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Righteous Indignation
Chapter TWO
An argument was raging in full force when Hal opened the door to his wagon. It seems his partner Marty Fink and his lover
Madame Zadora, who was also the circus fortune teller, was in a rather heated argument over a small crate of glowing blue
bottles.
“Listen you bitch, we paid you good money to get this stuff so we could sell it. This circus is going down the crapper
and unless you wanna trade your crystal ball in for a pair of fishnet stockings, so you can start dancing the hootchie, you
better fork over.
Zadora was holding the small crate of about one hundred ten ounce bottles of a very unique looking blue liquid. It was obvious
that she was not happy about the prospect of giving them over to Marty.
“You cannot just sell these to anyone; the Apa Vie is a very powerful and dangerous tonic. If it’s used wrong
it can bring about a potent and deadly curse.”
“I don’t wanna hear your mumbo jumbo crystal ball shtick. Save it for the goats that buy into your bullshit. That
stuff belongs to me!” Marty made a grab for the crate and she quickly pulled it away.
“Listen you two, the last thing we need is you arguing over this stuff. I don’t want the others to even know we’ve
got it; much less know you two are at each other’s throats over it.” Hal stepped in and took the crate from Zadora.
“Listen Hal, she’s your bird and you better get this ironed out, cause we don’t stand a chance of making
any money in this dust bowl of a town unless we sell this stuff as a miracle tonic to those suckers out there. I’m guessing
we can get five bucks a bottle.”
He grabbed his hat off the back of a chair and pressed it down hard on his head.
“Come tomorrow I’m going out there and selling this stuff to those ignorant yahoos so you two better get this
ironed out and quick.” Marty stormed out in a huff and slammed the door behind him.
“Dora,” Hal said as he placed the crate on the floor and took a single bottle out for examination. “Don’t
worry about this stuff, nothing bad is going to happen, it’s just another ‘miracle tonic’ we’re going
to peddle to the masses for a quick buck.” Hal popped the cork on the small bottle and took a sniff. His face puckered
at the smell of the toxic substance. “So one drop of this on your tongue once a week and you’ll live for ever…
sounds a bit far fetched, but hey that’s what sells. The more far fetched it sounds, the more people can’t stand
not to have it. Hal fiddled around with the bottle when Zadora grabbed him and pulled him close. The look in here eyes was
one of concern mixed with endearment. She loved Hal, but she seriously had a problem with he and Marty being so flippant toward
the Apa Vie.
“Hal you don’t understand what this stuff is” She took the cork from his other hand and squeezed it back
into place, into the bottles open neck. “The Apa Vie is not a joke, there is a powerful and dangerous curse that follows
it wherever it goes if it’s not used correctly. I have heard many stories from my grandmother about the horrors Apa
Vie can bring about and believe me you don’t want to know the gory details.”
“Dora, doesn’t Apa Vie mean ‘Water of Life’ in your native tongue? I mean how dangerous can something
like that be? I’m telling you… you just worry too much and having your creepy old Romanian grandmother telling
you scary bed time stories is just going to wig you out even more.”
“The elders from my village say that Apa Vie comes form the ‘Seed of the Devil’. It has sinister and evil
power when it’s in the wrong hands and that’s why you can’t just sell it to anyone.
Suddenly the calliope music that had been playing outside stopped. There was a sudden commotion outside that took Hal and
Madame Zadora’s attention away from the discussion they had been having. They heard a scurry and then a thumping sound
and just then the door to Hal’s wagon flew open.
“Dammit Hal, you better get out here and fast. Something’s going on and it’s not good.” Marty’s
face was pale like a ghost and he had a look of terror that Hal had never seen before. Hal glanced down at the crate of glowing
blue bottles and gently kicked it under the wooden counter out of sight. Forgetting the other bottle was still in his hand
he made for the door.
When he got outside the circus performers had gathered around his trailer. In the distance he could see an angry mob carrying
torches and making their way toward the circus grounds.
“Everyone in the big top,” Hal yelled. “I don’t know what’s going on but I’ll take care
of it.” The circus folk all made for the big top except for a few of Hal’s most loyal and oldest friends. Boris
and Freckles stood on either side of Hal as did Walrus boy and Dolly Dan. They were going to support their friend no matter
what kind of trouble was brewing. Standing on the small wooden porch of his circus trailer, Hal watched as the angry mob approached,
led by the Pastor Harry Farwell.
