Pilo Traveling Show (Pilo Family Circus #2)

5. ABOVE

Jamie could not help looking sidelong at Goshy every few seconds in fear of another outburst, but the clown seemed far receded behind his newborn boggle at the world they stole through. Dark streets and night traffic seemed somehow far away, though their oversized shoes slapped on it like applauding hands, though headlights like stage lights now and then caught them flush in their shameless blare of pink, red, white, and green. A balloon would now and then festively bubble forth from any of the clown's pockets, including Jamie's, and sail toward the moon. Dean's and Jodi's heads flopped around with the movement but neither woke.

And no one paused to stare, as Jamie would have done were he walking or driving by. One or two people glanced around, perhaps half-hearing something, their eyes confused by a flicker of candy cane pink and white, but never truly seeing them. The shadows swallowed them, seemed to wrap like blankets and coats about the clowns, and for all his reservations (and a growing suspicion that he was hearing—at the very least—exaggerations as Gonko regaled him with tales of the clowns' heroic deeds) Jamie felt drunk again on some alien intoxicating fizz which had burbled inside him since the face paint went on.

"So as I say, helping people out is our passion," Gonko went on as they zigzagged across a street thick with jammed traffic. "Only it might not look so pretty to someone who didn't know how it all works, dig? Same as a doctor who cuts someone open to pull out a bad heart. If you didn't know better, you'd say the doc was killing 'em, right? We got this place below, called the Pilo Circus. When you came to join us after we saved your bacon from a lot of bad juju, that's when an evil shit named George took over and started using the place for bad instead of good. He killed my whole crew, and I had to haul 'em out of the ground myself. You musta escaped. The deal now is, we make our own show up here in trick land, to compete, dig? We do it right and pretty soon, George will be gone."

Rufshod had stuffed a knuckle in his mouth to keep his giggling in check. Doopy's hand raised to ask a question, which Gonko ignored, though Doopy's confusion looked profound indeed. Now and then he whispered in his brother's ear, "You hear that, Goshy? We're the good guys now, you and me is the good guys. Ain't it swell?"

"So why can't I remember any of this?" said Jamie.

Gonko twitched, rubbed his palm over his face with irritation. "We dunno. Looks like George got at you, maybe hit you with the old suck-thought vacuum. You wouldn't be the first."

"Or maybe . . ." Doopy dropped to a whisper. "Maybe it was Mr. Bigbad."

"Who?" said Jamie.

"Gee, Mr. Bigbad. We saw him, back before Gonko dug us up, back where it's cold and bright and where they make you . . . they make you . . ." Doopy whimpered, fidgeted. Goshy emitted a puppy dog whine, and a flood of frightened tears poured out his eyes.

"No blubbering," Gonko yelled. "And no more about Mr. Bigbad. Jamie's gonna think we're nuts. Mr. Bigbad can't hurt you no more, Doops."

"Gee, Gonko, are you sure? ‘Cause see, he can do stuff, weird stuff, and has a beard and sits in this great big chair and tells everyone what to do."

They crossed a footpath bridge over a railway line. A train clattered past down below, heading south. When one headed past the other way, Gonko motioned to follow him and leaped down onto its roof. The other clowns dropped with various degrees of grace or clumsiness, Rufshod and Doopy managing to cushion their human cargo beneath themselves. Jamie stood on the edge of the bridge, hesitating a second or two before he followed the call of circus magic inside, threw himself out into the night air, whooped as he landed on the metal train roof as comfortably as a mattress. He lay on his back, watched the stars and marveled to be experiencing something different, something so freakish and weird that most people who'd ever lived would not think it possible.

