The Carnival Part 7

[the_satyr_icon]

Poster by Dolly

The Carnival Chapters 23 - 24
URL: http://the-satyr-icon.livejournal.com/19882.html#cutid1



The Carnival ~ Chapter Twenty-Three

It took 6 and a half pitchers of Guinness Malt Beer and several filled-to-the-rim high-ball glasses of Jim Beam whiskey to mellow Beppo enough to finally allow Joe Young to get the animal into the cute tuxedo that the ape wore to the shows. Joe was a little concerned about the amount of alcohol, but he was far happier to just get the show done for the night, get the weekend's shows done, and leave Smallville; ever since the interview, with the high school's paper, no less, Beppo was acting bizarre. Joe hoped that getting the animal on schedule, back on the stage, would help calm him and the primate. Beppo, usually resplendent in the miniature Armani suit, tailored just right, was now more muscular, and the suit didn't fit properly.

"I have no idea what's up, Beps," Joe said, realizing for the first time the anatomical changes in his friend. "I hope you don't rip the suit." Beppo nodded and swayed drunkenly while Joe placed the satin top hat atop the ape's balding dome. Setting down the matching dapper cane, Joe tugged on the tuxedo's lapels, stepped back, and saw that the red bow tie under Beppo's chin was crooked. "Here," Joe said, "let's straighten this out."

From an open window, an outdoorsy scent sneaked in, a scent of barns and hay, mixed with some type of spice, a scent that Beppo sniffed in the air. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply when Joe began to adjust the collar. The air particles rushed into Beppo's nose and triggered his memory, causing him to remember someone who had that particular scent: someone tall that walked away with a blonde, a girl that Beppo felt was his prize. The primate breathed out, his eyelids opened slowly. While Beppo's eyes were dull, the irises had a bright lime green glow to them. The scent brought up the memory of The Tall One, and Beppo knew if The Tall One was close, so was The Blonde. The more he thought of The Tall One and The Blonde, the brighter his eyes glowed. And stronger his hated burned, and more fierce his need to want his prize.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON GOW AHHHHHHHHHH!" Beppo screamed. He slammed his chest with his fists; the sound was like iron slamming against steel.

"OH NO!" Joe yelled; primal blast sent him scrambling back. He was first worried that Beppo was in a mood. Then he saw the verdant glow emitting from Beppo's eyes. "OH (Expletive Censored)!"

There was a time, not so long ago, like the Wednesday of that week, when Beppo and Joe were the best of friends; Joe took Beppo out in every town they visited: to museums, movie theaters, operas, plays, theme parks, fine restaurants, aquariums, and even zoos. Because of that, Beppo felt a love toward the man, a special bond. They were drinking buddies, for goodness' sake, spending many a dark hour AM in a local bar, pub, juke joint, drinking free beers (thanks to Beppo's popularity) and getting hugs from boozed up women. The love Beppo felt for Joe completely dissipated when the animal reached for his cane. The long slender ebony cane still had a weight to it because of the polished onyx. It had an odd silver bat-wing grip; it was a gift from a young teenage millionaire in Gotham who watched a performance and told the media present that Beppo was "the sensational character find of 2000!"

Joe watched .....the thing; thats all that Joe could think of his drinking partner now, the thing before him with the glowing green eyes, the thing that gripped the cane and whacked the silver head into its thickly calloused palm. Beppo was no longer the cute monkey wearing a cute tuxedo. No, Beppo now was a sick parody, a chilling, hulking menace: the top hat was crooked, the bow tie askew, and after Beppo hit the lamp in the room and darkening it, his glowing eyes lit his grin, no longer a grin that made kids in hospital wards smile; it was a homicidal maniac's grin. An evil grin lit by meteor-lite.

Human instinct has a 'fight or flight' mechanism, and the mechanism whispered to Joe run this time. Joe ran into his bedroom and reached under his pillow. All the thing's recent abhorrent behavior flooded into Joe's mind, and he knew by the way Beppo held the cane, he had to act. He felt for and pulled out what he kept just in case, just for what he never thought could ever happen until the circus and carnival arrived in Smallville. This was a just-in-case moment. Joe pulled out a tranquilizer-handgun, specifically designed to fire up to 11 hypodermic darts by means of compressed CO2 cartridges.

Unfortunately, just when Joe slid his index finger through the trigger-guard and curled against the trigger itself, a silver wing hacked into his shoulder, into the thick deltoid muscle, severing ligaments to his bicep, making his arm drop, making thick crimson blood splatter onto white sheets. Joe screamed once. Just once because Beppo ripped out the wing, swung the cane, and lodged the wing into his former friend's temple. A twist of his wrist made the wing carve deeper into Joe's brain. The wicked smile on Beppo's lips disappeared, and the monster watched Joe slump and fall to the carpet. The monster dug out the wing and blood spewed in an arc onto the killer's pants.
Beppo didn't care about that blood; he was fascinated at the dark thick crimson of that poured from the gaping hole. at the unblinking eyes, at the stillness of the body. He envisioned The Tall One's face, bloodied and mutilated, The Tall One's body unmoving, and The Blonde hugging him. Beppo looked down at the body, looked at his....at his....his meteor-laced mind was clouded only with two thoughts: claim The Blonde One and kill The Tall One; nothing mattered to him. Not even good friends.

