Pilo Traveling Show (Pilo Family Circus #2)

3. ABOVE

The front door burst in and footsteps scuffed on the carpet. Doctors, nurses, police. Dean frowned, probably wondering for a fleeting moment why the hospital people didn't just knock, wondering why they would spook a mentally ill and violent patient with such an entrance. For he had indeed told them on the phone that the violent clown they were after was Jamie.

Meanwhile Jamie was still reeling with an unbelievable sense of betrayal, so shocked that the appearance of the clowns hardly surprised him. The thinnest clown was tethered to the fattest by what looked like a dog chain around both their necks. "How ya been, JJ?" said the clown with the wide pants, a tinkling-bell hat and a mean face.

Dean looked from them to Jamie with his jaw hung loose. Dean's look of shock was so sweet and intoxicating for Jamie, and so intense was his anger at that moment, that he felt not quite in control of himself. One more second to pause and assess the situation and he'd have done something entirely different. Instead he pointed at his roommate and said to the clowns, "Get him."

"Sure, we'll start there," said Gonko with a shrug.

The clowns rushed Dean. He swung the baseball bat, nailed the clown leashed to it with a flush strike. The tether snapped. Baseball stadium home run music briefly filled the room as Rufshod sailed across into the kitchen bench. After he'd swung, Dean was off balance and easy prey. The bat was plucked out of his hand. The other clowns laid on a fairly conventional beating aside from Goshy, who invented a kind of full-body head-butt without even bending at the waist, up and down like a ninepin in fast motion. Jamie felt a weird sense of inertia. He looked around the room, unsure if he was really seeing this or not. Next thing, his roommate's face was a sheen of blood. "Stop it," he said. "Don't kill him. Stop!"

"Make up your fucking mind!" Gonko screamed. In a moment of eerie quiet as Jamie and the clowns stared at each other, Dean's bedroom door's lock clicked. Jodi—apparently she'd heard enough to know something serious and uncool was going on in the living room. The clowns left Dean in a battered heap and turned to Jamie. Suddenly there were axes, crowbars and lead pipes in their hands.

"Why are you here?" Jamie said, backing away.

"What's with you, JJ?" said Gonko, actually confused. "You don't remember us?"

"I've never seen you before in my life." It was a lie of sorts; he did not know their names, but he knew he had seen them all before, and that they knew him.

Rufshod whispered in Gonko's ear, got a nod. A white tub of face paint appeared and they wrestled Jamie down, slopped it on, and held up a mirror so he could see his reflection. The weapons came again to hand and were raised over him. "Now what say you, JJ?" Gonko said. "Do I hear the beginnings of a ‘Sorry, Gonko' for what you did in that trailer?"

"For the love of God," Jamie yelled, thrashing under their hands. "Would you tell me what the hell is going on? Who are you people?"

"He really doesn't remember, boss," said Rufshod.

"By George, that's weird," said Doopy, looking sidelong at Gonko.

Gonko pondered things for a moment, said "‘Scuse us," and pulled the other clowns into a huddle. They whispered back and forth. Doopy cried out, "But that's telling fibs, boss! You shouldn't oughta—" till Gonko thwacked him, and more whispering ensued.

In that time Jamie lay on the tiles, gingerly touching his face and examining the white smear on his finger. There was something peculiar about the face paint they'd put on him. It had to be a drug of some kind, for rushing through him was a similar but far more intense sensation than the feeling the clown clothes had given him last night. The shoulder he'd tweaked doing push-ups on awakening suddenly didn't hurt. A giddiness came over him and he felt like cavorting around the room. He had to actually remind himself he was in some danger here. It helped when Dean moaned, rolled to his side and burst a blood bubble from his smashed nose. But even then Jamie marveled to note he was suddenly not all that scared. He said to the clowns, "Look, you obviously know me. And we've had some kind of disagreement by the look of things, what with all the weapons and violence. Maybe we could just talk things out peacefully then all go have a jam donut together, how about that?"

"Just a sec, we're getting our stories straight here," Rufshod snapped at him.

Gonko said, "All right, go. JJ—Jamie, whatever. This is gonna maybe be hard to believe, but we are superhero clowns who help people in need. We come from a superhero circus, and you are one of our special agents. Now we need your help because our circus has been overtaken by our archenemy, a total shitbag named George. Do you believe? Are you with us?"

Jamie let this ridiculous explanation sit in the air. Is it even remotely possible this is true? he thought. He thought back to the mall clown—yes, that solid flabby looking thing staring at him now with weird eyes—and the things it had done, how its belly had blown out, its shrieking noise. He knew at the time and knew now those were not special effects. More like magic. Actual magic.

"I think I'll need some convincing," he said at last. "But that would certainly explain a few things."

"You'll get all the proof you need and then some, sweet cheeks."

"You want to start by making sure my roommate lives through the night? You superhero clowns kind of beat the living shit out of him."

"Eh?" The clowns took a moment to remember Dean.

Rufshod crouched down, peeled an eyelid back with his thumb. "Look, he's probably gonna be dead in fifty, sixty years anyway right? So what's the big deal if it happens now?"

Gonko kicked Rufshod across the room. "Bad taste joke there, Ruf," he said. His voice caught with emotion. "Can't you see we're talking about a trick's life here? We need him to thrive and prosper and make baby tricks, and be all happy and to know joy and stuff."

Doopy applauded gustily. A tear was in his eye.

"Of course we'll save your trick buddy," said Gonko. "We beat him up only because you told us to, special agent Jamie. It seemed he musta felt you up or done some other perverse evil."

"It looked like you were going to beat me up too for a minute there. All those axes and lead pipes."

