Fisher And The Bears Page 3

  “He certainly doesn't sound like my kind of chap.” Ted whispered.

  “If he was the counter thingy clown,” Tiger said thoughtfully.

  “Who was his partner?” I asked. I pointed her at the gap. “I would guess it was that one. Dad. The egg in the office remember?”

  “Yes. The missing egg is a member of his troop.” The girl frowned. “I wonder when that went missing?”

  “Are you okay Ginger?” I looked at the little bear. He was shivering in fear, cowering from the gaze of the thousands of painted eggs. He hid behind my legs, pulled out his pocket knife and flicked open the flame thrower blade.

  “Purge them with,” click, click, woof, “fire!” I am not sure how much he was planning to purge with the cigarette lighter flame from his knife.

  “Ginger. We are guests here.” I told him.

  “I made it myself.” He said to the nice guide.

  “Nice.” She said. “But dangerous.”

  The flame spluttered out.

  “Thank you so much for your help.” I said. “It has been very useful.”

  “Could I see the saw?” She asked, earnestly. “We might want it for the museum.”

  “Sure. I just need to finish renovating it first.” I grinned to hide any hint of the truth. “Mind if I pop by some time to talk about it?”

  “Not at all. Ask for me. I'm Belle.” She nodded at the bears. “Belle Ball.”

  We made our way out to the van.

  “So you know his name.” Tiger nodded. “You can get some supplies and get rid of the ghosty from the machine?”

  “That is a plan.” I agreed. “Before it causes any more trouble.”

  “Don't we need a focus?” Ted asked. “Something that can trap the dead soul?”

  I nodded and with a flourish I produced the egg I had stolen from the display case in the hall.

  “He smashed Dads. They obviously mean something to him.” I whispered.

  “Can't make an omelet.” Ginger giggled.

  *

  We went shopping for the supplies we might need for the exorcism. So we drove to the supermarket and parked in the dull tar mac car park. I put a pound in the trolley and a pile of change in the plastic race car ride for Ted and Tiger. Ginger and a few friends came shopping with me. First thing in the trolley was salt. Large catering sized packages. Wooden stakes from the gardening department. A sledge hammer. Several reels of strong cable. Kitchen towels. Red wine. The shredded bible suggested the ghost was Christian, so I added some toys with bells on and some dining room candles. We also needed the cheapest bible we could find that was not of the “My First Illustrated,” variety. I have nothing against any particular holy book, but the key factor is often what the ghost believes. In my library is a copy of pretty much every major religious texts for all the big belief systems. But they are beautiful editions and I really didn't want to risk it bursting into black flames if the exorcism got intense.

  “Hey. Fish!” A voice rang out down the household aisle while I was stocking up on bleach. I looked around. It was Jenny. She came happily down the aisle with a half cart full of ready meals and low fat snacks. “Sorry. I wanted to apologise for the way I spoke to you yesterday. I didn't want you to think that the bears were something you should be ashamed of. And I know the stuff that happens isn't always because of-” She looked down at the stuff in my trolley.

  “Something came up.” I said. “And you were right.”

  “So, if I was to ask if you could have one night off, for one last chance to save everything we had been trying to build together? Just you, me and a meal?” She spoke slowly. “Your very last chance?” She narrowed her eyes at the supplies. “Got plans?”

  “The ghost of a killer clown who hates bears made my Dad try to hurt the bears with a chainsaw that is now misbehaving in my shed.” I said.

  “What?”

  “I have a haunted chainsaw.” I said.

  “We call it Mister Grumpy!” Ginger said helpfully.

  “Goodbye Fisher.” Jenny said, striding away with purpose. “Please don't call.” She shouted back.

  “Bye!” Ginger waved after her.

  “Come on.” I growled as we went to the checkout.

  *

  Exorcising back to the Other World is a simple process in theory, more complicated in action.

  First you obtain a spirit born of the Other World. Either created there from the get go (a Demon) or something born There from a death Here (a Ghost). Let us take for our example a chainsaw filled with the spirit of a xenophobic clown who lived Here then died and was reborn There. Luckily we have one to hand.

