Never Fear (36 page)

His wife had decided to vacate the
premises, choosing to spend the evening playing mah jongg with her
strange group of friends. He’d invited the boys over to see the
finale. By the time it was finished, the sleigh would be destroyed.
He would dispose of the remote control box, and there would be no
evidence that the destruction hadn’t just been a terrible accident.
Maybe faulty wiring, maybe a system error. When you custom build
systems, things can go wrong. Like a space shot that explodes,
killing astronauts, or one of the early electric cars that blew up
with no explanation, killing the driver. When you custom designed
systems, things didn’t always go as planned. Take for instance that
mesh grid up in Detroit. Two people died. Burned to death. Two scum
bags. Oh well, back to the drawing board… Or not.

The next morning two big
trucks with satellite dishes pulled up out front. Since there was
no space in Roberts’ driveway, and by parking them in front of
Roberts’ house it would block the camera shots, they of course
pulled up in front of Cleary’s house, half on and half off of his
lawn. News vans converged with their satellite dishes, not just to
cover the spectacle itself, but also to cover the coverage of the
spectacle. He overheard a newslady out front talking into a
microphone saying, “Brad, it’s amazing.
The Today Show
will be here to cover
the event. Other news programs are here to cover
The Today Show
, and
we’re here to cover the organizations that are covering... I’m very
confused as to why we are here at all.”

He wanted to tell them it was going to
be one hell of a show, but he didn’t say a word. The proof would be
in tomorrow night’s performance.

The day dragged on, and finally it was
six o’clock. The sun was down and it was time for Glen Roberts to
pull the switch. He’d been out front almost all day and been
interviewed maybe thirty times. Roker himself had talked to him for
ten or fifteen minutes, and Glen had walked him around to the
various displays.

“
Over here is the five
piece choir,” he’d said, showing off five angels who were in choir
robes, outlined in a heavenly aura of white lights. “And of course
Alvin and the Chipmunks over here, and...”

Cleary had walked over to watch some
of the festivities. After all, he was a major contributor to the
event.

Hundreds of cars, pickups, SUVs and
vans were parked all over the street and in neighbors’ yards. All
day long there had been three police squad cars running up and down
the avenue. Now, close to launch time he counted six of them. Half
the entire police force was here to make sure everyone behaved
themselves. They could possibly control the crowd, but controlling
this sprawling display might be a little difficult.

A loud speaker, or a bullhorn, blared
loud and clear.

“
Ladies, gentlemen, we are
about to launch the extravaganza. If you are filming this, you
might want to start at the large sleigh with Santa. It’s an
impressive sight. We hope you all tell your friends and enjoy the
show.”

Gillian, Zeke and Cleary sipped scotch
on Cleary’s front porch.

“
You can’t just diddle
with that box right here where everyone can see,” Zeke
said.

“
Zeke,” Cleary laughed,
“do you seriously think one person is watching us? Come on, man. No
one is paying any attention, and if they did, it has nothing to do
with what’s happening across the street. Every eye, my friend, is
watching that display.”

“
If I can have your
attention again for a brief second,” the voice paused, waiting for
the din to quiet. “You all know that
The
Today Show
is filming our opening
sequence. You see the lights they’ve set up. If you could all
applaud, yell, squeal, and shout when we give the signal, it would
be greatly appreciated. We have the opportunity to make Arborsville
a celebrity tonight. Let’s do our community proud.”

And then just seconds
later, the voice shouted out, “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s
welcome
The Today Show
to Arborsville.”

There was a swell of voices, applause
and cheers and Cleary smiled.

“
Affirmation,” he said to
his two sidekicks. “They love the fact that a national TV show has
shown us their support.”

“
Kevin,” Gillian touched
his shoulder. “You have the remote control to the Trojan
sleigh.”

“
Right here, Bob. You know
I do.”

“
You can minimize
damage.”

“
What?”

“
We’ve been talking,” Zeke
said. “We don’t want to be responsible for murdering
someone.”

