The Doctor Is In (Part One)

The Doctor Is In – Franklin Marsh

Peaceville was a small, quiet town in Arizona. Rick Rumfeld couldn’t wait to get away from it. Steven Spielberg’s comments on China’s Human Rights record had provided him with an unexpected opportunity.

Rick was a second string photographer affiliated to a large circulation Phoenix newspaper. The movie director’s comments had led to the main right-on shutterbug pulling out of a trip to the Olympics. Rick, heavily in debt to his landlord and his dealer, had stepped in.
It would be very basic accommodation, and if he didn’t produce shots of American medal winners he wouldn’t get paid. But heck, it was a chance to get away, and make a new start far away from Peaceville when he returned to the States.

In fact, Rick had been so overjoyed to hear the news that he was going, he used up the last of his credit on a drugs and girls binge. All that had got him was deeper in debt, and a dose.
Which was why he was heading just out of town to the Peaceville Medical Facility. At least his medical insurance was paid up. A photographer’s life could be a dangerous one.

He drove past the old Carney grounds and was surprised to see them filled with mobile homes, caravans, trucks and Winnebagos. That hadn’t been an honest-to-goodness fair in Peaceville for years.

He pulled into the Medical Facility parking lot and headed for the entrance. On reception was the most stunning blonde babe he’d ever seen. His mouth hung open.

‘Yes?’

His mouth closed.

‘I need an appointment. When can I see a Doc?’

‘We’re booked up ‘till later, but this is a 24 hour facility.’

‘How ‘bout midnight?’

‘Fine. I’ll put you in with Dr Gresk. What is the nature of the problem?’

Shit!

‘Erm…’ Rick coughed. ‘Sore throat…keepin’ me awake.’

‘OK’

She sounded like she didn’t believe him. Was it his imagination or did she keep looking at his groin?

She handed him a card.

‘Midnight. Dr Gresk.’

‘Thanks Honey. See you later.’

The receptionist had returned her gaze to The National Enquirer.

Hmm, thought Rick, dumb too. If the Doc could fix his lean, mean, humping machine, he’d maybe pay Miss America a call before he left.

On the return journey, Rick glanced at the Carney wagons. They didn’t seem to be setting up. Funny, he hadn’t seen any posters advertising a fair. He felt a vague sense of disappointment, then mentally kicked himself. Lame,lame,lame! Rumfeld, you’ve got to lose this small-town mentality! You’re about to travel the world. And check out those Oriental honeys. See if half-remembered stories he’d overheard his pop rattling on about with his Vietnam buddies were true.

‘**************


Midnight. The Peaceville Medical Facility. All was quiet. I made the right choice, thought Rick, gliding into the parking lot. The only other vehicle in sight was a battered, dust-covered hearse.

There’s always someone worse off than yourself, thought Rick. He moved through the entrance doors and stared in shock. Instead of Miss America, he saw a 250 pound woman struggling with the doors of a small cupboard.

‘Damn’ you,’ she muttered, finally forcing the doors shut. She turned and jumped slightly at the sight of Rick.

Rick’s shock escalated at the sight of the woman’s bushy beard. She clicked the mouse beside the PC and squinted at the screen. Her glare turned on Rick.

‘Rumsfeld?’

‘Er…yeah…’

‘The Doctor is in. Go right on through.’

‘…Thank you…’

Rick walked through the waiting room in a daze, and knocked on the door marked Dr Gresk.

He thought he could hear grunting, then everything went quiet.

‘Enter!’

Rick opened the door and walked into the room. At first he thought it was empty, then realised a screen had been pulled across the far corner. A tiny trickle of red fluid seeped out past one of the castors.

‘Righty! Sore throat?’

The Doctor emerged from behind the screen. Rick went back into shock. He was six foot plus, but the Doc towered over him. A skull-like face under long, thin, white hair. Eyes set deep back in cavernous sockets. A hideous grin that The Joker would have been proud of.
The white coat and stethoscope partly reassured Rick, but the black jeans, dust-covered cowboy boots, frilled shirt with bootlace necktie held in a silver cow-skull clasp, didn’t.

Rick scratched his head.

‘Yeah..er..no..no. It’s a bit more personal than that, Doc, but I didn’t wanna say anything in front of the lady on reception. Not the one here now..’