  Now, let us explain the process as it should have gone, before I explain what happened.

  The second step, once you have obtained a spirit you have to cast back, is to trap it in a vessel that can not cut you to ribbons. If the spirit has possessed a person who can not fight for themselves you must draw it out of them. This is best achieved by using an object that resonates with the spirit. Something that it might have had a connection to in the past. An heirloom, their bones, something harmless. Like an Egg.

  The easiest way to achieve this is the oldest. A circle of salt, as close to a perfect circle as possible, in contact with the ground (like in a garden) to make a magic circle. Witches, wizards, magicians of all kinds describe the magic circle any way. All they really mean, despite what belief you place upon it, is neutral ground. Neither Here nor There.

  Once the thing is in the circle a battle begins. To loosen it's grip on the host, cast it out and draw it out. It will fight to hold on, you just have to find a way to make it want to leave. The worst kind of person will make life uncomfortable for it. Bully it out. I don't like it. Once the spirit is trapped in the circle it should be calmed. You should be able to render it into a stupor, to sleep. To draw it out like an operation not rip it out like a fiend.

  Third, as the spirit is drawn out of the host, break the circle. Everything from this world stays here, while the Demon or Ghost is sent back There, to the Other World. Please make sure a bear has not strayed into the circle or it too will be sent back to the Other World. It wont stay there very long, but it tends to be shaken up when ever it gets back here. Or Here.

  It is not exactly an easy process. It takes time. It takes effort. It takes concentration. And above all the thing you are trying to send home really, really, does not want to be exorcised.

  The plan was simple. I drew a circle in the garden with the salt. I placed in the circle a stake to which I would chain the saw on a short leash. The bible, the bells, the wine, and the candles were all for the exorcism, my weapons to subdue the ghost. It was a Christian ghost, it would respond best to Christian messages. People get the wrong idea. It is not a question of hammering the thing with my faith and my belief. It is a question of weakening or refocussing his own. Maybe waking it from a long slumber.

  The bears watched me from a safe distance. Some went and got their pitchforks or torches from the shed while I was busy. Mrs Sussex had made them popcorn and was sitting in a deckchair with a jug of ice tea. She had a curious expression on her face.

  I put some ceramic weave bandaged over my arms and a pair of chainsaw trousers on. They were thick, hot and sweaty, but they contained fluffy padding that would jam up the saw if it tried to maul me. They had been in the cellar, from past jobs. I donned my hard hat and leather gauntlets then opened the shed. I wrestled with the chainsaw and dragged it into the circle. I lashed it to the stake buried deep in the clay soil with the help of the sledgehammer. It made a break for freedom as soon as I let go, bouncing over the lawn as far as the chain would let him.

  I rang a bell so the saw would stop and look at me. The blade purred and the engine squawked. I showed it the painted egg. I started to recite passages from the bible. Nothing specific, just passages I happened to know. Ones that I think come from the common moral ground shared by pretty much everybody. Violence not being the answer, caring for your neighbour, the nature of
love, the nice stuff. The deceased Obadiah Hog weed was not interested in the nice stuff. For a second the exhaust fumes of the saw seemed to make a grotesque and twisted face before it was lost in the roll of the smoke. The saw lunged for me. I stepped back out of its reach, watching the strain, the stake holding.

  “You need to listen to me.” I said softly. “I am not going to let you hurt the bears. I don't know what idea festered in your head so bad that it lives on after death, but this is not how you should be spending your afterlife. You should be letting go of all the hatred and seeking bliss.”

  The engine roared.

  “Oh I see.” I looked at the bears. “For you, this is heaven. The chance to hurt them?”

  A longer raw.

  The doorbell chimed.

  “Tiger.” I said. “Please let them know I am not at home.” I looked back at the saw. It was lunging at me again. I swatted it away with one of the pitchforks. It slashed the fork in half. Wooden tool against a pitchfork. Seemed pretty obvious to me a second after I tried it. I carried on trying to keep it at bay as I threw some hard core readings from the bible at it. I reminded it how many of the commandments it was breaking. That it was an insult to nature as the religion described. A big no no. It on the other hand seemed to think it was Lazarus.