The scent spurred Beppo on. His feet left bloody prints in The Dead Nice Man's room. The monster pushed on the windowpane and the glass popped off and shattered on the ground. The sound of the glass breaking into thousands of shards was overwhelmed by the laughs and talk of the carnival-goers. Beppo hopped, swung his body through the open window, and pulled himself to the motor-home's roof. He figured that he could track down the scent easier if he didn't get mobbed by the guests at the carnival. But he grabbed his head; the sights, the sounds, and the smells bombarding him, flooding his senses, disorienting him. Beppo staggered to his knees and curled up. Suddenly the scent was powerful, strong and ever so close. The monster shot his head up, and looked toward the ferris wheel.

Despite the pain of his senses being assaulted, Beppo followed the scent of The Tall One, scrambled between both the circus entertainers' and the carnival workers' trailers, dodged people, and lurked in the darkness. Every breath he took brought his bloody, dirty feet closer to his prey and stopped just a few rides from the ferris wheel. Then he squinted at a tall figure standing with a short-haired blonde girl under the bright rainbow colors of bulbs. The monster rubbed his sensitive eyes; the glare was almost too much, really. The meteorite somehow augmented Beppo to the Nth degree, but his fragmented mind tried hard to keep pace with his body's new enhancements. Colors and smells and sounds swirled, like the broken pieces of his mind. Two things were keeping him together: Kill The Tall One, Claim The Blonde.

In the darkness, the monster's hand clutched a rock. Beppo lobbed the rock and pelted the drink that the boy had in his hand. The girl with him shrieked when the drink spilled on her. The boy looked around, looked to see if jocks were trying to ruin their night, again. Beppo shook his head, the pain intense but grabbed another rocks, threw them and purposely hit the ground at the boy's boots. The Tall One looked over where Beppo was standing.

Beppo nodded his head wildly watching The Tall One walk toward him. The monster rolled a rock and crept backward, doing it again, making sure The Tall One kept following his lures, kept walking into his trap. It was easier on Beppo's eyes to stare at the dark ground rather than the anything the light shone upon, so he grinned when he saw a left-over piece of metal piping laying on the dirt. He wished he had his cane, but the pipe would do: he crushed the end of the pipe with his cherished, new found strength and created a point at the tip. The Tall One walked into the darkness, away from the bright lights and big fun, away from his date. He was not afraid of the dark at all; he never was. He should have been.

The muscles in his legs, the powerfully thick quadriceps and the hamstrings, and the fat horseshoe shaped calves, propelled Beppo into the air. He flipped, and landed softly on his footpads, landed behind The Tall One. The young boy's eyes went wide when he felt Beppo's leathery calloused palm cover his mouth. The Tall One gripped the tuxedo sleeve, and started to pull. Then, the grip of his left hand went limp a second after the monster stabbed the point of the pipe into the toned infraspinatus and subscapularis muscles that covered the shoulder blade, the rhomboids under it, piercing through the bone, cracking it, breaking the fourth posterior rib and sent the tip into the rapidly beating heart. Beppo nodded crazily, feeling the boy's hot breath rush against his palm. The monster thrust the tip in further and heard the infernal beat of The Tall One's heart sporadically thump. The pipe churned in the calloused hand, the boy twitched and spasmed, and Beppo waited to hear...silence; The Tall One's heart stopped. With the front of the tuxedo's jacket and what was once a crisp white shirt soaked with blood of two men, Beppo shoved down the limp lifeless body. It was easy to kill The Tall One, like it was easy to defeat him at chess. The monster plucked out the pipe, and wiped of the bone fragments and muscle remnants from the pipe's shaft.

"The boogyman is in there, not stupid jocks..."

Beppo stood up straight and listened. The voice of the short haired blonde was more softer than what entranced him.
"Jake!...C'mon! I wanna ride the ferris wheel..."

Jake was not The Dead Tall One's name...it was Clark. The monster kicked the boy over onto his back, and and his anger flamed: the lifeless body at his feet wasn't The Tall One but it had the enemy's height, build and scent. And the name that belonged to the body wasn't Clark Kent, but to Jacob Whiteflag, a nephew of Joseph Willowbrook, Chief of the local Kawatchee tribe.

Beppo turned at The Blonde, the wrong blonde, Libby Prince, took too many steps into the dark. The pipe's metal caught a flicker of light when the hardness penetrated soft flesh. There was a muffled cry. And Libby never stepped out of the dark, and Beppo scurried away in the dark, hunting for the real Tall One, the real Blonde.

