Fluey woke up some time later, feeling dizzy and disoriented. His head was killing him, and he was feeling a little motion sick from the movement. The events from the night before were practically a blur. It all happened so fast.
"Oooohhhh . . . . ." he moaned. "Where am I? What happened? Ooohhhh, brother! Have I got a headache!"
Fluey tried to raise his hand to rub the sore spot on his head where he banged it against the cage bars, but it felt like his hand weighed a ton. He looked down at his hands, and saw heavy iron shackles had been fastened to his wrists, and a chain was connected between them. His ankles had been chained as well. They were so heavy, he could barely move. He looked around his surroundings, and it all suddenly came back to him. He was in Mr. Nightshade's Mirror Maze, encountered his parents, who suddenly turned into skeletons, was pulled into a phony mirror, dropped through a trap door, and thrown inside a circus train cage. The cage was lined with straw, and there was a black tarp over the cage, he noticed. He couldn't see anything outside. Suddenly, the cage he was traveling in jerked to a stop. Fluey jerked forward a little, and then slammed back into the cage wall.
"Ow!" he shouted, as he banged the back of his head.
Fluey then heard some mumbling going on outside of the cage, and a few minutes later, it was moving again, but not on a train track. After about five minutes, the cage stopped. Fluey could hear laughter all around him, insane laughter.
"Sounds like a psycho ward," he said. "I'm not so sure I even want to know where I am . . . . ."
The tarp was then removed, allowing Fluey to look around. He was in a dark area, and there were several other circus cages around. Fluey couldn't tell what was inside them, but he did know that was where the laughter was coming from. A hand suddenly came down on Fluey's shoulder, causing him to jump a little.
"Hello, Franklin," a familiar, creepy voice said. Fluey turned around and saw Mr. Nightshade standing there, smiling wickedly.
"Mr. Nightshade, what's going on?" Fluey asked, nervously. The look on the carny's face was making him nervous.
"Oh nothing much," Mr. Nightshade said, and he started pushing the cage toward the others. "I'm just giving you your special surprise."
"The Mirror Maze wasn't it?"
"It was part of it. Here's the rest of it. Welcome to the sideshow."
Mr. Nightshade stopped the cage at the others, and Fluey got a good look at what was inside them. They looked like circus freaks, only about ten times freakier. They were all smiling and laughing. There was an animal trainer who cracked a whip at nothing at all, a juggler who juggled knives, a clown in a kangaroo suit that was shadow boxing, a human cannonball who was lighting an imaginary canon, a tightrope walker who was walking an imaginary tightrope, several deranged looking acrobats, a contortionist twisting herself into a pretzel and back again, a bearded lady, a two headed man, a fire eater, a sword swallower, a couple of midgets, and a person who appeared to be half man and half woman, just to name a few.
"A giant collection of circus freaks," Fluey said, grimacing a little. "What's going on here, anyway?"
"I'll be more than happy to tell you," Mr. Nightshade said. "You see, Franklin, my boy, once a year, I collect human souls to feed to this demon. In return for souls, he gives me immortality. The demon can only be fed on All Hallow's Eve before midnight."
"What happens to the person after the demon steals their soul?"
"They become part of the demon's private circus and entertain him for eternity."
"But how come they're laughing? It's like they're all insane or something."
"They are insane, dear boy. Once the demon steals someone's soul, they don't keep their sanity for long."
Mr. Nightshade smiled a sinister smile, and took Fluey's chin in his hand, tilting his head upward.
"Pity that man had to have a heart attack before I could open my Mirror Maze to the public," he said. "I was hoping to have more souls for my demon friend. But at least one soul is better than nothing."
"You'll never get away with this!" Fluey shouted, jerking his head away.
"Oh, I've been getting away with it for quite some time, now," Mr. Nightshade said. "Since the late eighteen hundreds, in fact. And they haven't caught me yet. They never will, either. Now then, we do have a few days before All Hallow's Eve, so I suggest you sit back, relax. In the matter of a few days, you're going to be part of my demon friend's little show. And don't try and think you can get away, because you can't. I know about your little double life, precisely why I sent your transformer and communicator back to your grandfather, along with planting a note for him to find. How did I do it, you ask? That was part of my little deal with the demon. Not only did he give me immortality, but he also gave me powers as well. Let that grandfather of yours just try to find me. We're far enough away from Megatropolis, so by the time the old man does wise up, it will be too late."
And with that, Mr. Nightshade left, cackling madly. Fluey glared after him. He couldn't believe he had fallen for this. He looked over at the insane circus freaks in the other cages, and shuddered. Their laughter was starting to send shivers up his spine.
"How am I gonna get out of this one?" he asked himself. At this point, it didn't look like there was any way out for him.
