Maurice couldn't believe his daughter's behavior. She knew he was always busy trying to make the perfect concoction for this stupid conference. He was trying to get money for her for god's sake! Couldn't she give him a little room to breath? Ever since Mary had died, Isobel had been so scornful toward him. Was it something he was doing wrong? He thought they spent enough time together. What more did she want from him?
The bright orange sun was quickly setting behind buildings in front of him. The town was a while off yet, but civilization seemed so close. He hated driving to Wildemar from L.A. The area in between could be deadly if you were alone. So many punk communities were located there. The kids were delinquents and there was no one there to control them.
He was itching for some sign of human life. He'd been on the same dirt road for an hour and the silence was making him uncomfortable. It was unnatural. There was seemingly no life around him at all. No animals, no people – the trees didn't even move in the wind. Maurice leaned forward to turn the radio on, but when he pressed the button, nothing happened. This damned truck. Nothing on it works… And then he heard it.
The rev of an engine behind him. He looked in his mirror to see two 1976 Mustang convertibles, with massive front engines, that had suddenly appeared on his tail. At first, he thought nothing of it. However, he quickly realized it wasn't completely normal for two, nearly identical cars to be chasing an old pickup truck down a deserted road in the middle of no man's land.
He sped up slightly.
So did the other cars.
Maurice flashed his lights, letting the other cars know that they were welcome to pass him. The blue Mustang flashed its lights too, in a different pattern, and both of the cars went even faster, eventually coming up on either side of Maurice's pathetic looking Chevy. Reluctantly, he turned to look out the window, to see the driver of the other car. A vicious, tattoo ridden, punk hung out of the passenger window. Maurice had trouble looking him in the eyes, which were black and blue and covered in shiny, silver piercings. Maurice waved his arm to tell the kids to pass. The boy in the window grinned and pulled out a hand gun.
Maurice slammed on the gas. His old truck wasn't prepared for this and his engine jerked, slowing the car dramatically. The car to his right took the opportunity to pull in sideways in front of him. As soon as he saw this, he slammed on the brakes and swerved to the right, causing the car to fly off the road and down into the woods that surrounded the road.
The truck tumbled a few times. Faintly, in the background of his mind somewhere, Maurice could hear the tinkle of glass as his chemicals were smashed and totaled. The car finally landed upside-down and preceded to slide down the hill the rest of the way. He hit his head hard on the steering wheel just before the air bag released and everything faded to black.
He could hear something. Crunching leaves. Footsteps? And then, it was quiet again. He opened his eyes. It was dark outside – nighttime. The window next to his head had been smashed out completely and Maurice was partly hanging out on the ground. After a moment, he realized he was lying on his stomach and staring at a pair of shoes that were inches from his face. So he had heard footsteps. He thought it had been a dream. How long ago was that?
Carefully, he lifted his head to get a better look at the person in front of him. They were wearing white socks that went up to his knee where a pair of metallic gold knickers started. Intrigued, Maurice pushed himself up higher to see the rest of the person.
It was a young boy – of seventeen or eighteen years – who wore a long black jacket lined with gold buttons and a white ruffled ascot. His hair resembled a Beatle, with a bright natural red/orange colour to it. He smiled down at Maurice.
"Hello," he said in a distinctive French accent. "You look like you're in trouble. Would you like assistance?" He didn't answer. He couldn't find his voice. A frown played at the boy's mouth. "You look 'orrible," he said with a pout. "I will help you." He leaned down and together the two of them managed to get Maurice out of the car and leaned up against a nearby tree. "Can you talk, Monsieur?" the boy asked politely. Maurice managed to breath the word "yes" and the boy smiled again. "Good good." he said with a twinkle in his eye. "My name is Evander and I am at your service. I should be happy to take you back to where I live and fix you up right."