‘The blonde piece? Hot diggeddy!’

Rick relaxed slightly. The Doc was eccentric but appeared human.

‘I think I picked up a dose, Doc.’

The Doctor nodded sagely.

‘Unnerstand why you wouldn’t wanna bring that up in front of Blondie, boy. Drop your pants, hop up on the trolley and we’ll get to it.’

As Rick unbuckled his belt, the Doc disappeared back behind the screen. Rick’s shorts and pants descended to his ankles, and he hopped up onto a trolley by the wall.

The Doctor re-emerged toting an enormous hypodermic filled with yellow liquid,

‘This’ll help us along,’ he beamed, squirting liquid over the ceiling. He then plunged the needle into Rick’s neck without warning, and depressed the plunger.

‘How’s that feel, boy?’

Rick couldn’t move. Well, his eyes could. He could see and hear, but that was it. Total paralysis.

‘Looky here, Leopold,’ grinned the Doc.

Rick’s eyes tried to bulge as an even more bizarre figure emerged from behind the screen. Human in shape, but covered in long, reddish brown hair. A white orderly’s coat soaked in blood. Odd sackcloth trousers. Each hand (paw?) was curled into a fist, and scalpel blades protruded between the fingers.

‘Hey, Doc, can I keep these? They’re.. Hot damn!’

‘Ain’t a pretty sight , is it Leopold? But I think he’d go better with Blondie in the Tunnel than ol’ Methuselah back there.’

Leopold eased back the screen, and Rick could just make out some bloody rags.

‘Tell the truth, Doc, I…er…got a little carried away back here. There ain’t too much of Gresk left.’

‘Never mind, Leopold. This here feller will do fine. I’ll jest solve his problem, and we can be on our way.’

‘You gonna cure him? That’s a bit of a waste of time, ain’t it, Doc? ‘Specially if we’re gonna..’

‘Gotta keep my hand in, Leopold. I think ol’ Gresk has some antiques back here…’

The white-haired Doctor rummaged around in the drawers of an ancient desk.

‘You a real Doc?’ said Leopold, in awe.

The Doc paused.

‘You know I am, Leopold.’

Leopold shuffled his furry feet.

‘You bein’ with us guys all the time, I figured you was an animal doctor, or somethin’.’

The Doc grinned.

‘Don’t put yourself down. I am medically qualified. Ah!’

The Doc raised a small rod of metal with a loop at the end.

‘Here’s the feller. Now watch, Leopold. This is how they did it in the old days.’

The Doctor removed his white coat, and threw it over the remains of Dr Gresk. The stethoscope followed.

He pulled a Zippo lighter out of his black frock coat, lit it and placed it on the desk. Rick noted the Rolling Stones mouth and tongue logo, adorned with vampire fangs. Leopold stared into the flame, fascinated. The Doc began to heat the wire. When it was glowing red, he advanced toward the helpless Rick. Leopold hurried over.

‘Here we go. You jest grab the end, squeeze it to open him up, and then…’

‘MMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!’

‘Jeez, Doc. That’s one fuckin’ mess.’

‘Why Leopold, that’s a good one.’

‘Huh?’

‘Never mind.’
The door burst open. It was the bearded woman, with the unconscious blonde slung over her shoulder.

‘Let’s git, Doc. There’s some asshole who’s wife’s about to give birth on the way.’ She sniffed.

‘Somethin’ burnin?’

‘Let’s go,’ said Dr Dementer.

‘**************

Rick had passed out with the pain. He regained consciousness, to find himself still paralysed bodily, but able to see, hear and move his eyes slightly. He was sitting at the front of a small wagon, almost like something from a fairground ride. His eyes began to adjust to the near darkness. There was someone next to him! His eyes moved to the right and made out the outline of a magnificent bust. Moving upward he realised that it was the blonde receptionist from the Medical Facility. He felt a twinge in his groin, and bolts of pain coursed through him. Look away.

Bright red letters spelling out ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE’ were flickeringly illuminated in front of him. An incredibly scratchy recording of ‘Love Is A Many Splendoured Thing’ began to blare out from hidden speakers, and the small wagon lurched forward, crashing through double doors.