The train began to slow as it neared Petrie Station, crossing the bridge over the Pine River. "Off!" Gonko called over his shoulder. Rufshod landed in the river's shallow and near motionless water, waking Jodi in the process. Her screams were drowned out by the train's noise until she was again good-nighted and carried up the riverbank. Goshy, naturally, plummeted head first to the dry ground and landed like a javelin, stuck fast from the shoulders down. Doopy and Gonko yanked his legs to pull him loose, but his distressed screams indicated he was happier like he was, so they left him. Jamie dropped down with catlike ease, again marveling at these new powers.

They were in Wiley Park, a small campsite just off a main road. No campervans were parked there tonight. "I know this place," Jamie said. "Hell, I grew up right around here. We used to fish in this river. And that paper mill across the road, we used to break its windows. Friend of mine tried to torch it one time. What are we doing here?"

Gonko spat in the direction of three tents, set up so the campsite's toilet block obscured them from the road. Large tents, with stripes like hard-boiled candy, and an antique looking caravan. In fact it was a marvel Jamie hadn't seen them until this moment. More circus magic? A few figures bustled around in between the tents, whispering to each other.

For superhero clowns concerned with the welfare of all, they were rather casual in dumping Dean's and Jodi's unconscious bodies in the nearest tent, and booting out the four strange people who'd been sleeping in there. Two were short—in fact they were dwarfs. One earned a kick when he grumbled at being woken. The other two looked Mediterranean, their necks and arms covered in brass and copper jewelry.

One of the dwarfs—in fact the one Gonko kicked—spotted Jamie and snarled, "You!" Fast as a rabbit he was on him, the little stubby kicks not so scary until one hand went behind his back and pulled free a dagger.

Gonko laughed at the initial attack but now jumped in, yanking the blade away and throwing it in the river. "I know you!" the dwarf screamed. "Let me cut him! My friends! You kilt Lucky and Banjo! You kilt em! You broke my record player too, dirty sumfabitch, I remember you!"

"Easy, this is a different clown," said Gonko, wrestling the dwarf to another tent. There came the murmur of conversation and the dwarf's angry weeping as Gonko explained things. The gypsies whispered to each other as they stared at Jamie. "What did I do?" he said.

"It was JJ," said Rufshod. "Don't sweat it. Ignore dwarfs, they get mad easy."

"Who or what is this JJ? Do I have an evil twin or something?"

Rufshod put his hands on Jamie's shoulders. "Look, JJ—I mean, Jamie. That is the craziest thing I ever heard."

•

When they were settled around a small fire, armed with marshmallows, Gonko continued his explanations. "So what we do is, we figure out what tricks have got bad stuff coming down the pipeline, see? Car crash or what have you. Then we get 'em in the show and do some circus magic, and we take away their bad luck. Some of 'em got a disease, but not after they been here with us. Some got evil in their hearts, they like to beat on puppies or swipe someone's oatmeal? Well after a show, they're all cotton candy and niceness sauce. Dig it?"

"Trying to dig it."

Gonko tensed up. The stick broke in his hand. "What's the problem?"

"For good guys, you seem to like laying on the violence, that's all. You may well be telling the truth, don't get me wrong . . ."

"A bit of slapstick, so what? Can't really hurt a carny, can it?"

"Dean isn't a carny. Nor is Jodi."

"They're carnies now. Don't you get it? There was gonna be a big train crash next week; they were both toast. We saved 'em. So now they can repay us by helping the circus out a little while. Then they go back to their normal trick lives."

"But Gonko," said Doopy.

"How long will you keep them here?" said Jamie.

"They're free to leave whenever they like."

"But gonko!" Doopy wailed.

"Shut your shit pie," Gonko snarled. "One more word, Doops, and I write a letter to Mr. Bigbad." Doopy went quiet and bit his knuckles. Gonko said, "So I figure they owe us a couple of weeks. Month, tops. Clown's honor. Who knows, maybe they'll like it here and want to stay, like you did."

Jamie sensed he shouldn't say it, but he did. "Does that apply to me too? Am I free to go right now?"

A tense silence. "Why, sure you are, Jamie," Gonko said slowly. "But it would be a mistake."

