The Bright Unknown

by Elizabeth Byler Younts

  I stepped inside to find that it was mostly empty, and this relieved me. It was also cleaner than I had anticipated. The dirt floors even appeared swept. Was that common? There were stacks of hay or straw—I didn’t know the difference—up the side wall. I pulled Angel through the doorframe in the midst of another coughing fit, and his hacking filled up the high rooftop space. The only thing louder than Angel was a large animal in the corner. Once I drew closer I recognized it as a horse. It was the only animal in the barn, and it was disturbed by our racket, neighing and stomping. On the other side of the barn was some type of black carriage.

  “Come on,” I said and pulled off Angel’s coat. “I need to warm you up.”

  “So cold,” he said through chattering teeth.

  I pushed him down to sit on one of the bales and scurried around the barn looking for something to keep us warm. I focused hard on Angel’s needs through the creaking of the barn in the wind, the horse’s occasional racket, and a constant skittering from something unknown. I grabbed a large, thick pad that I put in the empty area on the other side of the horse’s space—a pen or something? The horse was starting to quiet, so it was okay to be near it, I supposed. Then I went to the carriage.

  “Blankets,” I yelled, excited. Then I clapped my hand over my mouth. A house sat only a stone’s throw away, and I hoped no one had heard me. It was dark, but we couldn’t risk getting caught.

  I pulled out the blankets and took them back to the pen where the pad was. I used a rake and gathered some loose hay into a pile and put the blankets over it. I helped Angel over in the dark. My eyes had adjusted well enough, but he stumbled the whole way and I wasn’t sure if it was his eyesight or sickness. I stripped him down to his undershirt and long underwear. I took my soaking coat off too but didn’t feel right about taking off more. Though Angel and I had been best friends since we were children and Joann had on more than one occasion stripped us down to give us a quick washing together after an outdoor escapade, this was different. Things had changed between the two of us, and I knew enough to try to maintain some modesties. I used a wet handkerchief in his suit coat on his forehead, but it was hot in minutes.

  The night fell, and we only had one diner muffin left. I broke it in half, but Angel waved off eating and fell into a restless sleep. I ate my share, hoping he would eat a little in the morning. Between Angel’s coughing, his rattled breathing, and the heavy rainfall, I wasn’t sure I could sleep. My eyes roamed around the room until they landed on our shoes. Worn and falling apart. But they were walking us to freedom. I wrapped the last blanket around me and held him as tightly as I could until he stopped shivering. Then I relaxed my own body and followed him into a deep sleep.

  I didn’t wake until I felt that strange awareness that someone was watching me. Angel’s breathing was even; he was still asleep. I was afraid to open my eyes, but the stare was too heavy. I opened my eyes and saw a child watching us. A little boy. Maybe five or six. He was wearing a black wide-brimmed hat and a black suit. He had hair cut straight across his brow, and his brown eyes were big and round.

  “Hi.” I pulled my bag near me. I quietly shook Angel awake and whispered for him to sit up. He didn’t move much, and I jabbed him again. I wished I’d kept his clothes closer. Angel roused. He was still feverish but had cooled some. When Angel noticed the little boy, he tried to get up, but fell into a coughing fit instead.

  The little boy just stared. He spoke a few words, but I didn’t understand him. I carefully stepped away, and the boy watched every move I made as I grabbed the stiff, dry clothes off the wheels.

  The little boy’s face was clean and looked freshly pink and washed. He had round and full cheeks, and his mostly black clothes didn’t fit him perfectly but looked to be clean and crisp. I’d never seen a well-cared-for child, but I knew he was one. The only children I’d seen were ward children—though mostly at a distance. Joann refused to let me go over there, afraid they would keep me. The children at the factory houses looked about as bad off as asylum children. But this boy, I enjoyed looking at him. Looking at his wholesomeness and the appearance of being cared for.

  “Don’t you worry about us,” I said in a sweet voice like Joann used to speak to me. “We’ll be gone in a few minutes and you don’t need to tell anyone we’re here.”