“Well hello Pastor,” Hal smiled as he spoke with a slightly sarcastic tone. “It’s nice to see such
a large crowd turning out for our performance, but the ticket booth won’t be opened till tomorrow noon.”
“We’re not here to participate in your heathen circus mister.” The pastor spat as he raised his bible up
into the air. “We’re here to let you know you’re not welcome in our town and we want you to leave tonight.”
“Well pastor we don’t mean you and your good town any trouble. We’re just here to bring some harmless entertainment
to the unwashed masses.” Hal suddenly remembered he still had the bottle of Apa Vie in his hand. “As a matter
of fact, I’d like to present you with this small token of our appreciation so you can see our intentions are harmless.”
Hal handed the small bottle of glowing blue liquid to Pastor Farwell. The mesmerizing glow of the blue liquid was somewhat
hypnotic, but the pastor quickly snapped out of it’s lure. “Well there is nothing harmless about the riffraff
and scum that come with circuses.” Farwell scanned the cluster of freaks standing near Hal and rolled his eyes then
he took the bottle with his right hand and examined it. “What manner of devil potion is this?”
“Oh there’s nothing devilish about this elixir. It’s a wonder tonic that will bring the user a long and
prosperous life. Just a drop on the tongue once a week and you’ll live a long healthy life… what better way to
live long and spread the good message to your flock.”
Pastor Farwell popped the cork and took a whiff. He wrinkled his nose at the offensive smell of the tonic. “I’m
not interested in your lies and flowery words, Mister Ringmaster. I know your kind and we don’t want anything to do
with your freaks, soothsayers and wicked way of life. This town is full of God fearing folk and we don’t want our way
of life disrupted by your kind.”
“Why I take offense at your accusations my dear pastor. Borus here happens to be a God fearing Christian and Walrus
boy reads his bible most every night before he snuggles up in his little hay lined nest to go to bed.” Hal was adding
insult to injury with his sarcastic and tone.
“Don’t insult me with your rhetoric sir. I doubt very seriously that there is one shred of righteousness among
your clan of ner-do-wells. Why I would rather burn in the pits of hell than walk through the pearly gates with a circus freak
like your Walrus Boy! It’s obvious his soul was dammed long before he was ever born. Most likely the sins of his filthy
freak show parents.”
Boris, Freckles and the others stepped forward in defense. Farwell had insulted one of the kindest hearted individuals they
knew. Walrus boy just stood with his head down, tears running down his mangled distorted face.
“You self righteous bastard,” Hal said with a livid tone none of his circus family had ever heard him speak with
before. Each word was dripping with a distain they had never witnessed coming from Hal. “It’s unfortunate that
you feel that way, but I am here to tell you that my circus and I are here to stay and unless you have some legal letter of
writ that says we have to leave, we’re not going anywhere.”
Farwell took a step forward. His eyes were like daggers plunging into Hal. How dare this stranger come into his town and corrupt
it with his hedonistic ways with no regard to the feelings of the town’s folk not to mention his authority as the religious
leader of the town. “The only law I’m concerned with is God’s law.” Farwell lifted his bible in the
air again. “You sir will leave this town tonight or there will be trouble.”
“What are you going to thump me with your bible?” The performers surrounding Hal let out a laugh. Hal was a very
stubborn man and he was not about to be intimidated by the religious babblings of some backwoods hick swinging a bible around.
“My circus and its people are here to entertain the good natured folk of this community and that’s what we’re
going to do. If you and your inbred religious fanatics don’t want to participate nobody here is forcing you.”
“Who the fuck are you calling inbred?” Teddy Dixon pointed his finger maliciously.
“Well my god fearing friend any fingers being pointed here tonight are not being pointed by me. So if the proverbial
shoe fits, wear it.”
Not really knowing what the hell Hal had just said, Teddy sunk back into the mob. He was no match for the fancy talking Ringmaster
and no snappy come-backs came to mind.
Hal turned and nodded to his circus family to disburse and go about their business. “Now if you’ll excuse me we
have much work to do and we don’t have time for your idol threats and bible thumping. So since you’re obviously
not welcome here I would kindly ask you and your torch toting parishioners to please leave the circus grounds.”
Pastor Farwell stood speechless for a moment. He was not sure what to do. He had been demoralized and embarrassed in the presence
of his congregation and was not going to stand for it. The circus boss had called his bluff and now it was time to decide
if he was going to put his money where his mouth was.