  There was a desperate shout from the kitchen.

  “No. I don't care how important he thinks his plans are,” Jenny was shouting, “I need to see him. He simply can not let what we had go. He has made no attempt to fight for me. None. So I need to know what is so important he would let me and let Mabel just walk away.” She was in the conservatory. I could see her through the windows. She was making an effort to walk around Tiger and make her way to the garden. She stood framed in the doorway, looking at me in disbelief. I met her eyes for a second and I hesitated.

  That was all Obadiah needed. There was a shriek of complaint from the cables as they were pulled taut and the stake strained at an angle then, in a flash the stake was ripped from the ground and the chainsaw went bouncing away down the lawn, towards the conservatory, towards Jenny. She stood, mouth open, staring at it, unable to move. Knowing somehow it wanted to kill her. It was not an accident. A trick gone wrong. The thing intended murder. She did not scream. Her mouth was open and she was shaking, but no sound came out.

  I grabbed the cable and it tried to bite through my gloves as I leashed the chainsaw and dragged it back. I hoisted it back under control. The bears grabbed the chain and we engaged in a tug of war with the saw. Jenny stared at me, looked at Tiger and ran. She ran as far away from me as fast as she could and I have seen neither her nor her daughter to this day.

  “No!” I shouted as I saw Mrs Sussex walking towards the saw. “Keep back it could hurt you.”

  “And why?” Mrs Sussex spoke in a gurgling male voice. “Why would I do that?” She had, while we were all distracted, drawn on her face with her lipstick. A diamond around her eye, an exaggerated maw. A red nose. She grinned and placed her hand on the saw, snatching it suddenly from myself and the crowd of bears. She laughed a deep and gurgling laugh, like icebergs rubbing the hull of a ship. “Now boys and girls, shall I count to ten? Run fast. Run far. As I'll give chase like a falling star.”

  The bears ran.

  “Inside. The safe room. All of you. Go!” I shouted, getting a good grip on the cable to stop Mrs Sussex from giving chase. She tried, I reeled her back like a fish. “So a scraped knuckle was all it took?”

  “A taste of her blood.” Sussex said. She hissed as the bears scampered away to lock themselves in the cellar. Well most of them. Ginger, Tiger, Mac and Ted were running for the shed. For the pitchforks and torches. “Just a small taste. I needed time. But she is mine. As your father was.”

  “And she will be free of you.” I said. “Just as my father was.”

  “And how will you do that?” She snarled running at me with the buzzing saw. I dodged aside and gave the cable a hoist, sending her to one side. I had hoped to knock her into the circle, but I didn't. She stepped aside and shook her head. She cut the cable with the saw, the sudden slack toppling me to the grass. “One more human, before I rid the world of these troublesome bears!”

  She ran a few steps, but before she could rip me into bite sized chunk she found the pointy end of three pitch forks prodding in her general direction. Mac, Ted and Tiger all had forks.

  “Please, we really don't want to have jab you.” Tiger warned.

  “Very sorry about this.” Ted agreed. “Into the circle please.”

  “Yeah!” Said Mac. He shoved his fork a little nearer. The saw cut it clean in two. “Oh.” He grinned. “Wooden tool.”

  “Chainsaw.” Obadiah said through Mrs Sussex. “I win.”

  “Ginger.” I said the word slowly and clearly as I pulled myself upright. “The chainsaw has a petrol tank full of unleaded and two stroke.”

  “Oh.” Ginger beamed. “Can I?”

  “Can he what?” Mrs Sussex looked at me. “You are bluffing.”

  “Into the circle. Please.” I said.

  “Or?” She laughed. “You wont hurt this woman.”

  “Ginger.”

  “Cleanse.” Click. “With.” Click.

  Mrs Sussex jumped into the circle with a scream just in time.

  “Fire!” Woof. A jet of flame licked few inches away from where Mrs Sussex had stood, but close enough to drive the ghost into the circle. I was waiting in there with her. The fear of the fire worked a lot better than asking nicely. It isn't something I was proud of. It was a last moment chance and I had to take it.