  “Freemie?” A woman’s high voice cut through the quiet in the barn. “Freemie?”

  He took a few steps toward the voice and spoke, then pointed at us. I rushed to help Angel put his clothes on, then grabbed his bag.

  “We have to go,” I said and yanked him toward the barn door.

  There stood a plump and strangely dressed woman. Even I knew she was strangely dressed, in a black dress and white bonnet. Her face was clean and plain looking—it wasn’t made up like I usually saw. I knew there was a tradition in the real world to wear black when someone died. Or was this the way she always dressed?

  “Hello. Are you in need?” She spoke simply and stepped back as if afraid, even though her face didn’t reflect that. I felt bad. We knew what it meant to be afraid, and I hated for anyone to feel that about us.

  “We’re leaving. We were caught in the storm,” I said. Angel was hunched over with one of the blankets balled up in his arms. I held both bags and my damp coat. “Can we keep a blanket?”

  She nodded. “You can take whatever you need.”

  I looked at Angel, then back at the woman. She had a nice face. “We’re awfully hungry. Do you have any food?”

  The woman nodded with an unalarmed expression and walked toward the house. She said a few words to the boy, and he ran inside ahead of her. What was the strange language they spoke?

  I helped Angel tuck the blanket around himself tighter. Where we stood waiting I could see the woman moving around in the house. She moved with a steady grace and not the rush fear brought. She seemed undeterred by our presence.

  After ten or fifteen minutes she came back and handed me a bag—it was a rough weave with threading loosened on top. It was full and heavy.

  “May God be with you,” she said plainly and with such softness in her eyes and face.

  I reached for it and said thank you. She turned to leave and I asked for her name.

  “Lydia,” she said. “And this is my son, Freeman Junior.”

  Freeman. Free man. I liked that and nodded to her.

  Then we were off again. I looked back twice, and the two kindly strangers stood at the end of their driveway and watched us.

  The day was damp but more like the leftover rain than fresh. But Angel continued to cough. I had to find somewhere for him to lie down. We started to enter a town, but I veered us off in another direction. Too many people. Eventually we were on a gravel road that was lined with woods on both sides. There were a few smaller barns, like our previous shelter.

  It was late afternoon, and the gray and dampness were heavy. The road we traveled ran through a dense forest. It would give us good cover and get us out of the drizzle.

  “Over here,” I said and took Angel’s sleeve. We walked deeper into the wooded area, and I was sure I could find a space for us to at least rest.

  I made sure the ground was dry before I helped Angel down, then tucked the blanket around his curled-up body. I took off my coat and put it under his head. He was asleep in minutes. I leaned against a tree trunk and tucked next to Angel to keep myself warm. I ate a little of the bread and cheese Lydia in the black dress had put in the bag, but Angel didn’t want to wake to eat.

  I looked up through the clearing above the treetops. A collection of gray clouds raced over us. Somewhere in the midst of the whistle of a wood thrush and the skittering of a small animal, I fell asleep and woke to the night when the stars outweighed the dark.

  Night sounds choired alongside the rattle in Angel’s chest. His head was hotter than ever. I tried to wake him up to give him some of the water out of a jar Lydia had put in the sack. But he wouldn’t rouse. I rocked him back and forth, but he didn’t even so much
as groan. I tried to be like Joann and take his pulse, but I was shaking too much. I started shoving him hard and yelling for him to wake up. What was I supposed to do? I yelled for Joann. I stood in the forest yelling over and over for help. But who would come? We were alone.

  1941

  Fancies and Fears

  I yelled for Angel. I yelled for Joann. I yelled for my mother. I yelled for anyone to help me. My gaze landed on every part of my surroundings until I finally saw lights. I frantically ran while still yelling for help. Running toward the lights between the gaps of tree trunks.

  I ended up at the road. There was a long line of vehicles. Trucks and some that reminded me of a train car and others looked like a small house on wheels. I couldn’t see how many there were, but it reminded me of a train without rails. Could I trust strangers? They were all I had, and all I could think of was Angel. Losing him would be a wound that would never heal. Life without Angel would be the kind of alone that might make me want to die or, worse, return to the hospital and be forgotten and forget myself. No, I couldn’t do that. I could never let that happen.

