THE RED HOODY

PART 2

Chapter 6: The Red Cloak

   "GUS! GUS! Get over here kiddo! I have something for you! Hurry up and move your keister!"

   Gus was just coming back from stabling Onyx after a nice, long, invigorating run when he heard the call.

   "Coming, Aunt Beddy! Hold your horses! I was just putting mine to bed!" he yelled cheekily. As he ran, the Hoody snapped and folded and molded around him into dinner jacket mode, aka: relaxed and indoor.

   "Yeah, yeah! I've heard all about it!" Beddy breezed, like it was no big deal. "Happy Birthday, kiddo!"

   "Hey, I'm sixteen, not six! You can't call me that much longer!" warned Gus light-heartedly.

   "Don't I know it! You sprang up on me like a damn weed!" Beddy dabbed her eyes sentimentally.

   "Uh huh!" Gus said sceptically. Beddy was rarely sentimental. "All right, what do you want?"

   "Right!" Beddy brightened and switched channels faster than a soap opera addict. ‘Well, the thing is, we haven't seen Tim in a little while and Debbie and I have gotten a little concerned. We haven't seen him at the castle for a week now."

   "That's hardly strange. You know how he gets sometimes when he starts a special project. Sometimes he holes up for days and loses track of time."

   "Aaaaaanyway..." said Beddy in that overriding and thoroughly annoying way that some people have, "Deb and I baked a lasagne and a pan of brownies and we thought it might be a nice thing for you to take them out to him. You can use the bottomless basket."

   Gus agreed to this and in no time Beddy had shoved in a huge, glass pan of lasagne in one end and in the other prepared to shove in a simply enormous metal pan of deep dish brownies.

   "Tell Timothy to be careful with the brownies. One half has...you know...Debbie's secret ingredient."

   "Oh, for heaven's sake Beddy! You simply must get over this! Everyone knows it's weed. Just say it. Weeeed. It's not gonna kill you."

   Beddy puttered around and pretended not to hear this.

   Gus rolled his eyes. "Oh good grief! Well, anyway, which half are they in?"

   Beddy peered into the pan, turned it this way and that and back around to this. The smooth, dark brown, chocolatey goodness was perfectly uniform.

   "Uh oh."

   "Uh oh!? Is that all you have to say! Geez Louise, you guys are too much sometimes! He's nearly 80! He's too old to be getting baked by baked goods in this basket of goodies!"

   "Oh...yeeeess, Mother!" scoffed Beddy, "Just...make sure he knows to eat them in small squares. And maybe....take a test taste yourself from one side."

   "I'm only sixteen!"

   "Oh, well, I'm not saying make it a habit or get wasted, or anything. Just....take one for the team. Maybe you'll get lucky and you won't pick the side that will make you grow larger." She winked.

   Gus recognized the Alice in Wonderland reference to Alice eating the cakes and drinks that were laced with the magic to make her grow and shrink. He had long since figured out this was symbolic of drugs that "expanded one's mind" or otherwise made you hallucinate. He was not amused.

   Nevertheless, he took the basket of half-baked baked goods and proceeded across the back lawn towards the hedge maze. The Hoody snapped and unsnapped and folded out and changed into his half cape which fluttered angrily about in response to his dark mood.

   "Great!" he thought, "Dutiful grandson...and drug mule!"

BJBJBJBJBJBJ

   Before he even turned, he felt his hateful presence.

   Or rather, not his presence, but the presence of that hateful, horrible Hoody. He wondered if there was any other person, just one other living soul, dark or light, good or evil that could see what he saw. Could see what had kept him away for so long and was keeping him away still.

   While everyone else just saw a red hoody...or whatever... Jefferson Wolfe saw the truth. He saw what the Hoody really was.

   He turned and winced a bit as he always did and then schooled his face into a mask of normality, a task that was extremely difficult. The little Prince came striding across the lawn happy and carefree, unaware as always of the loathing and horror he inspired in Jackson every time he came near him. Unaware of the utter abomination on his back.

   To Jackson Wolfe, the Red Hoody was not red at all. It was white with golden patches and streaks running all through it. The white and gold joined together to combine into a brilliant light. Depending on the time of day, or simply how the sun chose to shine on it, the Hoody was a shining white light, or a shining golden beacon. This light was so pure, so filled with goodness, terrible, terrible goodness, that Jackson was forever repelled by it, forever prevented from going within 6 feet of the boy much less being able to rip out his throat, which is what Wolfe really wanted to do.

   Instead, he did what he always did, what he was forced to do to keep up this damnable charade.

   He smiled and waved at the loathsome little Prince and said cheerfully, "Good day, Gus! How are you doing today and where are you going?"

   "Good day, Mr. Wolfe. I am on my way to Opa Timothy with a basket of goodies. And how is your day today?"

   "Just fine. The maze is a lot of work but I'm plugging away," said Wolfe as always, pretending that he wasn't looking into the sun and being blinded. He succeeded...mostly. The wretched thing was a cape today and was flapping pure light into his face.

