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Part VIII: 1896- Hate's Consequence
Panicking that this couple nice enough to let basically vagrant into their home could find said vagrant talking with an intruder, Stogie tried to improvise, "Uhhhh...It's nothing, Mrs. H! Just one of my..."
Galdamez whispered a suggestion. "'Night terrors'! Say, 'Night terrors'!"
"Night terrors!" Stogie took the tip, before realizing it wasn't night (and also not understanding that night terrors, much like nightmares did not need to occur at night). "I know it's not night here but, um...it is where I come from!" He blinked, wondering if that would fly. "Yeah! It's like a, uh...spiritual connection to my homeland. My bad."
Galdamez shot him an encouraging thumbs-up.
-Stogie and Galdamez
"Oh," there was a long silence before Clarice said, "I see. Well, be sure to wash your hands after."
-Clarice
"Will do!" Stogie shouted back, not wanting to linger on the implications of her suggestion. "Hey, Dr. G?" He returned his attention back to the mystical doctor.
"Yes, Stogie?" Galdamez sat on the bed patiently, hands pressed together.
"I'm kind of in the middle of a personal moment here so..." Stogie signaled Galdamez to leave with a not so-subtle motion with his finger.
"But Stogie, what I have to say is important!" Galdamez emphasized.
"Then I'd rather have clothes on when I hear it." Stogie sighed, taking the clothes he laid out on his dresser. "Just...wait a second, OK?"
"In a way," Galdamez purred. "I've been waiting for an eternity."
Stogie stifled a groan, and reentered the bathroom to change.
***
Stogie returned, wearing the same sailor suit as before (though granted it had been washed).
"You've taken a liking to a Navy uniform?" Galdamez joked (?!).
"Ha ha," the time-traveler replied dryly. "Only reason I'm wearing this shit is because Clarice doesn't have any clothes my size here and Jasper spent all his shopping money on broken eggs." Placing his sailor cap firmly on his head, he asked, "So...are you gonna explain why you've basically abandoned me here?"
"I told you I could not interfere with the timeline," Galdamez argued matter-of-factly.
"Fuck the timeline!" Stogie clenched his fist. "Ever since you left me at that party, I've barely been able to stay alive, not to mention preserve what's left of my dignity!"
Galdamez was quiet. "But you flew."
"Hell yeah, I flew! No thanks to you!" Stogie quietly congratulated himself on the accidental but nevertheless sick-ass rhyme.
"I think you should be flattered by my absence," Galdamez argued. "It goes to show that you don't require my services. You've held out on your own pretty o-kay."
"Really?" Stogie scoffed. "Because I got two people counting on me to bail them out of that Klan coop and all I have is a hunch that some geriatric fiend can get us in there!"
Galdamez tilted his head, thinking, "A hunch is more than some people are able to muster, when you really think about it."
"Well, call me Quasimodo, Doc! Because that's all I got!" Stogie sighed, figuring he evacuated all his grievances with the doctor. "I guess you're here to remind of me of that chain of la Morty, right?"
"The truth will come naturally to you, mon ami," Galdamez replied. "Should you stay alive. My concerns lie elsewhere."
Stogie threw his hands in the air, wondering what was next. "Am I being assigned a new side-quest or something?"
"Just a warning." Galdamez paused, thinking of how to issue this warning. "You do know that the friendships you make here are temporary, correct?"
The time-traveler was caught off-guard by the question. "What do you mean?"
"That should you accomplish your mission, you will be returned to your own time, well-after your meeting the likes of Netta, Gregaro, and Jasper."
Stogie was silent, his expression darkening. "I know."
"So then why do you bother making these friendships, Stogie?" Galdamez leaned forward. "Why put yourself through the inevitable pain of losing them when you know your time with them is fleeting?" For the first time, the doctor seemed to be genuinely asking the questions, in desperate search of answers he had never procured.