An illuminated tableau was on the right. Rick chanced a glance and realised that Miss America was unconscious. The tableau depicted a young woman in medieval clothing reaching down from a balcony, toward a similarly-attired young man hanging on to some ivy below. A large card in front of the display read ‘Romeo And Juliet.’

Rick winced as he felt a blast of heat. The wax skin on the two figures melted, releasing their glass eyes, and ruining their clothes. Under the wax coating were human skeletons, discoloured by strips of ancient flesh clinging to them.

The next scene featured ‘Antony And Cleopatra’. Again the heat, and the melting skin. The tiny asp in Cleo’s grasp transformed into a six foot Black Mamba, that struck at the little vehicle as it rattled past. Rick winced, and discovered that his bladder wasn’t paralysed. He shifted ever so slightly in his seat and realised that the paralysis was wearing off!

As he and his slumbering companion rolled on down the rails, past Bonnie And Clyde, Starkweather and Fugate, Kit And Holly, Mickey And Mallory, Rick struggled to move. The tips of his fingers and toes were tingling. He thought he heard laughter and whooping above him in the blackness, as though a crowd were following their serpentine path through the obsidian gloom.

The red letters kept appearing. TUNNEL OF LIVE. TUNNEL OF LIVER. TUNNEL OF HEAVE. FUNNEL OF LOVE.


The wagon was speeding up. The music had become much harsher. Love Me Like A Reptile? As the wagon careered round a bend, Rick stared ahead to see railway buffers. Above them was a large board at a 45 degree angle away from him. It was covered in nine inch nails. A brightly lit viewing gallery was away to his right. It was full of….indescribable Oddities, swigging from bottles of liquor. At the front were the strange Doctor, the lion-man, the bearded lady.

The receptionist regained consciousness just before the wagon hit the buffers.

‘Oh, my….’ The horrified comment mutated into a shriek as Rick and Miss America were somersaulted through the air to land on their backs on the board – on the nails.

The Oddities reacted as if their team had scored a touchdown in the dying seconds of the Superbowl. They hollered, they cheered, they danced.

Miss America was dead. Just before Rick succumbed, he felt the board slowly move downward, to lay flat. He saw two giant bottles of a milky white fluid above them. The Doctor pulled strings to de-stopper the bottles, and the liquid gushed over the late couple.
More celebrations from the gallery. As the Oddities high-sixed and cavorted with glee, a morose looking young man covered in reptilian scales entered the area and made his way to the front. He tugged on the sleeve of the Doc’s frock coat.

‘What is it, Wade?’

‘Doc, it’s the cops!’

‘************

Sheriff Eugene Hopper sat on the hood ,and Patrol(wo)man Janine Burns leaned against the door of the Arizona State patrol car. They watched as Doctor Dementer, Leopold the Lion-Man, Wade the Alligator-Boy, Hester the Bearded Lady, Dick the Midget with Claude the Monster on his leash, followed by Klin and Klang, the Siamese twins, exited the rickety Tunnel Of Love, blinking in the bright sunshine.

It was approaching noon, and Hopper was beginning to sweat. That damn’ fool girl had thrown up at the sight of Doc Gresk’s remains. Things like that didn’t happen in Peaceville.

Doctor Dementer paced forward as members of his flock stopped by the doors. Hopper could see there were more of them things inside the temporary building, but was glad they’d stayed put.

Janine watched the Doc approach, and shivered. The heat didn’t seem to bother him despite his black attire.

‘Sheeit.’ Hopper spat tobacco juice into the dust. This Dementer dude riled him. That ridiculous get up. The black nail varnish. HATE tattooed on his left hand fingers. HATE tattooed on his right hand fingers. The top hat with the black silk band, an Ace Of Spades tucked in at the left, a Death card from a tarot deck tucked into the right side. On his black silk lapel, a tiny button badge with the word ‘FEAR’ on it. Hopper would have loved to put a .357 slug right between his eyes. Or at least pistol-whipped him. Sonofabitch.
‘Trouble, Sheriff?’ issued from the pale lips.

‘Might say,’ agreed the Sheriff.

Janine’s hand was on the butt of her pistol. She was shaking as Dementer ran his eyes over her. Her flesh crawled as though covered in bugs.

‘Care to step into my trailer to discuss it?’

‘No!’

Janine flushed. She hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but she would not go into a confined space with that man (if that’s what he was), Sheriff Hopper or no Sheriff Hopper.