"Now see, that's an example of thinking too much. Ruf, help me here." The two of them carried Dean to Jamie's bedroom.

•

Gonko twitched, lashed out a fist at Jamie's stereo but held back his punch with visible strain. Veins throbbed in his forehead. He raised a boot to smash the bed but kicked an imaginary cat instead with a whoosh of air. "What gives?" he whispered. "Where's JJ? Why the face paint ain't worked?"

"It ain't JJ the clown, boss," said Rufshod. "But it's for sure the same chump trick we auditioned."

"He ain't lying neither. Don't remember us. Something weird musta happened that night when Kurt lost his shit."

"Or maybe this face paint's no good?"

Gonko snatched the tub, sniffed it. "Seems like the real deal. One way to find out."

They both looked at the unconscious figure at their feet. Rufshod shifted uneasily. "But boss, we didn't audition him! What if he ain't got any clown inside him?"

Gonko called through the doorway, "Say, Jamie, would you call this trick pal of yours a funny guy? He ever makes good with the giggles or what?"

"Dean? No offense, but what the hell does that have to do with anything? He needs an ambulance, and I need a really good explanation for them."

"We're gonna perform some circus medicine, works real tidy. Called a humorectomy. What say, he makes you laugh much or what?"

"Sometimes, I guess."

Gonko shrugged. "There," he said. "Emergency audition passed." He crouched down. "If he don't work out as a clown, we'll need grunt workers in the new show anyway."

As Gonko smeared white greasy face paint across Dean's face, the bleeding slowed, then ceased. The bruises seemed to deflate just a touch. Dean groaned.

"All right, so now this chump lives, and Jamie knows we're good guys. Ruf, there's a blubbering girly trick in the room next

door. If she's pretty, it's night-night time and the whole abducted-by-clowns gag."

Rufshod darted out. There was the thud of a door kicked open followed by a brief scream.

•

Meanwhile in the living room Jamie was confirming for his own amazed eyes that magic was real. Something in that face paint made him feel nearly invincible. When he jumped, he floated up to the roof and gently landed back down, just like being in water. "Wow," he said.

Doopy and Goshy's eyes silently followed his motion up, down, up, down.

"Superheroes," Jamie said, tasting the words. "Just like a comic book. So what do we do? Stop robberies? Help old ladies cross the street? Battle archvillains with lame, shitty names?" Doopy and Goshy just watched him. "Guys?" said Jamie.

A hissing angry sound spurted out of Goshy. His lips peeled back from flat white teeth. His eyes doubled in size with an audible pop. One ear slipped loose, connected only by the thin thread of snotty gristle on which it swayed. He waddled at Jamie stiff-legged. Jamie could only stare as the fat clown stomach-butted him backward into the kitchen bench and breathed reeking swampy air over him. "Ungh, hnng, hnng, unghh!" came an urgent high-pitched whine. Jamie cringed down into a ball, more scared now than when they'd menaced him with axes and crowbars. He could not fathom what had brought on this attack. "Call him off, call him off!"

Doopy finally stirred to action. "Oh hey, gee." He took his brother's shoulder in hand. "Hey now, Goshy, don't be mean, just like I told ya. C'mon now, this ain't JJ, this is Jamie. It's different, Goshy, it's real different."

Being pulled away made Goshy more determined—he pushed in closer, his grunts turned to sharp chopping screams, shrill needle jabs at the ear. Yet it seemed Goshy was the frightened one, even more than Jamie crouched in his fetal ball, shivering. The flower in Goshy's top pocket squirted water at him.

Gonko rushed back out, grabbed the length of tether still around Goshy's throat and wrenched him back. He hauled Jamie to his feet. "Don't worry. That means he digs you. He got a case of the brain custards on our last mission. It ain't his fault. Superheroing is tough."

Goshy lay on his back, hyperventilating while Jamie calmed himself. Everything spun and swam in his head. The outburst was something he could have done without to be sure, but it almost seemed the poor retarded clown had been trying to tell him something. Then he remembered what Dean had done. "The cops—look, there's hospital people and maybe police on their way here. I don't know when, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. My roommate called them. They think I'm crazy and they're going to interview me."

"Then we gotta bail," Gonko said, "or else it could get real messy here. Doops, grab the new chump real gentle. And don't you worry, JJ, he's on the mend."

Doopy bustled off to fetch Dean, who he carried in a show of strength belying his stature. Rufshod emerged with Jodi slung over his shoulder, her face obscured by a curtain of auburn hair.

"What are you doing with her?" Jamie said, alarmed.

"No time, chumbo," said Gonko. "They're both in great danger."

"Say, that part's true, Gonko. Because—"

Gonko shut Doopy up with a look. "We gotta take your trick buddies to our secret superhero hideout. We'll explain later." Gonko grasped Jamie by the shoulders. "Trust me. You ain't got a choice in this. Grab that clown outfit in your bedroom, and put it on. A better life is ahead. Chuckles and hot dogs for all. Fight the good fight; ride the cackle train. Whatcha say, Jamie?"

With an apprehensive look at Goshy—who now rolled from side to side on the carpet, silently weeping—the words ain't got a choice echoed in his mind. They were taking Dean and Jodi anyway, and he knew he couldn't stop them. If he stayed, he'd be explaining impossible things and disappearances to authorities, which would not end well. The carpet was stained with Dean's blood.

Play along, something deep within him cautioned. Play along, whatever else happens you'll get the answers as to what really happened to you. And you better at least pretend to believe what they say, until such time as you can actually truly believe it . . .

So he fetched his clown outfit, and put it on quickly. Mingling with his doubts came a new burst of giddy humor, fun but slightly sickening, like a carnival ride. "Let's go then," he said.

***