New Hamburg

Out of order. Of course the ATM would be out of order. Steve sighed and peered in through the bank's huge windows at the long line inside. A light, clean breeze danced around him and lifted the "out of order" sign, giving him a peek at the outdated keypad and sunbaked screen beneath. The machine had to be at least thirty years old.

He glanced over his shoulder at the car. The car. He growled impatiently. He needed gas. The only gas station in town was cash-only. He wouldn't make it another mile up the mountain without filling up.

Steve took a deep breath and entered the bank. He found the back of the line by a scrappy young mother with twin boys. Their sandy blond hair was a swirling blur as they raced around their mother, laughing and grabbing at everything in sight. Steve stood farther back than he needed to. The young woman looked back at him with a pained apology in her deep-set, bloodshot eyes.

The gentle ruffling hum of a money counter flapped over the quiet din of polite small talk and transactional exchanges. Steve noticed the man in front of the young mother had turned around and was eyeing him. He was old but spry, gripping a worn cowboy hat with one hand, the other perched with a thumb through a belt loop in his dirty jeans.

"Welcome to New Hamburg," the man offered with a smile. "Easy to spot a stranger 'round these parts."

Steve shrugged. "Thanks. Thought I'd just stop for gas, but I guess it's cash only."

The man laughed. "Yeah, and that darn ATM's been out of service for years."

Steve chuckled and took a moment to breathe. "I never even heard of New Hamburg."

"Ha! You and everyone else!" The man's eyes twinkled with delight. "Nobody knows 'bout New Hamburg, even folks who drive right through."

An eerie hush fell over the patrons, leaving only the rustle of the money counter rattling away. The twins stood completely still, holding their mother's legs and staring back at the entrance. Steve turned and watched a glamorous woman in her early thirties glide around the snaking line of customers, her long blond hair trailing behind her like a flowing cape. As she walked by, Steve caught a glimpse of her stone cold, empty expression behind huge black sunglasses. A round woman at the teller counter took a bounding step back, almost bowing to the blonde who completely ignored everyone but the trembling teller.

"I need to make a withdrawal," the blonde said flatly. She held out a card.

Without glancing at her outstretched card the teller quickly punched a series of memorized numbers into the computer with one hand while fumbling with the key to his money drawer with the other. Soon he was counting out bundles of cash to her in a variety of denominations. From what he could see, Steve estimated she would be walking away with several thousand dollars in 10s, 20s, and 100s.

The woman piled the cash under her arm, cradled against a silk blouse that draped daintily over her athletic figure. Without another word she turned and walked out without making any effort to hide the pile of money she carried. Just as she reached the door, the young mother ahead of Steve let out a quick snort in the same way a normal person might sneeze. Her eyes went wide and she clasped a hand to her face. The blonde with the cash froze, her shoulder against the door ready to push her way outside. An icy silence gripped the room. Nobody breathed. The young mother shivered in place, every muscle in her petite body tight enough for Steve to feel with his eyes. Without even a glance over her shoulder, the blonde eased back into the door and pushed her way out of the bank.

Once she had left, the bank slowly gurgled back to life and the shaken young mother began to cry.

Steve stared at the mother and glanced at the older man, but neither would make eye contact. He looked around and saw that everyone was looking down at their feet and shifting their weight around. Conversations started back up, but something had changed.

He looked at the old cowboy, fighting the urge to comfort the young mother, whose rosy cheeks were streaked with tears. "Who was that?" he asked.

The man glanced up at Steve and quickly dropped his gaze back to his muddy boots. He shuffled uneasily and took a deep breath. "That was Olga Hamm," he said. "She and the rest of the Hamm family own this town."

Steve studied the old man's fallen countenance. "So everyone's afraid of them? You all just let them do what they want?"

The man's eyes shot sharply at Steve, then back down at the floor. He sighed, then lifted his chin and looked right at Steve. "They're not bad people," he said softly. "If I was you I would get gas and get back on the road."

Before Steve could think of what to say next, the man had turned away with finality.

***

Steve walked up the steps of the massive town community center. For such a tiny settlement, their community center was twice as big as any he'd ever seen before. The building sported an ancient Greek aesthetic with imposing granite columns rising thirty feet off the ground and framing huge oak doors with disproportionately tiny brass handles that turned out to be nearly five feet tall once he was close enough to grab one. He had been to sports stadiums that were smaller, and he could feel his neck cramping as he let his gaze wander around the vast architectural lines and carved stone faces. Massive engraved letters above the doors read, "Hamm Community Center."