Stogie looked the doctor in the eye, as he never really considered the question himself. "I don't know. That's just who I am, I guess. Call me some kind of masochist but I don't care if it's 1896 or 2016 or the year 5000...if someone needs a friend, I'll be there." The setting sun leaked through the curtains, painting the room in an orange light. ""Or my name isn't Stogie."
Galdamez contemplated Stogie's answer, appearing to be confused. It was a lot for him to process, it seemed.
During this quiet, Stogie spoke up. "Earlier, I was talking with Jasper about pursuing dreams. With what you mentioned before about inevitability, I just realized that no matter what I say, there's a set outcome. right?"
Galdamez adjusted the bola tie of his fine white linen suit. "Something like that."
"So...can you at least tell me this?" Stogie asked sincerely. "Does Jasper's dream come true?"
The doctor sighed, getting to his feet. "I cannot say. But remind me: in the year of 2016, are there hovering egg-peelers or flying machines like the one you constructed? And the mayor's last name, is it Leroy, descended from his great-granddaddy...or is it Maddox?"
Stogie didn't say anything to that, seeming to have gotten the message.
"Bon chance, young Stogie." Galdamez opened the window, preparing to make his exit. "Although I cannot foretell your fate, I trust that you will do the right thing."
As Galdamez left the house and scaled down the wall, Stogie was left with those last words and a darkening sky outside. The end of his adventure was nearing ever closer. It was coming time to step out.
Yes. Tonight would be...Stogie's night out.
***
-Stogie and Galdamez
Once night had fallen, Stogie descended the stairs and entered the dining room, meeting Clarice...and Jasper. Looking at him reminded Stogie of how shaken up he still was following Galdamez's visit.
"OK," he greeted them. "Let's roll."
"Rolls?" Leroy blinked, "Well, there are some hot cross buns in the larder..."
"It's some sort of Eastern euphemism, Jasper," said Clarice.
"Oh, of course, beg pardon," he steepled his fingers together, "But we must review our plan of action. I want everything laid out neat."
-Leroy and Clarice
"Right. The plan." Stogie cleared his throat. "Well, first, you guys should probably hide your faces and everything since you actually have reputations to keep. And second...uhhhhhh..."
***
"...just follow my lead."
Old Man Jenkins was enjoying his nightly tobacco chew indoors tonight. After what he saw the night before, he figured that was the safer option. Flying Chinamen. What was was the world coming to...
A knock at the door.
Who could it be? Was it that blasted family finally visitin'? Tryin' to get them to move to the city? FOO! He was a country boy, through and through.
The knocks persisted, aggravating Jenkins further, prompting him to get to his feet. "Alright, alright! I'm comin'!" On his way to the door, he muttered, "Visitors at this blamed hour o' the night. I'm in my right mind to get my gun, I am. Why..."
He opened the door, to find the Chinaman, accompanied by two strangers masked in sackcloth! And in the Chinaman's right hand was...no. It couldn't be...
An egg?
Terrified, Jenkins squeaked, "please n..."
SPLAT!
Jenkins took a fastball to the face, immediately being blinded by the egg yolk. "ARGH! MY EYES! MY EYES!"
For extra effect, Stogie tackled the old fuck to hold him down, commanding Jasper, "GET THE TWINE! GET THE TWINE!"
-Stogie and OMJ
"Here's the twine!" Leroy had adopted a leery falsetto voice, as if to further perfect his disguise and also to cause psychological scarring to their victim, "Avast, you villain!"
With skilled hands, he bound Jenkins's wrists and ankles, trussing him up like a pig.
Or a chicken.
-Leroy
"You'll pay for this, Chinaman!" Old Man Jenkins hissed. "You'll..."
Stogie bitch-slapped the racist to put an end to his rant. "You and your Klan buddies were talking about making a delivery to the Lennoxes. Human cargo, to be precise." Like Batman, he held Jenkins up by the collar. "But I saw you drag him in here. What's the big idea?"
Jenkins remained quiet, prompting Stogie to roar (like Batman), "ANSWER ME!"