  I turned to look back to where I’d run from. Angel was out there, out of sight. Feverish and sweaty on the ground in a dark forest. So I kept following the voices and the light because Angel needed me. I started yelling again and stepped so close to the road I nearly got run over. I heard horns blaring and shouting to stop. They’d heard me—seen me. I stopped my yelling and running. I watched as the vehicles pulled over. In the starlight and beams I saw some faces looking out through the windows. Mostly women. My head told me this was a bad idea, but my legs betrayed me and wouldn’t run away.

  After another minute no one had approached me.

  “My friend needs help,” I yelled. “I need help.” My voice was so ragged it could’ve scared the bark off the trees.

  A door opened in a truck from the back, then I heard fast footsteps against the road coming toward me. I held my breath.

  A few moments later, someone stood in front of me—the tallest, largest person I’d ever seen. Broad shoulders. A thick neck. I took a step back. Then my fear pushed me a few more steps back.

  “What’s going on?” This voice came from the shadows. A man with dark hair and ready eyes. I caught his gaze instantly and his face softened. “Hello. I’m Conrad. Who are you?”

  When I didn’t answer Conrad spoke again. “Are you in need of help?”

  He took several strides toward me and I turned toward him and my hands posed like claws—like an afraid asylum patient. Conrad raised his hands in surrender, but before he could speak I was squeezed from behind. It was the giant, and the hold was tighter than a straightjacket. My lungs constricted and I couldn’t breathe. All I could think of was Angel. He would die without help, I was certain. It would be my fault. Another death. But no amount of struggling freed me.

  “Let go, let go, let go,” Conrad repeated rapidly to the giant. I saw concern in his eyes. “It’s all right. She’s just afraid.”

  The grip around me loosened, and the giant stepped away. People were everywhere now, one of them a masked man, and I regretted my decision to come this way.

  “It’s okay. We aren’t going to hurt you.” Conrad reached out toward me, and just as I realized my balance was failing, he steadied me. A heavy wooziness hung over me, and I began to see things that didn’t seem real. Three identical women. The giant holding a woman who was as small as a doll. A woman who was as white as light. Like Angel. Was I hallucinating? They were all standing around the vehicles, some in blaring headlights, some in the shadows. Who were these people?

  It didn’t matter. I needed to help Angel, and they said they wouldn’t hurt us. I pulled my arm free and pointed toward the trees.

  “Do you need help?” Conrad repeated and our gazes connected, and I was sure he knew everything I was thinking.

  “Is there someone with you? Out there?” He pointed over his shoulder toward the woods.

  I nodded. “My friend. He’s sick. He needs help.”

  He looked past me and nodded, and several rough-looking men and the giant ran off to where I’d come from. I wanted to go with them, but when I tried to follow light-headedness overtook me. A gentle arm came around me and kept me upright.

  “We found him,” I heard voices saying from the woods. Then a few minutes later one of the men ran back with a furrowed expression. He whispered to Conrad.

  “An albino?” Conrad said breathlessly, dropping his arm from me.

  “Yes, but that’s not what’s wrong with him. He’s sick. But please don’t take him to a hospital.”

  Would they think he was feebleminded like his mother had believed? I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let them hurt him.

  “Get Gabrielle,” Conrad said. Then he turned to look at me. “We won’t hurt your friend. How long have you been out here?”

  I was afraid to say too much. “We’ve been walking for a few days.”

  “Just the two of you? Alone?” His voice was soft and kind. He had a shadow of whiskers that matched the dark hair that fell naturally over his forehead and eyes. He swiped it away every so often.

  “Just us.”

  The giant with arms as round as tree trunks came out of the woods carrying Angel. I tried to walk toward him, but Conrad regained a grip on my arm. I was feeling so physically weak all I could do was watch. Hadn’t I left the hospital to avoid this overt control over our lives? But I also needed help.