With a slack jaw Steve grabbed one of the beefy vertical door handles and pulled, but it wouldn't budge. He pulled harder and felt the door give a little, but a dull clank signaled that it was locked. He tried another with identical results. Pacing along the columns and doors he looked for any signs or plaques that might indicate business hours or upcoming events, but there was nothing.

He pulled out his phone again. His search for "New Hamburg visitor information" had led him to the community center, but there were no listed hours of operation, there was no phone number, and there was no associated website. He craned his neck to admire the impressive scale of the structure, and with a sigh he descended the steps back down toward Hamm Street.

"Good afternoon," a kind, scratchy voice called out.

Steve looked around and saw an old woman walking a tiny, proud dog. She wore a loose gown that could have easily been mistaken for a nightgown, and her smile was carved into a knotted and grooved sack of hanging flesh that drooped from her skull and swayed as she ambled behind her dog.

"New in town?" she asked, shuffling to a stop as Steve closed the distance on the sidewalk.

"I thought I was just passing through," he said, grinning under a worried brow. "But I decided I'd like to learn more about your beautiful town."

The old woman let out a hearty, nervous laugh, holding a hand to her chest and making Steve wonder if she was having a heart attack. "No need for flattery," she chuckled. "There's nothing beautiful about New Hamburg." She tugged on the leash, yanking her dog away from Steve's feet. When he looked back up at her face it had sobered considerably. "There's nothing worth your time here," she said in a low, somber tone.

Steve gawked at her as the corners of her mouth pulled back up into a smile and she resumed ambling forward. For a brief moment, he considered dropping his curiosity about the place. His tank was full and he could leave if he wanted, but something about the town was putting a scent up his nostrils that he couldn't ignore. He felt an overwhelming impulse to sniff out the source and discover what secrets could produce such a stench.

"You know," he called after the woman. "I'd love to go, but I really think I should have someone take a look at my car. Is there a mechanic in town?"

The old woman turned her head and peered at him over her shoulder. "No," she said. She paused, letting her eyes scan him up and down. "But, my husband is a retired auto mechanic," she added warily. With a sigh, she said, "my house is just down the road. It's the only pink house on Hamm Street."

He smiled. "Thanks. I'll see you there."

***

Even the smell of Nancy's cooking couldn't overpower the ever-present old-people smell in the house. Steve blew on a steaming spoonful of stew and smiled. "Thank you so much for letting me stay the night with you," he said.

"Well," the old woman's husband sighed, "New Hamburg hasn't got any inns or motels, and it's too late for you to get to anywhere civilized tonight." He took a bite and with a full mouth added, "didn't find anything wrong with your car though."

Steve furrowed his brow. "Did you hear that awful noise the engine was making though?"

Nancy came in and sat down, her little dog prancing in behind her. She flattened her apron and the dog leaped up into her lap, licking its chops as it sniffed the stew.

Her husband shook his head. "We'll have to look at it together in the morning," he said. "Sounded fine to me."

"Well, thanks again for your hospitality."

The old man eyed his wife sternly and she raised her eyebrows, shaking her head gently.

Nancy cleared her throat. "It's the least we can do," she said, smiling politely.

"Hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch," the man said.

"Not at all," Steve smiled. He added, "you know, I am absolutely fascinated by your town."

The man's jaw muscles bulged. "It's a quiet town, for the most part," he said, filling his mouth with stew.

"What can you tell me about the Hamm family?" Steve asked.

The old man grunted and continued chewing.

Silverware clattered noisily against a bowl and Nancy gasped. "Oh my," she said, grabbing a cloth napkin and making herself busy with it.

"I was at the bank when Olga went in. Cut straight to the front of the line and walked out with a big wad of cash."

The man swallowed hard. "We just do things a bit different here," he said. "The Hamm family built this town and they keep it running. If it weren't for them, there'd be no town at all. So we leave them to their business and that's that." He shoveled another spoon into his mouth, letting half its contents splash back into the bowl.

"What about that massive community center?" Steve asked. "What kinds of events do you hold there?"

The old man glared at Steve.

The little dog jumped down to the floor as Nancy abruptly got to her feet. "I'll lay out some blankets for you," she said, hurrying out of the dining room.

***

Steve awoke to the little dog's frantic yapping. There was a crash in the dark and he heard the old man crying. He thought it was Nancy at first, but then he heard her speaking over the man's sniffles. "I'm sorry Joseph," she said. There was a scuffle and something slammed hard, then the front door closed and all was quiet.

Steve felt around for his phone and turned on the flashlight. He found a switch on the wall and turned on the lights. The old man was sitting in a rocking chair holding his face and sobbing.

"What happened?" Steve asked, sitting back down on the couch and facing Nancy's husband.

"They took her," he whispered.