-Stogie and OMJ
"You think your silence buys you time?" Clarice hadn't changed her voice, though she had chosen to wear men's clothes (Leroy had swooned at this, either scandalized or aroused) as part of her disguise, "The Lennoxes won't reward your loyalty. They care for no one's gain but their own, and they'll snuff your sorry life out the moment they've heard you've failed."
She leaned in, "Now, you can mitigate that by telling us what they're doing. We don't expect you to care for the fates of your unfortunate victims, but a coward like you only lives as long as he has by protecting his own crêpey skin."
-Clarice
Brought to the verge of tears by Clarice's words, the famed-marksman-turned-pathetic-specimen broke. "Secret tunnel! There's a secret tunnel from my house to the Lennoxes! That's how I do the deliveries! And I'm not the only one! There's dozens, all over Lakewood!"
Stogie looked at the others, taking in this new breakthrough, before furthering the interrogation. "Where is it?"
"The entrance is in 'ere!" Old Man Jenkins sobbed. "But I won't tell you! Not on my life! Leave me some dignity!"
-Stogie and OMJ
"You surrendered your dignity the moment you decided to sell free men and women into slavery!" Clarice declared.
"And when you chose to sit in that dunk tank!" interjected Leroy. Clarice gave him a look, and he guiltily reassumed his falsetto, "I mean, when you chose to sit in that dunk..."
Clarice socked Jenkins in the face, laying him flat, "That's all we'll get out of that scoundrel. We must find the entrance to those tunnels he spoke of...if he was telling the truth," the grim determination of her manner suggested Old Man Jenkins would be quite sorry if he hadn't.
-Clarice
"Well, it's a small place." Stogie reasoned as the other took off their masks. "Maybe a trap door, secret passage? Let's get to it." His tone was pretty somber, Galdamez words from before still weighing on him.
"We've no time to lose!" declared Clarice, suddenly all business, "This house is more a shack than a residence. We should find it in double time if we get right to it."
She began feeling along the walls, looking for a sliding panel or a hatch that could conceal a secret tunnelway. Leroy made to follow, but hesitated, turning back to Stogie.
"Are you alright, Stogie?" he asked cautiously, "You seem preoccupied."
-Clarice and Leroy
"Wha?" Stogie groggily looked up Jasper, his head in a faraway place. "I'm fine, man. Just..."
What? You're not gonna tell him it's all for naught? That his dreams will come to nothing? That the beat of his own drum just leads to nowhere?
"Guy said there were more tunnels," he quickly improvised. "That probably explains those vanishings you guys mentioned." Stogie cleared his throat, before patting Jasper on the back. "Let's get looking, huh?"
Leroy looked momentarily as if he wanted to pry further, but before either could say anything, Clarice called out, "Here we are!"
She had discovered a sliding panel behind a very unsubtle mounted rebel flag.
"Unsurprisingly, this passage proved easy enough to defeat," she remarked.
"Oho!" Leroy praised, "Excellent work, my dear?"
"What happened to your fool voice?"
"Well, he's knocked out now."
"And good riddance," though whether she meant the voice or the old man, who could say?
-Clarice and Leroy
Stogie's face lit up at the sound of Clarice's discovery. "Awesome!" Once the traitorous fabric was torn away, Stogie pushed the panel all the way open, revealing a set of stairs heading deep, deep underground. "Yep, that's a secret tunnel alright. Unless that's just a really long staircase heading into his basement but I doubt that." A solemn look washed over his face as he contemplated what was ahead at the other end of that tunnel and the inevitable dangers that would stand in his way.
He turned to his two benevolent allies. "Looks like this is where we part ways."
"Part ways?" Leroy exclaimed, "Whatever do you mean, Stogie? You cannot mean to penetrate that heart of darkness...alone?"
"It's too dangerous by half!" added Clarice, "Alone, you can easily overpowered and done away with, with none any the wiser."