As Hal turned and grabbed the latch on the door to his trailer, Pastor Farwell decided he was not going to be made a fool
of. He raised his hand with the bottle of Apa Vie in the air and yelled “TRAMPLE THIS CIRCUS TO THE GROUND.”
In a knee jerk reaction, as Farwell’s people began to storm the circus grounds, Hal pulled a long dagger that was concealed
in the handle of the walking stick he always carried with him. He yelled “NO” at the top of his lungs, spun around
and accidentally hacked off the good pastor’s right hand. The scene turned bloody. As if in slow motion Pastor Farwell’s
severed hand flew through the air. The bottle still in its grip with its contents spilling out and coating the pastor’s
severed stump with the creamy glowing blue liquid. Most of the church crowd was unaware of the pastor’s hand because
just as it happened he doubled over grabbing his stump and kneeling in the dirt.
“BURN THIS GOD DAMMED CIRCUS TO THE GROUND!” the pastor’s voice could be heard from all around by his mob.
Up till now they had only been knocking down tent poles and doing damage to the circus property, but at the command to burn
it down, his people began to light everything ablaze with their torches as they corralled the remaining circus performers
into the big top. Hal made a dash to help his people. Screams of agony rang out as clowns and jugglers and other circus folk
were lit ablaze by the spreading flames. Farwell tucking his bloody stump into his robes so his wound was not visible, he
backed into the shadows and watched as the circus and its people all burned up in the uncontrollable flames. A tear ran down
Madame Zadora’s cheek as she stood in the shadows and watched the carnage. The man she loved had run into the big top
to save others but had not come out. As the fires burned on in the night, lighting the night sky with an orangey yellow glow,
the congregation of the First Community Church of Ashbrooke stood back in disbelief and watched the final moments of what
they had done.
The reality of their deeds was sinking into the hearts and minds of most of them, but they had been justified. They were doing
the will of God. They were cleansing their town of an evil that was there to corrupt the innocent impressionable young minds
of their youth. According to their pastor, what they had done was the will of their God.
*****
The morning sunlight cut through the curtains like a blade of bright light. It was sunrise as the pastor lay on his bed eyes
wide open. The pain from his injury was completely gone. The stump of his right arm wrapped tightly against his body, covered
by the dingy blue bathrobe he wore to bed the night before.
“I did the right thing.” He mumbled to himself over and over again as his lips quivered. “If I hadn’t
gotten rid of those sinful invaders who would have? God gave me the job and I carried it out the best way I knew how.”
Pastor Farwell took another sip from the bottle of whisky he was clutching in his left hand. It made a clunking sound as he
carelessly placed it on the bedside table and stood up. Nobody had seen him get his hand cut off the night before. He was
sure he had hidden the bloody stump of an arm from them as they did their duty in the circus grounds and since he had scurried
away in the night before the deed was finished, he had not encountered anyone so they would have no idea what had happened
to him. When Hal Zimner had struck him down, they had already run into the circus grounds to drive the evil away. They could
not know… he was determined to keep his injury a secret, but how? He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his
parishioners from knowing his shame. That he had been bested by the Ringmaster of the circus and how he had lost his right
hand…. The right hand of God.
He stumbled a bit from the booze he had been nursing all night. He walked over to the mirror and leaned against the bathroom
sink. A small bubble of vomit in his throat that felt like it was going to come gushing out at any moment. He was feeling
ill. It was a sick feeling he had in his very core. The night before he had killed at least 30 people, but it was Gods will,
or at least that’s what he kept telling himself. God wanted it that way…. So it must have been the right thing
to do. Harry looked into the mirror. The stump under his robe seemed to look larger under the ace bandage he had wrapped around
his body. He had covered it all up, pressing it tightly against his mid section and then wrapping it all up. He looked closely
at the bandage. There was a stain but instead of it being the deep crimson red of a blood stain, it seemed to be blue. He
threw off his robe and looked at the bulge. It had to be his imagination. The bulge under the bandage was the shape of a hand.
