The Bright Unknown

by Elizabeth Byler Younts

  I gasped. It was the masked man from the night before.

  He was just average height. His red jacket was longer in the back than the front, and it made his belly protrude. What made him remarkable was that his face was half covered with a black mask. There was an almond-shaped hole where his left eye could see out. It traced around his nose and across his cheek, near his mouth, with straps that tightened like a belt around the back of his head. Everything else about him was of no significance.

  “Lazarus Hale, at your service.” He put his hand out to me. Conrad let go of me, and I slowly reached out and took the man’s meaty hand. “Don’t be afraid of me. Or of this.” He pointed to his mask. “It’s just a piece of leather to cover up some ugly scars from the war. Mustard gas and— Well, you understand.”

  No, I didn’t. I didn’t understand at all. I didn’t know what mustard gas was, even though I knew what leather was and it always made me think of restraints. But that leather had caused wounds, not hidden them.

  “Your name is—” He looked at Conrad.

  “Nell,” Conrad reminded him.

  “Ah, yes, Nell,” Lazarus Hale said. “Such an unusual name. Where does it come from?”

  “My grandmother,” I answered too quickly.

  He nodded and kept his eyes trained on me. “And you came with the albino. Angel.” He widened his arms out like he had wings. He cast his face to the ceiling as if catching some glow from heaven that wasn’t there. My skin tingled in a funny way. I didn’t like this man.

  After a moment he lowered his arms and his eyes connected with mine—despite the mask. “It’s perfect—really, quite perfect.”

  “Perfect?” I asked.

  “The albino boy with that name.” Lazarus chuckled a little. “That’s perfect. That’s all I mean. Where did you find him? How are you—together?” Lazarus sat and leaned back in his chair. “Are you married?”

  I would never tell him the whole truth, but I did say, “We grew up together. We’re not married.”

  “And why are you two alone on the road?” This man was asking too many questions. What was he after?

  He leaned forward and laced his fingers together, and his thumbs twirled around themselves. I thought for a long moment about how I should answer this. But when I didn’t he spoke again. “Did Conrad here tell you who we are?”

  I cleared my throat, hoping to make my voice strong and full. “Fancies and Fears, right?”

  “You know what else we are?” His uncovered eyebrow rose.

  I shook my head.

  “We’re a family. And I’m the father.” He pushed the chair back and stood. “And I don’t trust outsiders.”

  His words hung out around us and became like the tent poles, holding up the heavy curtains.

  “He wants to make sure you’re not running from the law or something,” Conrad leaned in and clarified.

  I shook my head. We weren’t running from the law. We were running from the men in the white coats, though.

  “No. We’re traveling to see my aunt,” I said without a stutter, taking on the strength and boldness I’d witnessed in Grace. I made eye contact with both men. “She lives in Michigan. A town called Brighton.” I paused again. They didn’t say anything. “We don’t have any money so we’re walking. We got a ride with a truck driver a few days ago.”

  “I see.” Lazarus nodded with several bobs of his head. “Well then, you can stay—for now. But everyone pulls their weight around here.”

  I hadn’t asked to stay, but I kept my face stoic and sure. Angel needed help, but the moment he was well enough, we would leave. I had never asked to stay at Riverside either, and I was there for eighteen years. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

  “Can you sing?”

  I shook my head.

  “Acrobat?”

  “No.”

  “Can you talk to the dead?”

  “What?” I said louder. I didn’t know anyone could and I was sure my face displayed my ignorance.

  He sighed. He looked at Conrad, then at me. He came from around the desk toward me, lifted my chin, extended my arm out straight, and looked my body up and down.

  “Conrad will figure out what you’re good for. Alima will help.” He walked toward the curtain opening.

  Then with a wink he walked out.

  “What does he mean? What will Alima help with?” I asked, having too many words in my mouth at once. “We aren’t staying. We’re going to my aunt’s as soon as Angel is strong enough.” I hesitated for a moment. “We don’t belong here.”