-Leroy and Clarice
"Not like our odds would be much better if you came with," Stogie reasoned. "All I would be doing is putting you guys in danger, and that's no way to pay you guys back for your kindness to me. Besides, someone has to live and tell the tale." He looked to Clarice. "Get the neighborhood together, call the goddamn cavalry if you have to, and look for those other tunnels. There's a huge operation going on here and you're the best lady to uncover it." Then, Stogie turned to Jasper. "Get the buggy just outside of the Lennox property. If I'm not there with my friends in, say, two hours, get the hell out of there." Addressing both of them, Stogie emphasized, "You guys have built lives for yourselves here, for each other. Don't throw it away for me. Please."
Clarice drew herself up very importantly at this responsibility, "Well, when put that way...I suppose it does make sense for someone to rally the people, just in case. As I was telling Jasper..."
"Yes, yes, as we were discussing, but none of those discussions accounted for Stogie barging in there alone!" Leroy protested, "Those savages will be out for his head! They'll show no quarter, not with how thoroughly he humiliated them in his escape!"
"And what do you think they'll do to you, Jasper, when they learn how he came to escape?" Clarice pointed out, "No, you've the misbegotten distinction of being the only one among us 'respectable' folks in this town are liable to believe. It may be nonsense, but you and I both know this community runs on the stuff. We are..." she hesitated, "Needed here."
Leroy's whiskers trembled. He turned back to Stogie, "We shall wait for you, then, outside the house. In the name of God, I endeavor not to leave you to the dogs."
"I'm sure he knows what he's doing, Jasper," said Clarice, "Young Stogie is not a man of small convictions, I'm sure we can agree."
-Clarice and Leroy
"Thanks, Clarice." Stogie smiled, showing his gratitude. "For everything. Taking care of me and punching that old fart out." Realizing he might as well pop the question now, he took out of his pocket. "And also for the perfume. This is really gonna help me score with the ladies back home. And Jasper..." Stogie turned to the inventor but found himself trailing off, Galdamez's words lingering in his mind.
"Score?" Clarice looked at the bottle, "Oh, you mean reselling it. Well, I don't know what the girls smell like in the Philippines, but you should at least make sure to charge a sensible tax. Cosmetics are a steep industry," she smiled indulgently, "But I don't know why I'm advising you on a sale when I'll never see nor smell a scent of it."
Leroy, for his part, was having visible difficulty composing himself, "You talk as though this were goodbye. Drat and damnation, I fear you may be correct. Try as I might to tell myself you can carry out your mission...I hate to see you carry it out. It seems too much for one person to bear."
-Clarice and Leroy
Stogie saw Jasper's barely holding back his emotion, Galdamez's words ringing loud in his head...
...but also Jasper's words to Stogie, just hours before. "Jasper...about your dreams...can you make me a promise? Before we part ways?"
"Of course, Stogie," Leroy pledged, "What promise?"
-Leroy
Stogie took Jasper by the shoulders and stared him dead in the eye. "Promise me that even when things seem really dark and your dreams feel like they're impossible...promise me that you'll keep believing. That no matter what, you don't let the dream die and that you keep doing you. Like if the election doesn't go your way or the egg peeler doesn't take off, get on your feet and keep on chasing. Because it doesn't matter where you or I or Clarice come from: we're all going to the same place in the end. And all we'll have in the end is that the pursuit of happiness my guy Alexander Hamilton promised in the Constitution."
A single tear streaking down his cheek, he repeated with finality, "Don't stop believing." Stogie paused. "Hold on to that feeling." He wished he could play the song for Jasper in its entirety but time was of the essence and Stogie was sure Jasper understood.
Yes, the dream would live on. Even in the jaws of doom Galdamez foretold, there still remained hope in the pursuit.
"Yes," Leroy nodded, "Yes, you needn't fear about that, Stogie. You've more than proven to me the power of a potent dream. I'm more inspired than I've been in 40 years! Rest assured, I won't forget the nobility of my pursuits. Even if this election turns against me...and I know how the odds are stacked against us, even if we do succeed tonight...what does that mean for the causes I...we...champion but that we must keep fighting for them? I will not abandon my principles. And I shall not give up on my dreams."