  “Flames!” I shouted. “Form a ring of fire.” The other bears grabbed torches and licked the edge of the circle with flames. Mrs Sussex suddenly looked very confused. I hissed some fire and brimstone verses. I think most were from the bible, but there were a few from other religions and a poem or two in there. But it worked. It drew a cloud of jet black smoke, from the saw and from Mrs Sussex. A pillar of smoke that looked like a shadow. Like a clown with a leering face.

  I broke the circle by kicking the salt away. The cloud vanished with a pop. The flames stopped.

  “No more torches.” I said, as Theodore Edison bear swatted out the flames on the end of his tie.

  “Agreed.” Yelped the bears.

  “No more pitchforks.”

  “Agreed!” Yelped Mrs Sussex.

  I stamped on the egg. Just in case the damned clown had any more bright ideas.

  “So. Let's tell the others they are safe. Go see dad. Then have a meal out somewhere.”

  *

  Dad shook his head.

  “Obadiah? He was a nasty piece of work. He liked to dress his hatred up in big grand speeches about the scourge of the bear, of their moral deterioration, their way of corroding our values, even that they are not in the bible. But all it is, all it was, was jealousy. Our troop went head to head with bears, they did well and we did not.” Dad was sat up in bed. Looking perky. “He could not believe he was bad at his act. That people on holiday may not want to see trick chainsaws being juggled. He had to convince himself that it was the bears. Conspiring against him. Stealing bread from his mouth by daring to work harder than he wanted to.” He shook his head. “Poor sad man. My egg was in the box. When he was in my head he stamped on it. To show me what he intended.”

  “Who sent the box?” I asked. “Who caused this?”

  “I don't know.” He whispered. “But you all did very well to stop him. All of you. Well done.”

  “So me and Jenny... We wont be getting back together.” I said. “For the best.”

  “I know.” He grinned. “I tweet. I will give her your love and let her know no hard feelings. Though they aren't exactly easy are they?”

  I shook my head.

  “At-ta boy.” He sipped his tea. “Well, what time are you picking me up tomorrow? There is a show I need to perform. The biddies must be pacified.”

  For Dad, that was taking it easy. I sat in the chair by his bed and the s
mall huddle of bears who had followed me in to the ward excitedly took turns to tell him what they had been up to for the last few days with limitless excitement and endless enthusiasm. He found each and every one of them fascinating and made all the right noises at all the right times. As I sat and listened I tried to work out how I could do what I needed with zero bears involved. It was impossible. Luckily the impossible was what the bears were all about.

  “Hey guys.” I whispered to the bears at the back. “Do you think somebody should help Dad out with his show? For moral support?”

  The idea rippled through the small crowd.

  The next day I had a few precious hours. While Dad was being looked after by the bears for his entertaining of the residents at the old folks home, I slipped into the theatre and found the box, the wrapping and the shredded bible the chainsaw was delivered in. I found the delivery note and the CCTV footage of the delivery man. I took them into town.

  When I walked past the post office Jenny made a point of snubbing me. Not even looking at me. I was no longer part of her life and no more olive branches would be offered to me. Three times were not the charm for me. I did not blame her, or hold any ill will. There was nothing that could make up for having a chainsaw waved at you. I hurried my pace though as I felt all the blame rested with me. With my curse.

  I kept walking and soon I was at a large and grand seaside house, right by the sea wall. It was Georgian pile, with bright red bricks, lots of decorative flourishes and a flat roof on which bee hives were kept. I rang the doorbell.

  “Who is it?” Mrs Sussex demanded.

  “Is your father home?” I asked.

  “Fish!” Mrs Sussex had been given the week off. She earned it by struggling against the ghost of a demon clown. She had not blamed me. When I told her I would understand if she did not want to ever return, she had laughed it off and said a week would do. The Sussex clan were made of stern stuff. I think her loyalty was more to the bears than to me. The week off was boring her. She sounded far too eager. “Has something come up? Do you need me to swing by?”