Show Stopper

by Hayley Barker

  Everyone immediately starts to look around at each other. Why do I get this feeling that they’re all secretly enjoying the drama?

  I feel my skin redden; thank goodness for the mask. The desire to be known, to speak out, has gone, replaced with a contrary urge. I need to survive, to get through this, to somehow, impossibly, find a happy ending.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid we have no choice but to ask each and every one of you to file through the south exit of the Cirque in a calm and orderly fashion. Anyone wearing a mask, including women and children, we do ask that you briefly remove it for identification purposes. Please, ladies and gentlemen, do not be alarmed.”

  Sabatini gestures to the wings and two medics come forward with the guard from earlier. There’s a bandage around his head but, apart from that, he’s very much alive and kicking.

  I know I should feel relief that he isn’t dead, and I’d like to say I do, but I don’t. I just feel that cold knot of fear in my stomach that’s already becoming familiar.

  He stands there, with Silvio, both of them scanning every person who files past them.

  Behind them, the Cirque screens all light up with images of me, and the same message: Benedict Baines, £1,000,000 reward.

  As soon as I take this mask off, I’m finished.

  People begin ushering past the guard in an obedient line, starting from the left hand side of the arena, a few people away from me. I shuffle forward with the rest of the crowd, looking up at Amina helplessly as I get closer and closer to the front.

  I count the number in front of me. There are eleven, ten, nine. Any second now they’ll tell me to take the mask off. My heart pounds as I get closer and closer.

  Suddenly, there’s a loud cry from the performers’ enclosure.

  “Over there! I saw a man over there! He had a gun!” It’s Amina, pointing off into the distance, “Behind that curtain!”

  The guards and police take off en masse whilst, amongst the crowd, chaos and hysteria set in.

  Everyone’s screaming, trampling on each other to get out of here, away from the gunman. It’s every man for himself as they push and fight their way through, scrambling madly for the doors.

  One of the exits is straight through where the performers are being held and the barriers dividing us and them are pushed down as the Pures attempt to reach freedom.

  I don’t know what to do myself, except turn and head that way too. I work my way against the flow of the hysterical crowd, joining the people pushing their way into the enclosure.

  Once I’m in, I fight my way through the crowd, trying to find Amina and Hoshiko, although I have no idea what I’m going to do if I reach them, or what I’m going to do if I don’t. Without warning, I am hurled down to the ground and someone covers my head with a cloth of some kind so that I can hardly breathe. I struggle to resist, but I feel myself pushed by strong arms into some kind of box. It all goes dark and then there’s nothing.

  HOSHIKO

  The pain makes me feel woozy and I find it impossible to stay alert. After a while, I become vaguely aware that I’m being supported out of the Cirque. It takes ages; we seem to all be trying to get out at the same time. In the end I think I must zone out completely because the next thing I know I’m back in the san and Amina’s gently shaking me.

  “Hoshiko? Hoshi?” She’s repeating my name over and over again. “You need to concentrate on what I’m about to say.”

  I hear the urgency in her tone, and try to pull my mind back to consciousness. It’s hard though, having to wrench myself back from the warm and cosy place I’ve been. I open my eyes, trying to focus on what she’s saying.

  “Listen to me. Listen,” she repeats. “Don’t move from this room. Stay here, the pair of you. I may be gone a while but, I promise, I’ll come back.”

  I nod, and she must be satisfied, because she leaves and I’m left there alone, puzzling over her words.

  She definitely said “the pair of you”, but there’s only me in here. Me and a big black equipment box. I look at it. When did it suddenly appear in here?

  Things keep getting crazier. It begins to move and there’s a banging sound coming from inside it. There’s a latch, and without really thinking about what I’m doing, I bend down and open it. The show must still be going on, and I must be part of some crazy magic illusion because the box flings open and Death himself leaps out.

  BEN

  I feel myself being carried along and then, eventually, dropped down. Have the police got me, or someone even more sinister? I wonder if I’m going to be buried alive. Is this how it’s all going to end? Is this my coffin?

  I bang frantically on the wooden lid, just inches from my head. Whatever horrific things are waiting for me outside, I’d rather face them, rather face anything, than stay here like this, slowly suffocating. On my own.

  Thankfully, I’m not banging for long before the lid starts to open. As soon as I see a crack of light, I push up and scramble out as quickly as I can. I can’t believe what I see – not a group of police, not some kind of firing squad, but her: Hoshiko.

  She looks even more confused than me for a minute but as soon as I pull off the mask her face lights up, and she smiles, this huge wide smile, and throws herself into my arms.

  I’ve never really seen her happy.

  The prickliness and awkwardness which radiated off her before in waves before has gone. She’s soft and warm and clinging.

  For ages, we stay like that and then I pull back.

  “Are your feet OK?”

  “Shh, I don’t want to waste time. I don’t know how long we’ve got. They’re going to kill me tonight.” She says it so matter of factly, like it hardly matters at all.

  “Please – just tell me, how are your feet?”

  “They’re fine.” She pulls back and grins at me. “Who cares about my feet? I don’t think I need them where I’m going!”