"Why isn't that considered child-endangerment?" Chloe asked Clark, and pointed at the poster of The Flying Graysons. Beneath the picture of John and Mary, the married acrobatic couple, were a series of stop-motion images of their son, Richard, a five-year old boy, swinging from one trapeze to another, doing a tumble in between the hand holds.

"I don't think so," Clark said. "I mean, along with being daredevils, the Graysons are known for their safety measures."

"Yeah," Chloe nodded. "It's silly to think that something bad could happen to him."

They walked along to the ferris wheel, too entranced with each other, not noticing the added graphic that the Graysons had started to perform without a net. When they arrived at the ferris wheel, the squeezed each other's hands: their destination was tall, brightly lit, and had an unusual aquatic motif. Unlike the year before's theme of outer space and being called "Starro", this year the wheel was called "Poseidon's Tridents." The spokes of the wheel were covered with a teal and moss colored trident fork, the three prongs along the side of the cabin seats.

"I thought Poseidon had a beard and was old," Chloe said stepping into line. Wearing a orange tunic and green pants and boots, a carny in his twenties portrayed 'Poseidon' and greeted the riders. He was clean shaved, short of hair, and blonde. Chloe thought he was too slack-jawed to be the 'King of the Sea'.

"Well, he should be," Clark laughed.

"Maybe a hook for a hand, or something," she giggled. She turned and saw him look her up and down. He never did that, or she never caught him do that; she gulped.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" Clark said, enraptured.

"Yeah," Chloe smiled. Then she snarked with a wiggle of her head, "but frequent reminders are always appreciated."

"You look INCREDIBLY beautiful," Clark whispered softly, breathing out when he said 'beautiful'.

"Oh." Chloe blushed red. "That kinda talk will get you anything...."

"Let's get you onto the ferris wheel first," Clark smiled.

"Ok," Chloe said with a knowing smile that suddenly turned into a frown when she saw the foam cup flip and the contents spill on the pants of girl ahead of them in line for the ferris wheel.

"I know that feeling," Chloe said sadly. Clark hugged her and they watched a teen that was with the girl walk into the shadows. The line moved up; the riders exchanged spots with passengers getting off the ride and Chloe thought it was odd that the boy didn't come back. She was going to mention it to Clark when she saw the girl saunter off to the darkened area. Immediately she thought of the 'Lana Rules' and and wondered if the girl was enforcing one of them

"That Victoria looked really beautiful..." Chloe said while the ride attendant ushered them to an empty cabin on the ferris wheel.

"Really?" Clark wondered truthfully when the ride's engines restarted and the cabin moved forward, allowing on the next group of passengers. "I guess I got wrapped up in thinking of you to notice."

"Oh...wow," Chloe said softly and snuggled into Clark. He wrapped around his arm on her shoulder. They sat silently, waiting for the ride to actually start, waiting to kiss. They both knew it and they pressed their sides into each other. They were alone, they were in love, and while the music chimed, they waited for just the right time. Their cabin rotated around, and finally rotated to the top. Clouds in the sky parted and Chloe and Clark's cabin was basked with the full moon-light.

"It's just so beautiful," Chloe whispered while they looked at the moon.

"You look more beautiful," Clark whispered, who like Aristotle, understood that the light coming from the moon was reflected light. He turned and saw Chloe's features in that reflective glow: her ringlets, her triangularly-placed moles, her green eyes, her lush lips. Yes, he loved her.

"Oh wow," She said again, her mental thesaurus stuck on 'Clark-related words and phrases'.

"Wow," Clark whispered. Chloe shifted in her seat and leaned her chest in first, pinning him against the seat and her body. She licked and bit her bottom lip and nodded. Everything was right. So right. Too right...

Instead of enjoying a blood-boiling kiss, Chloe and Clark suffered through several blood-curdling screams. "What the heck is going on NOW?" Chloe asked, her mouth inches away from her target. But Chloe pulled away, her investigator's instincts overriding her teen desires. Clark sat up and they, like others on the ride, leaned out the cabin to see what caused the screams. They watched carnival-goers, once happy and carefree, running to and away from where Chloe saw the two teens that were ahead of them in line went to earlier.

"Whatever it is," Clark said after he used his vision powers and spotted the dead kids. "Its serious."

"We seriously need to get off," Chloe said, and shook the guardrail. The latch was securely locked. The cabin got close to the bottom. "If it's serious, you need to...to...to help somehow," she said, cryptically. "And we're reporters...its our job to cover events. Even when the timing sucks."

"Business before pleasure?" Clark wondered.

"It pains me to say it, but yes," Chloe sighed. "And this better be the last time tonight!" she screamed and shook her fist to the night sky.

