The Masked Family (24 page)

When Cary brought down El Yucatango by scissoring his legs out from under him, the crowd screamed with delight. Though the move had been planned and practiced in advance, Cary still got what might have been the biggest thrill of his life when the crowd leaped to its feet and chanted his name.

Even though it wasn't really his name.

He heard Glo shout it, too, from his corner. "Yay, Demonio del Diamante!"

Late, on the other hand, showered him with boos from El Yucatango's corner.

Everyone was playing their parts. Now, if Cary could just remember all the moves El Yucatango had taught him that morning, and make them look halfway convincing, he might just get through this.

Next in the script was a body slam. As El Yucatango pushed himself up on his hands and knees, Cary turned his back and threw himself on top of him. El Yucatango crashed down to the canvas, as if collapsing from the added weight forced onto him...though, really, he let himself fall.

Again, the crowd cheered and clapped with joy. El Demonio del Diamante, back from the dead, was still their hero.

They liked the next move even better. Rolling over, Cary wrapped his hands around El Yucatango's forehead and jammed a knee against his back. He pulled El Yucatango's head back just far enough that it looked like it would hurt, and then he threw it forward and down. Actually, El Yucatango controlled the movement, slowing at the last second so it only
looked
like his face smacked the canvas. He was also the one who slapped the canvas with his hand, providing the head-smacking sound effect.

Cary pretended to crank El Yucatango's head back and ram it into the canvas two more times. Each time, the crowd screamed louder.

Then, it was time for the tables to turn. It was time for El Yucatango to start winning.

Oddly enough, for someone who hadn't wanted to be part of the match in the first place, Cary wished he could keep winning. Now that he'd gotten a taste of the spotlight, he wished he could keep it instead of following the script.

But letting El Yucatango win and take back his championship was the whole reason for the match. The only way Cary and the kids could go home was if El Yucatango won.

So Cary stuck with the script.

Getting up, he turned around and took hold of El Yucatango's foot. Bracing himself, he hauled the foot back and up until El Yucatango's upper leg was off the canvas. Then, he snapped forward and plunged the whole leg down hard. When it hit, El Yucatango cried out and slapped the canvas as if he were in excruciating pain.

Naturally, the crowd loved it and cheered like crazy...at least until El Yucatango rolled over suddenly and knocked down Cary.

While everyone booed--except Late, who stayed in character and cheered--El Yucatango began his revenge.

As Cary slowly got back on his feet, El Yucatango leaped up and threw himself against the ropes. When he bounced off, he aimed his body at Cary, bowling him over with what looked like bone-cracking force.

The impact didn't feel as bad as it probably looked, but it knocked the breath out of Cary and left him dazed. He was still trying to clear his head when El Yucatango hit him with the next move.

Cary knew what it was from the script, though he didn't see it happen. With Cary rolled onto his side, facing away from him, El Yucatango threw himself down on the canvas. As his upper body hit, he lashed up his legs and kicked Cary's back and behind, lifting him up and flinging him over onto his stomach.

The boos and catcalls from the crowd were deafening. People pounded their fists on the edge of the canvas and chanted Demonio's name again and again.

Cary noticed that no one but Late was cheering for El Yucatango.

Unfortunately, it was going to be a tough time for Demonio's fans. El Yucatango's comeback was just beginning.

His next move was to pick Cary up by one arm and one leg and spin him around. With each turn, El Yucatango whirled Cary faster and higher, until finally he was at chest level.

Then, he threw him, bringing him down close to the canvas and letting go in such a way that Cary rolled harmlessly instead of breaking his neck.

After that one, the boos and catcalls from the crowd were worse than ever. Cary couldn't understand most of what the people were saying, but he had a feeling that none of them were happy with what either wrestler was doing in the ring.

That was when he decided to make a surprise move.

It would be just one, just enough to make things interesting. Now that he was in the middle of the action, he thought El Yucatango should have added it anyway...a little comeback move for Demonio to get the crowd's hopes up.

Just as El Yucatango was climbing the ropes to get ready for a flying body slam, Cary charged up behind him and leaped on his back. He wrapped his arms around El Yucatango's chest and wrenched backward, planning to force him to step down from the ropes.

But Cary miscalculated. El Yucatango was off balance on the ropes and fell instead of stepping down from them. Not only that, but he fell back fast.

And Cary went with him, plunging toward the canvas under a crushing load of weight.

 

*****

"You're gonna kill him!" said Celeste, grabbing one of Baron's fists and holding it back with all her strength. "Stop it, Baron!"

Baron had pinned Grogan in the mud and had been whaling on him with one furious punch after another. Even now, with one arm restrained by Celeste, he managed to keep slugging Grogan with his free hand.