  She’s definitely changed from how she was before. She puts a finger on my lips and then she kisses me.

  I thought I felt lightheaded before, in that box, but now my head reels. The fierce hunger in her lips seizes hold of me too. I don’t think we could stop now if we tried. But we don’t try, either of us.

  HOSHIKO

  When I kiss him, it’s like I’m free-falling.

  I should stop, but I don’t. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.

  They can torture me, burn me, kill me, but they’ll never be able to take this away. I’ll keep it safe inside me, always, no matter what.

  BEN

  After our kiss, we talk. About everything. About her life, and mine, about our families and our friends. About silly things and serious things.

  I don’t tell her about the zombies, about what happened to Priya. Perhaps I will do, one day, but I can’t go there yet. If I speak about it, it will make it real, and it’s too awful to be real, too horrible to acknowledge. I take the images, churning inside me like molten lava, and I push them back, deep down inside my gut. I bury them away, magma bubbling under the earth’s crust; far too powerful, far too strong to be contained for ever, but, for now, obediently seething away inside.

  I concentrate on her instead: the only good thing left in this world.

  No one comes in for hours and hours, and it feels like we’re suspended in this bubble where nothing can ever hurt us again. I know we should be panicking, should be afraid, but we’re not. We’re just relaxed and comfortable. Languid is the word I would use. The world has gone mad – it went mad long ago – and I don’t know if either of us will get out of this alive, but right now, I feel calm. All that matters right now is here, in this room.

  I know most people might think I’ve been lucky. I’ve always had everything I’ve ever wanted, materially at least: big house, expensive clothes, good school. Despite this though, I’ve never really felt whole before. It was always as if there was always something missing, something lacking.

  It’s not lacking any more. Here, in this crazy place, po
ised on the brink of death, I know with an absolute certainty that I’ve found myself.

  HOSHIKO

  Later, much later, Amina comes in. We’re only sitting on the bed talking, but we both leap apart at the same time. We giggle, embarrassed laughs, as if she’s caught us doing something we shouldn’t be, which she hasn’t, thankfully.

  She’s not laughing though, far from it, and the look on her face kills our humour dead too.

  “Listen,” she says. “We haven’t much time. Hoshi, any minute now they’re going to come for you. As for you, Ben, now your family have finally agreed to go public with your disappearance, they’re running with the implication that you’re here through coercion. They’ve drafted in pretty much the whole police force to find you; it’s not going to take them long.”

  There’s a few seconds’ silence and then Amina speaks very slowly and carefully.

  “Ben, if you’ve had enough, it probably isn’t too late. I’m sure Mummy will be only too happy to cover it up. She has the power to make it all go away: a misunderstanding, a moment of teenage madness. You can go back to your old life and forget all about your circus adventure.”

  “No!” He puts his arm around me, squeezes me tight. “I’m staying with Hoshiko.”

  “This is the last chance you’re going to get. If you make this decision now, that’ll be it for you. There’ll be no going back. Not ever.”

  Ben hugs me even more tightly. “I know.”

  “Good. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

  She looks specifically at Ben now.

  “This is not something we would ever normally tell a Pure unless he’d been through months of proving himself, months of resistance work.”

  He nods gravely; he must understand this more than I do.

  “It was the circus folk who saved you earlier. They surrounded us, concealed us while we got you into the box. They risked their lives for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because pretty much every single adult Dreg has made a pledge to do anything they can to end this madness. They’re going to help us get you both out of here, for good.”

  I don’t understand what she means.

  “What do you mean, a pledge? Why didn’t I know about it before?”

  She looks a bit sheepish. “I kept meaning to tell you, but the time’s never been right. I was going to do it the other night, when we were standing at the window, but you seemed so tired…”

  “Tired? There’s some secret pledge and you didn’t tell me about it because I was tired! I’m not a child, Amina! I’m not Greta!”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But you were a child, when I first found out. I had to keep it from you until you were old enough to understand.”

  “You should have told me years ago! Don’t you trust me?”

  “Yes.” She looks directly into my eyes. “I trust you more than anyone. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, but there isn’t time for this now. Right now, I need to save your life.”

  “But why us? Why would anyone help Ben and me over everyone else? Dregs die every day.”

  “Because I managed to persuade the people who matter that you’ll be useful, that’s why. More than useful, maybe. The son of Vivian Baines, of all people, runs away from home, breaks into the Cirque and assaults a member of its security staff, all because he’s fallen for a Dreg girl. And not just any Dreg girl: the Cat, the most famous Cirque artiste ever. It’s massive. Can you imagine what this will do to the government’s credibility when it gets out?”

  She looks at me and her eyes soften.

  “Hoshiko, you’re the only thing that’s kept me going in this place. I will not stand back and watch you die. You’ve been given a chance, both of you: make it count. Get the hell out of here and don’t look back.”

  Why does it feel like she’s saying goodbye?

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “No.” She sighs. “It’s too late for me.”

  “But you can’t give up!”

  She’s smiling at me, but there are tears running down her face. “I’m not giving up. I’m helping you. Knowing you’ve made it. Knowing you’re out there somewhere, free from this place, that’s what will keep me going now. That’s what will make everything worth it. You two, you’re the future. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t change things – you can. I’ve known there’s something special about you since you were five years old.”