Clark noted her fist was aimed at the constellation Aquarius, and thought the Water Bearer was dousing them with many a frustration. When the cabin reached the bottom, Clark easily popped the latch with a gentle push on the guardrail. Chloe jumped off first, and thought to ask Clark how he did that later. Clark himself hopped off, lifted Chloe at her hips and swung her bottom away from the still moving cabin and spokes. Chloe decided that wasn't really a 'save'; she was used to him saving her butt .

"Hey!" The ride attendant screamed. "You can't do that!"

"We're with the newspaper..." Chloe screamed back, holding Clark's hand while they ran to the mob gathering by the dead bodies, "we can!"

"Stupid reporters," The ride attendant whispered and went back to his mindnumbing job.

The Carnival ~ Chapter Twenty-Four

Where there was once laughter and frolic in the corner lot of the Grayson Carnival and Circus, there was now girls crying and guys hugging them. Two of their own, two teens, were slain, brutally, swiftly, silently. Teens and adults, now, were clustering together where the bodies were found. Brian 'Fubar' Barr, the brawny six foot four inch, 265 pound center on the football team, passed out when he discovered he was standing in the pool of blood. The bodies were lit by novelty flashlights, ironically cast to look like Beppo, held by the carnival-goers. 911 was called. Teena Yount, in the Smallville Police Department, sent the emergency dispatch to Sheriff Ethan. He cursed and wished the town could have one damned night of joy, not sorrow.

Rumors were spreading through the cluster: The teens were killed by a knife-wielding maniac, by one of the circus freaks, a break up gone horribly bad; anything could happen is Smallville, good or bad.

"Maybe it was The Chupacabra?" Dolly whispered to her boyfriend, DJ. He held her close. Chloe rolled her eyes when she heard that and other more outlandish scenarios while she shoved her way to the front of the gathering; Clark did the apologies to the people shoved aside when he followed her.

"Pete! Whats the deal?" Chloe said to her friend, the only one other person she felt she could get the truth from other than Clark. Her tummy flip-flopped when she saw the black pool. She just couldn't believe she seen so much bloodshed in her young life. "Tell me what you know."

"I'll give you the short story: Jake and Libby dead..." Pete said. Erica cried and hugged him and Clarkie, Chloe's huge teddy bear.
"Killed," Erica blubbered; she had several classes with Jacob and Libby.

"We just got here," he whispered in deference to Erica. "We were going to put the bear in her car when we heard the screams...figured we'd see you two finding out what's up." Erica nodded.

"Hey," Lana said softly, walking up, shocked, tears in her eyes, some already trickling down her cheeks; Libby was a friend, not plastic-y like Lana's other friends. "Why Libby? Why Jake?" She said, voice breaking. Whitney hugged her, and they stood by Erica, Pete, Chloe and Clark.

"We should look for anything unusual," Chloe said, looking at Clark. "Whatever happened to Jake and Libby could happen again."

"I agree," Clark said. He used his vision powers again. "We have to be careful...Whoever or whatever killed them was strong enough to shatter bone."

"How do you know?" Chloe said, surprised. She leaned back and gave Clark a suspicious look, a sideways glance, nose tilted high.
"Umm...lucky guess?" Clark said. Chloe noticed again when how uncomfortable he got when she asked how HIS hunches came about. He looked at Pete and silently asked for a lifeline.

"We got to split up," Pete said, looking at Clark; he always had his friend's back, ever since kindergarten. "We can cover more ground that way."

"Yeah," Clark said and Chloe nodded. "It's Me and Whitney," He said making the 'teams' and looked at Chloe. "You, Pete, Lana and Erica."

"Gotcha," Chloe said and checked to see if her cell phone's batteries were fresh; they were. She realized Clark didn't bring his phone; she promised herself to chastise him later. Pete rolled his neck, easing some of the tension out. He was ready for action. Chloe and Pete stepped forward, looked at Clark and waited for him to give the word to spread out.

"I should stay here," Lana said, wiping her eyes. "Co-ordinate everyone one's moves like a command post."

"I'm with Lana," Erica whispered. "Seeing dead bodies for the first time was one thing. Finding the killer is another." Clark nodded at the two girls now huddling together, and Chloe fought the urge to call them sissies.

"When did you suddenly...," Whitney started to snap, looking at Clark. He was surprised how 'meek and mild-mannered' Clark Kent stepped up and assigned teams, and how Chloe and Pete were ready to follow his every word. It was HIS job to be the quarterback, to lead the team.

"Me, Clark and Pete done this before," Chloe interrupted. "This isn't the football field. This is real life."

"Are you in or out?" Clark asked Whitney simply.

"In." Whitney swallowed his pride.

"Then you're with me," Clark said and his older classmate nodded. Pete whispered softly into Erica's ear, and they hugged. So did Whitney and Lana.

"Chloe," Clark said and squeezed her hands gently. "If anything happens...Just call my name."