Dementer grinned broadly.

‘Easy, Janine,’ muttered Hopper. He turned to Dementer. ‘You familiar with the Peaceville Medical Facility?’

Dementer thought for a while.

‘I believe we passed it on the way in from the desert.’

‘When did you get here?’

‘Yesterday. ‘Bout this time.’

‘Any of you …you guys go up to the Facility yesterday?’

Dementer turned to his flock. There were muttered Nope’s, No way’s, Naw’s and massed head-shaking.

‘Thought not,’ said Hopper.

‘What’s your interest, Sheriff?’ purred Dementer. ‘You ill?’

‘Nope. I’m fine. It’s Doc Gresk that’s none too well.’

‘Oh, dear, ‘ sympathised Dementer, watching Janine retch. ‘Nothing serious, I hope.’

‘Don’t get much more serious than death,’ supplied the Sheriff. ‘Looked like he’d been put through a shredder. Sure none of your folks been up there?’

Hopper noticed Leopold lick his lips.

‘They said no,’ replied Dementer, his tone hardening.

‘Well, I’ll leave you in peace then,’ said Hopper, prising himself up from the car bonnet.

Janine gratefully slipped into the passenger seat.

As Hopper walked around the car, he put his hands on his hips and stopped in front of Dementer, a big smile turning up the ends of his mustache.

‘ Course this is a bigger case than us hicks can handle . The Eff Bee Aye are on their way. They got all kindsa technology that can establish what happened, and who done it. See you later,’ his forefinger and thumb touched the rim of his Stetson as he glanced at Wade. ‘Alligator.’

He laughed as he got behind the wheel, and started the engine.

‘You gonna let that pass, Doc?’ said an enraged Wade.

‘Nope,’ said Dementer. ‘They insult one of us, they insult all of us. I have a feeling Sheriff Hopper may regret that remark. ‘

He turned back to the Tunnel Of Love.

‘Let’s get our new exhibit sorted out, then I think we’ll take a trip into town.’

********************************

The Lucky Star Saloon in Peaceville was doing a brisk trade. Cowboys, cowgirls, rednecks, shitkickers and good ol’boys whooped it up. ‘Don’t take your guns to town’ thundered Johnny Cash from the juke box.

Janine Burns had recovered enough from her bad morning to eat a bowl of chili, and knock back a few beers. She patted Hopper on the back and headed off to the Mares room.

Bartender Slim Grindle poked the Sheriff in the chest.

‘C’mon ‘Gene, when you gonna run them freaks outa town? What do we pay you for?’

‘Listen, Slim, they ain’t exactly in town. I tole you, I’m waitin’ for the Feebs. Let them take care of it.’

‘Jeez, ‘Gene, days gone by you wouldna let this happen. You’da…’

Johnny Cash’s voice dropped several octaves, slurred, then stopped altogether. Patrons of the saloon gazed angrily at the Juke.

Sheriff Hopper felt the hairs on his neck stand up. He swung around on his barstool, and looked out of the batswing doors.

‘Sheeit.’

A tall man wearing a top hat was silhouetted at the bar’s entrance. He clicked his fingers and the Juke Box started up again, several times louder. The Stones’ The Last Time.

Doctor Dementer pushed his way through the half doors and approached the bar. The light from the door disappeared. The doors were smashed off their hinges and had people diving for cover. Claude, who resembled nothing so much as a huge hairless gorilla, loped into the bar, Dick the midget perched on his shoulder. Dick undid the leash from the collar around Claude’s neck, flipped the leather strap over a roof beam, and pulled himself out of harm’s way. Claude surveyed the terrified clientele, growling.

‘Shit, ‘Gene, get that thing outta here! It’s droolin’ all over my floor!’ roared Slim, picking up a sawn off double-barrelled shotgun from under the bar.

Hopper drew his revolver, trying to keep an eye on Dementer, who was moving behind the bar, and Claude, who was angrily gesturing at several cowboys hidden underneath a table.

‘Get back!’ Slim thrust the shotgun at Dementer. The Doc reached forward and poked two black-finger nailed digits into the barrels of the shotgun. Slim pulled the triggers. The hammers fell and the back of the shotgun exploded, taking off most of Slim’s head. Dementer pulled his smoking fingers from the metal tubes and blew on them.