  I know Amina well enough by now to know that she won’t change her mind, but I can’t leave her behind; can’t just forget about the people I love.

  “What about Greta?” I ask her. “She has to come too.”

  “No.” Her tone is firm. “It’s too risky. We’ll never be able to smuggle all three of you out. I’ll look after her, I promise.”

  She’s lying to me, just like I lie to Greta. She can’t protect her, not really.

  “I can’t leave Greta! I need her! I need you!” Somewhere, a part of me knows that I’m making too much noise.

  “Hoshiko, be quiet now. You don’t have a choice. I have to go; I’ve got to get things in place.”

  I try to stop sobbing, to calm down, I really do, but I can’t get control of myself.

  Ben tries to hug me, but I push him away.

  “How can I leave Greta here? How can I leave you? How can I?”

  “You must.” She takes hold of me. “Shhh,” she whispers. “Shhh now.”

  She wraps me in her arms, rocking me back and forth until, eventually, I calm down. Then she makes her promise again.

  “I’ll watch Greta’s back. I’ll make sure she’s next out, I give you my word.”

  I manage a nod.

  “OK,” I finally agree, reluctantly. “If you really think it’s the only way.”

  “Good girl. Someone will come for you when the show starts. I’m not sure how yet. Until then, lie low.”

  She hands me a plastic bag. “There are some oatcakes in here, and some water. It’s all I could get my hands on, not much, but more than most of the performers are getting tonight. Make sure you eat; God knows when you’ll get the chance for food again.”

  She wraps her arms around me and kisses the top of my head, and then she turns and leaves and it’s just the two of us again.

  We’ve barely known each other three days. He’s giving up his family, his status, his world, for me. I’m leaving behind Amina, Greta and the only life I’ve ever known. It’s madness, but it’s the only thing there is to do.

  BEN

  When Amina’s gone, we sit there, munching on dry oatcakes, both trying to take in the enormity of what’s going on.

  These four walls, this girl sitting next to me, they’ve already become more real than my family, than the place I’ve always called home.

  It hurts my head, thinking about who my mother is, what she’s done. In a way though, it makes it easier to face what I’m doing – walking away from everything over a girl I’ve only just met.

  Her eyes meet mine, and my breath catches in my throat.

  There’s so much pain in her expression: the thought of leaving Greta and Amina behind is breaking her heart. There’s a glimmer of something else there too though, and it’s the same look I know is in my eyes.

  This is real. What we’ve found is real and, alongside all the pain, it’s exhilarating.

  She stands up, and we move together, like a dance that we’ve rehearsed. Somehow, we’re synchronized. Her skin is so soft, her dark hair feels like silk in my fingers, her breath on mine is sweet.

  We’re under that spell again. It feels like nothing will ever break it, like nothing will ever tear us apart, but it does. Suddenly and abruptly, the enchantment ends. There’s movement outside, urgent footsteps marching up the corridor.

  We spring apart and she whispers, “In the box!”

  I jump into the equipment box and she closes the lid with a bang, just in time. I’m lying scrunched up in the dark, again.

  A door opens and I hear muffled voi
ces. I strain to make out what they’re saying, but all that’s distinguishable are the words, “Silvio… Benedict Baines… and interrogation,” before I hear her yelling out in pain, the door slamming shut and then … silence.

  HOSHIKO

  The two guards who enter so politely obviously aren’t ones for conversation. They hardly say anything, just pull me, kicking and screaming, down the corridors and outside. They keep dragging me, past all the buildings, past all the animals, past the sideshows. It’s not until we’re almost at the steps that I realize where they’re taking me. We’re at Silvio’s trailer. Wow, hallowed turf. I don’t remember anyone, ever, being allowed in here. I can’t suppress the feeling of curiosity; I’m about to see into his secret lair.

  They push me up the stairs, shove me through the door and leave me there, locking it behind them.

  I look around, trying to see if there’s anything here that might reveal the man behind the monster.

  It’s luxurious, I guess, but then compared to what we’re used to, that’s not hard. There’s a couple of dark velvet sofas, a big TV screen, a table, chairs, a fairly modest kitchen area and two doors which lead off, presumably, to his bedroom and the toilet.

  A huge display cabinet takes up most of one wall. Inside, dozens of gold trophies and awards – all the ones the Cirque has won over the years. Best Entertainment Venue, People’s Choice Award, that kind of thing. I wonder how he manages to keep hold of them all given that, underneath his superior facade, he’s a Dreg just like the rest of us. Not just any Dreg though, not if the whispered stories are true.

  One of the walls is filled with photos. In each one, he proudly poses with some Pure celebrity or other. Pop stars, film stars, politicians – anyone who’s anyone, basically. I don’t recognize most of them – it’s not like we get much access to news or media or music here – but I can spot a few who I remember watching the show from the VIP area.

  Every time someone important comes to the Cirque, Silvio makes a massive fuss, creeping around them, throwing himself at their feet – we’re so honoured to have you here. I’ve always admired your work. It always makes me want to throw up.