"Ok, Mr. Super-Confident," She laughed. She hoped for him to say something romantic, not something boastful. Then she thought, 'Is it really boasting if you can back it up?' Then she wondered if she should go to school Satyrday to file the stories and maybe set the templates. She reminded herself to see who got pictures of the crime scene. Then she thought she could write one especially for The Smallville Ledger...

"Chloe...." Clark said softly at his girlfriend. He held her shoulders. He knew that her mind's synapses were firing at full blast. "Chloe."

"Huh?" Chloe whispered, brought back by the sound of his voice, brought back by the seriousness in his eyes. She wondered for a second how he was going to get that call, but knew that he would; he always did get her calls. "Ok Clark I will."

Whitney checked his cell phone at Chloe's insistence. Then she took the phone from him and checked for herself. "I'm satisfied,' she said to the jock. "Everyone check in with Lana every 15 minutes," Chloe said and they started to walk off. "Give your exact location."

"Yeah, check in and tell me where you are at," Lana echoed; she was excited now, excited to do more than listen to Clark, Pete and Chloe tell her their exploits and adventures while she served them drinks and pastries at the Talon.

Clark decided that he and Whitney would go to the far end of the fairgrounds to see what they could find and suggested to Pete and Chloe that they track down clues starting at what Chloe already termed 'Ground Zero', the kill site. Lana and Erica nodded when Chloe told them to set up 'Command Base One' (Lana's code name for her and Erica's team) at the attraction most centered in the fairgrounds, the 'Metamorpho Maze', a hedge maze whose paths were constantly changing every hour by the carny staff.

In the distance, shielding his eyes, Beppo watched the group. And when he saw The Tall One and The Blonde, the real ones this time, go in different directions, he nodded crazily and jumped up and down, denting the trailer roof that he was on. He watched the girl and her new escort first talk to people at the killing zone and, after a while walk, behind the ferris wheel. He jumped down onto another dead teen that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Beppo, soaked in blood, drenched in hatred, saturated in his desire for the Blonde, waited for his prize to come to him.

It wasn't unusual for Pete and Chloe to snoop for clues together. In fact, they secretly liked each other's company while they poked around for clues: with Clark not around, Chloe could actually concentrate and Pete could be more useful than just taking pictures for the paper, and definitely so something more confidence building than fumbling the football. They tried innocently asking whether or not anyone one seen anything peculiar, not wanting to arouse panic in those that were still having fun. Chloe used the cover of asking questions for the school paper, like Pete.

"Like taking candy from a baby," Chloe whispered to Pete after she casually snitched a Beppo flashlight from an infant in a stroller while Pete talked to the parents. She handed it to him.

"This is a cheesy flashlight, not candy," Pete pointed out.

"Ahh HA!" Chloe laughed and whipped out a Clark bar. "But this is!"

"Please tell me you didn't make the adage true, Chloe," Pete whispered and they walked further along. Behind them, the baby in the stroller was starting to wail. He shook his head. 'Snitchy Chloe strikes again,' he thought.

"That rug rat was just going to waste it," She giggled and tore into the wrapper. "Only I may savor the goodness that is Clark." Pete laughed at her Freudian slip. "I mean, this Clark bar."

"Yeah, right...you meant the candy," Pete nodded and whispered to her. Chloe laughed and punched Pete playfully on the shoulder. "So has Candy Boy kissed you?" Pete asked.

"Why is everyone so interested?" Chloe shot back. "It's not like mandatory! It's not the end all or be all for us going out! It's not imperative to my happiness. It's not..."

"I take it that he hasn't?" Pete interrupted.

"No," She frowned and shocked Pete by wolfing down the candy in three bites. "Not yet."

"Why don't you lay the lip smack down...again," Pete said, softly.

"Again?" Chloe stopped; she didn't tell Pete of her kissing Clark in the barn, either. "Umm...I swear I was going to tell you.."

"It's cool, Chloe," Pete smiled. "But it has been a year. I just don't wanna find out in passing. We're all best friends, right?"

"Right." Chloe turned and gave Pete a hug. They broke apart. "No more secrets between us." Chloe saw a familiar figure in the moonlight, swaying. "Look," She said and Pete shined the flashlight to where she pointed.

"Oh, Hi Beppo!" Chloe smiled when she saw the cute monkey. "Whatcha doing out?"

"Nice duds," Pete said. The flashlight's beam traveled down the monkey in his dapper tuxedo and Chloe loved how the top hat was jauntily placed at his head. Pete smiled at the sound of Chloe's cutesy voice. Pete noticed an oddly colored mess on Beppo's clothes. Chloe skipped happily toward the animal. Pete flicked the beam downward. He saw first what Chloe didn't: the dead body at Beppo's feet.

"CHLOE! RUN!" Pete screamed, dropping the flashlight.

But it was too late.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tumbling down...

The flashlight went tumbling down and when it hit the dirt, the lens broke and the bulb inside shattered. Suddenly, the surrounding area was pitch black.