Claude let out an earth-shaking growl and hurled the table across the saloon. He tore into the quaking cowboys, ripping them limb from limb. Both huge windows either side of the door shattered. Hester filled one, firing an Ingram submachine gun from the hip. Klin and Klang the other, joined back to back, swirling and swivelling as they leaped across the broken glass, a Glock in each of their four hands, pumping round after round into any non-Oddity that crossed their path. One brave soul made it to the shattered doorway, to be cut in half by a blast from Wade’s pump shotgun.

Hopper aimed his .357 Magnum at Dementer’s head. ’Stop ’em! Now!’

The Doc rang up No Sale on the ancient till, and began to stuff various denomination dollar bills into the inside pockets of his frock coat.

Hopper narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger. There was a dull click. Hopper pulled again. And again. Yelling in frustration he hurled the useless weapon at Dementer.

The Doc caught it one handed, twirled it around his index finger by the trigger guard, then aimed at Hopper’s forehead.

‘See you later..’

‘NO!’

The .357 shell burrowed through Hopper’s skin, bone and brains, taking off the entire back of his head.

‘…Legislator.’

The Doctor laid the pistol on the bar. Claude was seated on the floor, gently chewing on an arm. Dick hopped down from the eaves and reattached the leash. The Siamese twins leaped back through the window. The room was filled with smoke, and the stench of cordite and blood.

Dementer waved Wade and Hester away.

‘Back to the car!’

Claude and Dick left via the door, Claude gnawing on a bone.

Dementer turned to survey the corpse-strewn bullet-riddled bar. He pivoted, stretched his arms wide and was about to laugh in celebration of the chaos, when he saw a sweat-soaked, shaking Janine Burns emerge slowly from behind the Mares door, pointing her Smith & Wesson .38 at his chest.

‘You move a fuckin’ muscle, you fuckin’ asshole, and, swear to God, I’ll fuckin’ shoot you where you stand.’

****************************************

The Doctor slowly turned to face Janine, arms still outstretched. Sunshine through the broken windows lit up the drifting smoke. The sudden silence was broken by the revving of the hearse outside, and a shout of ‘C’mon Doc!’

‘Kill me,’ he whispered to Janine.

Shaking, crying, she pulled the trigger

A black puffball followed by a black stalk emerged painfully slowly from the barrel of Janine’s gun. It floated towards Dementer inch by inch. He reached out ever so slowly and caught it. He placed the ebony chrysanthemum in the buttonhole of the non-badge bearing lapel of his frock coat, and bowed to Janine.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘Motherfucker!’ she screamed, and pulled the trigger again, this time rewarded with a satisfying roar, flash of orange flame and recoil.

The bullet hit Dementer in his silver waistcoat. Red oozed from the hole. The Doctor, horrified, reached down and touched the wound. He brought the red stained fingers to his mouth. His elongated tongue flicked out and touched the red. He grinned like a madman and extended the stained fingers toward the trembling policewoman.

‘Mmmmm. Strawberry jelly. Want some?’

Janine screamed and fired again. Another hit. Green fluid. Touched by the fingers. Tasted. Dementer pulled a face.

‘Crème De Menthe. Eurgh.’

Another shot. Yellow liquid.

‘Banana daiquiri. That’s better.’

Janine screamed and screamed. She placed the hot .38 barrel against her temple.

‘You OK, Doc? What’s going on?’

‘Yeah, I’m…’

Dementer jerked back as the pistol roared for the last time.

He cursed and marched through the doorway. Hester was standing outside, Ingram at the ready. The Doctor touched the mini-rocket launcher housed under the barrel.

‘Let ‘em have it, Hester. Then we’re gone.’

‘Sure thing, Doc.’

She aimed and fired. The little rocket sped into the bar. The Doctor and Hester clambered aboard the hearse.Leopold spun them around in a U-Turn and hit the gas as the front of the Lucky Star Saloon disintegrated.

The hearse rocketed out of Peaceville. The Oddities discussed kills and injuries at the tops of their voices, delighted with the outcome.

‘Pull over, Leopold.’

‘Sure. What’s up, Doc?’

Dementer opened the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of binoculars. He climbed out of the hearse and wandered towards a low butte.

