part 4, C.L.O.W.N.

The Coalition Leading the One World Nation, or C.L.O.W.N, is a clandestine group of different clown factions around the world, bent on total domination.  Even worse, they were winning.  Each faction had their own territory carved out of each region.  Chicago was just a small cog in a much larger machine.   I had been so concerned with taking care of my city, I didn't pay much attention to what had been going on elsewhere.  It wasn't like I could just flip on the television.  As I poured over their intel, the big picture began to come into view.  Everything I had encountered out there all began to make sense.

Stuck to the wall in their command center were newspaper and magazine clippings from the early days, before the printing presses stopped.  The headlines and articles were from various publications from around the country.  Red string connected them all in spider web of headlines stuck to a crudely drawn map of the US, but instead of the individual states, the country was divided into sections.  I began reading the stories on the map and remember:

They seemed to come into existence almost overnight and before we knew it, they were everywhere.  When they began showing up, it was as random sightings of clowns trying to lure kids into the woods.  People first dismissed it as dumbass teenagers having a little bit of sick and twisted fun.  There were a few reports of physical attacks, someone being tackled in Alabama, someone else being chased in Texas.  For the most parts, the physical incidents were isolated and never corroborated by the police.  Despite schools going on lock down and classes being cancelled, the media decided it was best to ignore the reports and they were passed off as hoaxes or unverified incidents. Missing person cases were treated as suspicious but the clown connection wasn't pursued. They didn't want to give the dumbasses attention.  Ignore it and it will go away, they told us.  Boy were they wrong.
 The sightings grew. The missing stayed gone. The assaults increased.  Birthday parties turned into blood baths, bar-mitzvah's became horror shows. The circus...dear god, don't get me started on the circus.  It was utter chaos.  Once things became wide spread, community leaders were taken out before they could react, followed by local governments.

I recalled my first experience as I was looking at that wall.  I was walking my dog at the park and playing fetch.  Roscoe loved to play fetch.  Something caught his attention and he looked toward the tree line.

"Damn squirrels," I thought to myself.

I called to him, he ignored me.  He took a couple of steps towards whatever it was that held his attention, his ears perked up and he took off running towards whatever it was, into the trees.  I called after him. Nothing. I called again as I picked up his favorite toy, a chewed up squeaky thing that used to be a giraffe.  All of its features worn away from hours upon hours of gnawing, its squeaker barely intact but still functional, its limbs in tatters.  I walked in the direction Roscoe ran, calling out his name and whistling.  I gave the toy a couple of squeaks, hoping he would come running back.  Then I heard what sounded like a bicycle horn and then a yelp.

"Roscoe!" I yelled as I took off into a full sprint into the woods.

I called out again and looked around, no sign of my best friend.  I kicked something as I walked.  I looked down, it was a bike horn.  As I bent over to pick it up, I heard a squeak ahead of me.  I looked up and saw them. About 50 yards in front of me stood two freaky looking clowns.  Thy looked at me and cocked their heads quizzically.

"What the-" I said to myself.  I never like clowns.  Honestly, they just freaked me the fuck out, even before all this shit began happening.  "You guys see a dog around here?" I called out.  They just looked at each other and turned to walk away. As they did, one of them dropped something.

"Hey!" I say again and walk towards them, "I'm looking for my..."

They walked out of my line of sight and seem to vanish into the woods.  I reached to where I had seen first seen them and see what was dropped.  It was a dog collar.  Roscoe's collar.  There was blood and tufts of hair on it.

"Roscoe!!!" I called out again.

I snap out of my little flashback and find myself back in Resistance HQ.  Lyla is talking.  I had zoned out of half of what she was saying thinking of Roscoe.  Damn, I missed that dog.

"If they've organized, then that means they must have a leader," I said. "Someone calling the shots. Directing them."

"That's our theory," she replied. "And that's where you come in.  We want your help-- no, we NEED your help."

I knew what had to be done and had made my decision before they even asked.

"Where do we start?" I ask.

part 3, Friends in Low Places

"Who-" I began.

"Shhh," she said as she placed her hand against my mouth, her bosom against my body. She smelled of lavender, "Don't make a sound."

I could hear the clowns as they ran by the door and down the alleyway.  After a moment of hurried squeaks as they searched for me, we heard them retreat back to their tiny car, more squeaks as they piled in and then drove away.  As my new found friend leaned against me, I grimaced in pain as she inadvertently brushed against my wound.

"Sorry," she said as she looked down apologetically at my side as she removed her hand from my face, "Come on, we need to take care of that."

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" I finished asking.

"You can call me Lyla.  We have to get moving.  I promise I'll answer all of your questions once we get to where its safe," she said as she walked past me a slowly opened the door, carefully checking to make sure the area was clear. She walked out the door and up the nearby fire escape.

"This way," she said. "It's not far, just up here. Clowns have trouble climbing.  Their big feet make it difficult to navigate a ladder."

With a roll of my eyes, I followed her up the ladder, "Well, duh!" I muttered to no one.  I then followed her across the rooftops to the next block over.

"Down there," she said, pointing to the subway entrance across the street and started down the next fire escape.  Sticking to the shadows, she ran across the street and slowly started down the stairway to beneath the city.  I followed her lead. When we reached the platform, she jumped down onto the track and headed down the tunnel.

She said "Don't worry," as if reading my mind, "This area is clear. We sweep it regularly.  Our base of operations is just up here."

"We?" I asked as I followed her into darkness.

She stopped next to a maintenance door.  As she opened it, she turned with a smile and said, "Mr. 'Clown-Hunter', welcome to the Resistance!"

The room we entered was impressive.  The back wall had been knocked out, opening up into an abandoned train station.  A small gathering of tents surrounded a fire barrel, a small group of people warming in front of it.  I recognize the family I rescued earlier among them.  A couple of sentries patrolled the blocked entrances to the platform.  The room was dimly lit in areas by emergency back up lights, powered by generators.  Power cords snaked across the ground, connecting them all together.  I counted maybe 10 to 15 people in the make shift camp, mostly refugees.

"You know me?" I asked, clutching my side as she lead me to a larger tent filled with cots.

"We've been watching you for a while." she replied, motioning me to take a seat.  "I have to say, you do nice work.  You've probably helped half of the people here."  A man wearing a white coat and surgical gloves rolled over on a stool and started to tend to my wound.

"You got lucky," he said. "It's deep, but just a flesh wound." and he pressed gauze to my side and applied pressure.

"That's Charlie," Lyla said. "A man of few words but a genius with a needle and thread!"

"Nice to meet you Chuck. Now can someone please tell me who the holy hell you people are?" I quipped.

"I told you," replied Lyla. "We are the Resistance.  The resistance against the Coalition Leading the One World Nation. And we need your help."