Smiling happy at Beppo, the creature that she was excited to see, who she thought was cool, Chloe was in mid-skip when she began to react to Pete's scream, turning, twisting to see her friend, to see why, to see what made him scream her name. Her precious boots, her size 6 and a half Doc Martens, thick waffle soled, scuffs and worn leather shined a glossy black for her much anticipated date with Clark, splashed down in the pool of blood. She gasped when slid on the slippery stones. Both boots flew off the ground, the boot-heels over her head, and Chloe Sullivan went tumbling down...hard. She landed in a heap, in the lake of blood that used to flow in the body of the poor dead boy, Adam Naughtere; now the blood just flowed out of him. Chloe's elbow crashed down first and she yelped when the point cracked on the rocks. But the yell was short lived because the back of her neck and shoulder were the next to slam into the ground. A second later, there was a rough, wet impact on her back, an impact that jarred her ribcage. Chloe lost her breath and she squirmed and her clothes, her jacket, black canvas dress, her burgundy top, the white tank top, once clean, once pretty, was now bloody, ugly and dirty. Dizzy, she looked at what was sticky on her small hand; her palm, each slender finger was soaked. It was too dark to see, but she knew from experience, sadly, that it was blood. A drip of the boy's blood dropped on her chin. Her green eyes went wide and she whimpered, or tried to whimper; she fought to regain her breath. Still, somehow, she valiantly made a sound...

"Clark....."

But it wasn't loud enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tumbling down...

The flashlight went tumbling down and when it hit the dirt, the lens broke and the bulb shattered. Suddenly, the area was pitch black.
Pete started to rush forward, watching his friend Chloe skip toward Beppo, toward the dead body at the animal's feet. His fists were balled up, ready to fight, ready to protect his best friend from the monster. His face was scrunched up, lips pursed, eyes on Beppo and his friend. He knew she had a smile on her face hidden in the dark when she turned; thats what Pete liked about Chloe: she was always smiling. Then He saw Chloe crash to the ground. Pete's focus fell back on the animal; Pete thought the monster hit her. He was set to tackle Beppo when the monster crouched, jumped and...disappeared. Pete didn't know whether to look around for the killer monkey or tend to his friend while she yelped in pain.

Then Beppo landed back in front of him. Pete's eyes widened and he valiantly punched at the monster before him. He slammed his fist into the the monster top hat. The satin hat flew from Beppo's head; Beppo watched it fly and he was angered even more. He loved that hat, he really did. The monstrous monkey's paws reached to go around Pete's neck, ready to twist, ready to snap Pete's head clean off when Beppo heard his beloved whimper out The Tall One's name. The monster changed tactics. The right paw hacked down hard on Pete's neck. The impact didn't break anything, just compressed the muscles and the vital carotid artery; blood flow to the brain was stopped for the second that the impact lasted, but it was enough to make Pete black-out and his body went tumbling down. Pete Ross tried his best.

But it wasn't good enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tumbling down...

The flashlight went tumbling down and when it hit the dirt, the lens broke and the bulb shattered. Suddenly, the area was pitch black.

Beppo turned to his loved one, Chloe, who was still gasping for air in the dark. He surprisingly lifted her gently to her bloodstained boots. She hit the monster's arms, slamming her fists into his chest and face when he grabbed her by the jacket. The girl spun herself, trying to escape by yanking off her jacket, leaving it in the monkey's paws. But her moves were sluggish, and painful. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move her left arm, she couldn't run. And if she wasn't groggy with pain, she'd remember that her cell phone was in the jacket's pocket, the same jacket Beppo tossed aside.

Ironically, Chloe took in the much needed breath of air when her tummy slammed down when Beppo scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. With inhuman speed, before Chloe could yell for help, Beppo jumped, flying over the fence, out of the fairground lot, landing, running and jumping again, each time faster and higher and farther away from the lights, the laughter, the joy of the carnival. His momentum took Beppo and his heart's captive into the nearby forest. Beppo barely dodged tree trunks and limbs and branches after his legs coiled and propelled him forward. Chloe wasn't so lucky; Beppo didn't realize she was knocking against the very same limbs, branches, and trunks of the trees, scraping and cutting into the soft skin of her arms and legs, tearing her skirt and ripping her blouse. More tears ran down her face with each new abrasion; Chloe tried not to cry, but the pain of her skin snagging onto the bark's jagged edges and ripping off, the pain of her swollen, possibly broken elbow, and the shooting pains in her neck was too much. She cried, because that was all she was able to do in the monster's embrace.