Back in Megatropolis, Big D was pacing around his office at the Secret Security Headquarters, nervously. He had sent Coiley, Multi, Skittles, and the girls to the fairgrounds to see if they could find any clues. Phyllis was at her computer, looking up information on the last few places the Nightshade's Carnivale Fantastique had been. Maybe there would be a connection, and they'd be able to track down the carnival.
"If anything happens to him, I'll never forgive myself," Big D said. As he was pacing, the phone on his desk rang. Immediately, Big D grabbed it.
"Hello?" he said.
"You have been warned," a raspy voice said.
"Ah, yes, my old friend, Dry Throat," Big D said, rolling his eyes. "I haven't heard from you in awhile."
"Things are not what they seem," Dry Throat said. "Hurry before it's too late."
"Hurry with what?" Big D shouted. "Every time you've contacted me, all you've been giving me is cryptic messages that don't tell me anything, so unless you . . . . ."
Before Big D could finish that sentence, the line disconnected. Tired of all of this, he finally decided to just trace that call in order to find out where it was coming from. He immediately put the agents in the communications department on it. Once he was finished alerting communications, Phyllis walked into the office with several papers.
"Here are the ten most recent locations of Nightshade's Carnivale Fantastique, chief," she said.
"Very good," Big D replied. "We have to track down that carnival and convince Fluid to come back. Carnival life is not for him."
Phyllis nodded, and left the office. Big D began going through the paperwork she had given him. He discovered the year before Megatropolis, Nightshade's Carnivale Fantastique appeared in Hogwaller, Pennsylvania. The year before, it was in Walla Walla, Washington. Before that, it was in Hicksville, Arkansas. Big D groaned as he continued looking through the papers. He couldn't find one single piece of information that would tell him where the carnival was heading. The only thing they had in common was the fact that the carnival had been in each city during the same time period, between October nineteenth and October thirty-first. He heaved a sigh, and put the papers back on his desk. He just couldn't understand this. As he was thinking this over, his desk console began beeping.
"Big D," he said.
"Hi, chief," Coiley said. "We got done checking the fairgrounds. All the maintenance man said was that when he came in this morning, they were gone, so they must have left some time last night. Unfortunately, there's no sign of Fluey."
"We checked the surrounding area," Multi said. "There's no sign of him anywhere. We'll keep looking, though."
"Carry on, then, boys," Big D said. Then he signed off, stood up, and went back to pacing. Phyllis walked in a few minutes later, holding a piece of paper in her hand.
"Hi, chief," she said. "Any luck?"
"None whatsoever," Big D sighed. "Apparently, this carnival is only once a year, and it bounces around . . . . . I don't think we'll be able to pinpoint where exactly it's next stop is."
"Well, Mike may have come up with a way to track Fluey down," Phyllis said, handing Big D the paper she was holding. Big D looked at it.
"Missing," he read aloud. "Franklin Peter McAlister-Dawson. Last seen approximately six pm, October twenty-seventh. May have left town with traveling carnival in Megatropolis area."
"Mike was standing at the entrance of the supermarket downtown, passing these out," Phyllis said. "I think he was the only person in town who didn't go to the carnival."
Big D didn't respond. Instead he stood up, told Phyllis to dig up some information on Mr. Nightshade, if she could, and left. He went down the hall to the elevator, and rode it down to the SSHQ building's basement, where Mike's workshop/hangar/garage was. Mike was, as usual, buried in an engine of some vehicle or another. Whether he was taking something out, putting something in, taking something apart, or putting something back together, Big D didn't know.
"Rogers," he said.
"Ow!" Mike shouted, as he banged his head on the car hood as he straightened up. "I'm gonna have to start wearin' a crash helmet when I'm workin' down here."
"I assume this was your doing?" Big D asked, handing Mike the poster. "According to Phyllis, that is."
"Oh," Mike said. "Yeah, I made some posters up and printed them out. Phyl told me about the note Fluey left, and if that carnival has anythin' to do with this, then it's bad news, I tell you."
"I appreciate the effort," Big D said.
"Yeah, well," Mike said, shrugging. "I remember the Shadow incident, so . . . ."
Big D nodded, and started to go back toward the elevator, when he noticed a bulletin board of sorts on Mike's wall. There were several notes about what agent left a vehicle to be worked on, and what needed to be done to it, and a wall calendar featuring a 1966 red Pontiac GTO. Big D noticed several of the date boxes had notes in them, but Big D couldn't read them very well. Mike's penmanship was atrocious. There were several photos tacked up on the bulletin board as well. Some were of Phyllis, either her by herself, or with Mike in the picture as well. One was a snapshot of Mike wearing a green cap and gown, holding a diploma, and standing next to an older man wearing an army uniform (Big D assumed it was Mike's father), and there were a snapshots of Mike posing with vehicles he had customized, which included a shot of him and the Impossibles with the Impossi-Mobile. Then, Big D spotted a picture that looked like it had been printed from a computer or something. It was in black and white, and depicted a woman, probably somewhere in her late twenties, or early thirties, with dark hair. It looked like Mike had cut it out of something, the way the edges looked. Big D had a feeling he had seen this exact photo before.
