Chapter 49: The Vigilantes
Carter Entemack, an apprentice mechanic at Entemack Motor Repairs was having a frustrating morning. A demanding customer wanted him to solve an oil leak in his car engine. Rather than disturbing his Father, the business owner, and looking for advice on the matter he chose to take it upon himself to solve the problem himself. It was taking far longer than he had expected.
There were two other employees working at the motor repair centre. Kimberley the receptionist, a married African American woman in her thirties was incredibly efficient and helpful. Unfortunately she didn’t know anything about cars. Gordon Malechenko the other mechanic in the workplace was also quite helpful, but this was one occasion where Carter did not want his co-worker to get the credit for helping him.
At 12:35, a beautiful young woman named Christine Montague entered the garage. “Hi there loverboy,” she said openly with a smile on her face, much to Carter’s embarrassment. This immediately inspired a wolf whistle from Gordon. In truth there were worse forms of embarrassment.
“I’m doing alright. How are you?” he responded with the hint of a smile.
“Ditto,” the young woman responded. “Are you free for lunch?”
“I don’t know,” Carter replied with a hint of frustration as he put a cloth he was holding down on the side of a bench. “I’ve been working on this engine all morning.”
It was at this point that Emerson Entemack, his Father chose to leave his office. “Carter are you doing any work down there or are you just chatting up pretty ladies all morning?” he asked with a hint of devilment.
“Good morning, Mr Entemack,” Christine responded with her trademark smile.
“It’s always a good morning when you’re around,” Emerson responded as he continued walking towards the entrance to the garage, “even if you do distract the staff.” The business owner then turned to Kimberley and informed her that he would be back in one hour, before leaving.
“So, are you free or not?” Christine asked again.
“Eh, eh,” he said hesitating, “I guess so.”
“Your level of enthusiasm overwhelms me,” she responded before pausing, “Ok so let’s go”
“I’d better get cleaned up first,” the young apprentice responded.
Christine worked as a Secretary for a large Engineering firm. Depending on her shift, she broke for lunch at either 12:30pm or 1:30pm. Her place of work was only a three minute walk from the motor repair centre.
Ten minutes later Christine and Carter were walking down the main street. Leaning against the shop window of Prado’s Laundrette was Skip Tucker. Skip had dated Christine when she was fifteen. They only split up when Christine realised he was two-timing her with Lauren Bakworth.
Skip was very thin with hardly an ounce of fat in his entire body. He wasn’t particularly tall either but he was a very intense individual.
“Morning,” Skip said to Christine while he balanced a toothpick in his mouth.
“Still propping up shop windows Skip?” she responded.
Skip had yet to find employment and didn’t take the comment very well. In fact Skip didn’t take most things very well.
“I don’t like him,” Carter declared when they were seated in Nino’s Diner. “He gives me the creeps.”
“Who are you talking about?” Christine asked in bemusement. It wasn’t often that Carter didn’t like anybody.
“Your former boyfriend.”
“He’s just very possessive,” the young Secretary responded. “That’s all. I’m not the only one he’s possessive of. You should relax. I’m not going to pick him over you unless you keep whining on about it.”
This was one conversation that Carter didn’t want to slide away.
“He seems like a piece of work. I’d be afraid he’d burn my house down one day or saw my feet off. I just don’t feel comfortable around him.”
“You’re just a total wuss. You’re not going to win boyfriend of the year with that kind of an attitude,” Christine responded with a broad smile.
“Well I always did see myself as the dark horse in the running. I guess you’ll just have to settle for second best. How is life in your office going?”
How could Carter stay frustrated at his girlfriend for very long, he thought to himself.
“Same old same old. Lots of gossip on what’s going on in the town but nothing that you’d be interested in.”
Carter changed the subject but in truth he was intimidated by Skip Tucker. He didn’t trust him. The apprentice didn’t see Skip as being strong and powerful but he was an individual who Carter believed would cross a line where the vast majority of people wouldn’t. Skip was capable of anything in Carter’s opinion. He kept visualising him with the toothpick in his mouth, sneering at him. It made him shiver in fear.
A young boy handed out pamphlets as instructed by his Father. Bubkiss Burbage was like many young children intimidated by Harvey Burbage. Harvey was well over six feet tall and was an avid supporter of the People Against Changelings Movement. The movement was in its early stages and in the town of Montmore there were only nine other members to date. Skip accepted the leaflet begrudgingly. The pamphlet announced a meeting at 8PM on Wednesday in Reades Tavern.
Normally Skip Tucker would throw away any pamphlet that was given to him but on this occasion curiosity got the better of him. A plan started to form in his mind. This was something he might be able to use to his advantage.