KROK, Smallville's local radio station, pumped out an eclectic mix of music with the news, the weather and sports scores 24 hours a day, every day of the week and could be heard in Grandville in the South, Tabbiton in the West, and Kaitisnertown in the East thanks to the station's massive radio antenna tower. Located roughly a mile as the crow flies from the fairground, the tower provided a crystal clear reception to all ever since the tower was erected on a hill after the meteor shower, symbolizing Smallville's rise from the ashes. Listeners were treated to a line up of 'The Steven and Shawn Super Show' in the early AM hours, 'Becky Blye's Musical Drive-By's' radio show from noon to 4:00PM and the wildly popular 'The Krazy Ride with Katie and Kali', the afternoon dee-jay team, were on hand to get everyone home from school and work, each weekday, 4:00 PM to 8:00 PM. The 8:00 PM to 1:00 AM night-time radio show, 'Night Time is the Right Time with Daniel Mmm' was in full effect at the Carnival; Daniel's smooth baritone told the radio audience that "...There seems to be a slight disturbance going on, so stay tuned for more updates."

All of that didn't matter to Beppo; he stared into the distance and used his nascent 'x-ray' vision, looking through the forest to a clearing. He spotted the flashing beacons on the top of the radio antenna tower and rushed out of the forest. Strategically, Beppo knew to take the metal high ground. The Tall One would come, eventually, for the Blonde, the monster thought. The hairy beast gripped tightly to Chloe, and crushed paw-holds into the girders while he scaled the tower. When the monster reached the top, he gently put Chloe down. Her skirt was ripped up to her hip, and her right leg, her shapely thigh and slender calf, was scraped and bleeding profusely. She wobbled, and fell back, on her butt. She turned and crawled, dragging her useless right leg, to the edge of the platform. Chloe's mind went to a bizarre place: her internal search engine, her brain trying to send useful information, facts and figures while the rest of her body screamed for Chloe to shut down, give in to the pain. Her brain supplied her with data, and it was not comforting: the platform she was crawled on was 275 feet off the ground. She crawled away from the edge, looked back at Beppo, and thought the creature wasn't so cool anymore and she was far from being excited by his presence. She slumped; she was a fighter, but the fight was over. Chloe turned her face away; she didn't want the monster to see the cold sweat of her fear, see the hot stream of her tears.

Whitney Fordman was not particularly happy to be teamed with the younger Clark Kent, especially after the 'Thor's Hammer' fiasco. But he understood where his own exploits on the gridiron were one thing, Clark's heroics off the football field were quite another matter. Whitney would listen nonchalantly to classmates while they talked about Clark's latest rescue or his latest adventure with Chloe Sullivan. Whitney was jealous; his moments of glory only happened in the Fall whereas Clark was seemingly saving people pretty much anytime. Clark had even saved his girlfriend, Lana Lang. It was ironic: Whitney wanted to be Smallville's hometown hero and Clark wanted to be Smallville High's hero quarterback.

"Hey...I won't even cop out by saying I wanted to save my throwing arm for the Homecoming Game," Whitney said out of nowhere. Previously, they had silently walked together. The only time they heard each other's voice was when they questioned carnival-goers. "I hate to say it but good job on kicking my butt."

"Anytime," Clark smiled and stopped in front of the 'Red Tornadoes Bumper Cars' attraction. "Speaking of time, you should check us in. Its been 15 minutes." Whitney gave him a fake smile while he typed in Lana's number on his cell phone; it wasn't over between him and Clark, not by a long shot.

"Hello Lana? It's me, babes...Me, Whitney, your boyfriend," The young man said into his phone with some exasperation. "I hate when you tease me like that. What? Ok...Ok....'Command Base One', this is 'Golden Arm' and 'Farm Boy' checking in at the bumper cars."

"Ask if Chloe checked in," Clark said, shaking his head again at the nicknames Lana gave them; Chloe was 'Pulitzer' and Pete was 'The Boss'. Whitney nodded to Clark and relayed the message.

"No." Whitney looked at Clark, the smile from saying 'Farm Boy' gone. "She hasn't. Neither has Pete." Clark instantly fretted; when Chloe made rules, she stuck by them: She said she'd call in first and the boys after.

"Ask where she last checked in." Clark was already moving, weaving through the still happy mass of humanity. Whitney jogged after him, telling him that Lana said Chloe and Pete last checked in at the ferris wheel. "Then that's where we're going! Tell Lana!"

Clark started to run fast; he wished to run at full speed, get to Chloe, to Pete in seconds. But he had to hold back, and let Whitney keep pace. Whitney yelled to Clark that the Sheriff and EMTs were on site and taking care of the bodies found by the ferris wheel. Clark nodded and just ran a bit faster: He didn't want the carnival to turn into a charnal house. People stepped out of the way when they saw Clark's and Whitney's arms and legs pumping vigorously. The two were covering ground, two finely tuned bodies, sprinting toward the brightly lit spinning wheel. Whitney snagged a flashlight from a teammate's girlfriend. She didn't protest: she had a huge crush on the quarterback. Whitney shined the light, but he didn't need to; Clark used his 'x-ray' vision. He spotted a body on the ground and wished, wished that it wasn't Pete or Chloe. The two young men stopped in front of Pete's prone body.