"Rogers," he said.
"Yeah, boss?" Mike asked, looking up from the engine he was working on.
"Just out of curiosity, who is this woman on your bulletin board?" Big D asked, taking the picture down for the moment.
"Oh, that," Mike said. "That is the main reason I will never ever go to a carnival for as long as I live. Especially a carnival called Nightshade's Carnivale Fantastique."
"Sounds like you have a connection to that particular carnival," Big D said.
"Well, sorta," Mike said, shrugging. "I mean, I was only five years old at the time, but . . . ."
"If it concerns Nightshade's carnival, Rogers, then I think you had better tell me. What you have to say may, or may not be coincidental, and it may, or may not help locate Fluid. And right about now, I'll take any lead I can get. I don't care if you don't think it's important, Rogers. Tell me."
"Well . . . . okay, I guess. I don't like to talk about it, but since you are the boss and all . . . . . that's my favorite aunt, Kate Nelson. When I was five, my father was stationed overseas, so I went to live with my aunt and my uncle Joe. Aunt Kate was my mom's sister, and practically a second mother since my mother died right after I was born. Anyhow, my dad was overseas, my Uncle Joe worked in some factory or another, and Aunt Kate stayed at home most of the time. They never had any kids, and Aunt Kate longed to get a job outside of the house, but Uncle Joe didn't want Aunt Kate to work. He's really old fashioned in that regard. Anyway, they used to fight all the time. Every night, they'd argue. One day in October, this carnival came to town, and Aunt Kate took me to it while Uncle Joe was workin', and we met the owner, Mr. Nightshade. Brother, he was the creepiest guy you ever did see! He needed someone to take tickets at the entrance because the person who usually did it was sick or somethin', I don't know, so Aunt Kate took the job. Uncle Joe was not happy about it, and the fights became more frequent, especially when Aunt Kate began spendin' all her time at the carnival. She wasn't doin' any of the housework, she came home at three in the mornin', and twice she forgot to pick me up from school. Uncle Joe told her to quit her job at the carnival and get back home where she belonged. I don't remember all what happened, all I do know is Aunt Kate threw a hair dryer at Uncle Joe and stormed out of the house. We never saw her again after that."
"And you were how old?"
"Five. So that would make it . . . . . about eighteen or nineteen years ago."
"I see . . . . . and where was this?"
"Texas. In San Antonio."
"Mm hmm."
"Uncle Joe and I put up several missin' person flyers all over town for about a year or so, and the guy at the FBI seemed to just give up on it, which I found kind of odd."
"What guy at the FBI?"
"The director. I think his name was Neilsson."
"Neilsson. And this was eighteen years ago?"
"Well . . . . . eighteen or nineteen, I guess."
"Interesting. Very interesting, indeed."
"Is that all you need from me, boss?"
"For now. Thank you, Rogers."
Mike nodded, and went back to his engine. He had a feeling Big D was up to something, but he didn't know what.
When Big D got back to his office, he took out the FBI cases he had been given, and turned to the last page, from the year before. According to the document, five people had disappeared from Hogwaller, Pennsylvania. The year before that, two from Walla Walla, Washington. The year before, one from Hicksville, Arkansas. Big D then looked at the information Phyllis had dug up and compared it to the FBI files. The last ten places Nightshade's Carnivale Fantastique had appeared were in the last ten cities from the FBI's case files.
"This can't be a coincidence," he said. "Something fishy is going on here."
"Chief?" Phyllis said, via intercom.
"Yes, Phyllis?" Big D asked, pushing the button on his own intercom.
"Agent Shelley is here to see you."
"Send her in."
A few minutes later, a shapely dark skinned, dark-haired young woman walked into Big D's office. Her name was Nicole Shelley, and she worked in the communications department at the SSHQ.
"Hi, chief," she said. "We found out where that call you wanted us to trace came from, and you're not gonna believe it."
"Try me, Agent Shelley," Big D said. "At this point in my life, nothing can surprise me."
"The call came from Washington, DC. We managed to track it to the FBI, and we can confirm that the call was placed by an agent named Delano Franklin. Here's the number."
"Excellent work, Agent Shelley," Big D said. "You're dismissed."
Agent Shelley left, while Big D picked up his phone, and dialed the number she had given him.
"Is this FBI Agent Delano Franklin?" he asked. "Otherwise known as Dry Throat?"
"What?" Agent Franklin asked. "Who is this?"
