Chapter Twelve: In Which There Are Cattle and Clowns

"Uh, should we maybe run?" BEN asked, warily eying the cattle that stopped some fifty feet away from their group. If Jeff knew his cattle any—and he did. He was Midwesterner—they were beef. Angus, probably. Stout and heavy.

"Are they running?" Eyeless asked, not pausing in his stride.

"Not yet," BEN said.

"Then I think we're—"

"Oh crap. Now they're running," BEN said. Jeff watched him hop towards Eyeless's side like a bird, dark eyes wide. The rest of their group followed suit, stumbling over each other as the cattle neared. Jeff wasn't sure which one of them bolted first, but it triggered all of them into a mad dash.

The field stretched out acres in all directions, so there was no escape behind a fence, but there was a grove of trees that they all fled for. But the thing about stampeding cattle is that you really can't outrun them. Maybe if the trees had been closer—but they weren't. Jeff, towards the front of the group, lasted about two minutes before he was overtaken by thundering hooves and large black bodies. He tripped and hit the ground, cracking his chin against it and yelping. A hoof struck him over the head and drove his chin back into the ground. He curled up, clamped his hands over his skull, and waited.

The flood of cattle trampled around him, their hooves smashing the grass and tripping over his body, their weight thudding around and their breath blasting far too close to him for any sort of comfort. It seemed like an hour before the herd dissipated, sheltering in the same trees Jeff and the others had been headed for and looking back at them with large, twitchy eyes. Jeff uncoiled and stretched, groaning. His head hurt, his face hurt, his shoulders hurt—hell, everything hurt. Pushing himself to sit, Jeff looked around. He was relieved to see six moving, living figures scattered in the grass around him. "Everybody alive?" Eyeless called. He was already standing, his face turned towards the cattle.

"I think I am," Jeff said.

"Me and Masky are," Hoodie said.

"Let me get back to you on that," BEN answered shakily.

"Dandy," Laughing Jack said.

"You teleported, cheater," BEN said, pointing an accusing finger towards him. Laughing Jack grinned and nodded.

"I'm bleeding again," Toby said, patting his stomach. Eyeless walked to him and crouched, pulling his shirt up and sighing.

"Yeah. Anybody else hurt?" Eyeless said. After receiving several affirmations, he corrected himself and said, "Anybody else hurt badly?" When it was decided that no one else was, Eyeless set to work fixing Toby's ripped stitches while the rest of them stared warily at the cattle. None of them sat, except for Toby and Eyeless, but BEN made his way to stand by Jeff.

"What are you eating? You know you shouldn't—" Jeff started, seeing BEN's jaw moving. Food had to be conserved for as long as possible. Well, that rule hadn't been lain out before, so Jeff guessed he couldn't get too upset about it. But it should be common sense.

"Huh? Oh, no, it's just candy. Laugh gave it to me," BEN said.

"You've known him for, what, four days, and you take candy from him? And he's a murderer? BEN."

"It's not like I can die," BEN said, sniffing. "It's probably okay. Want one?"

"No. I would die."

"Oh yeah. Hey Laugh—Laugh, is your candy poisoned?" BEN asked.

"Huh? No," Laughing Jack said. "Why? Want some, Jeff?"

Jeff narrowed his eyes. "Not on your life."

"You know your head's bleeding?" Laughing Jack asked.

"Yes." Jeff swiped his hand across the back of his head, where a hoof had clipped it. When he looked back at it, blood clung to his fingers. Pretty.

"Eyeless, Jeff's bleeding," Laughing Jack said.

Eyeless hardly looked away from Toby. "Yeah? Is it bad?"

"No," Jeff said. "Just my head."

"Alright, but if you pass out you'll slow us down," Eyeless warned.

"I won't pass out," Jeff said. "Laughingstock's just being annoying." Laughing Jack frowned and attempted to circle around Jeff and look at the back of his head. Jeff, glaring, kept Laughing Jack in front of him. The third circle they made and Jeff was starting to get dizzy—probably, he concluded, an effect of blood loss, the spinning, and the swirly black and white on the clown's nose that was making him feel like his eyes were crossed. He staggered some and Laughing Jack leaped at the opening.

"Eye," he called, his eyes glinting merrily. "Jeff's tripping now."

Jeff backed away from the clown, baring his teeth and rubbing his eyes. "Fucker," he growled.

He was planning out an assault in his head when Eyeless grabbed him by the jaw and twisted his head to the side, clicking his tongue. "We could cut off all of your hair and then stitch it up, if you want."