He patted Stogie on the shoulder, "Now, goodbye to hopes and fears! You speak as though we shall soon be parted by grim circumstance! We shall speak more heartily on the other side of the gulf, when the Lennoxes have been routed from within! I know that to be true."
-Leroy
On that note, Stogie pulled Jasper into a bear hug, embracing his friend like he hoped to do with Netta and Gregaro later in the evening. Slapping him on the back with tears in his eyes and hoping to see him again soon, Stogie bid farewell to his dear friend, empowered by the fact that Jasper would not stop believing, goddamn the odds!
Pulling away from Jasper, he didn't forget to advise, "And remember: wheels in the heels." Stogie pointed to his own feet, Heely-less as they were. "Make yourself a pair. You won't regret it."
Stepping forward into the mysterious tunnel, Stogie turned one last time and gave his two rescuers a final two-finger salute. "Peace. I'll be seein' ya soon."
"My very own wheeled shoes," Leroy muttered, "Shwheelies, I could call them...with respect to their original creators, of course..."
"Time, Jasper," Clarice interjected, "We don't have much of it."
"Right, right..." he nodded, "Yes, I think I shall. It's the dawn of a new century, you know, or it shall be soon enough. And the 19th century man shall roll, not walk, into the future, shwheeling into progress!" he seemed very much enamored of this idea, finally forcing himself to return to the grim reality of the tunnel entrance, "Good luck, Stogie. Our hearts are with you!"
"And our hopes as well," said Clarice, "We know you won't fail, but make sure not to in any case."
-Leroy
Stogie smirked with unfailing confidence. "Trust me, if there's anything Severino 'Stogie' Sagayadoro isn't familiar with...it's failure." Feeling like a major badass, he walked off into the treacherous unknown, lit only by the dimmest torchlight. As he heard his allies close the panel behind him, though, Stogie quickly understood that he had crossed the point of no return.
It was on to the Lennoxes' lair, the evil place where he was forced to play the clown by the devilish Joseephus and his demented Klan brothers.
But now...the clown show had ended, for Stogie ventured forth no longer the fool...but a hero in the making!!!
***
Stogie might have been a hero in the making, but this was a hell of a walk. It felt like an eternity as he trekked for miles and miles, with only the flickering torchlight to guide him along this passage. From the looks of it, many seem to have made this walk in the past, as there were footprints going both ways, though eerily enough significantly less coming back the way he came.
My legs are so sore...I wish I had my Schweelies, I mean...Heelies. God, I'm losing my mind...
But hark! There was light emanating from a room up ahead, brighter than any Stogie had seen along his underground journey!
"Finally!" Stogie panted, picking up his pace. "I'm finally getting..." He trailed off as he entered the room. "...somewhere." It wasn't exactly a room but an intersection...of several dozen tunnels, the very same that old fuck Old Man Jenkins mentioned earlier. "FUCK!" Stogie cursed, wringing his hands through his white and black hair. "FUCKING SHIT!" He looked around, bamboozled and befuddled. "Where the hell do I go?" Around him was a circle of tunnels, potentially leading to all over Lakewood. But which one led to the Lennox estate?
"Use your brain, Stogie," the hero regained his composure. "Think...if all these deliveries are going to Joseephus...that tunnel would have the most footprints! Which means..." Stogie circled the room, looking at the prints in the mud. It appeared that feeble Old Man Jenkins was the Lennoxes' weakest deliveryman, as the tunnels after his showed evidence of more and more foot traffic until...
"Hol-ee shit..." Stogie muttered in horror as he stood before the tunnel whose mud was absolutely ravaged with footprints, some looking eerily recent. "This is it."
And so he stepped forward from the center of the heinous spiderweb in which Stogie found himself entangled, and ventured forth to the mastermind's den...
..but not without meeting another obstacle! "Sonofabitch." For yes, after more and more walking, there stood a door with a convoluted lock system referring to the symbols of the zodiac! Stogie would have align the symbols according to the riddle, inscribed on the wood above the lock, turning the dial in such a way...
