat began to trickle down her forehead and onto the bridge of her nose. Her breath quickened and came in waves of panic. She held her hand over her mouth so as not to scream. She looked out between the little gap that the bleachers gave and saw the clown twisting his knife as he searched for someone.
Her foot slipped on some of her sweat that had now made a pile at the edge of her feet. The clown turned hastily toward the bleachers, breathing heavy, heaving. He went further down, unable to see anyone. Suddenly the bleachers started retracting into the wall as Heather tried to crawl out. Ahe had just managed to make it out except for her wandering left foot that had become trapped between the bleachers and the wall.
A slow, loud clap thundered around the gym. The clown stepped into Heather’s vision as she began to scream. The clown stood above her and raised his blade above his head. Heather put her arms up, to cover her face when suddenly Ryan barged the clown to the floor, “Get the fuck away from her!” he shouted.
Ryan kneeled to help Heather when the clown jumped on his back and stabbed him in the shoulder, twice. Ryan screamed in agony, his face turning a bright crimson. He grabbed the clown by the hair and flipped him over the top of him. Ryan fell back, holding his right shoulder.
The clown stood up, slowly. Twisting the knife in his hand. Ryan tried to backpedal as fast as he could. But the clown grabbed hold of his ankle, pulling Ryan towards him. He climbed on top of Ryan, his arms had no strength left to fight back.
The clown raised the knife above his head and drove the weapon downward. Ryan caught the hands of the clown with all the strength he could as he tried to stop the stabbing from happening.
Suddenly, the clown fell off Ryan and went limp. Ryan looked up to see Miller standing above him with a wrench in his hand. Ryan took a deep breath as Miller extended his arm towards Ryan. Helping him to his feet, Miller then released the bleachers, which freed Heather.
Miller and Ryan helped Heather to her feet and made their way to the exit, where they smashed the front of the school door. Glass shattered everywhere as they were met with blue lights and sirens sounding loudly into the morning.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” said the police chief, wrapping Heather in a blanket, “the suspect is in that police vehicle over there, chained everywhere.”
“Who is he?” Ryan asked.
“His name is Jeremiah Hastings; he escaped captivity two days ago from the Saint John of God institution.”
“With all due respect, chief, I don’t feel very lucky tonight,” Ryan said.
The police chief tapped the uninjured shoulder of Ryan before disappearing into the crowd of people that now crowded around the yellow tape that the police had cordoned off.
A police car passed by the remaining survivors with the clown in the backseat. The three look into the car as the clown passes by. He looks at them and smiles, waving as he passes.
“Fuck you,” Heather says.
Ryan steps out of the back of the ambulance, dropping the blanket onto the gurney. Heather and Miller come alongside him, “It’s over.”