"No," Jeff said, tugging away from Eyeless.

"Then sit down before you fall down."

"But the cows—"

"You can stand up if they try to attack you again," Eyeless said dryly.

"I'm not even dizzy," Jeff grumbled. "The fucking clown made me dizzy."

"Obviously," Eyeless said. "The fucking clown is going to watch you now. Clean his head off, too, if you can." Eyeless looked up at Laughing Jack, who beamed and nodded.

"Of course," he said. "You're the boss." Jeff stalked away from them before sitting and refusing to look at Laughing Jack when he bounced to Jeff's side. Laughing Jack sat beside him, comfortable as anything, and said, "I have a rag. Lemme see your head."

Jeff snatched the damp rag from him. "I can do it myself, bastard."

"But Eyeless said—"

"He'll be happy whenever my head's clean. Doesn't matter how the fuck it gets done," Jeff said. He roughly scrubbed the back of his head for a few seconds before pushing the rag back at Laughing Jack. "There. Done."

"Maybe you should hold it on—just let me see it."

"No."

"Eye will be mad if it's still bloody," Laughing Jack whined.

"It's not."

"Yeah it is."

"Fuck off," Jeff said.

Laughing Jack reached for his head and Jeff ducked away. "Please? I promise I'll be careful."

"What? And you want me to trust you?" Jeff let out a bitter laugh.

"Well, yeah. I don't expect it, though. But how about if it hurts too much you can punch me."

"I'll punch you whenever I want to."

"I'll give you candy?"

"Were you born this dumb?" Jeff asked.

"Wasn't really born," Laughing Jack said. "Pleaseee let me see it."

Jeff exhaled and rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. "If you'll leave me the fuck alone."

"I promise," Laughing Jack said, his eyes lighting up. "So I can see it?"

"Whatever," Jeff said, but he didn't move when Laughing Jack sidled behind him and parted his hair. He stayed very still, held his breath and glared at the ground, as Laughing Jack ran the rag across the cut on his head. It felt absolutely wrong, being in this vulnerable of a position, especially to a veritable stranger. No, it didn't feel wrong, it was wrong. He was already smaller than the others, and Laughing Jack was taller than them—and now Jeff sat, and he lowered his head and let Laughing Jack touch his wound. Yeah, it was wrong. He'd have to find an excuse (it wouldn't be hard) to fight Laughing Jack sometime soon—make sure his place was still stable. Jeff didn't think any of them could stand for their careful hierarchy to get thrown off anymore than it already was.

Except maybe Laughing Jack. He probably wanted to best Jeff—maybe Eyeless, too. The thought sparked up a fury. If it had been Masky or Hoodie or any of the others cleaning his head, it wouldn't be half so bad. They all accepted where they were—they were at peace with each other. They didn't fight. But Jack. The one person who hadn't decided his spot yet—the one person who was a threat to Jeff's leadership, and Eyeless sent him to manage Jeff.

Did Eyeless want Laughing Jack as his right-hand man? Jeff hadn't thought their fight had been anything major, but maybe it had been? Maybe Eyeless thought Jeff wasn't fit for the job anymore? Fear slithered down his spine. He couldn't—he couldn't loose his spot. His strength, his respect—the trust he saw in their eyes. He would probably die to get that look. Eyeless couldn't take it away from him. Jack couldn't take it away from him. He would have to prove himself again. He would have to beat Laughing Jack to a pulp—kill him, maybe. Then Eyeless would see Jeff was still fit to command. They would all feel safe again.

Because they didn't right now. They absolutely didn't.

"Hey."

Jeff turned his head fast enough that his neck cracked and his nose hit Laughing Jack's. The clown was leaned around him, their faces level, and his eyes were wide and curious. Jeff leaned away from him. "What?" he asked, as poisonously as he could.

"I said I was done. You were just staring off—you looked terrified." Laughing Jack laughed. "Was it that bad? Are you afraid of rags?"

"Apparently," Jeff muttered, scooting until there was a good five feet of space between them.

Laughing Jack frowned. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," Jeff said, wrinkling his nose—which still hurt—in scorn. "You said you'd leave me alone."

"Oh, right. Yeah. Okay."

Jeff sprawled back in the grass, crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the powder-blue sky and the insubstantial clouds that drifted across it. It seemed so...peaceful. Maybe it was. But it didn't feel like it. It felt threatening—but Jeff knew that was just him. And he was going to resolve it.