"OH MY GOD!" Whitney screamed. He had seen some bad injuries in his sports playing days, but never had he seen a dead body. Tonight he'd seen two of them. He didn't want to see anymore. "Is...is Pete dead?"

"Pete?" Clark whispered and crouched by his fallen friend. He felt for his friend's pulse on his neck. The pulse was slow, but steady. Clark scanned the unconscious teen's body. He saw no broken bones nor any bleeding. "He's ok, just knocked out."

"There's another body over there," Whitney said and flicked the light at the other body. "Oh man...that's a lot of blood..."

Clark left his friend and went to the next body. He was relieved that it wasn't Chloe. But the loss of an innocent life washed over him a second later. Clark scrunched his face when he saw the flies buzzing around, landing and wiggling into the open gash. "You better stay over there, Whitney. Adam's dead."

But his classmate was already at Clark's side, and when he shined the light on the gruesome gash and saw the flies already making a new home in Adam's ripped tissues, Whitney's stomach reeled and he turned from the grisly sight. He took only two steps before he threw up, vomiting on Chloe's jacket.

Clark watched his squeamish classmate hurl, wincing at the lurching sounds and icky smell. Then he saw where the mess landed on. He went to Whitney.

"Don't tell anyone I wussed out," Whitney whispered, bent over, wiping his chin.

"I have more to worry about...like where is she?" Clark said, pulling the jacket from the awful debris. He stood still and focused his sight, sound, smell, touch and even taste senses for the first time on just one important person. "Where's Chloe?"

Chloe Sullivan was crying, shivering, and bleeding on the honeycomb-pressed metal flooring atop the radio antenna, 275 feet above the ground, staring at the monstrous monkey walking toward her. She curled up against the handrail's support beam, nowhere to run to, and nowhere to hide from the monster.

Beppo saw his beloved's reaction and looked at her quizzically. Then he noticed all the blood on her. He hunkered down at her boots and reached out to her wounded leg, to where there wasn't a scratch, a cut, a slash on her shinbone, on her thigh. He tenderly touched her on the inside of her knee; the rest of her leg was carnage. He didn't know his own strength anymore; his touch was rough and his fingernail inadvertently caused a new cut.

"No," Chloe whimpered and tried to bend her wounded knee, but the pain was too intense. She rubbed her shoulder and sobbed at the fresh, bright red blood she saw on her hand. Beppo understood that the blood was upsetting Chloe. The monster grabbed a flapping part of her dress and pulled it quickly. The monster ripped her long dress into a skimpy, jagged mini-skirt type thing and the action caused Chloe's frightened body to twirl in the air. She groaned when she landed on her butt again, banging her swollen elbow onto the platform.

Beppo tore the heavy black canvas material into two pieces and wiped the blood off Chloe's soft skin. The Kansas night air grew chillier and Chloe's skin, more exposed than ever, goose bumped and she shivered and whimpered; even the goose bumps on her skin were pain-causing. The monster saw her shake, took off his small tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. The murderous monkey smiled and breathed in the soap, shampoo and conditioner she used, the light scent of her perfume, and the overwhelmingly sweet scent of her skin. He crouched next to her. It was intoxicating to Beppo; Chloe had an odd sense of deja vu. She thought of Clark.

"Th...Thanks," Chloe whispered to the beast between sobs. She tried to be civil. To be human. "That was nice of you."

Beppo stepped even closer to his love. He was deliriously happy to be alone with her. She looked so beautiful in the moonlight. He leaned in and caressed Chloe's cheek roughly. And smiled. A smile that Chloe recognized: it was lecherous in any species. Despite the sheer pain, despite the utter agony, the snark in Chloe's spirit reared its smart-ass head.

'No hot monkey love for you, freak,' Chloe immediately thought and snapped her legs together tightly. She looked at the faraway lights of the carnival and knew, absolutely knew he was looking for her. 'This better work,' Chloe thought, remembering his words. She took in a deep breath...

"CCCCCCLLLLLaaaaaaaaaaaRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!"

Beppo eyes flashed wide, his anger flashed hot, and his hand flashed out. The fingertips flicked against Chloe's forehead, and her consciousness was gone in a flash. Beppo didn't want her screaming Clark's name anymore. But she screamed it loud enough this time...

Far below, far away, Clark's body jolted. He heard Chloe's scream. He spun in his boots and looked into the forest. "Chloe."

"What?" Whitney asked, his stomach settling. "What's up man?"

"Listen...," Clark said to the older teen. Pete groaned and tried to roll on the ground. Whitney knelt by his teammate; Pete rubbed at the pain in his neck. Clark watched his friend's eyes roll in their sockets. "Call Lana... stay here with Pete!"

"Ok!" Whitney said. He took off his team letterman's jacket and bunched behind Pete's head. The star quarterback looked up to ask Clark what he was going to do now. But Clark was gone.

Part Eight
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