“
Guys,” he said. “I don’t
plan on killing anyone, but this has been a big part of our
conversation. There may be collateral damage, and you agreed that
you could deal with that.”

“
We changed our
minds.”

“
Come on, man,” Gillian
took a swallow of scotch. “We’ve been going along with this as if
it was a game. We can’t just kill someone because—”

“
Because he ruins our
lives for three months every year? Because he’s destroyed our small
community, destroyed the quiet, idyllic village that we call
home?”

“
But if someone is
killed...”

Cleary glared at them and slammed his
drink on the table, the liquid splashing onto his remote control.
“You both put up five thousand dollars to build the contraption.
You are co-conspirators and I have you both on tape.”

“
You what?” Zeke almost
choked on his scotch.

“
I recorded our
conversations in the basement. They’re not exactly on ‘tape’ but if
you want the digital recordings, come with me.”

They all stood up and walked inside,
down the stairs to the card table.

“
Kevin,” Zeke shook his
head. “Don’t do this, man. We’ll say we thought you were
kidding.”

“
I’ve got it recorded,
boys.” He stared at them with that maniacal grin. “You both put up
five thousand dollars. Here, let me play these for you.” He reached
into a drawer built into the bar and pulled out a Walther PPK.
“Seriously, guys, I thought we had a pact. I’ve planned this for a
year and you are not getting in my way now. Sorry.”

He aimed at Zeke and pulled the
trigger. At that close distance, the shot was between the eyes.
Brains splattered on the wall as the man crumpled to the ground.
Startled by the blast, Gillian jerked, turned and sprinted for the
stairs.

“
Bobby” Cleary shouted his
name and Gillian turned, fear in his wide opened eyes. “You agreed,
Bobby. You had no problem with somebody dying.”

“
My God, Kevin,” he stared
at Zekes body on the floor, “You’ve lost your mind. Please, don’t
shoot me. Please.” He was crying, hysterical sobs. “My child, my
wife...”

“I’ve planned this for a long time,
Bobby. I’ve lived across the street from this madman for years and
I need to finish him off. You can’t get in my way.”

“
Please, Kevin.” He was
hysterical. “Do what you have to do. Just please, please, please,
don’t shoot me. I have a family, Kevin. Please?”

Cleary pulled the trigger and Gillian
spun around, grabbing his shoulder. He looked at Cleary, panic
spread on his face.

Cleary fired again, this time taking
out the right side of Gillian’s mouth. The man dropped to his
knees.

“
Pleash, Kevn. Pleash.”
The words were mushy, uttered through blood, broken teeth and raw
tissue.

“
I wanted conspirators,
Bobby. Just some friendly supporters. Do you
see
what I mean?” Stepping up to the
sniveling man he jammed the barrel of the gun into his left eye
socket, smiling as he felt the orb pop. He pulled the trigger. “I
guess you can’t see.” He glanced at the two bodies on the floor,
blood draining from the wounds. Damn,” Cleary said. “I hate it when
there’s collateral damage.”

He walked back up the stairs, the
pistol still clutched in his hand. As he reached the porch he saw
they had just activated the sleigh. It had moved possibly five feet
and was still thirteen minutes from reaching the roof. Thirteen
minutes if the speed maintained. But that wasn’t the
idea.

Sitting down, he picked up his glass.
Most of his drink had splashed onto the remote control, so he
drained Zeke’s scotch, then pulled Gillian’s glass to him and
studied it. Half full. He’d need that for later.

Flipping a switch, he saw a green
light flash on the console. Contact. He pushed a button on the
lower left and saw the lights shut down on the sleigh. A
laser-sharp headlight flashed on as the sleigh picked up
speed.

Cleary laughed out loud.
The slides on his metal box were slick with the remains of his
drink but he pushed the first one up and the sleigh moved faster
and faster, the music playing from the speakers was no
longer
Beach Boy
fun but grinding strings and percussion as if from the bowels
of Hell. The volume increased and he could hear the large crowd
oohing and ahhing. They had no idea what to expect, but Glen
Roberts must have been having a heart attack.