"Big D of the Secret Security Headquarters. I had been receiving phone calls from a person calling himself Dry Throat, and I just had the last message from him traced, and it led me to this number. Are you, or are you not Dry Throat?"
"Okay, okay, ya caught me. I am Dry Throat."
"I'm glad we got that settled. Now I have another question for you. What is the meaning of those cryptic phone calls? I've got enough to do without deciphering them!"
"I know, but it was the only way I could get in contact with you without Director Neilsson finding out. He doesn't know I know."
"Know what?"
"You know those missing person cases he gave you?"
"Yes?"
"He's in on them. He's been in on them for the past thirty years. See, FBI directors are only allowed in office for ten years, unless they resign or are fired before the ten years are up. Every year, he gets a visit from this creepy guy named Nightshade . . . . . and I have no idea what his first name is. All I know is that Director Neilsson and this Nightshade character get to talking, and Director Neilsson calls in the chief of police, or the head law enforcement agency in the city Nightshade is going to take his carnival, and gives him the massive missing person cases. He does this to keep the law away from the carnival."
"Do you have any idea why he does this?"
"No, I don't. The reason I had to do the Dry Throat bit, and left those cryptic messages was because Director Neilsson was close by."
"I see. Thank you very much, Mr. Franklin. You've been quite helpful."
Big D then hung up the phone. Then he turned on his desk console, and tuned into Coiley's guitar.
"Boys, come back to headquarters immediately," he said. "I may have stumbled onto a lead, and I'm sure you would like to know about it."
"Right, chief," Coiley said. "We're on our way!"
Once Big D signed off with Coiley, he pushed the intercom button on his desk.
"Phyllis, please call Agents Fluid Girl, Rogers, Smith, and Critch to my office at once," he said. "I'll explain everything once Agents Multi and Coil return to the building."
"Yes sir," Phyllis said over her end of the intercom, and then she immediately paged Mike and the girls over the loudspeaker. Fifteen minutes later, they all grouped in Big D's office.
"What's up, chief?" Shawn asked.
"I'm not positive on this, but I think we have a lead to go on," Big D said. "Rogers, I have you to thank for it."
"Me?" Mike asked, incredulously.
"Yes," Big D said. "When you mentioned the name of the FBI director. The same FBI director gave me that case I had been working on for the past week or so."
"That super secret one?" FG asked.
"The same," Big D replied. "I figured there was something suspicious about it, but since the director of the FBI had told me the instructions came from the President himself, I didn't look into it, just in case."
"Yeah, you don't want to disobey the president, after all," Coiley said.
"Right," Big D said. "Anyway, shortly after I received this assignment, I started getting cryptic messages from someone identifying himself as Dry Throat. I have traced Dry Throat, but I am not going to reveal his identity at the present time. He informed me that Director Neilsson was in on the cases he assigned to me, which are missing person cases dating from nineteen ten to present. I'm not sure who to trust, so I'm going to Washington, DC to get the full story from Director Neilsson himself. Coil and Multi, I want you to accompany me."
"Hold it," Phyllis said. "I'm going with you guys."
"So are we," FG said, speaking for herself, Shawn, and Danalleah. "You might need us for backup, just in case something should happen."
"I don't think the Impossi-Mobile can accommodate all of us," Multi said.
"Did you ever finish the Rocket Rod?" Phyllis asked Mike. The Rocket Rod was a converted convertible Mike had been tooling during the Russian Underground incident.
"Mostly," Mike said. "I still need to hook up the communication system, though, why?"
"I figure we could use it," Phyllis said. "Multi, Coiley, and the chief can head out in the Impossi-Mobile, FG can use the Sky Cycle you tooled for her, Danalleah's got her broomstick, and you, Shawn, and I can use the Rocket Rod."
"We don't have the time for arguing," Big D said. "Phyllis, please inform Dr. Phelps that I would like him to take charge of the agency until further notice. Then, you, Rogers, Ms. Smith, and Ms. Critch can follow the boys, Agent Fluid Girl, and myself out. I intend on getting going immediately, if not sooner."
Phyllis nodded, and ran out to the outer office. Mike, Shawn, and Danalleah followed. FG went down to get her Sky Cycle from Mike's hangar, while Big D followed Coiley and Multi out to the Impossi-Mobile. Once inside, Coiley started up the engine, converted to Impossi-Jet, and took off. Skittles barked, and jumped from Multi's lap in the middle seat to Big D's in the back seat. She could sense the chief was nervous about something. She didn't know what he was nervous about, though, but she knew he needed her, even if he didn't know that himself. All Big D knew was that he had a bone to pick with Director Neilsson. And, if Director Neilsson had been smart, he would have known never to mess with Big D.
The Rocket Rod and the Sky Cycle were created by my friend, and fellow author, LadyMallard.