‘Shit, what’s that?’

The occupants of the car became silent as they spotted the column of black smoke, rising from the horizon into the endless blue desert sky. A couple of helicopters hovered above the source of the smoke, like vultures rising on thermals, pinpointing a steer corpse.

It was unnecessary, but Wade said it.

‘Ain’t that the Carney grounds?’

The Doc walked back and got in.

‘Turn her round, Leopold.’

‘But Doc, we can’t…’

‘There’s nothing we can do for ‘em now.’

‘They’re our friends,’ protested Hester.

‘Were our friends. They’ll either be fried, or full of lead. Turn her round, Leopold.’

Reluctantly, Leopold turned the hearse around and headed back through Peaceville. A few gunshots greeted them, but they replied in kind and were soon headed out across more desert.

‘Where we goin’?’

‘Californ- I –ay.’

Leopold and the Doc took turns in driving. The others slept or stared glumly out of the windows. In the middle of the dark night, the Doc managed to fill up at a roadside gas station.

‘You wanna watch yoreself dressed like that, Mister,’ gloated the hayseed behind the till. ‘It’s open season on freaks.’ He pointed to the TV, which was rerunning footage of the Carney Ground siege.

The remaining Oddities travelled on through the night.

Dawn was breaking and the Doc was behind the wheel when he spied the Sleepaway Motel lights. He coasted the hearse in to the parking lot.

‘You guys wait here.’

In the Sleepaway reception, a mute TV was still replying the ‘Freak Massacre.’ Receptionist Marv Hinman was much more interested in a piece of literature he had recently acquired. ‘She Took It Hard’ by Clint Thrust. He admired the heroine of the story, Ima Lovinette. She kept getting into all kinds of trouble but still came up smiling, so to speak. She was currently wrestling with a no-good called Studs Ramrod, who…

‘Excuse me.’

Marv jumped and swiftly tossed the book under the desk.

‘Howdy, I..’

His effusive greeting died away at the sight of painfully thin, exceptionally tall man with long white hair who towered above the desk.

‘Them’s some fancy duds, Mister. You in Show Biz?’

‘They’ve seen better days, Marv’ said the Doctor noting the nameplate, ‘and no, I’m not but wish I was. Would cabin number 35 be for rent?’

‘Sure would, Mister…’

Dementer stretched across the desk and grabbed the key (to Cabin 36).

‘Don’t trouble yourself, Marv. I’ll be here a couple a days, and I’d like to pay in advance. Cash.’

‘That’s OK by me.’

A price was offered, and dollar bills changed hands.

‘Thanks, Marv. You’re a gent. What time does the mini-mart next door open?’

‘Should be open now. You might have to wake old Louis up. Gets kinda slow this early in the mornin’.’

‘Thanks for your help, Marv. ‘Preciate it.’

Marv watched the door swing closed. Funny lookin’ fella. Polite tho’. That said somethin’. Better than some of the lowlife trash that showed up. He returned to the adventures of Ms Lovinette.

The Doc woke up Louis and obtained burgers, doughnuts, coffee, two cases of beer, and two bottles of Jack, which he ferried out to the hearse himself.

The Oddity mobile ran down to Cabin 36, the most secluded and private. The Doc kept an eye out, while the remains of his flock entered the cabin. They drew the curtains and tried to eat and drink as the watched the TV. All stations carried the news, the same stuff repeated every twenty minutes. The most heartbreaking scene was a quick pan down a line of blankets covering unidentified bumps. An odd foot, claw or tail poked out.

Every twenty minutes Special Agent Johnson, a craggy, tanned man with a smart haircut and mirror shades would tell America of the success of the mission, that some renegades had escaped, and ordinary decent clean-living citizens should watch out and report anything suspicious.

‘We shoulda gone back,’ said Wade.

‘What good would that have done?’ asked the Doc. ‘We’re here, we’re free and we can fight back.’

‘Against the FBI?’ sighed Hester. ‘This is countrywide now, Doc. We ain’t just fartin’ around in Arizona no more.’

‘They ain’t posted our descriptions’, said the Doc.

‘They’ll get ‘em in Peaceville,’ countered Leopold.

‘I ain’t givin’ up,’ whispered Dementer. ‘It ain’t over ‘till it’s over.’