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.