Stogie kicked the door down, tired of this nonsense. "Riddle solved...motherfucker." He paused to consider the badass nature of that line.
...
...
Yeah, it worked. He went on ahead.
"What the fuck..." Stogie entered the chamber, only to find what appeared to be a makeshift doctor's office, operating table and all. "I don't get AHHHHHH!" A skeleton! Stogie promptly punched it in the face, decapitating it.
But it was not a real skeleton, but an artificial one, utilized for medical observation. "Oh my God..." Stogie exhaled, his heart still beating a mile a minute. "...my knuckles hurt." He patted the skeleton on the shoulder-bone. "Sorry, man." Stogie moved to walk forward but was quick to place the skull back on the body. Crookedly, sure, but Stogie wasn't a bones expert, so it was the best he could do.
His attention returned to the operating room, eying the table with...leather restraints. How charming. And wait...was that...blood? Not only on the tables but on the tools in the rusty sink as well. All manner of scalpels and razors were littered throughout the wash basin, painted a sickly crimson.
And then there were the cabinets. Dare Stogie looked there? You're already knee-deep in the shit. Why not dive another inch? And so he did, opening it, finding to his horror...
"Oh God..." Stogie moaned, staggering back, disgusted by the jars containing chunks of...of...human brains!!! "OHHHHH GODDDDDDDD!" He howled again, feeling the bile climb up his throat. "OHHHHHHHHH!"
"OHHHHHHHHH!" A response to Stogie's call from above!
Stogie looked up, recognizing the sound. It couldn't be... "Gregaro? Is...is that you?" A whimper in response. The time-traveler squinted, realizing that what constituted as a ceiling...were the very floorboards of the basement he shared with Gregaro! And through a hole in the carpentry, he saw the deformed milky eye of the forgotten Lennox child!
"Gregaro!" He repeated, this time with relief. "It's me, Stogie!"
Gregaro growled some sounds of joy.
"I told you I'd come back!" Stogie cheered. "You and Netta are gonna be out of here in no time. If I can only reach up there and bust the floor..." He reached up at first, then angled the skeleton to maybe use it as a battering ram...but it was no use. "Goddammit." Stogie dropped Skeletor to the ground, frustrated. "You're gonna have to wait just a bit longer. But I am going up there and we're gonna get the hell out of here."
The boy made his signature utterances.
"I never thought you were crazy!" Stogie said in defense. "I heard that howling, too! I just never thought it was coming from a place like...this." He glanced at the door ahead. If Stogie was under the basement, that meant he was closer than ever to reaching the end of the tunnels and entering the Lennox house from the ground. "I'll see you soon."
Stogie turned to leave but froze in his tracks when he heard, "Stogie?" Once more, he looked up, to discover it was Gregaro who uttered his first word.
Nearly rendered speechless, Stogie replied, "Yeah, man?"
Gregaro responded with an empowering howl of endorsement! Like Tarzan!
Stogie smiled, feeling the vibe. "You too, man." He shot him a double thumbs-up and pivoted on his heel, venturing onward through the tunnels, Gregaro cheering him on!
But the feeling of excitement was quickly substituted with dread, as Stogie slowly began to hear that moaning again.
oooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhh!
But not of one tortured soul...a collective! Growing louder and louder, Stogie stepped closer and closer, the torchlight getting brighter and brighter, the hero's heart beating faster and faster! Sweating bullets, Stogie was met with another door, left open slightly ajar, for who could predict an intruder would dare journey this far into this macabre underground. Hands tremoring, he pushed the door open ever so slightly.
CreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!
There was a brief moment of anticipation as Stogie held his breath, a fear coursing through his veins as he stepped forward...
...a fear that proved to be justified.