Harvey Burbage stood up with the intention of opening the meeting in Reades Tavern. Not only was Harvey built like a proverbial tank, but he also had a loud and deep voice. He had long dark hair and red skin that flaked quite easily under the tiniest exposure to the suns rays. “Thank you all for coming to the meeting of the People Against Changelings Movement. I see that we have two new members. Introduce yourselves.”
The room that the group were congregated in could hold thirty people. It was located at the back of the tavern and was normally dedicated to knitting and sewing classes. Harvey had the intention of beefing up its reputation. First they would fill the room completely, then they would have mass protests and then they would dominate national politics and exterminate as many aliens as they could. Start small and aim big he kept telling himself.
A tall, strongly built man with red curly hair stood up. “My name is Gustav. I am here because I detest Changeling scum. They are a threat to our freedom and our safety and I won’t sleep happily at night until they are all exterminated,” he said with great conviction and intensity. “We need to send out a message to all those other aliens out there waiting to invade our world. They are not welcome here. I even brought my AK 47 with me in case I see any of them on the street.” He said this holding aloft a large firearm with pride. His brief speech was met with cheers and applause from the eleven strong crowd.
All eyes then turned to Skip. Even he couldn’t match his predecessor for enthusiasm. He stood up. “My name is Skip. I am here because I also detest changeling scum and would also like to see them wiped off the face of the earth. We should all rise up against them. They are a threat to our society. God bless America.” Skip then waited for a moment. He had nothing more to say. He waited for cheering and applause. Finally one man who was mostly bald and overweight stood up and also exclaimed. “God bless America.” After this the applause and cheering followed.
“Alright, lads,” Harvey Burbage said as he stood up, “let’s start the meeting proper. Everyone here has seen the news. There’s a terrorist changeling in our vicinity by the name of Elliot Tomkins, Roger Steinham or whatever other name he’s going by these days. We’ve seen pictures of him men, but to be honest. He’s a changeling so he could take any shape or form. He could be amongst us. He could be here in this very room. This thing is dangerous. If anyone has any information on him please encourage them to come forward.”
“I’ve seen him,” Skip shouted out. “I could be wrong but I’m pretty sure I saw him in the Garage down of Pilbert Lane. I think he’s working in that garage by the name of Carter Entemack. I’m pretty sure I saw him changing shape and that he at one stage looked like this Elliot Tomkins guy but then in an instant he looked like this Carter guy. I wonder what he did with the original Carter. He was alright but this guy’s a bit of an asshole. I was also there the other day and saw some traces of slime. I’m pretty sure the slime came from him. I’d be about 99% sure that that Carter is the same guy as Elliot Tomkins and Roger Steinham. I think we should get him. What does everyone else say.”
“I don’t know,” a bearded man said as he stood up. “I know his Father well. His son seems alright to me.”
“That’s why these Changelings are so successful. They deceive us,” Skip responded. They earn our trust and then one day they’ll turn on us if we’re not careful. I’m convinced it’s him.”
In his own mind, Skip was enjoying this. His plan was working to perfection. He could smell blood.
“Come on, Warren,” a man in dungarees said standing up briefly, “are you a man or a mouse?”
“I’m just saying I don’t know. That’s all.” Warren replied hesitantly and with a degree of concern, “I’m not convinced.”
“Maybe you’re one of them then,” the same individual suggested with a hint of menace.
“How long have we known each other Track?” As much as Warren feared Changelings, he felt uncomfortable under scrutiny. He was mainly here because his best friend Al encouraged him to attend. Now, he wanted to be somewhere else.
“You heard the guy,” Track responded angrily, “They infiltrate society. They mimic and they adapt. I don’t know you long enough to be sure. Now whose side are you on?”
Warren remained silent, afraid to speak.
“I say we lynch him right now,” Track continued after a pause, “whose with me?”
Lead by Harvey Burbage, several of the men stood up and started to engagein a series of whoops and cheers. “Let’s get the son of a bitch,” the leader of the PACM said in his loud and deep voice.
Skip smiled to himself. His plan was falling into place.
Carter Entemack was tired. It was 11:30 at night. He had endured a relatively stressful day at work but all in all he couldn’t complain about his life. He was luckier than most. He had a steady job, a beautiful and kind girlfriend and knew far more generous people than bad. As he lay down to bed these pleasant thoughts brought a smile to his face.
No sooner had he closed his eyes than he heard the sound of a large crowd shouting. The sound seemed to be getting closer and closer, louder and louder. Curiously he raised the curtain just enough to peer out of his bedroom window.
He could see a crowd of about twenty people walking down the street, with flashlights and pitchforks. Behind them was a small lorry with a wooden structure on the trailer that Carter could not quite make out. Who were they after, he wondered to himself.
Carter continued to look at the window out of curiosity until they came to a stop outside his house. Suddenly a chill went through his body as the possibility dawned on him that they were looking for him. But why, he wondered.