Pushing switch number two he watched
just over the satellite trucks as two panels slid open on the sides
of the sleigh and immediately he pushed the third slide up. There
was a loud scream, like the sound of a rotary saw grinding through
hard wood, and from the openings there was a flash of fire and four
rockets shot out, whistling through the air. Two rockets exploded
into trees, sending hundreds of red hot embers into the crowd as
those lights went dark. Another rocket powered its way through a
news van in front of Cleary’s house, and the vehicle burst into
flame. People were screaming and running in all directions. Some
bodies hit the ground, and he wasn’t sure if they’d succumbed to
the shrapnel or were taking precautions. Four more rockets flashed
through the night, taking out a picture window in Roberts’ house,
the glass shattering into fragments. Snoopy and gang were
blindsided and the display was blown apart, shards of fiberglass
shooting off in all directions.

Preparing for the final assault, he
pushed the speed lever. Nothing. The sleigh continued its ascent,
but the main event wasn’t happening. He pushed another slide and
again, nothing. What could have gone wrong? And then it hit him.
The scotch. The liquid had gotten into the metal box, destroying
the electronics. He pushed, pulled, jabbed at levers, buttons and
lifts. And as he threw his hands up in despair, sparks leaped from
his metal controller. He threw it to the ground, standing up and
leaping back.

The throng was screaming
at a fever pitch, cars clogging the road in front of him trying to
escape, their horns blaring. People scrambled to get as far away as
possible. The sound of rocket-fire echoed down the street. And in
horror, he saw the track, his steel marvel, break apart as in slow
motion. As the metal separated, the candy-apple-red sleigh slid off
the rails and,
oh my
God
, turned directly toward his house.
Firing two more rockets, taking out a family van and the occupants,
leaping flames scorched the vehicle and burning them alive. The
sleigh moved faster and faster, mowing down brightly lit choir
boys, running over fake trees, lights shattering. And that noise:
dissonant chords and percussion from some other dimension blasted
at ear splitting levels. He was almost blinded by the laser light
on the front of the rogue sled and he stared into the eyes of the
oversized, overweight Santa. Those frightening demonic eyes that
could pierce through a human’s soul. Eyes from the devil.
His
eyes.
His
face. The demon
getting closer and closer was him. The stuffed hellion could see
him. Cleary knew the giant Claus was aware he wasn’t sleeping; he
knew he was awake. The larger than life object plowed across the
street, crushing another news van, flattening a satellite and
smashing an SUV, leaving the four bodies inside crushed in their
seats in a hideous gruesome tableau.

Louder and louder the grinding sounds
filled the air, screeching above the screams from the scrambling
crowd. The devil’s own music. Satan’s laugh. Cleary jumped, trying
to leap the porch railing and run from the impending doom. His
right foot caught on the top rail and for a second he dangled
between the house and the ground, screaming his own hellish sound.
The red sleigh crashed into his porch with such force the front of
the house buckled. The blaring crazy music stopped abruptly, and
except for wailing sirens and people wailing, there was silence.
For one, two, three seconds. Then the sleigh exploded. There was a
mighty boom and in less than a moment, a massive fireball engulfed
his entire home. In the next second, his body was engulfed in
flame, his skin blistering and bubbling in the heat. He shrieked,
his pathetic voice lost in the roar of the fire. In the fifth
second… he was toast.

*

The Today Show
got number one ratings the next morning. They
reported that two bystanders were seriously injured by shrapnel
from the sleigh, a family of three were incinerated in a van, an
operator for JVN News was killed when a rocket hit him in the
chest, exploding his internal organs. Four bodies were found in the
shell of an SUV, crisp reminders of the power of fire. And remains
of three people were found in the house across the street. It took
forensics several days to find that two of them had been shot to
death. The third person, the owner of the home, Kevin Cleary, had
been burned almost beyond recognition. A paramedic on the scene
said it appeared he might have died from extreme fright. His eyes
had been boiled, but the sockets were wide open and his mouth
frozen in a horrific grin. The coroner said it was like the Joker
from a Batman movie.