  Conrad turned and looked me right in the eyes.

  “Where do you belong, Nell?” And the way he said my name gave me gooseflesh. What had Angel told these strangers?

  1941

  The Sirens’ Call

  I wasn’t taken to Angel; I was told that he was still weak and needed to rest. But I had been fed, and since I’d slept through breakfast I was ravenous. But serving me a meal didn’t eradicate my distrustful suspicions.

  Conrad left me with the cook since he had things to do for tonight. Before he left, he reminded me that everyone had to do their part—including me. I was certain I was being kept away from Angel intentionally and that it had something to do with their show. But I also was sure he was safe, so I was going to bide my time and maybe slip away during the night.

  Until then, I peeled and cut potatoes—just like I’d helped Joyful. After hours of it, my hands ached. And the sun was setting. A few electric lights on long wooden poles were turned on and the half a dozen colorful tents illuminated.

  “Hmm, maybe I did find what you’re good at.” Conrad jogged up and pointed at the potatoes and flashed a smile at me.

  “It’s just peeling,” I said. “I’d like to see Angel now.”

  “Soon. I have something for you and then you can see your Angel.” He put a hand out to me—this was becoming a habit. I was glad to put down the peeling knife and take his hand.

  He led me past the truck house where I’d seen Angel earlier. I tried to look through the window as we walked by, but it appeared empty. He took me to a tent on the fringes of their circled area. He bowed in a grand gesture, directing me inside.

  Alima was there, with a smile on her face and a makeshift bath and shower next to her. She looked different from the previous night. Her face was made up, and her lips and cheeks were bright. She was draped with beautiful scarves and jewelry.

  “Come inside, Nell.” She said my name the same way Conrad had.

  I looked back at Conrad, who encouraged me with a smile to go ahead.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Since you are not planning to stay, we want you to look your best tonight and show you a good time.”

  I inhaled and looked back at the shower and bath. How nice it would feel. One night here. Just one.

  “A shower would be nice,” I admitted. “And then I can see Angel?”

  With a nod Conrad left me with Alima.

  Over the next hour several little girls came in with pitchers of hot steaming bathwater. When I was finished, Alima dressed me in the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen—pale pink, nearly the color of my skin. She styled my disarrayed hair that was just past my chin and put makeup on my face for the first time in my life. It felt strange sliding across my skin and lips.

  “Krasavitsa,” Alima said. “Such a beauty.”

  “I’m not,” I said, feeling shy at her compliment. I knew what I’d seen in the mirror my entire life was nothing but a girl with ashen skin and stringy, dirty-blond hair. Joann was beautiful, with porcelain skin and bright lips and shiny blond hair. I had always been plain.

  “Oh, you know this, huh?” Alima’s eyebrows lifted high. “Let’s go to mirror.”

  She walked me out of the tent bathroom and my dress whisked around my ankles in the breeze.

  “Shoes and mirror—come,” Alima said and flicked her hand for me to follow.

  She took me into another tent, and inside wa
s a woman in a pink dress. It was like the one I was wearing, only she was elegant and her face sparkled.

  “You like?” Alima pointed.

  “What?”

  “That’s you, kotik.”

  That wasn’t another woman; it was me. I walked toward the mirror, within inches of the glass. I’d never seen myself like this before. The dress was sheer across my shoulders and heart-shaped over my chest, and there was a wide, shiny belt at the waist. The sheer skirt went down to my ankles, and the underskirt slipped softly against my bare legs. I was mesmerized by my reflection. I gently touched my hair that was rolled in beautiful waves similar to Joann’s. My face was smooth and creamy like a doll. And my eyes looked wide and large.

  Alima placed a pair of shoes in front of me and told me to fit them onto my feet. They were a little tight, but it didn’t matter. It was one night. But the fact I’d never had so much personal attention since my childhood wasn’t lost on me—and by strangers, no less. And they were helping Angel get well. Maybe my distrust of Lazarus was unfounded.