At least until E.Q. latched onto it. "
That's enough!
"

Baron's arms flexed and jerked. Celeste knew he probably could have broken free if he'd really tried...but he seemed to lose steam. His struggles diminished and finally stopped, and he slumped.

Celeste let go of him, and so did E.Q. Without a word, Baron got up from Grogan and shuffled over to lean against the trailer. Baron's white Oxford shirt, red-and-blue striped tie, and black dress pants--once neat and crisp, the uniform of a consummate TV newsman--were in complete disarray, coated in slimy brown mud.

"F-f-feel
better?
" Grogan pitched a fistful of mud at him. "G-get out allyour
f-f-frustrations
?"

"It's been a hard couple of days," said Celeste. "We're all worried about Cary."

"B-boo hoo hoo," said Grogan. He held up his hand and rubbed the thumb and forefinger together. "Th-this is m-me playingthe w-world's smallest v-v-violion f-for you."

Suddenly, Celeste had had enough. "
Fuck you
! Why don't you
shut up?
" As soon as she said it, she wished she could take it back. She'd played right into his persecution complex, giving him another reason to act like an asshole.

He's been dead all this time, and he still knows how to push our buttons like no one else.

"Shit." Celeste sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Look, Grogan. You're the end of the road, get it? You were our last hope that the clues would lead to Cary."

Grogan shook his head. "W-what do you c-care? Why b-b-bother?"

Celeste glared at him. "He's my
brother
. Why do you
think
?"

"No he's not." Grogan rolled over and got up on his hands and knees. "He's not your brother."

"Here we go." Celeste rolled her eyes and started walking back to the car. "Same old shit. You haven't changed since you were a kid, Grogan."

"It's true!" Grogan's voice rose and shook. He sounded like he was swaying between rage and hysteria. "Ask y-your so-called f-f-f-father!"

Celeste looked back, but E.Q.'s expression was blank. She fired a withering look at Grogan and shook her head. "You're
pitiful
, you know that? You literally make me sick to my stomach."

"I swear it's t-t-true!" said Grogan.

"Why don't you quit while you're ahead?" Baron looked down at him with disgust as he walked past on his way to join Celeste. "Just give it a fucking rest."

"H-he's not
y-your
brother, either!" Grogan pointed a muddy finger at Baron. "And y-you're not
her
b-b-brother!"

"Let's go," Baron said to Celeste. "He's completely lost it."

Grogan struggled to his feet. His voice suddenly shifted to a scream. "Why d-do youthinkI
h-hated
you p-people so m-m-much?
Because y-you were no b-better than I was!
"

Baron and Celeste both stopped and looked back at him.

"
You f-f-fuckers!
" Grogan lashed his arms around in a burst of random rage. "Acting l-like your
sh-sh-shit
didn't
stink!
And only
one
ofyoueven
d-deserved
to b-be there!"

"Come on." Baron tugged Celeste's elbow, but she stayed put and continued to listen.

"That's w-why I
f-fucked
with yousomuch!" said Grogan. "I w-wanted to knock you
d-d-down
!" He swept the edge of his hand through the air like a knife. "B-b-but you showed m-me! You w-w-won!

"P-Paisley burnedthehouse d-down, and I g-g-got
b-blamed
for it! I h-had to r-run away and n-n-never come b-back!" Grogan flipped over a disintegrating barbeque grill, which smashed to pieces when it hit the trunk of a tree. "So
f-f-fuck you
for c-calling me a l-liar! I'm the only one t-t-telling the
t-truth
!"

Grogan whirled to face E.Q. "Isn't that r-right, old m-m-man?"

E.Q. met his gaze. It was then, before E.Q. said another word, that Celeste knew what he would say.

His face remained a blank, the storm shutters solidly in place...but the moment dragged on too long. He hesitated, and that was enough to give it away.

That was when Celeste knew what was coming.

Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God

"Yes," said E.Q. "You're telling the truth."

That was when Celeste felt the world falling in on her.

 

*****

El Yucatango fell back off the ropes too fast for Cary to react and get out from under him. In the split-second before they hit the canvas, Cary realized that he was about to be hurt or killed by what had to be at least three hundred pounds of plummeting
luchador.

And it was all Cary's fault for trying to improvise. His unexpected move had caught El Yucatango by surprise.

At least the crowd was enjoying it. Everyone under the big tent cheered and screamed at once, loving that their hero, El Demonio del Diamante, had gotten the drop on the bad guy.

Wouldn't they be surprised if Demonio, who'd just risen from the dead, ended up dead in the ring?

Fortunately, El Yucatango saved the day. With a last-second twist, he lurched his great bulk just enough to one side that Cary missed the worst of it. Cary still came down hard under a heavy load, but at least he wasn't flattened.