Stogie was speechless, as he saw rows and rows of people, lined up at work tables, sorting and packaging opium in such an eerily-efficient assembly line, beginning with manufacturers at one end and concluding with packagers at the other. Not a single one looked at their work but dead ahead, their eyes as blind as poor Gregaro's, though the scarring was definitely not as severe. Walking slowly through the captive workers, not a single one noticed him. It didn't take long for Stogie to realize thatt all these poor people were black. The Lakewood vanishings Clarice spoke of all ended in here in this wretched den of horrors, at which Stogie was unable to muster words. The only sound he could hear was the sift of the powder, the tapping of the wood as the opium was divided, and the crinkling of the packaging paper. A rhythm like clockwork, Stogie dared not interrupt it, as yet again he was close to vomiting in horror. Yes, the same horror he felt moments earlier when Stogie burst into that operating room, only now he realized what occurred in those four walls, what prepared these victims for a life of captivity and labor underneath the Lennox manor.
"Ah, the wonders of blind serv-E-tood!"
Stogie looked up, only to find Joseephus, dressed in the garb of a mad scientist, his white apron stained with blood, overseeing the spectacle behind a railing on an elevated platform.
"If only you could have bent the knee as well..." The mad doctor said with feigned remorse. "...then we wouldn't find ourselves in this pre-dick-uh-ment."
At last, Stogie spoke. "What have you done to these people?!"
"You sound angry." Joseephus rolled up the rope ladder he had used to climb up to the supervising platform moments before Stogie's entry into the work area, preventing Stogie from coming up and joining his adversary. "I am only ree-storing the natural order of things. Only I was smart enough to remove any chance of opp-O-zishun from the ee-kway-shun." Genially, he pressed his hands together and smiled. "A lobotomy does the trick well enough. Just look at the new addition, delivered just this morning." Joseephus gestured a young man, scarred, blinded, and working like the rest.
Only Stogie recognized this one.
"I just finished operating on him not even a half-hour ago, and finished training him mere minutes before you entered."
It was the man Stogie saw get taken away into the Jenkins residence, shortly after he crashed, packaging the drugs with no hesitation whatsoever.
"The marvels of science..." Joseephus commented euphorically. "The speed at which they learn to serve their true masters...only my mind could have concocted such a method."
"So..." Stogie tried to regain his courage, still deeply affected by the terrors that surrounded him. "...this is what you do? Brainwash black people to make drugs for you?"
"Opium, to be precise," Joseephus explained. "One of the many gifts I encountered journeying across your homeland, in the far East. Although let's be honest, I do most of the making. At least, I did, before you went and wrecked my chemistry set with your abrupt departure. These animals merely cook the product and then divide and package it." A perverse smile crept on his face. "The Yankee devils made it so the Lennoxes could never own a plantation as many of the great families in the South have in the past...but because of my gene-yus, I not only persevere but I break ground! I trailblaze! I AM A PIONEER!"
"YOU'RE A FUCKING SCUMBAG!" Stogie cried out in rage. "The fact you would do this to innocent people, to your own son..."
"I DID NOT DO THIS TO DANIEL!!!" Joseephus yelled back, his anger for the first time matching Stogie's. "It was an accident! He stumbled upon my experiments, set my chemistry set ablaze. He was never supposed to come across my work!"
"Or anything else, considering you hide him in your basement!"
"IT IS FOR HIS OWN PROTECTION!"
"IT'S FOR YOUR REPUTATION AND YOU KNOW IT!"
Joseephus was about to bellow an angry response...but he stopped himself, regaining his calm yet again. "Why, oh, why do I insist on granting you the privilege of speaking to me? I tell my fellow phrenologists that the Chinaman's mind is more advanced than the Negro's, and that he can be easily assimilated into Western society. But you...time and time again, you have proven my hypotheses to be incorrect." He narrowed his eyes, a predator ready to strike his prey. "And it ends tonight." From his lab coat, he took out what appeared to be a dog-whistle. "You must be wondering as to why my loyal workers have yet to intrude on our con-ver-say-shun. That is because as part of my surgery and their training, they only respond to this..." His expression darkened. "...and whatever command that follows."