"Because?"

"Let's just say it would put you in grave physical danger."

Jamie nodded. "I expected as much."

•

So then Gonko was bullshitting him to some extent—he was maybe seventy-five percent sure of that, though not completely. It was also clear he had a history with them, that they wanted him around for some reason, and that there was a fair chance if he played ball, for now at least, he'd come to no harm. And yet none of these apparently familiar names and faces had jogged hidden memories.

When the "explanations" had ended, he went into Dean and Jodi's tent to check on them, beyond the pulse check he'd done earlier to verify Dean, in fact, still lived. Someone had been into the tent to put a clown outfit on Dean—striped pants of nearly fluorescent green and red, a stupidly frilly shirt, a red rubber nose, and something like a sailor's hat with rainbows vomited over it. Not only was Dean still breathing, it was now hard to tell he'd been severely beaten only hours ago. There was minor swelling in one cheek, a dried crust of blood here and there, but that was all.

Quick as a snake strike Dean sat up, the shock of it setting Jamie back on his butt. "Hi," said Dean in a flat voice. Then, just as quickly, he lay back again, snoring. His leg kicked out to the side once, twice.

Jodi snapped forward at least as quickly as Dean had. Her hand was around his throat, two long fingernails pinching his Adam's apple. She hissed, "What the fuck have you gotten us into?"

He gently pried her hand away. "You aren't going to like this answer . . . but I don't quite know. We'll talk later, okay? I'm not sure it's safe right now."

"You're not sure? They beat him half to death and now he's crazy. What the fuck am I doing here? I've known him one week, and this is the first time I've even spoken to you. I heard about you running around in your clown suit. What kind of freak serial killer are you?"

"Look . . . this is not a normal situation—" Her hand went for his throat again, and he dodged. "What I mean is, this isn't a case of drug dealers or some criminal gang. They're not going to kill us." He thought this was probably true, but either way she'd need to hear it said. "Look, you are going to see some very weird shit pretty soon, okay? You'd better brace yourself. Play along, as much as you can. They say they want us to help them out for a couple of weeks, tops."

"What kind of weird shit do you mean that's weirder than what I already—"

"I mean magic, real actual magic." He saw the contemptuous disbelief in her face—she was a skeptic. That did not bode well for her sanity in the short term. "I'm serious, Jodi, they call it circus magic, it's real." She'd turned away from him, laying down again as if to sleep. He said, "They say they're the good guys, that they saved you and Dean from danger. I don't know if that's true, but there's enough weird stuff going on that it just might be true, in part anyway."

"They beat him half to death to save him from danger? Do you even know what you're saying?"

"That was a misunderstanding. He was standing there with a baseball bat like he was about to jump me. But you're right, they beat him half to death and look at him now. Hardly a mark or bruise on him. His nose was smashed, Jodi. He was probably in a coma. Look at him now." She had stopped listening. He could think of nothing better to say than: "Brace yourself, play along."

A hand yanked him out of the tent. It was Rufshod. "You're sleeping with us," he said. "You're a real clown, you passed your audition, just like I had to. Him? No audition." Rufshod's face bunched up in distaste.

"Well, you know, he didn't get much choice in it."

"Neither did y—I mean, yeah, good point."

"I'm not sleeping tonight, I don't think. Too much to think about. And this face paint's got me revved up."

"Take it off if ya want."

"No way!" Jamie jumped up to exaggerated heights then slowly floated down. "Had dreams where I do this all the time, off rooftops and buildings."

Rufshod shrugged. "Want to go break stuff?"

Jamie laughed. Random vandalism, not an uncommon teenage hobby in these parts. Why not? "Sure. Let's go get that paper mill."

•

Meanwhile in the clown tent, Gonko threw himself across the mattress, muttering curses.

"Wh—whatsa matter, Gonko?" said Doopy.