Covered by the crowd's wild cheers, El Yucatango shouted in his ear. "
Stick to the script, Beacon!
"

"No more ad libs," said Cary, still rattled from the mishap he'd caused. "
I promise.
"

"Pick it up with the flying quadruple cross," said El Yucatango, just before he rolled off Cary and climbed to his feet.

Recalling the move from the script, Cary did his part to set it up. Slowly, he dragged himself to his hands and knees...then struggled to his feet. He was still stunned from the impact of the backfired ad lib, so the struggling wasn't make-believe.

Meanwhile, El Yucatango ran back and forth across the canvas, bouncing off the ropes on all four sides of the ring. Conveniently, Cary was always looking away when El Yucatango galloped past him.

After El Yucatango bounced off the fourth side, he rode the momentum toward Cary. At the last second, just as Cary turned and spotted him, El Yucatango leaped up, catching Cary across the chest with one giant arm and knocking him backward.

Cary's fall was actually cushioned by El Yucatango's upper leg dropping under his shoulders. If anything, his head felt a little clearer after he landed, as if something had been knocked back into place.

That was a good thing, because the next moves came quickly. He and El Yucatango were closing in on the end of the script.

As the crowd continued to howl, El Yucatango put Cary through one simulated punishment after another. He pretended to crack Cary's skull against his knee and shoulder. He performed a series of drops, heaving himself to the canvas and driving an elbow or forearm or knee into Cary's shoulder or stomach or side.

When Cary staggered to his feet, El Yucatango ran across the ring and rammed him in the belly with his head. While Cary reeled from the impact, El Yucatango spun him around, bounced him off the ropes, and clamped him in a headlock. Then, El Yucatango dropped back and down, seemingly plowing Cary's face into the canvas.

After that, it was time for the big finish.

Springing back to his feet, El Yucatango lifted Cary off the canvas and hoisted him over his head. With a grizzly bear roar, he swept Cary down and snapped him over his knee, as if breaking his back.

Then, he raised him up again and spun around. As the crowd screamed, El Yucatango roared again and hurled Cary to the canvas.

When Cary hit, he curled up and took as much of the impact as he could on his back and shoulders. Then, he sprawled at El Yucatango's feet and lay still.

As wild as the crowd had been throughout the whole match, they really exploded when El Yucatango planted his foot on Cary's chest. The boos and catcalls were no longer dominant, though.

At some point, El Yucatango had won over the audience.

Through slitted eyes, Cary saw Father Lovito climb into the ring. Cigarette dangling from his lips, the priest ran over and hoisted El Yucatango's arm high.

"
El campeón del mundo,
" said Father Lovito. "
Ellll Yuuucataaaangoooo!
"

With that, the crowd noise erupted to new heights. It got so loud, it hurt Cary's ears.

But he didn't mind. He was just glad the hard part was over. He was almost home free.

All he had left to do was go to Hell.

His cue came after Father Lovito had made a speech to the crowd. The speech had been in Spanish, so Cary hadn't understood the words, but the rhythm and tone of voice had been extremely dramatic.

"
El Demonio del Diamante
," said Father. "
Vaya al infierno.
"

Cary knew what that one meant, anyway:
Go to Hell.

"
Vaya ahora, demonio malo
," said Father Lovito. "
Por la energía de Cristo y El Yucatango, vayate.
" Then, he kicked Cary's foot.

That was Cary's cue.

As Father Lovito continued to rattle on, Cary lurched up from the canvas. The crowd gasped.

Trying his best to act like a zombie, Cary fumbled to his feet. Head lolling to one side, arms extended in front of him, he staggered forward. Father Lovito followed, babbling and holding up a golden crucifix for protection.

Suddenly, up ahead, near the edge of the ring, a trap door swung open. As Cary lumbered toward it, smoke billowed out, flanked by two low jets of flame.

As he got closer, the flames grew higher. The smoke got thicker, too, rolling over the canvas and out into the crowd.

A few more steps, and Cary would jump down through the trap door. Defeated and disgraced, El Demonio del Diamante would descend through the fire and smoke into Hell.

At least, that was the plan. What happened instead led to a different kind of hell.

When Cary was within two steps of the trap door, something went wrong with the flames. Instead of rising a little further and holding steady, as planned, they suddenly shot straight upward.

Staying in character as zombie Demonio, Cary stopped in his tracks and waited for the flamethrowers to adjust. He wasn't getting any closer as long as the scalding jets of fire were out of control.

But they didn't adjust. The two tongues of fire continued to pump straight upward, lashing the tent overhead.

Cary knew what was going to happen next, though it wasn't in the script. People in the crowd realized it, too, and started screaming.

But not to cheer on a wrestler.

They were screaming because the tent had caught fire.

 

*****