  “Why?” I asked Alima.

  “He wants you to be beautiful tonight.” She winked at me.

  “Conrad?” I felt heat come to my face and under my arms.

  “No.” She leaned in toward me. “The Mentalist.”

  “The Mentalist?”

  “Father Lazarus, of course. Our keeper, our deliverer.”

  Why would that man want me to be beautiful tonight? My spine prickled. Was Angel feeling the same concern and suspicions that I was? I took in my appearance again. This wasn’t me, and I wanted to get my other clothes back on. But I had the feeling I had to play a part right now in order to get to Angel. Lazarus might want me to look beautiful, but what he really wanted was Angel. I could see it clearly now. Why did it take me so long to see that?

  “Why does Lazarus want me to be dolled up for his circus tonight?” I tried not to sound suspicious.

  “Circus? Nyet, nyet.” Alima made a face. “Don’t let Laz ever hear you say that word. We are not circus. We are performers. The circus is for simpleminded beasts.”

  Alima took me outside and told me to wait for Conrad. The scent of roasted chicken danced in the air, and my stomach growled loudly. Beyond the tent was a line of people, like the entire town was here to see these performers. The Fancies and Fears.

  There was a booth and an archway where a line formed and a few men were taking money from the townspeople. The people began making their way toward the seating area and followed signs directing them into another tent with a sign that said Oddities Inside. People exited with hands over their mouths, wide eyes, tears. I even heard a few screams from inside.

  “You are beautiful, Nell.” Conrad was suddenly at my side, though I hadn’t seen him walk up. “Alima did well.”

  I didn’t know what to say. He wore a suit, and his black hair was greased back. When he smiled at me, I felt my heart drip like wax into my stomach. That was also new to me. He took my arm and curled it around his own.

  “Do I get to see Angel?” I was hopeful but feared he had other plans.

  “Of course. But first I want you to meet a few others.” His voice was as smooth as cream, and his smile lit our way toward the oddities tent.

  When we stood in front of the first curtained door, my heart began to pound harder.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered closely into my ear and caressed my arm. I had tightened my hold on him without realizing it. “I won’t leave you.”

  I didn’t like to hear him say that. Joann had said that. Angel had said that.

  When we stepped into the first room of the tent, a gasp escaped my mouth. The room was lit enough for me to see a small boy. He couldn’t have been much older than ten. He stood there with only pants on and made muscles and did poses. But what was I seeing? He had two extra arms. They hung limply at his sides. They did not move with the rest of his body. There was a sign near him that said “Rollie, the Four-Armed Boy.”

  “Good job, Rollie,” Conrad said and squeezed one of his muscled arms and feigned being impressed.

  “Four arms?” I asked when we turned around.

  “He was born that way. Nobody wanted him—so Laz took him in and is his father now.”

  In the next room the tiny woman from earlier sat on a small chair on top of a table. She was smaller than a two-year-old child. She nodded and smiled, and her eyes glinted with tenderness. Next to her was the sign saying that her name was Bitsie and that she was the smallest adult in the world and that she came from South America.

  I stared at the display in the next room for several long moments until Conrad explained that it was the remains of a mermaid. Laz had acquired her from some Romanian gypsy. The skeleton was exceptionally small and inside a glass case.

  “Mermaids don’t live long outside of the sea.” Conrad spoke gently and closely. “They don’t belong here, but imagine how beautiful she would’ve been if she’d never left the ocean.”

  In the next room was a caged man covered in scales. His hands were webbed, and the skin between his shoulders and his ears had a webbed appearance. He didn’t frighten me, though he seemed to try. I let go of Conrad’s arm and drew closer. I put my hands on the bars that kept this man contained. When he hissed at me, I didn’t falter. I was used to this sort of behavior, but my throat thickened. Conrad warmed me from behind.

  “The cage,” I stuttered. The sight brought memories of the cries and banging of many patients inside solitary. “Get him out.” I hit the cage, and the man stopped hissing. His gaze softened.