"This whole fibbing-to-Jamie gag. For starters, where's JJ? Say what you will about that slimy chickenshit, he could accept a little moral creativity when it came to running a circus. But now I gotta create a train wreck in a few days just to prove these two tricks woulda died if we didn't take 'em."

"Hey, boss, but at least you don't gots to pay the new JJ, he don't even know nothing boss, not even about powder."

"I ain't gonna stiff a clown out of his pay. I'll save Jamie's cut, assuming he earns it when we bring some tricks through. George's first show is tomorrow. I'll head down to keep an eye on it."

"What about the new clown, Gonko? Did you hear, we got us a brand new clown and we done beat him up real bad, and Rufshod's blue coz of no audition."

"Glad you reminded me. Let's go see what this new clown's made of."

•

It was just after dawn when Rufshod and Jamie returned to the campsite. Teenage Jamie and friends would have saluted, had they seen what became of that paper mill. Howling fire trucks were just now starting to arrive and pull into the place. A plume of smoke billowed up in a thick pillar. The pair of them had also "decorated" the nearby train station and police station. They broke into a nearby Woolworths to swipe some supplies—chocolate, candy, as well as balloons and streamers.

Rufshod had said the boss would be pleased with this loot, but when they returned Gonko got Jamie in a headlock. "I thought you said this guy was funny," he said.

Dean was awake. Also, Dean was in perfect health; any lingering trace of the beating was gone. His new clown clothes hung loose and clung tight in places they shouldn't. He blinked around calmly at the others, with not the least sign of fear or alarm on his face. Doopy, Goshy, Rufshod, and Gonko closed in a ring around him. "Joke," Gonko demanded.

"Why did the chicken cross the road?" said Dean, peering through casually lidded eyes as though all this was rather beneath him.

"You go on and tell us why," said Gonko.

"I really don't know. That's why I asked."

"Tell us another," Gonko snarled. "Go on."

"You'll like this one," said Dean. "Knock knock."

"Who's there?" said Jamie when no one else would.

"Nokia."

"Nokia who?"

"Nokia mobile phone."

In the thick silence following Gonko shuddered, twitched. "What the fuck is that supposed to be?" he screamed.

"It's a kind of anti-joke joke," said Dean serenely. "Trust me, bro, the crowd will love it."

"Oh, no," said Gonko. "I am not jolly old Saint Theresa, I admit. But there's no way in hell I would inflict you on an audience."

"Just try and stop me, bro," said Dean.

Quickly Rufshod ran to Gonko (whose face was literally red by now) and whispered in his ear. Gonko looked at Jamie, somehow restrained himself, and staggered away, his whole body shivering.

"Gee-whiz," said Doopy.

"Dean?" said Jamie. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," said Dean. He lay flat and did ten pushups, then twenty, then just kept on going.

"We call him Deeby now," Doopy whispered in Jamie's ear. "Deeby the clown. But . . ." he squirmed, "But Jamie, he's not funny!"

"george!" came Gonko's scream from some distance away. Something broke. Something quite large, by the crash it made, maybe a tree. "georrrge!"

While that went on, Jamie poked his head into Jodi's tent to see how she was holding up. She wasn't there. A quick stroll later he found her sitting at a table with a gypsy woman who, like someone coaxing an animal, looked like she was trying to get Jodi to accept a makeover. Lipstick and a small box of makeup lay before them on the table. Jodi was saying ". . . just want to go home. You people are insane."

"This first, yes, honey?" said the gypsy woman sweetly. "Just make you up a little first? Five minute? Then can go."

"Can go right now," Jodi said. "What will you do if I just get up and walk away? There's a cop shop five minutes away and you've already got assault and abduction. What else you want to try for?"

The gypsy waved this away with long-nailed fingers and a rustling laugh. "I no keep you! You free! But Mr. Gonko, he instruct. Just a little color for you. Such pretty girl! Little color, then you have your ‘cop shop.' Yes?"