He could clearly make out five fingers and a thumb from under the ace bandage. He quickly pulled off the metal clip that kept
the end of the ace bandage in place. He began to unwind the bandage… around and around his body until it fell to the
floor. He could not believe his eyes. Pastor Farwell lifted his right hand in the air. The right hand that had been gone the
night before, hacked off like a piece of unwanted meat. There had been no hand there when he went to sleep but now there it
was, clear as day, somehow a new hand had grown into place while he slept, or while he lay there in a drunken stupor because
he didn’t actually get any sleep. Harry examined his newly grown hand. The place where it had been cut off the night
before had a strange bluish tinge that formed a circle around his arm. Almost like that’s the spot from which the new
appendage grew. Somehow the strange tonic that he had been holding, had spilled and gotten all over his freshly cut bloody
stump. Somehow this stuff was responsible for his hand growing back. No… he thought to himself. No that demon potion
had nothing to do with it. It could not be that stuff because it was an ungodly elixir from hell. This had happened because
it was a sign from God. He was God’s messenger and this miracle had happened as a sign to show him he had done the right
thing.
Pastor Farwell grabbed his bible and held it up to his chest. “He has blessed ME! His true servant!”
*****
“Where the hell is the pastor?” grunted a tall heavyset man with a massive beer belly. Everyone called him big
Earl and he was one of the fix-it men at the church. He was always seen wearing his greasy overalls and usually with no shirt,
except on the rare occasion that he actually went to hear one of the pastor’s sermons. If that were the case he wore
a greasy t-shirt along with his greasy overalls. He wasn’t particularly religious but he had some strange idea that
he could be saved through osmosis just from hanging around with the church going folk. He was one of the first to grab his
torch and follow the pastor to the circus grounds the night before, more out of something to do than any real conviction.
“We’ve been here all dam night digging this hole and we ain’t seen hide or hair of the Reverend.”
Teddy Dixon and his brother Eddy Dixon were throwing the last of the charred mangled bodies into the mass grave they had spent
all night digging. The entire circus had burned to the ground and every single person had met their death at the hands of
the torch toting vigilantes. They were all pretty much justified in what they had done and out of some strange obligation
were now helping the pastor cover up any sign of the evil deed.
“We’ll see if that son of a bitch calls me inbred again.” Teddy threw the last body on the pile. It was
the charred corpse of Hal Zimner the ringmaster. His tailcoat was still in tact enough to tell who he was but his face was
burned beyond recognition.
“Yeah that smooth talking son of a bitch had it coming.” Eddy added as he kicked dirt into the hole on top of
the bodies. “Why ain’t the pastor here to help us fill up this god dam hole?”
“Hell I’m sure he’s off somewhere with his little skirt filling another kind of hole.” Big Earl and
Eddy began to laugh, when suddenly a charred crushed black top hat landed like a Frisbee on top of the Ringmaster’s
body. They immediately recognized it as the hat Hal had been wearing the night before. They hadn’t noticed it but the
pastor had walked up while they were shooting the bull.
“Brothers God’s will has been done and now it’s time to cover up this sin and put this deed behind us.”
Pastor Farwell held his bible in his newly grown right hand and looked up to heaven.
The three men filled in the enormous hole that was now the resting place of over thirty charred dead circus performers. Dolly
Dan, Freckles, Boris and Dexter were just a few of the well meaning members of the circus family who had met a horrible fate
at the hands of a self-righteous hypocrite who called himself the right hand of god.
An hour or so passed when Teddy and Big Earl began to pat down the dirt and make the grave look as natural as possible. Eddy
Dixon rolled the only remaining piece of evidence that would let anyone even know the circus had ever come to town. It was
Hal’s wagon, slightly charred on one edge but still very much in tact.
“We should go inside and see if there’s anything in there of value.”
“Yeah, we might be able to make some money. I’m sure that fancy pants ringmaster had some valuables in there.”
Eddy and Big Earl were opening the door, ready to loot the circus wagon when the pastor slammed the door closed. He had wooden
plank in his hand that he held across the door frame. It had the words “Keep Out, this place is cursed by GOD”
painted across it.
“Leave this wagon the way it is,” Farwell said authoritatively. “This wagon will serve as a reminder of
the power of Gods people and what they will do to protect their town from evil. With that the pastor hammered the wooden plank
across the door in such a way that anyone who meant to loot the old wagon would have to pry off the plank to make their way
in. Eddy and Teddy and Big Earl loaded into Teddy’s truck. They were going to head back into town when they turned to
see if the pastor needed a lift, but he was nowhere to be seen. As quickly as he’d come, he was gone. As they drove
away toward Ashbrooke, leaving a trail of dust behind them, the only thing to be seen was a lone figure standing on the hill
above Saunders’s field. It was Madame Zadora. She was standing there,
crying, longing for the only man she had every really loved, who was now gone forever… or was he?
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