"Nancy? Who took her?"

He looked up at Steve, his face red and dripping with tears. "The Hamm family," he groaned.

Steve felt his chest tighten and without thinking he leapt to his feet and raced for the door.

"Wait!" the old man cried. "Don't!"

Steve ran barefoot out onto the porch and looked around. Just down the road, in the direction of the massive civic center, he saw a group of half a dozen or more people walking. He took off down the concrete sidewalk, the sun's warmth still pricking at his toes as he ran. The air was cool and still, and the group moved without a sound through the dark, starry night.

He caught up to them easily and froze when they turned around. Nancy was with them, hogtied and suspended between two brutes with bright blond hair. Olga was among them, looking just as grim and statuesque as before. They all had a dark, serious demeanor, and Steve had to fight the urge to run. A chill ran down his spine as Nancy let out a muffled cry and turned her head to face him. but instead of her old, wrinkled face he saw a demented mask. It looked like an animal. He peered at it in the dark, trying to make out its features.

Olga spoke up. "Looks like we have a volunteer," she sneered.

A tall, lanky man stepped forward, grinning in the dim starlight. He grabbed Steve by the arm and swiftly twisted him into submission. Before Steve could make sense of what was happening, his hands and feet were bound, a gag was strapped to his head, and a mask was put over his face.

***

The tight ropes around his wrists and ankles burned. He was in a dark room and his ribs still ached from when they'd dropped him onto the hard floor. He could tell there were other bodies on the ground with him, but nobody dared speak. With a loud clank the room was flooded with light, and through the holes in his mask he could see the others. Nancy was there, and now he could see her mask more clearly. It was a pig mask, like something from a silly children's costume. It had wide, bright eyes and a brilliant pink snout with big, floppy ears. The mask was stiff and smelled like cheap plastic, with a hint of something sweet that tickled the back of his nose. It brought back memories of the mass-produced Halloween costumes he'd worn in the mid-eighties as a kid.

A loudspeaker crackled and popped. It shrieked, shattering the silence. Then a woman's voice, probably Olga's, began to speak. "Welcome to the community center," she said. "Since some of you are new, I will explain the rules to you." Now he noticed that she spoke with a thick German accent.

Steve struggled against the ropes, wincing and writhing in pain. Someone in the room snorted and grunted like a pig, and Steve looked around frantically, trying to determine if there was a real pig in the room with them.

The woman continued. "Tonight you are my little piggies. You will snort and squeal and run around on all fours. We are the farmers. We will chase after you and round you up in the pig pen. If you manage to evade us for a whole thirty minutes, then you win this round. When you win, you become a farmer and hand your pig mask to one of us. Your goal is to turn all of us into pigs and then round us all up in the pig pen."

Steve froze, his mind racing. He waited a moment, listening for more, but the speaker clicked off. A door opened and someone entered.

"Alright little piggies," a man said, also with a noticeable German edge to his speaking. "I'm going to set you free, and we will start the game soon."

Steve heard someone snort and turned to see a woman crawling around next to him, her wrists banded in rope marks. She looked suspiciously like the young mother from the bank.

He looked up in time to see a man leaning over to grab his ropes.

"Wait," Steve began.

One of the others squealed excitedly.

"You are a pig!" the man cried. "You can't talk. Only grunts and squeals!"

Steve stared at him and the man stared back, unmoving.

"Come on," he said. "Let's hear it."

Steve felt the air growing thin in his lungs.

"You'll stay tied up if you're not going to play along," he said.

Steve clenched his jaw and snorted.

To his surprise, the man smiled like a child. "Better," he said. With a hard pull, the rope was loosed and Steve stretched out.

"Remember, you are a pig," the man said sternly, then he moved on to untie Nancy.

Within minutes the man had left and one whole wall of the room had opened up like massive barn doors revealing a sprawling maze of fake trees, rock walls, and little huts. The tall ceiling was painted blue and white and massive lights bathed the indoor arena in light that almost made it feel like daytime. The speaker popped and crackled again. "Alright piggies, you have ten minutes to hide, and then we're coming after you!" The voice began to laugh. To Steve's surprise it wasn't an evil laugh. It sounded more like the delighted giggle of a child on Christmas morning.

He scooted close to Nancy and whispered. "Have you done this before?"

Nancy snorted loudly, then whispered back. "Yes, but don't let them hear you talking. You are a pig."

He tried to lower his voice even more. "But..."

"Just play along," she hissed. "It's how they have their fun."

All at once, the group burst out into the arena on hands and knees, squealing and snorting and grunting as they scampered out into the labyrinthine civic center while the Hamm family giggled and clapped, excited for the hunt.