It did not look to Jamie that what he'd told her had sunk in. She happened to look up at that moment and their eyes met. Play along, he mouthed at her. She scowled like she'd gladly bite him.

A rough hand pulled Jamie away. It was Doopy, frantically asking if he'd seen his brother—Goshy had gone missing. So he helped Doopy on a half-assed clown hunt through the campsite for a while then went back to Jodi. She sat before a hand mirror while the smiling gypsy braided her hair. "Wow," Jodi kept saying in a dreamy voice. It was the voice of someone deeply in love. The hand mirror obscured her face, but Jamie guessed she'd had her "little color." "Oh wow," Jodi said.

"We call you Emerald now, hm?" said the gypsy. "Emerald, yes? Call you something pretty, Mr. Gonko say. Then you get your own booth in show. Is nice? They all buy your kiss, yes?"

"Pretty," Jodi whispered dreamily.

"Hey, shoo clown," the gypsy snapped at Jamie. She swatted the air, made a spitting noise at him. He shoo'd, went and sat by the river. "Circus magic," he muttered to himself. A remarkable change of heart. Jodi would not be in such a rush to leave anymore, he sensed.

Nor was he, for that matter. He did not quite understand much yet, but he had to admit he was having fun here and experiencing something the normal world would never be able to match. One hell of a mess may well have been accumulating right now back in his old life, just like last time. Maybe he needn't go back and face it at all.

•

Goshy returned to the campsite several hours later, much to everyone's relief, since Doopy's entreaties for help finding him were growing truly insufferable. An emotional reunion took place, ignored by all who could get out of earshot as clown tears of all kinds flew out of three eyeballs (two of Doopy's, one of Goshy's): bouncing tears, colored tears resembling skittles, great fire-hose blasts which half knocked over one of the tents, curled paper streamers and more, until Doopy himself seemed to forget what the fuss was about.

In Goshy's hand was a red clay flowerpot filled with black soil. He set it down outside the tent the clowns slept in, and sickened everyone with his eerily triumphant smile. None bothered to ask questions about it, but over the coming hours the whole melodrama replayed itself exactly: Goshy would vanish, Doopy would panic, Goshy would return with another clay flowerpot, setting it carefully next to the others, and spent much of his time guarding this private treasure.

During the day, the carny folk showed much more concern about being seen by passing cars and those which occasionally pulled into the campsite to set their children loose on the swing set and slide, a long stone's throw from the circus encampment. Circus magic hid them far better in the night. Jamie sometimes watched people stop to stare in their direction, seemingly right at them, but not quite seeming to see. The children in particular seemed to linger their gazes longer in this direction before returning to their games, playing not quite as loud or cheerfully as before. Did they see a group of regular RV caravans? A traveling family taking a break from the road? Just a hint of color perhaps, leaving the afterimage on their closed eyes in light-drawn outlines of what was actually there? They would see it all, Jamie knew, if any of the clowns went to them and called out, in the process inviting them within the illusion. They did not do so, of course, not even to sell a hot dog or some cotton candy, nor—as Gonko might have claimed—to save them from some miserable awaiting fate.

Jodi—whom everyone now called Emerald, who answered only to Emerald (if even then)—spent a lot of time behind her mirror, being braided and pampered by the two gypsy women in preparation for tomorrow, when this small traveling show would put on their first performance. The shift in her attitude, and in Dean's for that matter, disquieted Jamie. Apparently at Gonko's own orders Jodi/Emerald wore a veil now, and would show her face to no one.

Gonko and Rufshod had vanished earlier in the day to "check on things" below, leaving Doopy in charge, a duty he took seriously for the twenty minutes he remembered it. At last the long day took its toll on Jamie and weariness overcame the face paint's buzz. He watched Dean/Deeby trying to teach Goshy how to do a push-up, then slept in the clowns' tent for the rest of the day to troubled and confused dreams.

***