Evander assisted Maurice in standing up and the two began making their way deeper into the woods. After a few minutes of struggling and silence, Maurice heard voices and music from somewhere not far away. "We'll be there soon," Evander told him as he watched the older man search blindly out of curiosity. As promised, they saw lights and movement through the woods within just a few more minutes. As they approached, Maurice recognized what looked like a carnival. When he got closer, however, there were several disturbing differences. For one – the cages held people. Teenagers and young men and women with multicoloured hair formed into all sorts of spikes and twists. Some of them had piercings all over their faces and arms. Some were covered in tattoos or scars. Evander didn't look like any of these kids, but he didn't seem to mind them. He nodded and smiled at several of them as they walked by.
Evander made a left at a small tent with a large sign that said "freaks" on it and continued going straight until he reached a clearing surrounded by camping tents. In the center was a huge bonfire, taller than Maurice, and more teenagers were scattered around, staring disapprovingly at him. Evander brought him into one of the nearby tents (which was, much to Maurice's reflief, empty), sat him down on inchair and promptly began cleaning the blood off his face and arms.
"Lumiere! What do you think you are doing?!"
Evander stopped what he was doing and turned to face the entrance. A boy, of about nineteen or twenty years, marched into the tent. He, like Evander, looked relatively normal compared to most of the kids there. He had sandy brown hair, and diamond stud in one ear, and a pirate captain's hat perched upon his head. He wore a long-tailed, black jacket and pinstriped brown pants that contrasted nicely with his sharp features and pale complexion. The thing that had really caught Maurice's eye, however, was not his clothing, but the dozens of watches that were secured on various parts of his body. There were three on one wrist, five on the other, one hanging from each pocket, one on the front of his belt, and a rather large, golden one on a chain that hung around his neck. It reminded him immediately of his late wife's locket that he often wore around his own neck. Absentmindedly, he reached up place his hand on it and quickly realized it had gone missing. He looked down, but there was no sign of it, no familiar glint of gold near the collar of his jacket. Maurice's eyes flitted to the ground, but he knew his efforts would be useless for now.
"Cogsworth!" Evander cried, rushing forward and taking the older boy by the shoulders.
"Lumiere," the boy, Cogsworth, snapped. "Who is that?" Evander glanced back at the old man. "Why…this is my friend…er…"
"Maurice Carmichael," he answered with as much of a smile as he could muster.
"Maurice Carmichael!" Evander repeated harmonically, nearly slaughtering the man's name with his harsh French accent.
"Ah, Maurice," Cogsworth said. "Yes, yes. Welcome, welcome, very good. Well, I hope your stay was enjoyable. Don't forget to write." He moved to approach Maurice, but Lumiere stepped in front of him.
"Cogsworth, have a heart. This man needs help! Look at him!"
"Yes, yes, he's lovely, quite enjoyable, but he has to leave." Cogsworth crossed his arms over his chest and gave Lumiere a stern look.
"But he was just in a 'orrible accident!" exclaimed Lumiere in desperation. "He has no way to get 'ome! His car has just crashed!"
"This man's car crashes are no concern of mine," Cogsworth stated with a hmpf! "Pleasure meeting you. Good day. Hope to see you on the outside. Good bye." He began moving closer, but was once again cut off by Lumiere.
"I will take care of him!" he insisted with wide, amber eyes.
"If the Beast finds out, he will have our heads!" Cogsworth refuted.
"He will not find out!"
Maurice was quite puzzled. Surely, this "beast" was no real beast. They spoke about him as if he had control, like some sort of king. Surely, no animal could fill that position, even in a place like this. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off by a horrible roar from outside of the tent.
Lumiere jumped nearly a foot into the air and began trembling violently. Cogsworth began muttering to Lumiere under his breath "I told you so. I told you so. I told you so." but Maurice wasn't paying any attention to them. He was entirely focused on the doorway. He was certain whatever had made that noise was going to enter their tent any moment. Lumiere looked back at Maurice as if to explain what was going on. Instead, he just sighed and mouthed the words 'I'm sorry'.