The young man got dressed and made his way out of the room. On the landing he saw his father who put his hand out in the form of a gesture. “Let me handle this son,” Emerson said calmly, “it’s obviously a misunderstanding. You go back to bed.” Carter didn’t go back to bed. He went downstairs after his Father had gone outside and opened a small window in the sitting room to listen in.
“What are you all doing here?” Emerson asked aloud in an attempt to sound strong.
“We’ve come for your son,” Track Johnson exclaimed
“But why?” the proud father asked in a surprised manner. “He hasn’t harmed anyone.”
“He’s an imposter. He must have killed your son a few weeks ago and assumed his identity. Carter Entemack is Roger Steinham. He is a terrorist in hiding.”
“But that’s madness,” Emerson stated in an exasperated manner. “Have you got any evidence of this?”
The mechanic was afraid of his whole life and everything he had fought tooth and nail for, being destroyed in one night of madness. He feared for the safety of his son and his family.
“There are witnesses,” Track protested.
“Who are these witnesses?” Emerson asked as he looked around the crowd in front of him for common sense to prevail.
“They remain anonymous for their own protection. I trust… we trust them as sources. Now get out of the way old man. We’re going to bring this changeling scum some justice.”
“I will not get out of the way. You’re all gone mad.” Emerson declared aloud as he barely managed to hold himself together emotionally.
No sooner had Emerson Entemack uttered these words than Track Johnson delivered a blow to his chin, knocking him to the ground. As he fell to the ground a second man kicked him several times in the stomach.
Track Johnson approached the front door of the Entemack residence. Carter opened the front door to confront the vigilantes.
“What do you want with me?” he asked.
“You’re responsible for death after death after death of innocent people. Tonight you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”
“What am I accused of?”
“The deaths of hundreds, you changeling scum,” the powerfully built Track Johnson declared as he grabbed Carter around the upper back.
Carter did not want to move but the intimidating size of the crowd made him feel nervous and overwhelmed. He was pushed again and again. He kept repeating that he was innocent but nothing seemed to penetrate the wall of ignorance that he was up against.
When Emerson Entemack climbed to his feet, he could see that the crowd were planning on hanging his son. He alone could not stop them. He ran back inside the house and rang the police. After what seemed an age, he got through to the local sheriff.
“Sheriff, they’re about to hang Carter. You’ve got to do something. You’ve got to stop them.”
“I’m well aware of what is going on,” Sherriff Jackson declared. “It’s not something that is my business to interfere in. These are good people doing what they think is right. If I interfere that will only make things worse. You should do the same. Go to bed. Get some rest. There is nothing you can do. I don’t know whether Carter is a Changeling or not. Time will tell, but it’s a case of playing percentages.”
“Of course Carter isn’t a changeling,” Emerson declared angrily, “He’s my son. Don’t tell me you’re gone mad as well.”
“Emerson I have a call on the other line. I’m going to take it.” As he said this, Sherriff Jackson hung up.
Frustrated, Emerson Entemack ran outside. He could see that the noose was already around Carter’s neck. “Stop, stop, stop,” he shouted as he ran toward the crowd, but instead, he received an elbow to the head rendering him unconscious.
When Emerson regained consciousness, the crowd were gone. Carter’s lifeless body was still hanging from the wooden structure built to execute him. His wife and Carter’s girlfriend Christine were both sobbing.
The mechanic noticed a man of his age approaching him from behind the makeshift gallows. As he came closer, Emerson could make out the identity of the individual. Clarence Ogwarth had attended the same classes as Emerson in High School more than thirty years earlier. Clarence had been the kind of guy who kept very much to himself and never expressed a strong opinion about anything. Now he was coming out of the shadows.
“Why? Why?” Emerson asked aloud as the middle aged man approached.
“You’re just lucky, that there was only one of you up there on that platform. Thank your lucky stars that it was only that scumbag up there.”
“You’ve gone mad. What did he or any of us do to hurt anyone. He was a good kid. A great kid.”
“That’s life Entemack. Life’s a bitch. Get used to it. There’s them and us. Now whose side are you on. I might just have a word in the ear of Track or one of those other boys who are on the right side of justice.” As he said this Clarence stubbed the but of a cigarette he had been smoking on the robe Emerson was wearing in the shoulder area.
“Justice? You call this justice?” Emerson said in disgust.
Part of Emerson wanted to knock Clarence Ogwarth unconscious, but he just wasn’t that type of guy.
As the so-called vigilante walked away, Emerson felt more unpleasant emotions than he had done in his entire life. He could not comprehend what had just happened. It was a moment of madness and now his son was gone. There would be a deep void in his life the likes of which he would probably not be able to recover from.