  Then a woman appeared. But not just any woman. It was the woman of pure white light that I thought was an illusion. She was beautiful and glowed like Angel. She wore a long pale dress that wrapped and tied at her small waist. She was tall, and with elegant steps she moved toward Angel. Even in my fear, the serenity in her movements brought some measure of peace. The giant stood there on the side of the road holding Angel steady for her.

  “Oh, my sweet boy,” she said, touching his face and mothering him like she knew him. She looked around until she found me, her eyes doing what Angel’s always did. When she found me she came close; her gaze pierced through me. “What is his name?”

  “Angel, I call him Angel.” I winced, wishing I’d called him Luke.

  “Angel.” The way she said it sounded like a magic spell, then she returned to Angel.

  “I need to go too.” I pulled my arm roughly away from Conrad, a surge of strength returning. Flashes of my history with Angel burst into my mind—playing, crying, dreaming. He was all I had, and I wouldn’t lose him.

  “We will not hurt him or take him away from you. We have a doctor who will give him attention.” Conrad’s voice was a braiding together of sincerity and mystery. But Angel. I stepped toward Angel when my eyes caught sight of three men walking out of the woods with our things. Each nodded a hello to me as they passed me. One man came and wrapped my blanket around me, and it was heavy and warm and weighted with care and relief. I didn’t know that I was shivering.

  Angel was carried away from me with the bright woman at his side. I decided to trust—for now—the kindness of strangers. Yet there was something odd about the group that made me question why they were so willing to help us. Especially when there was sickness involved. Conrad held the heavy blanket around my shoulders and kept an arm around me.

  “We are friends,” he said and walked me in the same direction as Angel.

  Angel was taken to a truck with a room built on the back. A door was opened and a yellow, inviting glow poured out. Angel was placed inside, and Gabrielle slinked in after him. Then the door was shut.

  “I need to go inside with him.”

  “It’s okay. Your Angel will get some medicine, and you both need to rest. We’ll talk in the morning. You won’t be apart from him for long.”

  “But where are you traveling to?”

  “West. Toward Chicago. But we will be setting up camp in the morning here in Ohio.”

  I thought for a moment and pictured where Chicago was on a map, thankful for being taught geography. We would a
t least be heading in the right direction.

  “Come.” He nudged me forward, but I resisted. I looked him in the face and tightened my jaw, hoping he wouldn’t see my fear.

  “First, who are you?”

  He paused and seemed to consider my question. “Well, you know my name. What’s yours?” He stepped back and smiled, waiting.

  I began forming the sound of a B. But then I stopped.

  “Nell,” I said.

  “Nell. All right.” He smiled and nodded. There was something so honest in the way he looked at me that it made me hope I could trust him. “Come. We must be off.”

  He led me to another truck, similar to the one Angel was in. He opened the door and gestured grandly for me to enter.

  Inside were several women, and it looked as comfortable as I’d ever seen a bedroom look. I turned back to Conrad.

  “You haven’t answered my question.” I gestured to the line of vehicles. “Who are you?”

  “Who are we? We are the Fancies and Fears, my dear.” He bowed and rose with a flourish. “The show that will thrill your dreams and confirm your nightmares.”

  He looked at me as if he was waiting for some response. But I stood there ignorant of what he was talking about. I’d already had enough nightmares in my life. He must have understood something in my expression.

  “We’re a troupe of performers,” he explained further.

  “Performers?” I repeated.

  He squinted at me like he saw something in me that shouted my stupidity. “Where are you from?”

  I would never tell him the truth.

  “Pennsylvania.” Then without warning I lost all my breath in that single word. My chest tightened.

  Conrad put his hand on my blanketed shoulder, and I looked up at him. His mouth was moving, but I could not hear him. His eyebrows and forehead wrinkled up in concern. My hand went to my chest, the blanket fell, and I was heaving for air. Why now? My eyes remained on Conrad. He helped me stumble, step over step, into the truck room. I fumbled my way through the doorway, half resisting, half relenting.