  “He’s okay,” Conrad whispered, his breath filling my ears and senses. “This is just his job.”

  I looked from the caged man to Conrad.

  “This isn’t right.” I banged on the cage again.

  “Get her outta here,” the webbed man said, baring his teeth.

  Conrad escorted me quickly past the next rooms of more cages and people ready to shock their onlookers. I didn’t like this.

  “No.” I pushed Conrad’s touch away. “This isn’t right. They are people, not—”

  “Not what?”

  I didn’t know what.

  “They are making a living, Nell,” Conrad explained.

  “But why?” I yelled loud enough to cause others to look over. Conrad pulled me farther away. “Why put them on display like this?”

  “What else can people like this do but shock people? And look at this crowd. Everyone loves oddities. Like your Angel.” His hands held my waist and he pressed his body close to mine. My hands rested on his forearms.

  My entire body heated at both his words and his touch.

  “How do people really see him?” he asked. “As an angel?”

  Several words came to mind, none of them nice. I shook my head.

  “Feebleminded. Incurable.” My voice was all breath and realized fear and almost no sound. “Like he should be ashamed of himself.”

  “Right. But here he’s different. He’s worshipped and adored and is perfect, the way God made him.”

  When he said God it didn’t have the sacred ring to it like it did when Rosina said it.

  Then he leaned in to my ear. “What’s odd about you, Nell?” Then he kissed my cheek and without a response from me he led me through the crowd toward the rows of chairs in front of the stage.

  We passed by a tent with a sign of a large hand with circles drawn on the palm. I could see Alima inside with a woman opposite her. Her hooped earrings and bracelets jingled as she reached for the woman’s hand. We walked around men on stilts, juggling knives and fire, and another man swallowing the length of a sword in front of a small gasping and impressed crowd.

  Conrad took me to a seat, but I wasn’t sure I could sit. My nerves had tightened like a noose. I never should have let them take Angel anywhere the previous night, but he had been so ill.

  “I’ll be back shortly. Just wait here and enjoy the show until I return.” He said all of this while stroking the outside of my ar
m, sending a tingle up my back. Then, with a smirk, he was off.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” a man announced, and a crowd of townspeople flooded into the chairs, making it impossible for me to do anything but sit.

  Then the lights and the music began. Voices like magic started to sing. Voices I recognized from the night before.

  Then a beaming light shone on the stage—and the red curtains slowly opened. The three Sirens, Persephone, Penelope, and Thalia, floated to the middle of the stage, their feet not visible beneath the one large skirt they wore together. They moved like one person. And they sang. Oh, their voices. I’d never heard anything like it. The sign on the stage said that the Sirens were conjoined triplets. I’d heard of this before from medical books I’d read of Joann’s. As shocked as I knew I should be seeing all of these oddities, all I could think about was that there was still something I was missing. And it had something to do with Lazarus, and maybe Conrad also.

  Everyone around me was spellbound by the Sirens’ voices, and by the time their song was done, there was not a sound to be heard.

  Not even a whisper.

  1941

  The Mentalist’s Call

  As the Sirens retreated back behind the curtain, Lazarus bounded up onstage. The cane in his hand had a golden handle, and he raised it high as he welcomed the crowd from the town of Springville, Ohio. He introduced Octavia, the armless woman, and a curtain opened off to the right. She was sitting on a table, and between her toes she had paintbrushes. On the floor in front of her was a canvas. Lazarus announced that she would be painting the most beautiful woman in the crowd. Ladies began batting their eyes, and I heard a few men telling the woman at their side that surely it would be her. A few scoffed at the possibility of an armless woman painting at all.

  “We are the Fancies and Fears—the show that will thrill your dreams and confirm your nightmares. And now—” With a grand flourish Lazarus regained the crowd’s attention, and there was a loud rolling, booming sound offstage that stopped when he called out, “Golithia, the strongest woman in the world.”