Stogie clenched his fists, the anger boiling more and more within his gut. "You're gonna pay for this. I swear..."
"If only you obeyed, young Stoh-Gee," Joseephus frowned, with an almost sincere grief in his words. "The things we could have accomplished in the name of science."
"JOSEEPHUS!"
But it was too late. The mad doctor blew the whistle and on a dime, every captive head's perked up. The held note was silent to Joseephus and Stogie's ears, with only the trained brains of the slaves responding.
Finally, Joseephus removed the whistle from his mouth, pointing to Stogie slowly, with only one word to say. "Kill."
The sonic vibrations travelled from Joseephus's mouth and right to Stogie, pinpointing the captives' target.
Like a zombie hive mind, they all turned to Stogie. The hero held his breath.
They began to swarm him, moaning as they had before, clawing at his skin. "Hey! Hey, get off me! GET OFF ME!"
Joseephus smiled, pocketing the whistle and walking away.
Stogie tried to turn the tide, but to no avail. "He's getting away! The guy who did this to you...PLEASE! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!"
***
Joseephus closed the door to the work area behind him, finding himself once more in his wine cellar. Proud of his work, he whistled, untying his lab coat and throwing it aside. He was then quick to slide the work area's lock back into its tiny notch and cover the door with the racks containing his wine collection from Vienna, as he was used to doing by now.
Heading up the stairs, he called out to the Klan brothers Ellis had gifted him. "My friends...it is done."
One hooded figure perked up. "You mean...you killed him? He's dead?"
"Dying, to be precise." Joseephus dusted off his shoulders (dirt travelled very easily in that dank hellhole). "A slow death, I assure you."
Another Klansman stood up in joy. "Here's to Joseephus Lennox! The brightest mind in all of Lakewood!"
"HURRAH!" They cheered, though Joseephus did what a good host ought to do and modestly accepted the praise.
"Please, please," the twisted academic said bashfully. "Guards, come away from your posts and hurry to me! We must celebrate!" He clapped expectantly. "Netta! Fetch some wine from the cellar! A bottle of the French variety!" Beaming a wide smile, Joseephus was swarmed and congratulated by his fellow Klansmen. "Quickly, girl! For tonight, we celebrate without end!"
His brothers near carried him to the dining room as he laughed with passionate gusto at the seeming demise of his foreign adversary!
-Stogie, Gregaro and Joseephus
Netta jolted as if a bolt had pierced her heart. She lifted her eyes to Joseephus, forcing herself to nod and mutter a, "Yessir. Right away, sir," before leaving the room as quickly as she could, collapsing against the wall in quiet sobs.
Sto-Gee...dead!
And with him, all her hopes. She didn't understand. Sto-Gee had returned after all, somehow...and he was dead. And she was alone.
And what had she done?
"Oh..." she whispered through her tears, "Oh God..."
What is to become of me?
Slowly, she moved down the stairs toward the cellar, tears clinging stubbornly to her lashes, even as she realized that the first person who saw those tears could easily see them struck from her or worse.
It didn't seem to matter anymore. How foolish she had been, how stupid, to believe she could have any part in writing her own future. She'd lost that privilege when she'd lost her father.
If you'd kept your head down, if you'd told Sto-Gee to do the same...oh, but no! You had to believe, you idiot girl, you little twit, you had to believe you could change things around, that you had some sort of chance at a high life, a real life...
This was her life. She'd been an idiot to ever believe differently.
Netta entered the wine cellar, trying all the while to still the shaking of her hands so that she wouldn't drop the bottle once she'd selected it. Briefly, she entertained a fantasy of grabbing that fine Marseille red and bringing it down, hard, upon Joseephus Lennox's head, as surely as he'd brought down the first torch that had destroyed her father's brewery and all their lives so many years ago...
The other men in the room would not stand for it. They'd turn to her, hold her down, do God knows what manner of unspeakable things to her...
And she'd die. But fighting. Like Sto-Gee, like her father...
Like a free woman.
Perhaps there were worse ways to die.
-Netta