   Gus smiled politely and waited for Jackson to go away. They were directly across from the secret door and Gus couldn't get through until Jackson was safely away.

   Jackson smiled politely and just stood there. Through his smile, he hated the little prick of a Prince with every fibre of his being and hoped he was in his way. Apparently, he was. The little Prince just sort of stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking this way and that, pretending to admire the hedges of the maze and how sunny it was. Things grew increasingly awkward.

   Gus cleared his throat pointedly.

   "Getting a sore throat?" Jackson asked nastily.

   Gus started. He had never been talked to in that tone before and it was disconcerting. And Mr. Wolfe had always been...fairly pleasant to him. But this...he had sounded almost hopeful.

   The atmosphere became even more charged. Gus took a step back. Jackson stepped forwards. He was breathing raggedly and he made up his mind. They were alone here. He would force his way through the wretched light, grab the boy by the throat, drag him into the maze, strangle him and leave his body in a dead end deep inside where nobody would come upon him. Then he'd dump the body somewhere else in the deep of the night.

   "Uh...no, I guess I'm fine. Are you all right, Mr Wolfe? Mr. Wolfe? You look so strange? What are you trying to do?"

   Jackson was squinting his eyes and reaching for him, stretching, taking a slll-oooo-www step toward him at an angle. It looked oddly enough as if he were trying to force his way forward, the way someone might try to force their way against a gale force wind.

   Without any kind of warning and with a rapidity that rather frightened Gus, the Red Hoody streamed straight out behind him, unsnapped, unfurled to full length and then in a violent motion wrapped itself around him with the tightness of a straightjacket. Four snaps he was unaware of snapped up down his front.....1!...2!...3!...4!! Just as fast as that! The hood flipped up.

   Jackson screamed. The light that mimicked the sun doubled its brightness. Jackson was unaware that such a thing was possible. But it was.

   Gus watched in stupefaction as Jackson Wolfe screamed in agony for no reason at all and then was propelled off his feet and through the air 20 feet away from him. It was as if he had been hit with a powerful force field.

   Jackson flew through the air and landed heavily on his back and lay like one dead.

   Gus was left there, standing there in a full on cloak, not just cape but cloak. It felt heavier than usual, was snapped up all the way down his front to his naval and encircled him completely. The hood also felt heavier and was so deep it gave him tunnel vision. He was still scared, scared of Jackson Wolfe, scared of what he was trying to do but also a little scared of the Hoody now too. This was an incarnation he had never really seen before and he had definitely never seen it react this fast or violently before.

   And Mr. Wolfe! Mr. Wolf had looked so strange right before it happened. All squinty and teeth bared and he had talked so nastily to him. Granted, Gus had never been friends with him but he hadn't disliked him before now. But he disliked him now.

   And so, he had no qualms whatsoever when he turned and fled the scene, heading for the door in the ivy. He tried to pull down the hood for better visibility but the cloak was having other ideas. The hood flipped back up.

   "Oh fine then! Be that way! Boy, you've gotten bossy all of a sudden!" Gus muttered to himself and to the Cloak.  The Cloak remained mute and resolute.

   Gus flipped back the ivy curtain, and yanked out the key. He looked back at the motionless form of Jackson Wolfe and then unlocked the secret door and slipped inside.  He made sure the man was still out cold as he let the ivy fall back into its concealing position again. Then he closed and locked the door.

   The inside of the forest was cool and green and dark. But Gus could find enjoyment in none of this, not after the traumatic encounter and not while the Hoody turned Cloak wrapped itself around him like a lovesick python.

   He hurried down the path as quick as he could, the cloak streaming out a bit behind him but not by much. It was still in full protection mode.

   Gus trotted and then ran and didn't stop running until he reached Opa's house.

BJBJBJBJBJBJ

   Outside on the lawn, near the mouth of the Maze, Jackson Wolfe lay like a dead man.

   But he was not dead. He was not even unconscious. But he knew he was beat so he played possum. Through slitted eyes he had watched Gus run away. He watched and saw everything.

   Alone now, he sat up, a fierce and feral smile stretching his face into something that was truly terrible to behold.

   He got up, and strode over to the ivy curtain and pushed it aside and looked at the door. He stroked it lightly with his fingers in wonder. He tried the handle. It was locked.

   The Patrons had kept their secret well. For 11 years he had worked the Maze, trimmed and clipped and raked and chopped the clippings for compost. For 11 years he had been around this general vicinity and never knew this portal out of the castle grounds existed. For 11 years he had never been able to return to the forest.

   Although his beard was iron grey Wolfe was not an old man. But he had played his part well and most people didn't notice his powerful physique and those he did wondered about it for a bit and then looked through it.

   Now he flexed his chest. It was deep and wide and full. He rolled up his sleeves and flexed his arms. His biceps flexed like softballs.

   He took a quick look around and then held both fists together. He drew them back and then punched the door near the handle with the vicious force of a battering ram.

TBC